#Georgian mile

[putoutallthestars]

Sweetest Thing, U2 (1998)

Real men don't cry apologize. It's time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. - Baby Bono apologizing to his wife in the streets of Dublin for forgetting her birthday. - 🍀🇮🇪👨‍🎤❤️

Blue-eyed boy meets a brown-eyed girl. (Oh, the sweetest thing.) You can sew it up, but you still see the tear. (Oh, the sweetest thing.) Baby's got blue skies up ahead But in this, I'm a rain-cloud, Ours is a stormy kind of love. (Oh, the sweetest thing.)

[dgiterart]

Persian Miku!?

In traditional Mazani clothing from persia!  

More info⬇️⬇️

Mazandaran province  is one of the 31 provinces of Iran. Its capital is the city of Sari . Located along the southern coast of the Caspian Sea and in the adjacent Central Alborz mountain range.Mazandaran is a major producer of farmed fish, and aquaculture provides an important economic addition to traditional dominance of agriculture. Another important contributor to the economy is the tourism industry, as people from all of Iran enjoy visiting the area.

Language: The population is overwhelmingly Mazandarani, with a minority of Gilaks, Azerbaijanis, Kurds, Georgians, Armenians, Circassians, Turkmen  and others, Mazandarani people have a background in Tabari ethnicity and speak Mazandarni.

Culture( literature) : In the Persian epic, Shahnameh, Mazandaran is mentioned in two different sections. The first mention is implicit, when Fereydun sets its capital in a city called Tamishe near Amol:

بیاراست گیتی بسان بهشت.................... به جای گیا سرو گلبن بکشت

از آمل گذر سوی تمیشه ک��د .............. نشست اندر آن نامور بیشه کرد

And when Manuchehr is returning to Fereydun's capital, Tamisheh in Mazandaran (known as Tabarestan), after his victory over Salm and Tur.

Arash the Archer  is a heroic archer-figure of Iranian mythology. According to Iranian folklore, the boundary between Iran and Turan was set by an arrow launched by Arash, after he put his own life in the arrow's launch. The arrow was traveling for days before finally landing on the other side of the Oxus on the bark of a walnut tree hundreds of miles away from the original launch site atop a mountain

Music and dance:

Music in this region relates to the lifestyle of the inhabitants, and the melodies revolve around issues such as the forests, cultivation or farming activities and herding. The most famous dance of this area is the Shomali dance, not forgetting the stick dance that the men perform. Popular music in the province, known as the Taleb and Zohre, Amiri Khani and Katuli.

Cuisine :

The cuisine of the province is very rich in seafood due to its location by the Caspian Sea, and rice is present in virtually every meal. Mazandarani cuisine is diverse between regions; the cuisine of coastal regions is different from mountainous regions, as people in the Alborz usually use the indigenous herbs and coastal people use the dishes of fish and Caspian Mazandaran rice with vegetables.

[beatrice-otter]

Such an exhibition

I have been thinking about the breakfast scene in Pride & Prejudice. You know the one:

“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.” ... “You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.” “Certainly not.” “To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

It strikes me that there are some nuances that people often miss when talking about this. The first is that Miss Bingley attributes this "conceited independence" not to a flaw in Elizabeth personally, but to the difference between the manners of the country gentry (such as the Bennets) and the fashionable people who live in cities (like the Bingleys). In town, fashionable and wealthy people did not walk long distances. Fashionable people either owned horses/carriages, or took cabs. They would walk in parks where it was fashionable to walk. But they rarely walked alone, especially women. A man might walk to his club alone, in the afternoon, but when walking home from his club that evening he would hire a man to walk with him to discourage pickpockets and muggers. Even in posh neighborhoods!

But in the country ... there aren't cabs, and while there were robbers on the highways who would stop carriages to steal from them, they weren't lurking along footpaths such as the one Elizabeth would have taken. Elizabeth didn't ride horses, and her father is of the lower gentry, which means that the same horses which pull the carriage also work in the fields, and thus the carriage is not always available. Even when it is available, she's one of five daughters. If her dad or mom wants it, they get it; if she or her sisters want it, they have to argue over who gets it. And riding in a carriage was jolting and unpleasant (bad roads and no shock absorbers). So Elizabeth, like many members of the country lower gentry, often walks when she wants to go visit her neighbors.

Then there's the "alone" part. Everyone can quote "six inches deep in mud" but we forget that part of what shocks Miss Bingley is that Elizabeth walked by herself. In Regency England, the more wealth and status a woman's family had, the less often she would be alone. And again, big difference between the city and the country. In the city, a woman of Elizabeth's family status would never go anywhere alone. Either she'd have a female relative with her, or a friend or chaperone, or a servant. For protection, and also to vouch for her propriety. In the country ... as long as she's going to visit another woman, or just going out to walk for the exercise, and she's not going too far, nobody bats an eyelash. This is true both at Longbourn and also at Hunsford. If she were wealthier, that would not necessarily be the case; both Georgiana Darcy and Anne de Bourgh have companions who are paid to go where their mistress goes. So it's not just that Elizabeth is walking that shows the difference between town and country manners, it's also that she's walking alone.

Miss Bingley is criticizing Elizabeth in particular, but she is also criticizing her class, as a way of asserting both that the Bingleys have better manners than country gentry (despite their money coming from trade), and by appealing to Mr. Darcy about it she is also positioning herself as closer to his sphere and manners than to anyone else's.

Then we come to the question of how much does Darcy judge Elizabeth's actions. Mr. Darcy says he wouldn't want Georgiana to do what Elizabeth has done (walk three miles alone through muddy fields), but there's a big difference between the upper gentry and the lower gentry. Georgiana probably has her own horse, and she's much less likely to have to worry about whether the carriage horses are needed on the farm, and also she has someone who is literally paid to go with her everywhere. Also, Georgiana is sixteen years old, has already been targeted by a fortune hunter, and is very shy and timid. So the fact that he wouldn't want Georgiana to do it doesn't mean he necessarily sees it as a big deal when Elizabeth (older, not as wealthy*) does it.

*People sometimes claim the Bennets were either poor or middle class. They were at the bottom of the gentry, but that is still quite wealthy. Mr. Bennet has an income of £2,000/year, which is peanuts compared to Darcy. However, let us compare them to other people in their day. William and Dorothy Wordsworth spent the 1790s with an income of about £170-£180/year, with reasonable comfort. P&P was written in 1796-1797, so about the same time.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1935 Duesenberg

Clark Gable and his 1935 Duesenberg

His wife, Carole Lombard, had one too, which is now in a museum in NZ.

HOLLYWOOD, Calif.

Its 420-cubic-inch straight-8 pulled like a train; it was reputed to have a 115-m.p.h. top speed – “right off the showroom floor,” It could exceed 100 m.p.h. in the second of its three gears, boasted E. L. Cord, the company’s president at the time. Its wheelbase of nearly 12 feet gives the car a poised, unflappable ride. And its massive steering wheel guides the wheels straight and true – although its vacuum assisted drum brakes provide the car somewhat uncertain stopping power

Today, the car’s odometer shows 13,416 miles.

It was January 25, 1936 and Clark Gable had a new car to show off – to a new object of his affections. She was actress Carole Lombard, and the hostess of the lavish White Mayfair Ball, a formal Hollywood soiree, to which Gable drove his 1935 Duesenberg Model JN convertible that night.

The suave actor eventually convinced Miss Lombard to “take a spin around town” with him; when he invited her to his suite a few miles away at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, she famously replied, “Who do you think you are? Clark Gable?”

They weren’t exactly strangers; they had already co-starred together in “No Man of Her Own”. After filming wrapped Miss Lombard presented Mr. Gable with a ham – with his picture on it! But their professional relationship went no further at that point; Miss Lombard was then married to William Powell (she divorced him a couple of years later).

Nevertheless, after they re-connected at the White Mayfair Ball, a scandalous affair ensued; Mr. Gable, still married, was often spotted traveling in the Duesenberg with Miss Lombard from her bungalow on Hollywood Blvd. to night spots, restaurants and hotels all over town. One of those places, The Georgian Hotel in nearby Santa Monica, now advertises the couple had trysts there often.

“This is nothing discreet about this car,” Mr. Gooding said as he pulled up in the glowing Duesenberg, in front of The Georgian. Not exactly the type of car for two famous stars to be seen in – when they are trying to downplay their affair!

. The car fairly screams “notice me!”. Even now the Duesenberg, which appeared in a couple of actual movies of its own, is a show-stopper.

“The record for an American car sold at public auction is $10.34 million, for a Duesenberg – the 1931 Whittell Coupe – which we sold last year,” Mr. Gooding said. “In many ways, however Gable’s 1935 JN is an even finer example.” It is undeniably rare; fewer than a dozen JNs were built – only four of which were convertibles. But no other Duesenberg is like this one. (I will update this post Aug. 19 with the sales price!)

And, then there is the consideration of its celebrity provenance. “I’ve never seen a car with a history behind it like this one,” Mr. Gooding said.

Its 420-cubic-inch straight-8 pulled like a train; it was reputed to have a 115-m.p.h. top speed – “right off the showroom floor,” Mr. Gooding said. It could exceed 100 m.p.h. in the second of its three gears, boasted E. L. Cord, the company’s president at the time. Its wheelbase of nearly 12 feet gives the car a poised, unflappable ride. And its massive steering wheel guides the wheels straight and true – although its vacuum assisted drum brakes provide the car somewhat uncertain stopping power.

A work of automotive art!

Of course, that has often been said about many great works of art – sculptures, paintings, and the like – but seldom about automobiles. Many collectors, however, consider the 18-foot-long Duesenberg, with its flamboyant, following lines, the epitome of automotive art.

The Model JN that Mr. Gable bought originally had a body by Rollston. Mr. Gooding noted, “It was a work of art already.” But Mr. Gable decided it wasn’t audacious enough for his tastes.

So he took it to master coachbuilders Bohman & Schwartz, in Pasadena, Calif., for a complete re-working. And besides, the convertible top leaked – which Miss Lombard reportedly thought amusing; Mr. Gable, however, was mortified.

Clark Gable shows off his beloved Duesenberg!

“Not only did Gable sketch out many of the changes he wanted himself,” Mr. Gooding said. “He also got hands-on with it, and worked on it himself. I don’t recall an example where a celebrity got so involved, and essentially helped craft the car.”

The modifications included body-colored radiator cowl and headlamp pods, raked windshield, extended hood with custom air scoops, re-location of the side-mounted spares to a double-deck “continental kit” at the rear, rear fender skirts, chrome side pipe exhausts (with a driver-controlled bypass lever), functional rumble seat, and a stowable convertible top – that no longer leaked!

It was also re-painted from a pale green to a luminous cream color that seems to glow – apropos of any star of stage, screen or even outer space.

Despite the fact Mr. Gable owned a large, discerning collection of other Duesenbergs, Packards, and Mercedes-Benzes, the JN remained the preferred ride of the inseparable lovers.

So public was their romance that Photoplay magazine ran a feature in December 1938 out-ing them as one of “Hollywood’s Unmarried Husbands and Wives.” Mr. Gable had also been linked in recent years with Joan Crawford, Jean Harlow and Loretta Young (with whom he fathered a love child) – among others. Producer David O. Selznick was ready to cast Gary Cooper as Rhett Butler in “Gone With The Wind” unless Mr. Gable cleaned up his personal life. So the studio reportedly helped pay for Mr. Gable’s costly divorce from heiress Ria Langham; he got the part. The rest, as they say, is history.

Gable got the part!

Mr. Gable and Miss Lombard (who lost out in casting for Scarlett O’Hara) eloped in March 1939. In 1941 the happy couple set off in the Duesenberg on an epic vacation – sort of a belated honeymoon – from their ranch in Encino, Calif., up the Pacific Coast to Vancouver, British Columbia. The trip was nearly 1,500 miles, on primitive roads.

It must have been quite a sight: two of Hollywood’s biggest stars pumping their own gas, fixing their own flats, even changing their own oil – the Gables didn’t want anyone else touching this car! – in a car easily worth $35,000 then (Mr. Gable made more than that in one month, in salary, in those years – and Miss Lombard made nearly as much).

“This was at a time you could buy a Ford for a few hundred dollars,” Mr. Gooding noted.

In Vancouver, the couple would see the Duesenberg for the final time. They stored it there, planning to return the next summer to drive it back to California. They took the train home.

Some months later, however, Miss Lombard was killed in a plane crash near Las Vegas, Nev. Gable, devastated, instructed an agent to sell the beloved Duesenberg – with the proviso that he never would see it again. He never did; he died in 1960.

The Duesenberg became a four-wheeled vagabond, crisscrossing the country, changing hands more than a dozen times. It was re-painted at least four different colors. Its engine was replaced in the 1950s. Parts went missing.

But the current owner, Mr. Gooding said, acquired it in 2006 and ordered a no-expense-spared restoration to its Gable-era glory.

Text via John Piazza

Credit: Respective Owner ( DM for credit or removals )

[scotianostra]

Today is World Heritage Day

Oiginally known as the International Monuments and Sites Da it is a global celebration of this planet’s heritage. It’s all about increasing the awareness of the importance of the diversity of cultural and natural heritage and preserving this heritage for future generations..

In Scotland we’re lucky enough to have no less than six UNESCO World Heritage Sites. they are;

St Kilda.

The remote Hebridean island archipelago is one of only two-dozen global locations with World Heritage Status for both natural and cultural significance.

The archipelago shares this honour with natural and cultural wonders such as the Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu in Peru and Mount Athos in Greece.

I'd love to visit, but it is a wee bit too expensive for me.

Edinburgh Old and New Towns.

Some people have asked me which part of Edinburgh is covered by this title, well the simple answer is all of it!

The capital is a city of many eras, and its World Heritage Site comprises both the old and new towns. The Auld Toon has preserved much of its medieval street plan and Reformation-era buildings along the wynds of the Royal Mile.

The (relatively) New town contrasts this perfectly with neoclassical and Georgian architecture in regimented order.

Antonine Wall.

I've explored many parts of the wall. Constructed around 142 AD by the Romans, the Antonine Wall marked the north-west frontier of their empire. Stretching from the Firth of Forth and the Firth of Clyde, the Antonine Wall separated the civilised Romans from the wild Caledonians.

The Heart of Neolithic Orkney

I've not visited The Northen Isles as yet, plans were in the early stages to go this year, but my friend ended up in hospita and is still recuprating, hopefully we can get something sorted when she becomes more able.

The Orkney mainland is synonymous with archaeology. It boasts the mysterious standing stones at the Ring of Brodgar and megaliths at Standing Stones of Stenness, as well as the 5,000-year-old settlement of Skara Brae and chambered cairn and passage grave of Maeshowe. Together these four sites form the heart of Neolithic Orkney, which was given World Heritage status in 1999.

The Forth Bridge

I remember as a bairn drawing and painting the bridge with a steam train going over it, but the train going over the "bumps!"

One of our most iconic and beloved bridges, the Forth Bridge was named a World Heritage Site in 2015 just after its 125th anniversary. The bridge was one of the most ambitious projects of its kind ever attempted at the time. When it opened it had the longest single cantilever bridge span in the world.

New Lanark

The last mill closed in the 1960s but a restoration programme saved the 18th-century village from falling into dilapidation.

It is an early example of utopian socialism in Scotland as well as a planned settlement – making New Lanark an important milestone in the historical development of urban planning. I have never visited, I must say I much prefer my ruined castles and abbeys.

[amuseoffyre]

Good Omens Locations - S2 E2

This is gonna be a meaty one :D

Edinburgh Castle - it's the west side of the castle, looking towards the crags (in the right place), but keep an eye on that castle. It goes rogue and moves about depending on the angle. They even acknowledged it in the X-ray that castle ends up places it shouldn't be.

The Edinburgh Graveyard - this was one of the locations filmed in Stirling. I have vague recollections that they used the old cemetery, but as is typical, there are a couple of graveyards on either side of Stirling Castle, so I can't be sure I picked the right one since you can't really googlemap a graveyard.

Old Town Edinburgh - For this one, they used Broad Street in Stirling, not far from the castle, then pasted the Edinburgh castle background in place.

Presumably Newington, where Mr Dalrymple works - Most of Newington hadn't been built then but to make it visibly fancier than Broad Street, they're smack dab in the centre of the Georgian New Town of Edinburgh for this one, on Moray Place.

Mr Dalrymple's Library - This is one of the libraries from Hopetoun House near South Queensferry.

Victoria Street, Edinburgh - represented by... Victoria Street, Edinburgh :D In the Old Town and one of the most photographed streets in the city. Please note the castle playing peekaboo.

The Resurrectionist - A mile and a bit away from the place where Aziraphale parks the Bentley, the Resurrectionist is a functioning pub called The Cask and Barrel on West Preston Street. The Resurrectionist is a far better name, methinks.

The only one I can't pin-point is where they filmed the yellow car sequence. I narrowed it down to several options because it's beside what looks like a lake or reservoir with a wind farm close-by and in sight of a main transit road for heavy goods in proximity, but is not a main public road itself due to the lack of road markings on it.

[ginandoldlace]

The Grade II-listed Potticks House was built in the late 18th century by Samuel Rayner and is a fine example of the Georgian style.

Built of traditional Bath stone and featuring a Welsh slate roof, the 10 acre property is just 6 miles from the city of Bath.

A kitchen garden produces raspberries, blackcurrants, redcurrants, gooseberries, and rhubarb; an orchard on the property grows apples, pears, plums, as well as walnuts, quince, and figs.

Surrounded by formal gardens and grounds with a swimming pool, the elegant Potticks House offers a grand backdrop for living and entertaining, proving to be an idyllic country seat.

[ssa-montgomery]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch

Part 2

Word Count: 8891

Summary: Y/N and Daryl have been pining after each other for weeks and when Maggie finally urges Y/N to make her move, she and Daryl end up alone for the first time. Daryl is more than happy to help Y/N lose her virginity.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Maggie Rhee

Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, loss of virginity, smut, oral sex, blow jobs, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, slight innocence kink, unprotected sex

A/N: This fic was requested here on Tumblr by @azanoni using my prompt list and I had so much fun working on this one! I'm a sucker for prison-era Daryl so I knew the prison had to be the setting for this one and I just loved this request! Please feel free to send me any requests you might have for Daryl fics :)

Prompt(s): "Show me how you like to be touched." "Is this your first time?" "I don't know what to do." "Let me teach you."

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

By now you were really starting to question what exactly you'd done for the Georgian sun to this level of a personal grievance against you. You used the bottom of your top to twist the cap off your second water bottle of the hour, your hands too soaked with sweat to get a proper grip on it. It had finally reached that point in the middle of summer when everything was unbearable, even the metal railing of the watch tower was burning against your skin as you leaned forward on it. You thought maybe on the ground below it wouldn't be half as bad but you and Maggie and the unfortunate luck of drawing the first watch duty today. You stuck to the walkway surrounding the tower, trying as much as possible to avoid the tiny concrete sauna that was the watch tower's main room. Even out there it didn't seem to help with the humidity in the air.

Though you did have to admit, even if the heat was choking you there was always one positive to taking the watch shift - the view. The view from the tower covered most of the prison and for miles into the forest that surrounded it beyond the fence, giving you the perfect view of everyone going about their own jobs below you. 

Carol, ever the worrying mother figure to the group was making her rounds with water and food, making sure to get drinks to the people that would otherwise forget and collapse of dehydration in this heat. Further across the prison, you could see Rick tending to the fields that had been established for a more steady source of food with Carl doing his best to help. Beth sat near them, Judith playing in her lap as she watched her dad and brother work with a curious expression. As you scanned across the prison finally, your eyes fell on him.

Daryl as per usual was tucked away in his own corner of the prison, hiding away from the chatter and noise of everyone else. He was on his knees, shifting to sit back on his heels as he examined something on the old motorbike in front of him. One of the old prison toolboxes sat next to him as he searched around inside the now open side of the engine. Even from here, you could see the black streaks of greasy motor oil coating his fingers as he work them over the mechanics of the inside of the engine, holding one of the tools in his teeth while both of his hands were busy.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from the way he worked with his hands, the sweat shining on his skin where it clung to his arms and the back of his neck. There was something about the way his muscles moved under his skin while he loosened the parts with the wrench that made your skin flush with heat in an entirely different way to the harsh rays of the sun, your cheeks now burning warmer than before.

"You're starin'." The sing-song tone of Maggie's teasing voice rang out as she leaned in over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. You spun around, ripping your eyes away from Daryl no matter how much you wished you could keep watching, practically falling over yourself as you did. The rifle over your shoulder clattered against the railing as you finally steadied yourself only to be met with Maggie's grin. 

Maggie was one of your closest friends at the prison and your days on duty together like this often turned into gossip sessions for the pair of you. She was the one person you told everything to, including when you'd started to develop a crush on the tracker she'd just caught you trying to undress with your eyes.

"I'm not starin', I'm just- admirin' from a distance." Your weak excuse of a defence crumbled under one knowing look from Maggie as she tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. Okay so maybe you were staring, maybe you did stare at him at any chance you got. Maybe you did stare at just how skilled his hands were working with his crossbow, easily manipulating it in his hands while he cleaned it or the rare, soft, loving look he got on his face whenever he was around Judith.  It didn't matter to you, as long as you were looking at him in some way nothing mattered to you. It was like everything else fell away around you. "Well, maybe I'm starin' a little."

"So you still ain't found the nerve to talk to him 'bout your feelings yet then?" Maggie asked looking at you curiously as she leaned against the wall opposite you. You could see the way she kept the perimeter of the prison in her line of sight at all times, even while you talked.

"Who says I haven't?" You brought your hand up over your heart, a fake offended gasp falling from your lips as you laughed at how obvious it was that you were still very much hiding your crush.

"You mean besides the quite frankly sad puppy dog pining?" You could always rely on Maggie to call you out on your bullshit when you needed her to. You scoffed at her blunt way of phrasing it as she laughed at you but she was right, you knew that. The pining truly had reached a whole new level. "I mean come on, everyone can see it. And with someone as observant as Daryl? He's an idiot if he hasn't already figured out your feelings for him."

At this point, you were certain Daryl already knew about your feelings for him. What was going on between the two of you was - complicated, to say the least. Maybe even more complicated than you'd let on to Maggie. You were confident it wasn't one-sided, Daryl having nearly straight out told you as much when you joked about the possibility of you having a crush on him. You could feel his eyes on you around the prison almost as much as you stared at him but things at the prison had been chaotic. Trying to establish a new community here had its own challenges and adding a relationship to the mix would have just complicated things for both of you. 

Now though, things were starting to settle, day-to-day life becoming smoother and maybe it was finally time to see if your gut feeling that Daryl wanted this just as much as you was right.

"I just - I'm nervous is all. You know I don't have much experience in certain areas Maggie, or well any experience and I don't know how to bring that up with him. It's not a conversation I've had to have with someone I really care about before." You sighed, shifting your hands nervously as you thought about it. You were willing to admit that your thoughts about Daryl more often than not turned inappropriate and you wanted nothing more than to act on them with him. Unfortunately, your experience with anything in that area stopped at a sad excuse for a messy make-out session with an asshole of an ex-boyfriend in your teen years. You didn't want to scare Daryl off if he thought your lack of practice would ruin the experience.

"I've seen the way he looks at you Y/N, given the chance that man would fall to his knees and worship the very ground you walk on. He ain't gonna care about your experience level as long as you're learnin' with him." Maggie said then, her tone serious as she gave you a reassuring look, her hand resting on your arm. Maybe she was right, you'd waited so long now that maybe it was time to stop worrying and just do something about your feelings.

"I guess the thing now is finding the time to talk to him alone with how busy we've all been lately." In the past few weeks, everyone's focus had been on turning the prison into a livable space for the group which had proved to be a challenge. When you weren't helping to clear the cell blocks you were on watch and on the rare few times you did have a day to yourself Daryl was away on runs. The most one-on-one time you'd managed to have with Daryl was during watch duty like this.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong but, he seems pretty alone down there right now." Maggie seemingly caught the nervous look on your face as you looked down at him again, torn between wanting to run straight to him and your duty to your job. Who knew when you might get another chance like this. "Just go for it, don't worry 'bout keepin' watch. I'll call Glenn, and tell Rick we wanted the time alone if he asks 'bout it. Don't waste any more time thinkin' 'bout it." 

"Thank you, Maggie, I really do appreciate this." You felt more excited than you had in a very long time as the possibilities ran through your mind. You gave Maggie a bright smile as you pulled her into a quick, tight hug before rushing to disappear down the ladder of the watch tower. You weren't going to wait for a second more.

~~~

"Whatcha doin' out here?" You asked peeking over Daryl's shoulder at the engine as you walked up behind him, your shadow towering over him as for once you were the one standing taller in your exchange. His eyes snapped up to you standing over him where he still knelt on the ground, dropping the wrench he'd been holding between his teeth. You could see the surprise on his face at your sudden presence behind him, not expecting to see you all day when he knew you were on watch duty. You let out a slight giggle at his reaction, not used to seeing him actually surprised. "Just me didn't mean to spook you."

"Nah. Ya didn't spook me." He said with an almost embarrassed shake of his head, his hair falling into his face to hide his piercing eyes. Your hand twitched at your side as you fought back the urge to reach out and brush his hair back out of his face. "Just ain't expecting anyone out 'ere is all. Pretty sure I burned out the brake pads on the last run. See that? Ain't supposed to be like that." 

You dropped your rifle down next to Daryl's crossbow and took a seat on the ground next to him, the concrete warming the skin of your legs. You leaned in as close as you could, your shoulders touching as your gaze followed his finger to where he was pointing at some exposed part of the bike. You let out a hum and nodded your head as he leaned in and started to work on pulling the piece loose. You pretended you knew what was happening just to continue watching him work with his hands, seeing each delicate touch this close up when in reality none of his bike talk made any sense to you.

"Gonna have to take her apart and replace the belt most likely." Daryl sighed, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans as he sat back, propping one arm up on his knee. His arm brushed against yours as he moved and you sucked in a harsh breath at the contact. "A project for another day. Ain't gonna be able to do it without some scavenged parts so I gotta wait till the next run now."

There was a beat of silence as you both enjoyed the company. Daryl sat down fully on the ground, resting on his elbows as he stretched out, his legs spanning out in front of him until he was practically lying down. You watched the way his head tipped back, his eyes closing as he took in the heat of the sun on his face. His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck while his hands were coated in motor oil practically up to the wrists. 

There was something about him like this, messy and so involved in something he was passionate about that made him so attractive to you. Even when you had no idea what he was talking about you could listen to him talk all day, that deep southern accent commanding every ounce of your attention. It was rare for him to hold a conversation he was truly interested in so you savoured every single one.

"Have you been out here all day? Why don't we head inside for a bit? It would do us both some good to get out of the sun for a while and wash up before you end up with heatstroke."  You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you realised what you'd just said, the suggestion slipping out before you could even think. Part of you was still nervous you'd the read whole situation wrong as you waited for an answer, Daryl watching you curiously. What if he really wasn't interested in you like this and you scared him off for good?

"Sure, yeah. Good idea." He nodded much to your relief and pushed himself up from the ground, rolling out his neck muscles that had grown stiff from being bent over the engine all morning he did. The movement gave you the perfect view of his muscles tensing all the way down to his shoulders and back, your eyes following them until he turned around to face you again. You tried to look away but it was too late, Daryl catching you staring directly at you. You could have sworn you saw the slight tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he reached a hand out to you, grabbing your wrist to pull you up from the ground. He glanced down at your wrist and winced at the ring of oil he'd left on your skin where his fingers had been wrapped around you. "Shit sorry. Guess I really should get washed up." 

"Don't worry 'bout it." You reassured him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing where he touched you. In reality, it felt like the oil would burst into flames at any second with how your skin burned from even the simplest of touches for him. It really was time to admit you were down bad for this man. "C'mon then."

There was a look of confusion on Daryl's face as he watched you grab your gun and walk away from the entrance to the central cell block that everyone used as living quarters. Your nerves were growing, almost stripping you of your confidence as you tried to figure out a way to explain your choice without entirely clueing Daryl into your plan. 

"On a hot day like this everyone's gonna want to wash up, the queues for the washroom in there are gonna be long, the other cell block is still mostly unused and the water system works just as well." You shrugged as casually as you could, gesturing towards the other building. 

There was a flash in Daryl's eyes as you turned away from him, your hips swaying more than usual as you made your way towards the door. It was as if he realised your plan at the mention of an empty building to yourselves on the one day you skipped out on your work to give you the time alone you needed. He didn't say anything, instead nodding at you as he grabbed his crossbow and moved to catch up to you.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribs almost hard enough to break free as you walked, Daryl's low strides quickly catching him until his steps fell in time with yours. Neither of you said anything as you walked, both of your minds racing with the idea of what could possibly happen when you were finally alone together. 

You were the first to push open the door to the cell block to find you were right, it was entirely empty, your footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. Unlike the other cell block, this one had only recently been cleared for use and people who were already settled in the other building hadn't bothered to move their stuff out there yet leaving the two of you completely alone.

"See? Told you we could skip the lines." You laughed, hoping your playful tone masked the nerves bubbling just below the surface. Your plan was more spur of the moment and as a result, was far from well thought out. Sure you finally had Daryl alone but you had no idea how to go about outright asking him for what you wanted or how to get him to make the first move on you.

"Clever girl." His eyes seemed to trace a path down your body as he spoke, no longer trying to hide the way he let his gaze linger on certain parts of your body a little longer. The sound of the praise coming from him had that blush threatening to creep back up on your cheeks. Something in the air had changed, it was no longer heavy with humidity but instead with a tension between you that could have been sliced with a knife.

You slipped your gun back off your shoulder and left it on the table in the main entrance hall along with the belt holster you'd become so fond of and it was shortly followed by the sound of Daryl's crossbow clattering down next to them. You turned to head down the hall towards the washroom, genuinely looking forward to cleaning the heat of the day off your skin even if this was all part of your plan. You had expected Daryl to wait in the hall until you were done so he could take his turn but instead to your surprise, he followed you down the hall and into the washroom. 

There wasn't a word exchanged between the two of you as you cleaned yourselves up, a tension filling the air that you both seemed unwilling to break just yet. You slowly cleaned the oil from your wrist, the action more of a second thought as your focus stayed on the mirror in front of you. In its reflection, you could see Daryl running his hands under the water, carefully rubbing away the oil on his skin. He dipped his head down and splashed his face with the running water, washing away the oil he'd managed to smear over his brow. You copied his movements, the cold water admittedly feeling amazing against your face.

The final part of your plan clicked in your mind at that moment, this was your chance if you were ever going to get one. If you were being honest the front of your tank top was admittedly filthy. Your morning started with helping Carol collect the ingredients for breakfast from the fields in the front of the prison and the dirt was still caked into the material of your top. In a split-second decision, you were sliding the top off over your head before you could back out, leaving you standing in only your grey sports bra.

Your hands practically shook as you dipped the top under the running water and tried to rub away the dirt. You weren't sure that Daryl was even looking, his back still towards you as you took one final look in the mirror before turning your attention to cleaning your top. You thought you might actually forget how to breathe if you let yourself think about what you were doing too much but it didn't take long to get your answer.

Daryl's fingertips were still cold from the water as they met your back, the feeling a strong contrast against your warm skin. He was standing directly behind you now, his movements nervous, as if he was still afraid of reading the situation wrong but he was playing into exactly what you wanted. His fingers traced a path down your spine, starting at the bottom of your neck and coming to a stop just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Is this alrigh'?" He asked, his voice rough and uneven, already becoming laced with lust but needing your reassurance before he went any further. He needed to hear you say this was what you wanted. You turned around to face him, his hands falling to the rim of the sink as he trapped you between it and his chest. Your breathing was becoming laboured already, your cheeks turning red with the heat that was now burning through your veins. At that moment you had never been more certain of anything in your life.

"Daryl, I didn't invite you out to the only empty building around for no reason." You laughed, the sound light and sweet to his ears as you basked in the feeling of this finally happening. Sure you'd know for a while this wasn't one-sided but to have Daryl confirm it felt surreal, part of you thought you were dreaming this entire thing. You reached out a hand and let it gently rest on his chest right over his heart, feeling it beat against your palm as it picked up speed. This wasn't a dream, this was very real. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want this."

That was all the invitation Daryl needed as he brought one hand up to cover yours, lacing your fingers together as he leaned in, his lips finally, finally meeting yours. The kiss was softer than you'd expected, slower. His lips moved carefully over yours as he took his time, learning how your body melted against his, the way you moved as your lips started to match his movements. It had been a long time since you'd kissed anyone and you were admittedly out of practice but there was something about Daryl, about the way his hands fit so perfectly around your waist that calmed your nerves and made everything flow more naturally.

"You were really plannin' this the whole time?" Daryl smirked against your lips, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You squirmed under his stare, feeling overwhelmed by just how much power he had over you already. "You didn't give a damn 'bout my bike, did ya?"

"Daryl you are so incredibly sweet when you talk about what you're passionate about. I could listen to you all day." You sighed finally giving into the urge and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes as you smiled sweetly at him. "But I have no fucking clue what you're talking about when it comes to that bike."

Daryl let out a laugh at that, a genuine, loud laugh that you'd never heard from him before. The sound made your heart skip a beat, it was like music to your ears, your smile lighting up your whole face as you watched him. There was something about seeing him like this, the side of him that no one else got to see, the side that was for you and you only that made you curious about what else he had to show you. That needy feeling was starting to take over again as you took both his hands in yours and slowly started to walk towards the washroom door, leading him behind you.

"You think these cells are still as intact as ours?" You asked, your voice still managing to hold that hint of innocence despite the intentions that question so obviously held. Daryl happily followed you out into the main cell block before taking the lead, pulling you into a small cell further down the first row. The cell was cleaner than you expected, the bed was still made with a soft blanket and there was a gas-light lamp sitting on the desk giving the room a surprisingly cosy feeling. You looked around the room and slowly started to recognise the clothes scattered around as Daryl's

"Sometimes I need space to myself." He shrugged as he caught the look of recognition on your face. He dropped down onto the bed and spread his legs apart, pulling you in by the waist until you were standing between them. "You ain't the only one with yer eye on this cell block. Been wantin' to take ya up here for a while."

Daryl slid his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts and pulled you even closer until you were pressed against him, chest to chest. You made the move this time, leaning in to kiss him slowly as you melted into his touch. His hands found your hips and gently squeezed before starting to slide downwards, exploring every curve of your body. You couldn't believe you weren't the only one who'd been thinking about this. You grew needier the more you thought about Daryl fantasising about bringing you out here and who knows what else he'd thought about doing with you.

He pulled away from the kiss and took in the sight of you standing in front of him in nothing but your bra, his hands running up your bare sides as he did. His touch was gentle against your skin, almost curious, exploring as he took note of every reaction and sound he drew from you. You let out a soft sigh as his hands trailed down to grab at the back of your thighs and he took the opportunity to pull you into another kiss, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. 

His hands were so close to where you needed them now and all you could think about was how much you wanted him to touch you properly, to relieve some of the pressure between your legs that was now becoming unbearable. Instead, he took his hands off you earning a disappointed whine as he leaned back on his hands on the bed, tilting his head to the side as he watched you closely.

"Show me how ya like to be touched. Wanna treat ya right." He said then, his voice holding that commanding tone that made you weak at the knees. You could feel the flush settling over your chest, creeping up into your face and betraying your false confidence as he placed all the focus on you. It wasn't that you were completely inexperienced with pleasure. You'd touched yourself before, admittedly mostly to the thought of Daryl but that was different. Those times you were focused on the end goal, there was none of the teasing or neediness you wanted from Daryl. You wanted him to touch you like you were the only thing he cared about in the world. 

"I uh -" You stuttered over your words, trying to find the best way to voice your thoughts to Daryl but the words seemed to die in your throat. You could feel the embarrassment you'd feared clawing its way up into your chest as you watched the expression on Daryl's face change. He seemed to have pieced it together but his look was more curious than it was judgemental.

"Is this yer first time?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumb traced across your side trying to ease your anxiety as he waited for an answer.

"I hope that's not a turn-off." You chuckled nervously, turning your face away from his gaze as you admitted the truth. Admittedly it did make you feel better to finally have it out in the open and Daryl didn't seem as affected by the news as you'd expected. 

"There ain't nuthin' you could do or say that's gonna be a turn-off. Been wantin' ya too damn bad for anythin' to change that." Daryl reassured you, pressing a kiss to the centre of your chest. You could feel your anxiety melting away at his words and the way his lips felt against your skin. The scruff of his beard tickled your skin as he tilted his face up to meet your gaze, the surprising softness in his steel eyes almost taking your breath away. His lips moved over your collarbone pressing gentle kisses there. "I'll take care of ya, be gentle with ya, I promise."

 "I trust you." You nodded knowing he meant every word of it.  You'd never trusted anyone in the way you trusted Daryl. Your hands fell to the back of his neck, running through the hair there before lightly pulling. You loved the new shaggy look he had as he grew his hair out longer, it suited him nicely you thought. Daryl tugged on your waist, pulling you down to straddle his lap before his hands glided up your back, meeting the edge of your sports bra. You got the hint as he snapped the elastic against your skin and leaned back, giving him the space to pull the material up over your head.

You could practically feel the path his eyes burned across your skin as he took in the slight of your now entirely bare chest. His touch returned to your chest, his calloused hands gently kneading at your breasts. You whined out at the feeling of finally having Daryl touching you like this as his palms rolled over your sensitive nipples. His own eyes were heavy with lust as he stared at the way your breasts looked under his hands, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin under his touch.

"You look fuckin' incredible like this Doll," Daryl mumbled against your skin as his lips found their way to your neck, moving across the front of your throat. The words seemed to tumble from his mouth before he even really thought about them and the rare praise from him had you rolling your hips against him, your body searching for any friction it could get. Your reaction spurred him on as he realised how much you loved the praise. "Best tits I've ever seen."

"Daryl." You tried to hold onto enough of your decency to still at least sound embarrassed by the way he was talking but his name sounded more like a moan on your lips. You didn't want to admit how much his words affected you but the way your hips started to grind against your control showed it. His lips left a trail of red blotches across your skin in their wake as his blunt nails dragged down your back, marking you as his.

"I mean it. Every word. Could spend all day worshippin' this perfect fuckin' body. Got an ass to die for too." His hands roamed lower down your back until he grabbed at your ass, using his grip to pull you closer to him. You collapsed into his chest, your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him into a needy kiss. He squeezed at your ass, making your hips roll forward again and with this new position you could feel his erection straining against his pants underneath you.

His need was growing with each kiss, his lips growing rougher, messier against yours with each kiss becoming all teeth and tongue. You needed more, needed everything you'd been daydreaming about with him. You had a hundred fantasies running through your head and even if you were unsure what you were doing you wanted to learn, with him.

The kiss broke as you shifted further back in his lap, his mouth chasing yours as you pulled away with a teasing look on your face. You glanced down at his lap as your hands finally found his belt. Daryl let out a soft groan as you played with the leather material before you started to thread it through the buckle, sinking off his lap and onto the ground between his thighs. As he pieced together what you were trying to do he caught your wrist then, urging you back up.

"You don't gotta do that, not yer first time."  You smiled up at Daryl through your lashes, giving him the sweetest look. It truly was heartwarming how willing he was to put the full attention of this moment on you but you'd been dreaming about what it would be like to go down on him for weeks now. 

"I know but I wanna." You reassured him, kissing the inside of his wrist where he was still holding yours in his hand. You let the kiss linger for a moment longer, feeling his pulse under your lips. "I just- I don't know what to do really is all."

"Let me teach ya then." He said, his voice raspy with the thought of just how much you wanted to please him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you on your knees like this for him before. He quickly undid his own belt before kicking his boots and tattered, well-worn jeans off to one side leaving him in just his boxers. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs at the sight of the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You hadn't even touched him and yet your head was swimming, making you feel drunker than any alcohol ever had. "Just go slow, take ya time." 

You reached out and lightly dragged your fingers across his cock over his boxers, feeling the way he twitched as your touch pulled a strangled moan from his lips. The sound awoke something in you, making you forget about your own nervousness for a moment as you went for it, finally tugging off his boxers to throw them down with the rest of his clothes. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroked him up and down, watching for even the smallest reactions on his face. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his eyes open, watching you as you let your tongue peek out, leaving kitten licks just under the head on every downward stroke.

"That's it Darlin' j'st like that." His southern drawl deepened as the lust he was feeling took over, building higher and higher. There was something about your innocence and how willing you were to learn, to let him be the one to ruin you that turned him on beyond belief. You kissed your way up his length all the way from the bottom until your tongue ran across the tip, licking up the precum that was starting to build up there. You leaned in then and took the tip between your lips, looking up at him as you slowly pushed your head forward. Your tongue ran along the underside as you took the first inch or two. "C'mon ya can take a lil' more, atta girl." 

You couldn't say no to the praise coming from Daryl as you pressed forward again, stopping just before his cock moved far enough back in your throat to make you gag. You moaned lightly around him at the feeling of finally having your mouth on him, the sound vibrating in your throat sending a spark of pleasure through Daryl,  You let your tongue do the work as you held him in your mouth, letting your body adjust to breathing through your nose as you traced along the vein that ran up the length before lapping over the rip.

"Suck." He said then, his voice breaking on the word as he tapped your full cheek. His hand found its way to your hair, tangling his fingers there as he slowly started to pull your head back before urging you forward again, setting your pace. He needed more, needed movement before he lost his mind. "Ya gotta suck and move yer head." 

You followed his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as you matched the pace he set for you, bobbing your head over his cock. His hand tightened in your hair as you sucked and he let out a low groan of your name, his head falling back towards the ceiling. You pressed your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief as you ached between your legs at the noises he made. You got a little too eager at how good you were making him feel and took him deeper than you could, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him.

"Shit-" He moaned out at the feeling of sliding further into your throat, getting him even closer to the edge but he held himself back, resisting the urge to thrust his hips knowing it was too much for you. "Just breath, 'ts alrigh'. Easy sweetheart."

It sounded like he needed to listen to his own advice as his breathing grew heavy, his ragged breaths turning to groans as each movement brought him closer to the edge. You could feel your panties being ruined between your legs, growing wetter with each gasp and breathy moan of your name that fell from his lips. You started to gain more confidence and brought your hand up to join the mix, stroking what you couldn't take into your mouth

"Fuck!" Daryl practically growled low in his throat as he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him rougher than he'd intended as you started to move your hand harder along his cock. You looked up at him, wide-eyed with fear that you'd done something wrong but that quickly faded when you saw the look on his face. He collapsed backwards on the small bed, his eyes screwed shut as his hand tightened around the base of his cock, trying to regain control over himself. His chest was rising rapidly, a string of curses falling from his mouth. "Fuck- I almost fuckin' came. Christ woman how the hell was that your first time? That mouth is sinful." 

"You could have you know," The mix of knowing just how good you'd made Daryl feel and your slight nervousness at matching his dirty talk made you giggle. You rested your chin on his thigh and looked up at him through your lashes, sinking your teeth into your already swollen and saliva-coated bottom lip. "Come in my mouth. Kind of hoped you would."

"Next time Darlin' next time." You could feel your heart racing at the thought of a next time with Daryl already. You never wanted anyone else after this, Daryl was all you needed. He leaned down and helped you up from the rough cell floor, his hands smoothing over the harsh red marks showing on your knees. You kind of hoped they'd last, as a reminder. "C'mere to me."

You crawled onto the bed next to Daryl as he sat up and finally shrugged off his leather bike vest and short-sleeved flannel, giving you a full view of his chest. His body was perfect, every mark and scar just adding to how attractive he was to you. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the way his stomach muscles tensed under your touch the lower you reached. Every touch and every moment of this was better than you could have ever imagined. You could never have imagined how hard his muscles would feel under your hands as they moved to his forearms, tracing over the tattoos there. 

Daryl's hands found their way back to your waist and he easily manhandled you, moving you however he wanted until you were lying down on the bed underneath him. He kneeled over you, grabbing your jaw in both hands as he crushed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that knocked the air from your lungs. He was already strung out, his entire body on edge from how close he'd been earlier but still, his hands were gentle with you as they slid over your stomach, his kiss the only thing betraying how desperate he was.

He made quick work of your shorts, flicking the button open with one hand before pulling them down your legs. Within seconds of your shorts hitting the ground, Daryl sipped his hand into the front of your panties, slowly dragging his fingers across your folds as he felt how wet you were.

"This all for me? Did ya get this wet just from suckin' my dick?" He asked his voice dripping with that teasing tone that drove you wild, stopping his movements until you answered him.

"Yes. All for you Daryl." You gasped as he drew his fingers around your clit in painstakingly light circles as a reward for your answer. It was enough contact to send fire burning through your nerves but nowhere near enough to give you any kind of release. You bucked your hips up into his hand, hoping to get any kind of pressure but instead, he pulled his hand back out of your underwear moving to pull the already ruined material down your legs. He threw your panties to the side and returned his thumb to its previous position, brushing over your clit while he slowly pushed his middle finger inside you.

"Fuck ya really are tight aren't ya?"Daryl groaned out feeling the way you clenched around his finger as he imagined what it would feel like around his cock. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you as he started to stretch you out. You were admittedly worried about being able to take Daryl when you felt the slight burn from his finger alone and he was bigger than you'd expected. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make sure yer ready." 

The feeling of Daryl fingering you was unlike anything you could have ever had with your own hands. His fingers were thicker than yours, stretching you out as he a second one to the mix and they were skilled. Years of working with his crossbow gave him the precision he needed to find your g-spot as he hooked his fingers inside of you. You never knew it could feel this good when it was someone else bringing you pleasure. He leaned down and caught the sounds of your moans with his mouth in a messy kiss.

He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your throat towards your chest, you already knew they'd leave a mark as he sucked at your skin. His teeth nipped at your collarbone as you lost yourself in the pleasure that was starting to build higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. His tongue licked across your skin, soothing where he'd just bitten before slowly moving down to lap across the curve of your breasts. He focused his attention on you, trying to ignore how painful hard he was as he felt you buck up against his hand at another curve of his fingers. His lips latched around your nipple as his fingers never let up their pace, slowly stretching you out until Daryl could easily slide a third finger in.

Daryl grew restless with each minute that passed, changing his focus to your other breast as he sucked and lapped his tongue across the hardened nipple. The feeling of you clenching around his fingers as your hips thrust up to meet his movements drove him crazy. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Think ya can take me now sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hot, uneven breath fanning across your skin. Your hands found his shoulders before sliding up to lock around his neck, pulling him into a kiss as you nodded. You were more than ready to feel Daryl inside of you, your body practically screaming at you with how badly you needed to come.

"Y-yeah Daryl please, please fuck me." You whined out at the feeling of Daryl pulling his fingers out of you, suddenly clenching around nothing. He brought his hand up admiring the slick coat of your arousal that coated his fingers before slipping them into his mouth. He let his eyes fall shut as he sucked, his tongue licking the taste of you from his fingers. 

"Fucking hell woman, I'm eatin' that pussy first chance I get. Taste so damn sweet." He groaned out, that low gravelly sound pooling between your legs as you pictured Daryl's head between your thighs. "But right now I might just fuckin' explode if I don't fuck ya."

Daryl shifted you both into a more comfortable position as he settled between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs further apart. He took a minute to admire the sight of you spread open in front of him before he lifted one leg to wrap around his waist. You got the hint, digging your heel into the small of his back to pull him even closer. You could feel his cock pressing against your folds when he adjusted himself as close as he could get to you.

"Ya ready for this?" He asked looking down between your bodies as he took his cock in his hand and teased the head over your clit. You threw your head back at the feeling, your leg tightening around his waist.

"I want you, Daryl." You gasped out, nodding your consent as he move his cock lower to gather some of the wetness around your entrance. Lube hadn't exactly been a top priority on your last few runs but Daryl still wanted to make sure this was as comfortable as possible for you as he stroked himself, spreading your arousal over his cock. 

With your final nod of approval, he pushed forward, the first few inches sliding inside you. You cried out at the feeling, your back arching off the bed as your hands grasped his arms, dragging your nails across his skin. Even with how much Daryl had tried to prepare you it still burned as your body fought to adjust to his size. Your chest heaved with your harsh breaths as you whimpered.

"Shh hush sweetheart yer alrigh'. Just breathe, it'll get better I promise. I'll go slow." You could feel your body relaxing from the simple words of praise from him as his hand cupped your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. He moved at your pace, waiting until he felt your muscles relax, releasing their tight grip on him before he thrust forward again. This time he sunk into you fully, holding himself close to your body as he fought every instinct that was telling him to thrust, to just move. He buried his face in your chest, placing kisses between your breasts as he waited for you to adjust again.

"Daryl - move, please." The pleading tone in your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears but you couldn't help it. You had never felt this full, so completely surrounded as Daryl's body caged you into the bed. He stretched you out in all the best ways and even the pain it caused got you higher and higher. It felt like time slowed around you as Daryl stayed still inside of you and it was driving you crazy, you needed more, needed to feel him move.

Daryl wasted no time in giving you what you wanted, he pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in. The rhyme he set was slow but deep, each thrust reaching a place inside you that had you moaning out at the contact. You gave into the feeling more and more as you adjusted, the pain giving way to pure pleasure. There was something freeing about being in the building alone, you didn't have to worry about who would hear you or what kind of attention you'd attract as your moans grew louder which each thrust until you were damn near screaming Daryl's name.

This feeling was far beyond anything you'd experienced before, beyond anything you could have imagined. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed by him, the feeling of each thrust building you towards the best orgasm of your life. The sound of his pants were growing heavier in your ear with each thrust and you were breathing in the rich, heady scent that was so unmistakably Daryl that made your head spin whenever you were around him.

You dragged your nails down his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars under your touch as you went, leaving new red marks after you. His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, losing their rhyme as they came faster than before as he chased his own release while trying to keep his focus on you. His hands pinned your hips down to the bed as you tried to arch into the feeling, completely losing control of your body as your brain melted with how close you were.

All it took to break the pressure that was building inside of you was one swift drag of his thumb across your clit and you were spasming around him, your entire body freezing as you came hard. You grasped at him, needing something, anything to ground you as broken moans fell from your lips.

"Daryl! Oh god - I - shit - please. Please." You weren't sure what exactly you were begging him for anymore, all you knew was everything was too much and yet somehow not enough at all. Your control over your body entirely shut down as you turned to putty in his hands, letting him use you in whatever way he needed as he chased his own orgasm.

"Fuck ya feel fuckin' perfect, that pussy squeezin' me like that. Look so fuckin' sexy when ya cum like that for me. I coulda watched that forever." Daryl's words were becoming slurred as he spoke, barely making any sense anymore as his entire focus was on the feeling you were bringing him. His hips snapped roughly against you to the point of almost being painful before finally he rutted against you, moaning loudly into your neck as he came. You could feel him twitching inside you as he collapsed against you, his arms giving out underneath him. He didn't bother pulling out of you yet. "Doll ya have ruined me forever, I ain't ever gonna get as good a fuck with anybody else. Don't wanna either." 

"Daryl that was - that was- holy shit." You laughed but it came out more breathy as you collapsed back against the pillows, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl slowly pulled out of you, the feeling making you groan out at the slight discomfort but you were almost glad of the ache that you knew would remind you of what you'd done for days.

"Hope that was as good as ya were expectin' for yer first time," Daryl said nuzzling his nose under your jaw as he lay down beside you on the small bed, turning you on your side so he could pull you back against his chest.

"It was more than perfect, thank you, Daryl." You reassured him as you tangled your arms with his that had settled around your waist. You lost track of how long you lay like that, simply enjoying each other's company as Daryl pressed light kisses across your skin. You could have easily fallen asleep like that and any other time and you would have but you were still technically on duty. "We should get back before the others start askin' questions." 

Daryl hummed his agreement as he watched you sit up on the bed, running his hand up your back before you put your bra back on. He stood up from the bed as you started to dress yourself again and quickly threw back on his pants, walking over to grab a clean washcloth from the desk. Without saying a word he knelt down in front of you and gently wiped away the mess between your legs, leaving a light kiss against the outside of your thigh once you were clean. You could feel your heart flutter at the gesture, just the simple act of him taking the time to take care of you.

With your tank top still damp and abandoned in the sink of the washroom you slipped Daryl's oversized shirt on over your head before reaching to grab your panties from the pile of clothes. You glanced around in confusion when you noticed they weren't next to your shorts anymore.

"Daryl did you see my -" You looked up to see the cheeky grin on his face as he slipped his hand into his back pocket and dangled your panties from the tip of his finger in front of your face.

"Lookin' for these?" You rolled your eyes and reached to grab them from him but he quickly dodged your movement tucking them back into his pocket. "Consider it a keepsake. Until next time."

"Well in that case," You stood up slipping back on your shorts with nothing underneath, even after everything you'd just done it felt like the naughtiest thing you'd done all day. The denim rubbed against you in all the places you were still sensitive. You pushed up on your toes to kiss his cheek before whispering the next words in his ear. "I'll find a cuter pair for you to keep next time."

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 28

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I was lying last time. That wasn't a biggun. THIS is a biggun.

'Be careful, Dad.'

'I will, baby.'

I realize the others. 'Oh. And you too, I guess.'

'Real funny,' T-Dog signs, unimpressed.

The strongest of our group spare us no last glances as they turn away, with only five bullets and a handful of bolts between them. I sit next to Lori on the small bench, watching their backs retreat. The Thanton Memorial hospital. There it is, tall and beige like a school, but really more of a Hellbox filled with nasty surprises behind each one of the hundreds of little black windows. Glad it ain't me.

God. Nine miles. Two days. Sharpsburg, East of nowhere. We really made it. I guess I knew we would.

'You know this place.'

Herschel's already looking at me when I turn to him, his moustache curled around a smile.

'Just a feeling,' He adds.

'You're a mind reader,' I decide, regarding him with suspicion.

Herschel Greene; a wizard disguised as a Georgian farmer. I knew there was something up with him.

He doesn't respond, because I guess he don't want his cover blown. That or... Well, he's waiting for an answer.

'My Momma lived in this town.' Is all I supply him with after a time, because it ends the same way most stories do.

'I'm sorry.'

I shrug. It ain't anybody's fault. 'I don't know why I didn't tell nobody.'

'This town means something to you. We don't always share things like that.'

I guess. 'What about your Momma?'

'My Mother died when I was fairly young.' He admits easily, like somebody at peace. 'One day, my brother and I noticed she'd gone out into the rain to water the plants, and things were never quite the same for a long time after that.'

Oh. I've heard of that. People getting old, forgetting where their bedroom is, who their kids are.

It's hard to imagine Herschel as just a boy with a Momma.

Some days, it's even hard to imagine myself as just a girl, even though that's what I still am.

I offer him a lame smile.

'Let's talk about something a little happier,' He suggests, while over his shoulder, a flashlight glares across the inside of one of the second storey windows. 'I'm starting to think it's the end of December. That would mean it's Christmas soon.'

The light disappears.

I ignore it.

If only them pharmacies we checked this morning had anything in them besides rat shit and dust.

'Jesus' birthday party,' I muse.

That gets him to laugh. I think he's tryna distract me. 'Yes. It could even be tomorrow.'

'Really? How do you know?'

'Well, I suppose I don't. Do you like Christmas?'

Everybody likes Christmas. That is, at least, everybody likes presents.

'Yeah. My Meemaw had a really pretty tree.'

'The minute it turned December first, Maggie and Beth would always force everyone to put up ours.'

'Do they believe in Santa Claus?'

'Not anymore, I'm afraid.'

'And you?'

His eyes glint mischievously. 'Of course I do.'

I consider it. 'I don't think I do. I don't believe in the Easter Bunny, neither.'

Or God, but that's a different story.

'They didn't ever come to your house?'

'They came a few times, but I think they forgot about us. My friend Dylan said they're made up. The Christmas after that, I stayed up late to spy on Santa, but I just saw Merle and Dad carrying presents in from the truck. I never told them.'

'I guess Santa was too busy that night.'

'If he is real, I hope he's okay. The Easter bunny has lots of chocolate to eat, but... Santa might be hungry.'

I wonder if the walkers have made it to the North Pole yet. Knowing those assholes, they definitely have.

'You forget; — Santa has magic.'

'That's how he makes the sleigh fly, right?'

'Right. And all those cookies and all that milk... Well. He's got more than enough to last a lifetime.'

'So, you think he's okay?'

'I'm sure of it.'

'I would like some cookies and milk, too.'

The old man only laughs again, giving my knee a gentle pat as Carl leans forward, his mouth moving around some words.

When the boy gestures to me, Herschel translates.

'He asked me what we were talking about. He wants to tell you it's okay; Santa forgot about him too, one year.'

Carl sends me a thumbs up, trusting that the message got across well enough.

It did. I feel my smile widen.

It's wiped away when Lori suddenly lurches forward between us. Her chest wracks, wracks, wracks, a soft wad of phlegm flying past her lips and landing at her feet. My hand goes to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, as if that's gonna do anything useful. Her lungs, they must be clogged up like sponges filled with yoghurt, all that sickness and junk coming back up the way it went in.

Herschel's on his feet, bringing his thin hand down on her back, knocking the phlegm out of her.

I glance over my shoulder.

Lights; more of them, swooping over the glass, appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

A gunshot lighting up a window.

Please be okay, I think. Lori won't make it like this.

Facing forward again, Lori's got her hand splayed over the base of her throat, coughing dryly. She takes the water bottle Carol is offering to her, and gulp, gulp, gulps down the last of what's inside, deflating when she's done, cradling her big belly.

Are you okay, I ask aloud as I loosen my grip on her, hoping it sounds how it's supposed to sound.

She smiles at me in the slightest of ways, putting her hand over mine before I can pull it away.

She nods, I'm okay, honey.

I nod back, because that's good. I don't believe her for a second, but that's good.

'There was a gunshot,' Beths signs to me, then.

'I know. I saw.'

She continues signing even as she turns to Herschel, a habit by now. 'That was loud.'

'Don't worry. Anything that heard it will be too slow to make their way over here.'

'I hope so.'

We sit without talking after that, watching the windows of the hospital light up with gunshots every now and then, as if it were a football game on TV. I count them, the flashes. The one I saw while Lori was coughing, that's one. That one there, that's two.

Rick used to talk about the day he woke up in the Grady Memorial Hospital sometimes. Right now, the only parts of the story I can remember are the ones where he'd hesitate to continue, staring at something in the fire the rest of us couldn't see, before he muttered about the way there wasn't one wall in the entire building that wasn't dirtied with blood, not even in the children's ward.

Hospitals just ain't what they used to be, is what I learned from him.

There's definitely more than just rat shit and dust in there.

I glance at Beth, asking her, 'Any noise?'

Her lips crumple into a thin line as she answers, 'Nothing.'

Just when I swear Herschel is about to bow his head and start praying, the front doors swing open.

Mouse perks up, his tail ramrod straight.

That's Dad, T-Dog, and Maggie walking out.

Where's Rick and Glenn?

The three of them are panting, dishevelled, but nobody hurt. Nobody bit. That's always the first thing I look for.

Thing is, though, they're all looking at me like I've won a shitty prize and I just don't know it yet.

What now?, I almost feel like saying, but don't.

The further in we walk, the darker it gets.

Does anybody really like the dark?

The flashlights carve out pockets in the walls and floors around us as we make our way down corridor after corridor. My heart skips a beat each time we pass the body of a patient or a nurse or a person in regular clothing, all with a bolt or a bullet buried somewhere inside them. We sidestep their limp arms in turn, their puddles of blood. I ain't ever been in a horror house before, but I imagine this is worse. I imagine it'd prolly feel a whole lot less like you're being walked to the gallows for execution, and that the blood would be fake.

If I had my locket, it would be clutched between my fingers right now, but the soft spot beneath my throat is completely bare. When I woke up this morning to my empty palm, I knew right away what'd happened. I didn't bother to ask what he did with it.

Passing another body with a bolt skewered through its face, my Dad reaches for it, pulling it out.

Clicking it back onto his bow, he notices me watching him.

'Keep going, baby.' He signs to me, black blood smeared down the side of his neck. 'Not far, now.'

T-Dog comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor a minute later, his flashlight revealing Glenn and Rick standing together just up ahead. Not hurt. Not bit. They look up from what they've been doing, which looks like taking turns kicking the wall.

T-Dog lowers the flashlight to their feet.

There it is.

The Harley-sized hole in the wall.

Now that I'm looking it, I can see what they meant. Nobody else is fitting through that thing, not even Carl.

Still no use, is the sentiment written all over Rick's face.

It looks like they've tried their best to widen the gap, but it's made out of solid brick and we're fresh outta jackhammers.

Will she fit? 

Yeah, I think so, Is the gist of what I can tell they're saying to each other.

We got this piece off here, but it the rest isn't budging. We don't have any bullets left to shoot it.

Maybe... we can do what I said before? Find another pharmacy?

Sure. When you find one within twenty miles of here, you let me know.

You're right. That was dumb. Sorry.

There are no other options. The medicine Lori needs is in that room, and it's like I said. She won't make it, otherwise.

'Listen. There are keys on the desk.' Dad explains to me, his stern expression contoured harshly by the flashlights surrounding us. He takes my wrist, guiding me to crouch with him at the base of the wall, pointing through the cracked bricks. I strain to make out the desk with the keys at the back of the room on the other side, before I meet his gaze again. 'Do you see them?'

'Yeah. I saw them.'

The desk ain't the only thing in there.

'We need you to grab them and unlock the door for us.'

We both know I also saw the walker standing idly in the corner, head bowed to the floor, waiting.

'We'll be able to kill it when the door is open.' He adds when I don't respond, as if he needed permission. 'I can't from here.'

'My heart is beating fast.'

He nods. 'That's a good thing. And this meathead is dumb. Are you dumb?'

I puff my chest out, shaking my head.

'That's right. You don't need to hear them when you're smarter than them. You're always smarter than them. Okay?'

'Okay.'

That's what he's told me ever since I went totally deaf. I don't need to hear them when I'm smarter than them. It's not as if we've had the opportunity to test the theory out, since there's so little walkers that I ain't had to kill one yet, but I trust him.

Twisting around, he gestures for Glenn's flashlight and catches it easily, giving it a few test clicks.

He hands it to me. 'Remember what I taught you?'

I give a nod, feeling the weight of Merle's knife sitting in the sheath on my thigh.

'Good. And be careful of the glass on the floor, okay?'

'Okay. I got this.'

I can do this. I gotta, for Lori and the baby. It'll make for a funny story one day, anyway. I can do it.

'You got this.' He agrees. 'It's gonna smell you, but you're not gonna panic. Easy stuff.'

'Easy stuff. Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

With one last look at the group, I take a deep breath and grab onto one of the exposed bricks, contorting myself until my head and one of my arms is through the gap. I pause for a moment, trying not to breathe too much as I watch the walker follow invisible patterns along the floor with its eyes. Once its head is tilted away from me, I brace my hand on the floor, pushing myself through.

Oh, God. What was it I just said? I can do this?

The flashlight blinks on and off as I land on the other side, grabbing it, giving it a shake.

The desk is illuminated in a circle of light, centre stage.

The dead body twitches in the shadows. I slowly get to my feet, silently warning it to stay right where it is if it knows what's good for it. I'm smart. I can read and write now, and my Dad taught me how to stab the thigh first, so the walker will collapse and make it easier for me to reach whatever cavity I can stick my knife in. If this thing gets too close to me, it's gonna get the Dixon treatment.

Uh huh. That's right, I scold it, chin held up. The Dixon treatment. Ain't nobody want that!

The pieces of glass on the floor glint in the light as I tip toe my way through them, stepping up to the desk.

Dad said the keys are here. I saw them. They should be right here amongst these dusty papers — Ugh, God, don't sneeze. Don't. — or maybe even on this folder? What about the shelves above the desk? How could they just disappear?

When I turn the light on the walker, it's looking at me, eyeballs wet, reflecting the light.

It's smelt me.

That's okay. I'm okay. We knew it would.

It starts its slow shuffle towards me as I turn my attention back on the desk, casting about it twice as quickly now, batting the alarm clock, the pen pots, the stethoscope, everything out of my way and following all the pencils and random office supplies down to the floor. Kneeling, I look around, making sure the keys haven't gone down with them or fallen between the desk and the cabinets.

A glint of metal.

I gasp. They have!

I must've accidently knocked them off while I was choking back all that dust in my face.

I stick my hand into the slim gap, but — Ugh. — I can't get it any farther than my knuckles!

I'll have to make it wider.

Abandoning the flashlight, I grab the side of the desk, using all my strength to shove it even just one inch to the side.

Shit, it's heavy. They got bowling balls in here, or what?

The wheelie chair bumps into my ankle. I act on instinct, my hands shooting out, bracing against it. I look up. The walker's slouched over it, reaching for me. My elbows, they buckle. Shit. The seat slams into my shoulder — Ouch! — but you know what. This'll do. This works. I just need these stupid keys. I ignore the walker and its stench of old meat, focused on nothing but the keys.

I'm not gonna panic. It's what I used to do, but I've learnt since then. I'm better!

A couple shoves, and the gap is just wide enough, wide as it's ever gonna be.

Easy stuff. Easy stuff.

The seat suddenly gives way. The body rolls, cracking its cheekbone on the floor. Don't matter. I got the keys. I'm back on my feet and running to the door, feeling out a random key and shoving it in the lock, twisting it. It's the right one. The door opens.

Maggie pulls me out by the arm. It's if there's a fire blazing behind me and I'm about to go up in flames.

That's it. I'm out!

I fall into her stomach, protectively held there.

Thank whoever's still up there. Or maybe, just thank me.

Rick and Dad push past my shoulders, marching into the room and unsheathing their blades, powerfully driving them both into the walker's skull. Blood splatters as they yank them out, droplets landing across the glass cap of the flashlight on the floor. It tints the light and everything it's cast onto a bright red, flickering. Dad picks it up, wipes it on his thigh, and hands it back to Glenn.

Grinning proudly to myself, I hold up the keys up like a trophy head for everyone to see.

Maggie releases me, smiling breathlessly down at me in relief.

'Well done,' T-Dog exclaims with his hands, sharing a high five with me.

Kneeling in front of me, Dad cups my face in his hands. He don't give a damn about the keys. Are you okay?

'I'm okay. The keys were down the side of the desk. I couldn't reach them. I had to—,' Shoving at the air, I enthusiastically mime the struggle, making Maggie chuckle behind her hand. 'The walker was trying to get me through the chair.'

He smiles, wagging his thumbs across my cheeks before lowering his hands. 'I told you. Meatheads. But not you.'

'Not all the time, anyway.'

'You should've come back out when you couldn't find the keys.'

'Sorry.'

'It's alright. There won't be a next time. You did good.'

Then, taking the keys from me, he stands back up and returns to Rick's side in the dark room.

I stay right beside Maggie and Glenn as they make quick work of the storage room door, pushing it open. Their torches illuminate the shelves on either side of them, which to everyone's relief, are completely untouched, lined with all kinds of medicine. It wasn't all for nothing. Without bothering to read many of the labels, they swoop their arms through the masses of bottles, catching everything in their open backpacks and zippering them back up, before nodding to each other and stepping back outta the small room.

Let's go, Rick says as he shoos us forward. We're all eager to get the Hell outta this place.

Stepping through Thanton Memorial's broken glass doors, daylight breaks across my face.

The fresh, cold air floods into my dusty lungs.

When Carl spots me, it's like the bench burns his ass. He's calling my name as he comes running at me, crushing me in a hug that almost sends us both toppling over into the snow. A giggle is squeezed from me as I hug him back, feeling my bones creak under the pressure. Wow. For somebody who ain't eaten anything other than a bit of rabbit for the past two days, he sure is strong.

Pulling away, he holds both my shoulders as he worriedly exclaims something to me.

You're the coolest, bravest person ever, I'm gonna assume is what he's saying, I don't know how you did it!

He pulls me in for another, quicker hug.

When Herschel appears over his shoulder, I get the real story. 'He's telling you we were all very worried.'

Oh. Is that right?

Ow!, The boy scoffs as I land a punch to his shoulder, forcing him offa me.

'Tell him he's talking to Harley Dixon,' I say.

As the sentiment is passed on, Carl rolls his eyes at me, making a retort.

'He wants to remind you of the time he hugged you after you cried from a nightmare.'

Ow!, He complains again when I punch him.

As he rubs sorely at his shoulder, he can't help but giggle along with me.

'Come on,' Herschel interrupts us, herding the two of us back toward the group. 'Very well done, sweetie.'

'I was only a little scared.'

'Of course. This is Harley Dixon I'm speaking to, isn't it?'

Too right. 'Yes, it is!'

Stepping up to the crowd, we gather around the bench as Rick takes a seat next to his wife, uncapping the bottle of water in his lap. Her face looks awful pale-like, paler than the snow packed under our boots. Still, despite the effort it must take, she manages a smile. Her hands shake as she takes the water, watching Rick tap a small bottle of pills against her open palm until two tumble out. 

Being trapped in that room was one of the scariest things I've done. I can say that, now. But as she tips her head back and swallows the pills down with a gulp of water, I'm hit with the feeling that I would do it all over again if I had to.

She sighs, body swaying. We can only hope that it works.

As Rick soothes circles onto her lower back, his gaze accidently meets mine.

'Thank you', He signs, looking like he means every bit of it.

His blue eyes start to water just like they did last night, except there ain't no fire I can blame it on this time.

I only give him a single, shy nod, grabbing onto my Dad's hand. He don't need to thank me. I love Lori, too.

Then to everyone else, he says it again; Thank you.

Carl's hugging me again.

I don't bother punching him this time. I don't wanna do it, anyway.

Being back in Sharpsburg is different to what I thought it would be.

Aside from the old blood smeared across the roads, the way everything seems to have gone through a nightmare and fell back asleep shortly afterward, Sharpsburg is the one place we been that has not bothered to rot away quite yet. There ain't no bombing craters where parks or stores used to stand, no toppled police barricades, army trucks, no bruises from the week everything ended.

Petey's general store is still exactly where it always was, right next door to the news agency, the record store, the locksmith. I don't keep my head down like I planned to. I don't pretend I never knew this place, or the people in it, because I did. I hold my chin up to the light of the setting sun as we walk through the forgotten town, unafraid of the memories I can see behind each and every door.

You know this place. I did. I do. For a long while, it was pretty much the only thing I knew.

Each weekend, I would jump out of Dad's truck the second he pulled up on the handbrake, door slamming as I ran into my Mama's open arms. It would be late afternoon, sometimes twilight. There was no school the next day, no quizzes or beatings to worry about. Not on the good days, not when I was cruising down the sidewalk on my bike with a dollar note in my hand, on my way to Petey's. He would always insist on letting me pick an ice cream out for free, but it never worked. Have-it-her-way-Harley, he always called me, the nickname a hearty chuckle in his mouth. The wind was in my hair on the way home, because I had one back then, dollar note replaced with a fruity-flavored glob of ice cream frozen to a stick. Sugar melting onto my fingers, washed away in the play pool after dark.

I used to do things like that. We all did, I suppose.

As we pass by an empty parking lot, I notice the rainbow streamers of a lonely, fallen bike blowing around in the wind like a white flag. I wanna ride a bike again. Just for a minute. Maybe two, I think, as I hold my gaze on it for as long as I can.

Eventually, we make it to a park. Of course, I recognise this place as well, and so does my Dad.

That's why I can feel him staring at the back of my head.

I never stopped to think about how he knows Sharpsburg, too. He was right there with me on the porch of Petey's store, most the time, smoking cigarettes in the sun with melted ice cream drying out on his collarbones. He remembers it, too.

We used to come to this park all the time; me, Momma, and Dad, on the rare days they got along.

I got to pretend I was a different kid looking in on the three of us and thinking, What a nice family. I wish I was her.

Now, the monkey bars look more like the giant ribcage of an old beast rather than something I'd wanna play on.

A shrivelled walker, curled over the seat of one of the swings, lets the wind brush its fingers along the ground.

Everyone has a Before.

Even that walker.

Even if our Befores were all very different, at least our Afters are all the same. We're all here, sick, hungry, tired.

The park's trees and fences fall away after a while of more walking, making way for a suburban street.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the road, the ache in my feet worsens to a pang, pang, panging.

'Everything alright?' Glenn's asking me as a wave of tiredness suddenly washes over me.

'My feet hurt.' I answer. 'And don't say sorry.'

'I think we're going to stop soon. Don't worry.'

Rick considers the houses lined up in front of us, hands on his hips, as Dad walks up to us. 'What's wrong?'

'Her feet hurt. And are you tired?'

I could fall asleep right here in the snow. 'A little.'

Even when I was lost in the woods outside Herschel's farm, I still don't think I ever walked this much and for this long.

Giving me a regretful look, Dad offers, 'Do you need me to carry you?'

'I'm a big girl,' I tell him, yawning.

'I know. I asked you a question.'

They wait on my answer. I think about fighting it a minute longer, but I just don't have it in me. I'm reaching up for my Dad before I even realize it's what I'm doing, letting him lift me onto his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

I could've definitely handled it. Yeah. It's just that, maybe it's okay if I don't for a while.

I can already feel my eyes drooping shut. I'm gonna fall asleep right here.

It's suddenly a lot easier to feel like just a girl, now.

My chin hooked over his shoulder, I watch through my heavy lids as Rick does a double take on something laying on the ground, turning to pick up what looks like a fallen street sign. The moonlight swells over the clouds, spilling onto the metal.

Brushing the frost off, he reveals the words, Bolton Drive.

Bolton Drive. To me, this was always just Dylan's street.

If we turn left here, there's some bigger houses down the way. I think it's prolly what my Dad's telling the group right now.

We're on the move again right after that, heading further into the suburbs. I'm saved from walking, instead snuggling into my Dad. It's almost impossible to shield my face from the oncoming winds as I peek out over his shoulder, the moon a silver ball in the sky behind us. I bet it's just about the only place left without any walkers, including the North Pole. If I were a bird, maybe I would forget all about Earth and just fly up there. I could look back down on it all like from a faraway window, watching as it slowly spins.

At a harsh gust of wind, I close my eyes, and the moon and all the stars vanish.

Sleep sweeps me up quickly. My mind floods with murky colors, then black, swirling like a shower drain.

When I open my eyes next, we're approaching a house I don't recognise.

'Shhhh,' Dad's soothing me, looking about as exhausted as I feel. 'It's alright. I'm putting you down.'

My feet slowly setting on the ground, Maggie takes my hand before I get the chance to feel the loss of Dad's warmth. We wait shivering at each other's side as the men clear out the house. Rick eventually sticks his head back out, waving us inside.

Climbing the porch, we huddle into the narrow corridor and spread out into the nearest room, the lounge room. Dad's already got a fire going for us as we make ourselves at home on the sofas, the hot breath of the flames quickly starting to melt the frost stuck to my coat. I hug myself, breathing deeply and slowly to try fight off the urge to fall right back asleep. As I notice Carl approaching, I scoot over to make room for him and his Momma, who settles her weight down on the sofa with the help of Maggie and Glenn.

I feel a little bad for being carried, even if I needed it. Lori made it all the way here on foot, deep into a sickness and carrying a baby inside of her. A lotta people might think a lady like her is weak, but they'd be wrong. There's many ways to be strong.

My Dad stands from where he was knelt by the fireplace, peeling off his beanie and sitting beside me.

As I look around the room, all I see are tired faces.

Mouse plops himself between my feet, the poor guy's fur ice-cold beneath my hands as I give him some pats.

We'll be warm soon, buddy, I think.

Everyone's attention is stolen when Rick steps up to the front of the room, fiddling with his beanie in his hands.

He gulps on nothing, nodding to himself. 

'I know we're all very tired,' Herschel translates for me as the words come, even though his arms must feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 'Been tired for months. But let's just make the most of this and try to relax tonight. We've got a fire. We've got walls. Medicine. It's a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan. T and I will melt some snow for us to drink, and we got some food we just found in the kitchen. We'll take turns for watch through the night, but there's not much out there. You saw.'

Carol hesitates to raise her hand, shaking her head as she asks a question.

We turn back to Rick. 'I don't know. I don't like staying in one place long, but I'm thinking there's only a few more weeks left until Spring. It's not impossible to think we can tough it out here. There's not many other options right now.'

It looks like we're staying in Sharpsburg for a few more weeks, then. At least until the cold dies down.

There are worse places to end up.

'Try to warm up in the meantime.'

Leaving us to stew in thought, Rick and T-Dog pull their coats on tighter and disappear through the archway.

'You know something?' Beth asks after a minute or two, the only light in the room coming from the fire. It lends her face a pretty, dim glow as she glances at her Dad sitting next to her.  'Daddy thinks it's gonna be Christmas tomorrow.'

Oh, that's right. I'd almost forgotten.

Glenn sends him a, No shit?, sort of look.

'I just figured it would be about that time.' He explains, making Maggie light up. 'I have a sixth sense for it.'

My Dad scoffs, shrugging. 'Well, I don't have a calendar. Why not.'

Wait? Really?

'So, it's Christmas tomorrow?', I ask him, as if we ain't just making all this shit up.

Something so simple, the prospect of waking up on Christmas morning tomorrow even if it ain't in no official way, even if we ain't even got a tree, let alone a star to put on top of it, sparks excitement throughout the room. Yes, it's Christmas tomorrow. From the smiles breaking out on everyone's faces, Maggie giddily gripping onto Glenn to give him a shake, I can tell it's Christmas tomorrow.

Feeling just a little bit more awake than I did a moment ago, I exclaim again, 'It's Christmas tomorrow!'

My Dad seems to find this very amusing, smirking side-long at me.

There ain't much to say in the way of how our Christmases used to go, especially the ones after my second birthday, but I still remember seeing the church all lit up with decorations at night whenever we happened to drive past it. I always liked that.

Carl must exclaim the same thing I did with almost twice the energy, because Lori and Rick laugh.

'I can't believe,' Maggie gushes, 'I forgot about Christmas!'

'It's not your fault,' Glenn jokes, petting her shoulder. 'We've been busy trying not to die.'

'Good point.'

'I'm sure the Lord will forgive you,' Beth says.

'Yeah. He started all this shit, anyway.'

Maggie waves her hand around. 'Hey. A little respect for the Atheists in the room?'

When everyone turns to look at me and Dad, a round of laughter breaks out.

'We're only in it for the presents,' He agrees.

I nod. It's true.

'Me, too,' Glenn says.

'I just wish I we had some,' Beth pouts.

'We're alive,' Herschel argues, looking around at each person in the room. 'There's no present better than that.'

Aww. That cheesy line earns him a funny look from Maggie, who pulls him into a deathly-tight hug.

'I think there actually might be something better.'

Glenn sticks a finger up, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he returns, he's cradling a bunch of shiny wrappers in his arms, dumping them all onto the coffee table. Snack packs. Crackers and cheese, salami and cookies, bread sticks, peanut butter. Those really are snack packs! What a lucky find!

Nobody hesitates. We all grab one, ripping the seals off and huffing the tasty smell that comes out.

'You just found these in there?,' Asks Beth.

'Yeah,' He answers, flopping back onto the sofa. 'They were in the pantry. There's cans, too.'

'I'm in love with whoever lived here.'

Mouse is staring at me as I pick up a piece of salami, so I toss it into his mouth.

I save the next one for myself, groaning at the nostalgic taste of school lunches.

'Better?' Glenn signs to me like a smartass, knowing damn well this is the best thing I ever tasted.

I stick my food-covered tongue out at him.

Blehhh!

Unexpectedly, he does the same thing back. Eugh. Gross!

When Carl notices what we're doing, he sticks his tongue out, too. Even grosser!

'Come on. Enough,' Dad tries to warn me, buts he regrets it a second later when a wet glob of salami lands in his lap.

This is what Rick and T-Dog walk in on as they come through the archway, holding cookware filled with chunks of snow and ice in front of them. My Dad's smacking the salami onto the floor as if it were fresh dog shit, Carl and I trying not to choke on our food, laughing at him. Mouse spinning in circles like a lunatic, spurred on by the chaos, making Carol laugh like she means it. Not that puny, polite little chuckle she does sometimes; a full belly laugh, holding onto Maggie for support. They was only gone a few minutes.

Rick smirks as he shakes his head, deadpanning something to the effect of, I see you found the food.

They set the cookware in front of the fire and join us on the sofas. 

'Why's everyone so happy?', Rick asks as he sits on the ottoman, confused, delighted, because there has to be a reason.

'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I gladly tell him.

'Oh, really?'

T-Dog asks the others, 'Wait, what? How do you know?'

'We don't.' Herschel admits, throwing Mouse a cube of cheese. 'But we deserve a Christmas, don't we?'

Yeah, I see the word slip from Rick's mouth.

'We deserve some eggnog, too,' T-Dog adds, making himself laugh just like he always does.

'Tell me about it.'

'Cover your ears, kids,' Carol tells us, even though she's laughing, too.

I hear that right? As the deaf one outta the two of us, I jokingly gesture to my ears. I can't hear shit, anyway!

As everyone laughs all over again, my Dad reaches out to try and cover my eyes, but I bat him offa me. Nice try.

'You got the card, now, kid.' T-Dog tells me, like it's some secret club I've joined.

'I got the what?'

'The card. I got mine, too. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm black'?'

Carol smacks him. 'Whatever.'

'Next time your Dad gives you in trouble, you can pull the, 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

That's silly!

'Don't give her ideas.'

'Too late,' I grin devilishly. 'I got the card, now, Dad.'

He rolls his eyes, trying his best not to laugh, too.

'You can't do that, Harley.' T-Dog mimes. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

'What did I just say?'

Sorry, man, T-Dog chuckles, biting on a tiny bread stick.

What's eggnog, Carl asks his parents curiously, reminding us why we're talking about 'cards' in the first place.

Eggnog is a milky-lookin' drink that got booze in it, which is why Rick and Lori brush off the question. I tried it once, during a party at my Meemaw's, after one of my Uncles shrugged and said, Fuck it. Tasted like garbage sprinkled with cinnamon.

'Let's just stick with what we have,' Herschel suggests. 'There must be some other traditions we can do?'

'Our family used to share a favorite moment from that year,' Beth says. 'Maybe we can do that?'

'That's a great idea, Beth.'

'I got one.' Glenn raises his hand. 'Finding that car in Atlanta.'

'Oh, that was good.'

'Sad we had to leave it.' He agrees. 'I also liked the time I fell into a dumpster after we left the CDC.'

'What?,' Maggie scrunches her nose at him.

'Looking back at it, it was pretty funny.'

God dang, I remember that day. I was sitting off to the side with Sophia, watching the scene unfold together.

'Morales had to grab your ass to pull you out,' I tease him.

Rick tries to hide the fact that he's chuckling, as Maggie asks him what he was doing in a dumpster.

'We'd lost everything. We were searching for supplies, but I saw some yellow boots and I wanted them for Harley.'

Everyone croons, Awwww.

'I remember those boots, actually.' Beths recalls. 'What happened to them?'

'I fed them to the cows,' I shrug, so I don't gotta bring up the farm, where I left them in our tent the night it all burned down.

'Hey. I risked my life for those boots.'

Rick corrects him, 'I think you risked your ass, is what she just said.'

'It's what I said.'

'I got one.' My Dad says, dipping a cracker in some peanut butter. 'The day we put Glenn in the well.'

'Remember how he squealed?,' T-Dog giggles.

'No,' Glenn tries to convince us, doing a very bad job of it. 'I don't remember that. Never happened.'

'That walker was next-level gross.'

Next in the line to share, I decide, 'My favorite moment is when I found Mouse.'

'He loves you, doesn't he?,' Maggie smiles.

I throw him another piece of salami, hoping that the answer would be yes.

Carl tells everyone his favorite moment from this year was sneaking off into the woods with me, but his parents both give him a look, so he wisens up and changes his answer to something a little less totally forbidden; going to shooting practice.

When it's Lori's turn, she mentions a time she pushed Carl on the Greene's swing.

Rick's favorite moment is beating Herschel at checkers, something that the old man lets him get away with sharing.

'Gotta be seeing Daryl wake up after surgery,' T-Dog says after that, startling me with how suddenly sentimental it is.

The firelight flickers back and forth on the rug for a few moments.

My Dad subtly replies, Thanks, man.

'I was gonna say that, too,' I say to be funny.

'Yeah,' Glenn backs me up. 'You totally were. In fact, I change my answer, too. Favorite moment; Meeting Maggie.'

The woman pouts up at him, grabbing his hand, threading their fingers together.

'I change mine, too.' Dad says. 'The moment I found out Harley wasn't bitten.'

'That's mine, too.'

'Me, too,' Just about half the group nod, agreeing.

Then, everyone's coming up with different answers, talking over the top of each other. Bringing Harley back safe from the gas station, is T's second answer, but he also has a third and fourth and a fifth, because he just can't pick one. Making it outta the CDC alive. Finding the farm. Saving Glenn after he gave blood. Herschel's favorite moment is all the moments he's kept his daughters safe, an answer that earns him a big hug from both Maggie and Beth this time, because, I don't know what I'd do without my girls.

Rick and Glenn finding Daddy safe, Beth says, and then Maggie; That's mine, too.

I find myself with a hundred new answers, too. The moment Jacqui and I kicked up all them butterflies outta the grass as we ran to the house, after she told me my Daddy was alive. The morning Maggie made us scrambled eggs and tea for breakfast. All them times I shared a peach with someone while we sat in the sun. Lori making that joke about Maggie and Glenn being in love, and how I gagged at it back then. I can't forget about the time Carl hugged me as I cried, as Dad cut my hair, as I petted a cow's nose or fed a chicken.

All the little things and the big things, but also all the sad things. In a way, I'm grateful for them, too.

If Jacqui was here, or Sophia, or Momma or Meemaw, or my cousins, who could be anywhere by now, dead or alive, or Morales or Eliza or Louis or Miranda, who I ain't sure if I'll ever see again, or even our dog Tank, I like to think they'd be grateful for me, too.

'I told you, didn't I?,' Herschel smiles. 'No better present.'

After that — After Glenn starts to tear up and we all tease him for it — We decide to wrap it up for the night.

'I love you guys,' He blubbers, like we didn't already know, like we haven't almost died for each other a hundred times over.

Okay, buddy, Dad's saying, reaching to pat his shoulder.

'I think it's time to turn in.'

Beth covers her mouth as she yawns. 'Yeah. I'm so tired.'

'Tell me if anybody sees Santa Claus,' T-Dog says non-committedly.

'I'm going to grab the blankets and pillows from upstairs.' Rick announces, standing up. 'Who's on first watch? Me?'

I'll do it, My Dad offers, letting Maggie comfort Glenn, but he's turned down.

He was frostbitten from head to toe only yesterday. I wouldn't let him out there, neither.

I can do it, T-Dog decides, and that's that. 'Maybe it'll be me that sees him.'

No fair, Carl whines.

Rick leaves and brings back down a whole bunch of bedding that he plops on the floor, giving everyone free reign to pick out what they want as T makes himself scarce. I pull out a small pillow and what must be a toddler's blanket, letting Dad help me get settled on the sofa. I lay with my head against one arm rest, Carl resting his against the other. Both our Dads tuck us in.

'Goodnight,' He signs to me, knelt just beside the sofa. 'You still hungry or thirsty?'

I shake my head, yawning. 'Just sleepy.'

'You were very brave today.' He tells me, earnest eyes boring into mine. 'Not many kids would do what you did.'

'I just wanted to help Lori and the baby.'

'I know. They got a better chance, now.'

'Does that mean I get to name the baby?'

He smirks a little bit. 'We'll see.'

I glimpse Beth muttering to Hershel over Dad's shoulder, sharing a big blanket. I sign, 'Would Momma be proud, too?'

His face falls. The words hit him right in the heart, a poisonous bolt. All he says is, 'Yes.'

'Good,' I manage to reply, right before my eyes start to droop closed.

'Goodnight,' He signs again.

Placing a kiss to my cheek, my Dad pulls back and lays his own blanket down on the floor in front of me, laying facing the fire.

Rick was right. This is a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan.

I would like to help T-Dog spot Santa, I really would, but I just can't stay awake even one moment longer.

I'm being shaken gently.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Dad's face is inches from mine, all the windows behind him filled with grey daylight.

Adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, he signs, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.'

Sitting up, I groggily take in the sight of the group still laid out across the room, fast asleep. All except for Dad, and also Rick and Carl. I see them standing in the archway, both dressed for the snow just like Dad is, whispering to each other.

'Get your coat,' Dad says, and before I get the chance to ask what's going on; 'We're going searching for presents.'

We're what?!

After waking Glenn and putting him on watch, the four of us set out into the neighbourhood. The sun slowly rises from behind the falling snow, eclipsing the roofs of the houses around us and washing the morning in a soft, pink and yellow hue. It's quiet, peaceful, just how it always is before the day fully starts. Carl, Mouse, and I are rowdily running down the sidewalk, disturbing it all.

It's Christmas. According to us, it's Christmas, and ain't nobody here to tell us otherwise!

Dad and Rick follow after us until we make it to the park, the two oldies totally left in our dust as we make a beeline for the playground and pounce on the metal merry-go-round. It's been so long since I went on one of these. It feels like we're breaking a rule, a rule that nobody said aloud, but we ain't. Our Dads told us loud and clear that today, we're allowed to do whatever we want.

I'll spin us, Carl's laughing as he pushes on one of the handles, Mouse wisely standing back.

I still remember to hold on tight. Here we go!

Once he's picked up enough speed, he makes a jump for the platform. He skids around like a drunk, landing on his ass. He hugs the closest handle. The world spins into a multi-coloured smear. I just can't stop laughing, not even if I tried.

As the ride slows down, it feels like I'm 'bouta hurl up all that salami I ate last night.

Again!, I shout.

The next time we come to a stop, we round on the sight of Dad and Rick standing off to the side, watching us.

'Wanna get pushed?,' My Dad asks us, nodding to the swings.

I jump off the platform. 'Yes!'

Rick effortlessly peels the dead walker I saw yesterday offa the seat, throwing it aside and helping me on. I'on know how long we swing for, but the warm, pink sun spills and spills between the trees until it's on my face, making me forget the cold.

Spring is right around the corner, now.

This whole nightmare is almost over. I can just tell.

One of these days, the sun will crest the horizon and the snow just won't come.

It doesn't take long for us to make it back to town square.

'Where should we start?', Rick asks.

'I want to look in Petey's,' I answer right away, pointing to the storefront. 'But Carl can't come.'

Obviously, it's because I'm gonna be picking something out for him, which is why he starts giggling when Dad translates.

Rick ruffles the boy's hair, nudging him in the opposite direction. 'It's a plan. We'll search over here.'

'There's a toy store that way,' Dad adds helpfully.

'We'll check it out. Good luck.'

'Good luck. Watch out for elves.'

He laughs a bit as I whistle for Mouse, who runs after us. 'We will.'

Passing barrels of wrinkled flowers, Dad sticks his fingers between the automatic glass doors and forces them open, pulling his crossbow down as they roll apart on the tracks. Out of the darkness, a human-shaped shadow stumbles toward us.

It drops to the floor before it can even open its mouth.

Lowering his crossbow, Dad nods me forward, tugging his bolt outta the walker's wet face.

Look around, He says, wiping the blood off on his thigh.

The first thing I check is the comic section, of course. I'm hoping they got the series Carl likes, the one with the kick-ass astronauts and the evil aliens on the cover that I can't remember the name of. Captain Noel and the Astronauts, or something like that. I read it just the other week while he was dozed off, just to see what all the fuss was about. Weren't hard to see why he likes it.

As I step over a fallen sale sign, Mouse sniffs around the shelves, skulking around the corner.

Approaching the display stand, I skip right over the magazines and check out the comics, flicking through the covers. There's pictures of supervillain scientists, monsters, ninjas in impossible poses, wielding metal stars. They's all dumb-looking, so I'm sure Carl would eat them up like hot cakes for breakfast, but I really want the alien one. He been after the next volume since we met him.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

Hm?

Glancing up at Dad, I watch as he pulls a comic down from the highest rack, holding it out for me to see.

Captain Nate and the Awesome Eight, The quirky logo reads. 

Grabbing it up like it might disappear before my eyes, I feel the pages crinkle under my fingers. This is the one!

Volume Four, It says at the bottom. The final mission.

I hold up three fingers to Dad.

Understanding, he flips through the comics again before handing me the third volume.

I take it, hugging them both to my chest before signing, 'These are for Carl. He loves them.'

'Really? I thought they were for Beth.'

Pssh. He ain't funny. 'Let's keep looking. We need something for her, too!'

He puts the comics in my backpack for me, following me around the store to continue our hunt for the perfect presents.

For Beth, I find a couple bottles of nail polish in the tiny makeup display, throwing in a black tube-thing that reads, Mascara, along with them for Lori, or maybe for Maggie. I ain't sure. I ask Dad what he thinks, but he got even less of a clue than I do.

I decide to throw in a second tube and some eyeshadow thingies just to be safe.

For Rick and Herschel, we decide on a pair of woolly socks for each of them. You just can't go wrong with socks.

When we find some shirts with silly phrases on them, I know instantly that they would be perfect for Glenn and T-Dog.

Lastly, Dad makes us grab a bunch of random things that we need, like canned food and lighters, before we turn into the pet aisle. Mouse is there, nosing a package of tennis balls along the floor. He looks confused when they roll under the shelves. I crouch down, pulling them back out. It looks like he found his own present. He watches me stash them in my bag, pink tongue lolling happily. 

On our way out, I pass by the rack again, stealing a girly magazine off it that I think Carol will like.

Carl and Rick meet us back on the street, both their backpacks suspiciously fatter than they were the last time we saw them.

'How'd it go?'

Good, Rick says, as Carl tries to get a peek inside my bag. 'Want to swap?'

Before the boy gets to close, I fend him off, giggling as he wrestles me.

'Sure.' Dad pulls him offa me. 'Hard to get a present for your kid when they're right beside you.'

'Exactly.' Rick chuckles, offering his hand to me.

I take it, blowing a raspberry at Carl's back as he walks off with my Dad in the opposite direction.

The store Rick and I check out is the record store, Jameson's Jams, just across the way. After he scopes the place out, coming up empty, it's safe for us to go in. The smell of dust and plastic swarms us I look around at the tubs of record sleeves and CDs.

'It used to be tidy in here,' I sign to him, even though he could prolly guess that.

The doors close behind him, shutting the snow out.

' Did you go here often?'

'All the time.' I meander up to the nearest bin. 'My parents loved music.'

As I pick up an edgily-decorated sleeve that catches my eye, Rick steps up to my side.

'Something tells me their music taste clashed,' He jokes. 'Am I right?'

No. 'They both had bad taste.'

Scoffing, I throw the sleeve back, walking around to the other side of the tubs.

Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the record I'd been holding. It fits my Dad to damn T. I don't take it with me, though, because we ain't got no way to play it. It'd just be a waste of space, so I crack open a CD instead, taking out the paper.

Tossing the useless part back in the bin, I look up to see Rick already looking at me.

He's frowning, his brown hair poking out from underneath his beanie, curled over his faint wrinkles.

'What?,' I gesture impatiently.

What's he want?

I hate to admit it, but there's a little stain of bitterness left inside me after what he did to my Momma's photo.

It weren't like it was on purpose, but it didn't have to be.

'I'm sorry,' He signs, the tubs separating us by at least ten feet feeling more like a hundred.

'It's okay,' I brush it off. 'I'm not mad at you.'

'I know. Trust me, I can tell when you're mad at me,' He smiles for a fleeting moment. 'I'm apologising, anyway.'

'That was the only photo I had of her, you know.'

'I know.'

'Her name was Lindsey.'

'I know. Your Dad talks to me about her, sometimes.'

'Why did you throw it?'

He pauses, picking at a sticker on the wood before fessing up, 'Shane makes me angry, honey. I was angry. I threw it.'

'Angry? Not sad?'

'No. Not sad.' He shakes his head. 'We were all past that when we saw the truck leaving the farm.'

'He gave me the locket. My Dad threw it away the night you burned the photo.'

'Yes, I know. He talked to me about that, too.'

'He did?'

'He was going to let you keep it.'

'Why didn't he?'

'You know why.'

Yeah. I do. I don't even know why I asked that. He threw it away for the same reason I'm not allowed to talk about Ronnie.

Rick changes the subject, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he signs, 'Thank you. Again.'

'For the hospital?'

He nods. 'You were brave.'

'Dad said the same thing.'

'It's true. Even I would have been scared, and I'm thirty-four years old.'

'You're never scared.'

'I'm scared all the time.' I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to say that. I wait until he says something else. 'Thank you.'

Hell. He shouldn't make me laugh like that. I'mma breathe in all this dust. 'You're worse than Glenn.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can't stop saying 'Thank you'. He can't stop saying 'Sorry'. Feet hurt. Sorry. My ears ring. Sorry. It's funny.'

'He's sensitive,' Rick agrees fondly.

'I know. He cried last night.'

A muted chuckle. 'That's right. He did.'

As I look off to the side, something on the wall catches my eye.

Guitars. A lot of them.

Abandoning the piece of paper, I run over to them, stepping onto a chair and pulling down an electric guitar.

Rick is eye-level with me when he comes over. 'Your Dad said he knows how to play.'

Nodding, I give the strings a dramatic thrum.

It must be painful, going by the way Rick looks like he's just heard nails going down a chalkboard.

I can't help but laugh, turning to hook it back up. Like the record and the CD, it would just be a waste of space. Electric guitars don't sound so good if you don't got anything to plug them into. Acoustic ones, however, they're perfect anywhere.

Hopping onto to the next chair over, I pull down a classically wooden guitar, cold to the touch. 

When I strum this one, Rick gives a thumbs up. It'll need tuning, but that's a piece of cake.

Jumping down, I have a thought.

'How the Hell do we hide this from him?'

He looks the thing up and down. 'We might have to give it to him now.'

Aw. 'That's not as fun.'

'How about this — You hide behind me. When we see him, you jump out. Is that fun?'

Hmmm. 'Okay. Let's do that!'

Carl's a lot harder to appease than I am, which must be the reason Rick lets out a little sigh of relief. 'Great.'

'It needs a shoulder strap,' I decide, grabbing one from the rack nearby and ripping it outta the plastic. I try to figure it out, turning it over to get a good look, but then I just pass it off to Rick's mittened hands. 'You know how to put it on?'

'Let me try.' He accepts the challenge, kneeling in front of the guitar.

Buttoning each end of the leather strap to the metal attachments, it looks like he's got it.

He hands it back, raising his brows at me. 'Remember to jump out. We have to get him to crap his pants.'

'It's a plan.'

Before we meet back up, we stop by the thrift store next door so that Rick can grab the shirt he'd had in mind for Carl, a simple thing with a superhero he likes on the chest. As we leave through the front doors, Rick herds me in behind his back.

We're only waiting in town square for a minute or two before he signals me that they're coming over.

When I feel the time is right, I jump out!

Rahh!

Dad don't quite crap his pants, but his eyes do widen ever so slightly. In Dixon terms, he's chilled to the bone.

My back-up man watches on, laughing.

I hold out the guitar once the moment's passed, hoping it's obvious that this is his Christmas present.

Woah, breathes Carl as my Dad takes it carefully, Mouse's tail batting around wildly at his ankle.

We watch as he drags his thumb down the strings, remembering what it feels like. Slowly, he starts to smile.

Looking up at me, he seems very, very pleased. 'Thank you. I love it.'

'Merry Christmas!'

'We knew we couldn't hide it from you,' Rick explains, 'So we scared you instead.'

'Did it work?'

Dad nods, frowning as he mouths the word, Terrifying, before kneeling to wrap me in a hug. I kiss his cheek.

'Did you get everything you wanted?'

Nodding again, Dad stands and passes the guitar to Rick, seeing as he's already wearing his crossbow.

Pulling it on, Rick nods in the direction we came from. 'Let's head back, then.'

We make it only five feet before we notice Carl isn't following us.

Looking back at him, he points at the parking lot across the street.

We follow his finger.

Across the street, the lonely bike with the streamers still lays there in the snow, next to a couple other bikes.

We glance between each other, a glint of something cheeky in our eyes.

We're all thinking the same thing, ain't we?

It's a long walk, anyways.

Who the Hell bikes in the snow, is what a sensible person would ask themselves as they saw us race past their house.

We do!, is what I'd shout back at them.

We're zooming down the streets of Sharpsburg like we're late for a wedding, the most ridiculous sight the apocalypse ever did see. Rick, taking the lead just like always, with a guitar bumping around on his back as he pumps the peddles of a pink bike. Carl on the little one, its rainbow streamers blowing out on either side of him without a care in the world. Mouse, sprinting to keep up.

He's going so fast; I think his ears might just fly off and smack me in the face!

It's a challenge to not fall off the handlebars of Dad's bike just from laughing so hard.

I clutch onto it harder as we crest over the top of a hill. Rick goes flying down first, then Carl. Dad wraps an arm around my stomach, hugging me to his chest as we both laugh against each other. We're next. My stomach lurches. My toes go numb. Then we're free-falling, and the tyres are shaking beneath us and the handlebars are jiggling all over the place, the wind racing past us.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out a shriek of, Wuh-Hooooooo!

My heart's beating outta my chest like when a walker's got me in its grasp, when I feel most alive.

Whatever day I've said is the best day of my life — This is it, now. Hands down.

Rick reaches the bottom first, doing a fancy little skid in the snow and glancing over his shoulder at us to see our reaction.

Carl gives him a thumbs down, making him laugh as he turns back around.

The hill flattens out into more suburbia.

We slow down to a more leisurely pace for the rest of the ride back, and simply enjoy the morning together, trailing the sidewalks like a bunch of kids. The sun is well into the sky now, shining through the frigid air without any clouds to cover it up.

When I spot the house in the distance, I'm almost sad.

As we pull into the driveway, bumping over the curb, Glenn stands from his seat on the porch steps.

Hey, guys, He's laughing, perplexed.

Rick answers him with a few flicks of his bell, braking to a stop.

Where'd you go?, He asks, as I jump down from the handlebars.

Carl dumps his bike on the ground and holds up his backpack, shouting, Presents!

He gawks. No shit?

No shit!, He exclaims, running straight past him and up the porch.

I catch Rick sharing a funny look with my Dad, but he lets the swear word go. It's that type of day.

The adrenaline-high don't leave my body even as I follow everyone inside the house, stepping into the busy lounge room. We're greeted by the rest of our group, who are more than awake by now, hugging us as we come through the archway. They're completely beaming. It's obvious. They've heard the great news — We went out in the early morning to do Santa's bidding, for no other reason than because we managed to live long enough to, and because we deserve it. For once, we can ignore everything else and it'll all be okay.

Shrugging off my backpack, I set it down on the coffee table. Carol and Herschel tidy away the empty snack packs as Dad, Rick, and Carl set theirs down, too. Everybody's eyeing the bags excitedly, tryna see if they can make out the goodies inside.

'You guys are sneaky,' T grins, wide enough to show off the gap between his two front teeth. 'Sneaky!'

'Where did you go?!,' Maggie wants to know.

She lounges back on the sofa, Mouse jumping into her lap.

'Town square.' Rick's looking livelier than he has all Winter; all year, maybe. 'We left while you were all asleep.'

T seems to have an epiphany. 'It's you guys!'

'What?,' He asks.

'You're Santa!'

Realizing the man is pulling our legs, Rick rolls his eyes.

Carl goes on to ramble all about our adventures. By the way he's miming it all out, I can tell he ain't leaving out our visit to the playground. Everyone's watching him with nothing but joy in their eyes, adding comments here and there, laughing.

When Beth notices the guitar, my Dad proudly shows it off to the room.

'Harley found it,' He signs, reigning everyone back in, reminding them to use signs. 'Pretty, ain't it?'

Herschel turns to look at me. 'What a wonderful, wonderful gift.'

'I got more,' I tease, giving my backpack a tempting wiggle. I can't wait to give out the rest of the presents!

'Let's just get right into it then, right?,' Rick suggests. 'Go crazy.'

That's all the permission anyone needs.

As the three of them open their backpacks and start handing out presents left and right, I get to opening mine.

The first things I pull out are the stupid shirts for Glenn and T-Dog, walking over to them and putting them in their hands. Maggie's laughing her ass off as they hold them up to their chests, cluelessly peering down at the text. I step back to admire my work. Sorry I'm late, T's shirt reads, and Hell, it's even funnier than I imaged it would be, I was doing my hair! I think he's laughing something like, You little punk, before he glances over at Glenn's to see the damage. I'm with stupid, His says, except the arrow is pointing at his face.

Aw Hell naw!, T-Dog unabashedly laughs.

'Put them on!,' I demand, taking the fabric in my hands. Glenn helps me out, pulling it over what he's already wearing and straightening it out so the message is on full display. T-Dog does the same thing, even if he does call me a punk again.

'How do we look?,' Glenn asks me and Maggie when they're done, giving a stiff twirl.

'Don't answer that,' T-Dog says.

I give Maggie her gift next, the Mascara. She plants a kiss on my cheek and pulls me in for a tight hug, releasing me so I can head over to the other ladies. Carol gratefully takes the magazine, Lori and Beth Oohing and Aahing over the makeup.

It's no 'Electric Spring Citrus', but Beth still seems very touched by the bottle of yellow polish.

Next, I pull out the tennis balls. Boy, does that get Mouse's attention. I rip off the seal, sending them all bouncing across the living room floor, almost tripping some people over. Mouse darts after this one and that one, chasing them all over the place as I hand the socks to Herschel and Rick. They're both delighted, taking turns giving me a hug. We was right. Ya can't go wrong with socks.

'Carl and your Dad have something for you,' Rick tells me as he pulls away, pointing over to them.

I tap Carl on the shoulder, and when the two of them turn around and realize me, his face lights up.

Harley!, He's exclaiming.

He digs through his bag and holds out my two presents. 

'Thank you!,' I sign, taking them. Oh, wow. A diary and a packet of colored pencils. I don't gotta squeeze my thoughts into the margins, no more. I got fresh, blank pages, enough to prolly last me a whole year. Giving Carl a hug, I hold up a finger; Wait.

Reaching into my backpack and feeling out the comics, I pause just to be dramatic, before I pull them out for him to see. His jaw drops as he snatches them up. All them months hearing him complain, and watching him read the same volume over and over, makes it all the more satisfying to see him flick through the pages, realizing with mounting horror that it's everything he dreamt of.

Thank you, He's shouting, Thank you!

'Wanna see what I got you?,' Dad says next. 'You can both play with it, but it's for you, okay?'

'Okay! Show me!'

Carl and I crouch down with him as he unzippers his backpack. What he pulls out is not like anything I would've expected.

A big, flat white box with a photo on the front of some kids kicking a soccer ball into a little pop-up goal in the sun.

'Can't play soccer without a goal.' He smirks as I take the box in my hands, ready to tear it open with my teeth if I gotta.

They both help me pick the tape off the cardboard, pulling it open and turning the whole thing upside down. The goal slides out. Having finally been broken out of the confines of its box, it immediately springs into shape, almost smacking us all in the face.

Dodging it with a laugh, I exclaim, 'Thank you, Dad!' 

'Do you like it?,' He asks.

'I love it! How do we set it up?'

Looking about, he finds a small baggie of metal stakes that fell out with it, and a page of instructions.

I lean in closer to take a peek as he skims over them, but it all looks simple enough.

'Easy,' He decides. 'We can set it up in the front yard, yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna smoke you both so bad.'

Dad thwacks my arm with the piece of paper. 'Hey. Who said I'm playing?'

'Oh. So, you're scared.' I nod empathetically, feeling smug. 'That's okay. I'm rusty, too.'

'Seriously?'

'I only won three medals when I was in school.'

'I'm old, kid. I'm in my thirties. I'm pretty much dead.'

'Loud and clear. You're scared of losing.'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're a brat. Don't cry when you lose.'

'I've never cried in my life, Dad. Ask Carl.'

As soon as he passes on the question, Carl levels me with the most, Get serious, expression I ever seen in my life.

Whatever. 'I'll still win!'

'We'll see,' He says as I glance at the rest of the group.

'This was so thoughtful of you guys,' Maggie signs from her seat on the sofa, doing that little pout she does.

With all the presents handed out, I take my time looking around the room. T and Glenn are still wearing their t-shirts, of course. If I could have it my way, they wouldn't ever wear anything else. It looks like Rick and Carl gifted Glenn a magazine about race cars, and T-Dog a flashy, gold chain necklace that he manages to make look cool. Lori and Herschel are wearing new matching jackets, the material purple and puffy. They look like father and daughter, sitting there like that, Lori's head resting on the old man's shoulder. Beside them, Carol's blowing air onto Beth's painted nails, while Mouse lays on the floor, gnawing at the tennis ball he must've decided is his favorite.

And Rick. He's not pouring over a map. He's not frowning to himself as he cleans a gun. He's not snapping at one of us to, Stop that, We need to stay focused. He's just smiling faintly next to Glenn, refusing to reveal to anyone this was all his idea.

'I'm just glad there's no wrapping paper to clean up this year,' He chuckles, looking at Lori.

The woman smirks, shaking her head. Bad memories, I guess.

'Every year,' He continues, gesturing to an invisible pile in his lap, 'We would end up with this much.'

'You're not the only ones.' T-Dog scoffs, like this is a lifelong issue he's faced.

'Oh, yeah. You were a garbage man, weren't you?,' Glenn remembers.

'Minimum wage, brother,' He agrees, bringing the pizza-boy in for a bro-hug.

'What have you got there, Harley?,' Maggie asks as they pull apart.

'A soccer goal,' I excitedly answer, before holding up Rick and Carl's presents. 'And a diary and pencils!'

'I don't want you to think it's for schoolwork with Lori,' Rick says. 'Carl just told me he's seen you journalling.'

'I love it,' I shake my head. 'Thank you.'

That bitterness that I'd been feeling toward him, it disappears just as quickly as it came.

'You haven't been writing anything bad about me, have you?,' Glenn asks threateningly.

'Just a little bit,' I shrug.

'She's a brat, isn't she?,' My Dad jokes.

'She's a total brat.'

'Hey! I don't like you, either.'

'Well, Merry Christmas, everyone.' Maggie says to wrap things up. 'Time to take this outside. We got a game to play.'

'Sounds like it,' Rick agrees.

'Come on.' Dad stands back up, grabbing the soccer goal and the stakes.

Jumping up and pulling on Maggie's sleeve, I exclaim up at her, 'We should be on the same team!'

'Girl power,' She agrees, frowning stubbornly as we descend the porch steps.

Mouse goes running out into the snow with his tennis ball. Dad heads over to the fence, setting down the goal and pushing the stakes through the rubber loops to secure it to the ground. I tell him I hope he did a good job of it, because me and Maggie are gonna be making every goal we shoot for. It's Dad and Carl versus us two girls, so the competition is even fiercer. We gotta win!

'We got this,' Maggie goads as T-Dog takes up the goalie position.

Carol pumps her fist in the air. 'Let's go, girls!'

Everyone starts cheering us on as Maggie kicks the ball straight over to me. The game's begun! I stop it with my foot, watching as she skirts around Dad, shouting for me. I boot it back to her at just the right moment, running forwards.

Maggie dukes Dad, left, right, left, before she kicks it right between his feet and back to me.

I stop it again with my foot.

Carl's on me, suddenly. He tries to use his foot to steal the ball away from me, but I don't let him!

Keeping him at arm's length, I line up my shot with the goal. I've done it a million times before. What's one more!

I rear my foot back, and—!

T-Dog's far too big and slow to see it coming. The ball shoots right past him — Goal! — and crashes into the meshing.

'Point for the girls,' Rick announces from the sidelines.

Maggie runs up to me, grabbing my hands and squealing happily, with the boys sulking together in the background.

We end up winning. There's a few close calls here and there, but we're just too quick on our feet for them to really get any smooth moves in. As the winning goal is made by Maggie, Carl stomps his foot into the snow, complaining, Aww, man!

We use every last bit of energy we have left in us to play for the rest of the morning. For once, not just for getting out of bed, or making it through the day. We manage to get a couple more rounds of soccer in before somebody throws a snowball at my Dad while he's trying to kick a goal, and then it all devolves into a snowball fight. There's no teams or rules; just clumps of snow flying across the yard, people falling over, Rick laughing, and Glenn getting dogpiled to the ground until Dad has to come and rescue him from us.

Nobody's really winning, but I don't think anyone's keeping count, anyway. Nobody's losing, either.

Except maybe Carl, when he tanks a snowball directly to the face.

I gasp. Youch!

He wipes it off with a grin, scurrying off to start preparing some returning fire.

I hurry to join him behind the wall of snow, bulking up my snowball before launching it at one of the adults.

It hits Glenn in the jaw. He lurches; falls onto his ass.

Me and Carl share a high five!

To think I was dreading coming back to this town, when it's actually given me one of the best days of my life.

Is it bad I'm happy the world ended?

Probably, but I don't care.

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

I can hear light birdsong in the trees.

We've stopped again, on some highway or other. I'on know. They all look the same to me. Grey road, winding up a hill, flanked on both sides by a strip of dirt and twigs. While the others get outta the cars, slamming their doors shut and grouping together to discuss what's next, I turn my head away from them and gaze out the passenger side window. The sun warms my face. I remember back during the Wintertime; we hardly ever saw the sun. Hell. That was forever ago. Nowadays, we been fending off heatstroke, feels like.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sounds around me. Leaves brushing, idle engines rumbling.

There are a lot of moments like this for me, where I'll just ignore what everyone else is doing and listen. I'll listen to anything. The car radio, if anybody's got it playing, even if it's a song I don't like. A river flowing. A deer trilling. It's the best part of my day.

"We got nowhere else to go," Herschel's suddenly saying, and then I'm opening my eyes again.

The group is gathered around the hood of the car I'm sat up in, splaying a map out for them to study.

"When this herd meets up with this one," Maggie points, "We'll be cut off. We'll never make it South."

"What'd you say it was? About 150 head?" Dad estimates.

"That was last week." Glenn's shaking his head, squinting against the sun. "It could be twice that by now."

I've heard this exact conversation about thirty times over by now.

That herd from last year; It's thawed and split into two, and neither are getting any smaller. The more they walk, the more they pick up. It's how it's always gone. They been following us, and we been running. That's how that's always gone, too.

We had a couple places we holed up for a while. Sharpsburg served us well while it lasted, but we had to move, eventually.

Now, we're back on the run.

"The river could've delayed them," Herschel suggests. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."

"Yeah, but if that group joins with that one, they could spill out this way."

"So, we're blocked."

We're always blocked, I want to tell Maggie. You know this by now.

In moments like these, I think back to the day we had that snowball fight and try to remember what everyone's smiles looked like.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27," Rick says, "And swing back this way."

Rick's different. For Rick, I think back to the bike ride.

T-Dog's getting frustrated. "We picked through that place, already. It's like we spent the past five months going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

"Is this what we're doing, then?"

When Rick nods, T-Dog asks him, "Is it alright if we head down to the river to fill up on water, then?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," He says as they disperse, Maggie rolling up the map.

Herschel whispers something to Rick, then, and I can't quite catch it. My hearing aids ain't that good, but I know it's about Lori because they glance over at her in the car behind me. It's probably the, She can't keep doing this, conversation. Like always, Rick's wiping his sweaty forehead, bullshitting his way through an answer, and like always, Herschel is patient with him. They know he's right.

Lori's about to burst, way her stomach's been looking these days. She's gonna give birth any day now.

I'm just glad she got better and stayed better.

That was a nasty sickness.

Herschel leaves Rick to think about what he's said, making an opening for Dad to ask him to go hunting.

I'm surprised when he turns to me. "You wanna come, chicken?"

There's that Southern twang I once forgot the sound of.

'Come hunting with you?,' I sign, just outta habit. Sometimes, my voice is just too loud for me to bare.

"Yeah. You can stretch yer legs a little. How 'bout it?"

Not wanting to spend one more second in this car, I agree by opening the door and jumping onto the tarmac.

He whistles for Mouse, and then we're walking into the treeline.

"Carl says it was blue, but the boy's blind," I ramble to Rick as we walk along the train tracks, keeping an eye out for animals.

"Between the pair'a ya," Dad muses from in front of us. "You almost make a full vegetable."

"Shut up, Daddy. You ain't funny."

He snickers a little before facing forward again, crossbow at the ready. "Sure I ain't."

"Anyway." I sigh as he pushes a leafy branch outta the way. Rick ducks under it, and then me. "Like I's sayin'—"

When I look up, the sight that greets me has all words dying on my tongue. I slowly catch up with Dad and Rick, who have also completely forgotten about the story I was telling. It weren't very interesting, anyway. Something about a frog Carl and I found the other day. The sun beats down on us as we look out over the sheer drop just in front of us, and at the rolling, green hills in the distance.

Well, I'll be goddamned.

That right there is a whole ass prison.

End Notes.

Okay that's it. I cannot edit this chapter any longer. What's done is done!!

WE ARE FINALLY IN SEASON 3 !! It only took a year and 28 chapters.

I'm very glad to be back in canon again, but writing Christmas with the group was so fun. Also very glad to be able to write Daryl's accent and slang properly again haha. It just didn't translate into sign language. I know some of you will also be relieved that we're not using it much anymore.

As always, I really hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Until next time! 💙 :)

[xwritingdixonx]

Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 4 |

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series masterlist

Summary: The Georgian group and the Blackwell family have their first interaction together over breakfast.

Warnings: descriptions of a physical fight, death / accidental murder, language

Word count: aprox. 4k

Tags: @fuseburner @catisnotademonn

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The gravel underneath your feet crunched as you crouched down behind the brick building. Tommy was close behind you.

You were on your way back to Alexandria when you passed a shopping strip where you decided to grab any more last-minute supplies. There was a pharmacy, a couple sketchy-looking restaurants, and a liquor store.

The plan was to park the trucks a mile or so away, go scavenge the shopping center, then make your way back to the trucks with what you'd found. Henry stayed back with the trucks to make sure they were protected while the rest of you made the walk to the stores. It all went smoothly. Until, when you got back to the trucks, Eddie had forgotten his pack at one of the shops you'd cleared.

After you had a few remarks to say in response, he went back for it. He should've been back within 20 minutes max but when he didn't return, you and Tommy went to look for him. And that's where you had seen Eddie on his knees, hands in the air, a lady with long brown hair pointing a gun at him. Her clothes were raggedy and stained with dirt. She was holding his pack in her other hand. He was trying to reason with her but you were too far to hear what he was saying.

"I'm gonna go around back." You whispered back to Tommy, "Cut through the pharmacy and just grab her." You could see from the look he gave you that he didn't like that idea, "It's one girl, I got this."

You slipped through the back door of the pharmacy, slipping through the aisles to make your way to the front. The sound of glass crunching under your foot makes your body recoil. Fuck. Whatever voices you heard, fell silent. It all happened so fast, she stormed into the pharmacy and you had a choice to hide now, fight later. Or just get it over with.

You grabbed her, pointing the gun to the ceiling. With her free hand, she threw a punch which hit you perfectly in the jaw. It wasn't a hard punch, you'd been hit harder but it was the warm blood you felt on your tongue and the familiar taste that took you a back. You wrestled her for the gun and once you felt your finger slip into the familiarity of the trigger, you pulled.

It was when she fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath her did you realize the small bump of her stomach.

It was as if your feet took a few steps back on their own and your brain stuttered as it tried to process what you did. Your hands trembled, gun still in hand and your ears fell quiet. Only a buzzing noise remains. You understood now, what Eddie was trying to do, he was reasoning with her, he was trying to get her to come back to Alexandria.

You brought your hand up to pull the neck of your shirt off your throat as the nausea rose in your throat. Your hands fell to your knees as your chest heaved with short breaths. Tommy rushed into the pharmacy to makre sure you were okay from the sound of the gunshot. "Y/n, Y/n"

"Y/n?" Daryl came around the corner, wandering into the kitchen looking for you. You looked up from your spot at the counter chopping onions and greeted him with a warm smile and a sweet goodmorning. Stood around the kitchen with you was Cecilia and the boys.

“What are y’all doin’?” Cecilia stood at the kitchen island, kneading a ball of dough, folding it in and out of itself. There was a basket of potatoes, still with dried dirt on them, sitting next to the kitchen sink. Luke was washing them, then passing them off to Jace to be cut into cubes. There was a large pan sitting on the stove, the fire underneath warming the oil within. You used your index finger to clean each side of your knife, the chopped onions that remained on it falling on top of the already existent pile.

“Celia” You spoke wiping your hands from the onion juices onto a kitchen towel, “take this over for me please.” Celia nodded at you and took the cutting board, swiping the onions into the hot pan. “Come” you murmured to Daryl as you walked by, taking him by his hand, leading him down the hall to the large sliding glass doors which led to the back yard. The sun was bright in the baby blue sky, it’s beams radiating warmth on your skin.

The backyard looked radiant in the early morning. The grass was slightly overgrown, random weeds and flowers taking a home there. The porch was a reasonable size. On one end there was a fireplace that looked to be never lit, circled with outdoor seating. The other end bore a small picnic bench, in the middle of it was a picnic basket that was full of bright oranges, dark green leaves still attached. All four corners of the porch held large pots full of flowers.

In the far left corner of the backyard there was a wooden chicken coop. In the right corner, there was a small orange tree, the dark leaves decorated with orange hues. Next to the tree, lining the entire right side fence, was a large garden full of more plants. But not any plants, these were herbs for the kitchen. Daryl could practically smell the lavender and mint from his spot on the porch. Then there was a clothes line, empty at the moment. And lastly four large wooden planter boxes, all flourished with different fruits and veggies. Written on the wood was what grew in them.

Nellie was knelt down at one, gloves covering her hands from the dirt. When she heard the doors slide open she turned to wave and smile, shielding her eyes from the sun as she said good-morning to Daryl and briefly asking him how he slept. “Deanna’s having a little meeting at the church, after we’ll have breakfast. Invite your group.” You instructed Daryl, arms crossed over your chest. He simply nodded at you, catching his bottom lip to gently chew on, “What’s wrong handsome?”

He was anxious. Anxious for you to meet his group, for them to meet you. He hadn’t mentioned you, not once, and to say he felt guilty would be an understatement. It was as if he never claimed you, was never proud of you, which was the farthest from the truth. You were the one thing Daryl was proudest of even if he felt like he never deserved it, always saying you were too good for him, too pretty, too kind. He wasn’t worried about them liking you, there was no way in hell they wouldn’t. He was worried about you liking them. Your opinion mattered most to him but if for some reason your feelings were off, he’d be torn.

But you lived in the same community now. You were no longer thousands of miles away, states away, potentially dead. You were closer than ever, a street over to be exact.

Rick had most likely already told them, considering Daryl didn’t return to the shared house last night.

His shoulders shrugged, mumbling a i don’t know, to you. You smiled at you and nudged him with your elbow, “i’m not mad at you, ya know that ?” You caught his eye, a hint of seriousness there. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows together as if he didn’t know what you were hinting, “For leaving, for not looking, for it being so long, for…..anything.” A heavy sigh escaped your lips, as if you yourself were coming to terms with forgiving him. Daryl didn’t seem to waste a second as he wrapped you softly in his arms, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. “M’sorry”

You rubbed a hand down his back, “I know.” You could’ve stayed like that, you could’ve fallen asleep like that, almost as if you were swaying in his arms. You gave him a hard pat on the back and slipped away, “Alright go, I got potatoes to get back to”

Daryl slipped his way into the yellow front door of the shared group home. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, hide ? Slip past everyone ? “Good-morning” That thick southern drawl disrupted Daryl practically freezing him in his boots. Daryl stood up straight, facing Rick and the rest of the group who all wore knowing yet curious grins on their faces. It felt as if Daryl was a teenager who’d snuck out the night before and was now busted by his parents, “Morning.”

There was a second of awkward silence as no one knew exactly what to say or do. There were a thousand questions that could be asked but the walls Daryl had built still remained and no one wanted to pry. Carol on the other hand, didn't seem to mind "Where is she?" Daryl shifted on his feet "At her place." Carol waited for more than just that, "Okayyy so..." Carol had that typical awaiting smile on her face, poking Daryl more. "There's uh..." Daryl scratched the back of his neck, it was as if he didn't know what to do with himself, "....a meetin' at the church, we're supposed to go."

"Alright," Rick bounced a still sleepy Judith on his hip, "Everyone get ready, leave Daryl alone."

The group got ready, attempting their best to look presentable yet comfortable in their new environment. They weren't sure what they expected from you or your group. Rick had mentioned to them that it looked like you were with a large group, seeing the house size and the other people that had stood with you on the porch the day before. Were you stuck up, clean, and polished like the rest of the Alexandrians? Or were you more like them?

On your walk to the church, you grabbed Tommy to come with you. You refused to go in there alone and whoever you asked to come with you, represented you, represented your family. And who better than the tall, buff, texan man himself? “Ya nervous?” Tommy asked as the small building came into view, you thought to yourself, were you? You weren’t until Tommy mentioned it, realizing you were walking into a room full of strangers. Practically sitting there waiting to judge you for who you were. “Well now I am.”

The wood doors to the small brick building creaked open, distributing whatever Deanna was saying. Both yours and Tommy’s boots were heavy on the wood floor as you walked down the narrow aisle. Eyes were instantly on you. The way your long hair softly flowed with each of your steps, the way your arms fell at your side, the sway in your walk, like you knew where you were going and who you were.

The black jeans you wore hugged your curves perfectly. Your black shirt was fitted to your body, with a completely open back. The angel wings tattooed there on show. And for a second as you were turned around taking those 2 steps up onto the lifted floor, your back and Daryl’s back aligned perfectly and it made sense as to why Daryl picked up that angel winged vest at the beginning.

The silver accents of your jewelry complimented your all black outfit perfectly. Like those rich victorian people who decorated themselves in gold and pearls to show off their wealth. There should've been a crown on your head becasue had royalty existed now, it would be you. The way you carried yourself, the way you stood next to Deanna. Your hands intertwined, your chest broad and proud, paired with your toned arms, and your height. You standing next to Deanna made her look so much smaller than she was, in height and in leadership.

“How’s it going?” Deanna whispered to you, “Good” you replied giving her a reassuring smile and a wink. She smiled at you before turning back to the room, “This is Y/n, Y/n Blackwell…..my right hand.” She said that sentence with pride and maybe a hint of arrogance, your eyes glanced over at Tommy who raised his eyebrows at you with a grin. "And this is Tommy" Tommy threw up a hand to say hello, Deanna continued to speak. “I think we’ve come up with perfect jobs for everyone.” Deanna pulled out one of those little memo pads that she seemed to love so much and flipped it open to a page. “Okay so” Despite Deanna speaking, you could feel the eyes that still lingered on you.

It wasn’t in a judging way. More admirable. In awe.

"Sasha and Rosita you're gonna be joining the watch and gate crew, Tommy's in charge of that."

"Abraham you'll be joining the constrution crew, when you're not doing that you can help out on watch as well" As Deanna spoke you looked at each person she spoke to, remembering names and faces.

"Glenn, Tara, and Noah you'll be joining the run group. My son Aiden helps with that, as does Y/n's brother, Eddie"

"Carol's gonna help out in the pantry" An act. You had looked at Carol for a second and that's all you saw. The sweet smile, clean clothes, and wave she gave you. At this point she was topping the normal Alexandrian's.

"Maggie you'll be working with Y/n and I. When you're not, you'll be helping Y/n's sister, Nellie, with the farming.

"And lastly, Rick and Michonne. We're gonna call you 'patrol'. Henry, Tommy's brother, has been doing it himself. You make sure everything's safe, everyone's safe. If something happens, you bring it to myself or Y/n."

There was a commom theme in the jobs that Deanna assigned. Each person who helped, ran, controlled something within Alexandria all connected to you. There was no way it was a coincedence and Rick took note.

Your eyes met Daryls, who sat in the front row next to Tommy. He could see the way the corners of your lips almost formed a smile but you caught yourself before it could. Daryl looked at you deeply, eyes soft, returning your same smile. "Y/n, anything you wanna add?" Deanna snapped you from your gaze, as if she had caught you standing there gawking at your husband. "Uhm, we've prepared a breakfast over at the gazebo if anyone would like to join." You hoped you sounded as welcoming as you intended to.

"You can get back to it you need to, I'll finish up here and send them your way." Deanna reassured you, you gladly accepted her offer. Nudging your head at Tommy to come with you. When you walked passed Daryl you brushed your hand over his shoulder, it was a subtle touch but it didn't go unnoticed by some, especially not Daryl.

As the group approached the large wooden gazebo, Daryl in lead, the sight before them could only be described as magical. The greenery and sunshine added to the affect. Four wooden picnic tables were pushed together and aligned to create one large table. There were 2 extra wooden chairs put at the heads of the table to complete the “dining table”. Pushed to the edge of the gazebo was a small wood table that held 2 coffee pots. One had hot black coffee, the other held steaming hot water. As well as a rectangular wicker basket that was piled up with random coffee cups. And three large mason jars lined up in a row. One was full of honey, the other full of sugar, and the last was full of random tea bags.

The long picnic table was full of plates, utensils, and glasses. The benches all had a different blanket that was folded long ways for extra cushion against the rough wood. Daryl watched you laugh at whatever Celia and Nellie had said to you, wide smiles on their faces as well. You and Nellie’s smiles were both wide, joyful, and lit up your whole face. Daryl watched you put down 2 glass pitchers, one full of plain water and the other full of what looked to be orange juice.

Your eyes caught Daryl’s and you waved him over, the rest of his group following. “You think this is gonna go okay?” Celia asked, hopping down from where she sat on top of the table. “Sure as shit hope so” Tommy muttered.

Nellie greeted the group with a high-pitched ‘Hi’ and a wide smile on her face. “Carl” Jace said happily as he trotted up to the boy, Luke close behind. It made you happy. To see them have a friend beside each other, to see them so happily greet their new friend and begin talking with smiles on their faces. They had tried to become friends with the kids already in Alexandria but the other parents always pulled their children away. Tommy had gone over to Carl and Rick to say hello, introducing himself as Jace and Luke’s father. The 3 boys looked like 3 peas in a pod. All paler completions, brown shaggy hair, though Jace and Luke’s was much curlier than Carl’s. They hadn’t known each other for long, 4 days at most, but they already seemed to have formed a bond.

"Hey" Daryl greeted you, "Hi" You took a step closer to him, standing closer to him than anyone ever has. "Deanna didn't give me no job" Daryl almost seemed disappointed as if he had been left out, "I got a job for you" For a second Daryl thought you were talking about yourself with the way you softly put your hand on his upper arm, but you roughly patted his arm, "Have breakfast with your family." He scoffed as he followed you, "Bout lunch time now"

He could hear you chuckle as you walked over to your seat. Almost everyone had already picked seats, besides a few others that were checking out the table with tea and coffee. You took one of the wooden chairs at the head of the table, before you could seat yourself, Daryl was behind the chair. Pulling it out and pushing it in for you before taking a seat on the bench to the right of you.

It seemed as if everyone was too intimated to take anything from the table in front of them. As if they were scared to even touch the pitcher of water. "You can take whatever you want, there's enough for everyone." Nellie reassured, adding things to her own plate. Despite the hesitation still being there, they began to fill their plates with food. "Is that bacon?" Carl abruptly said, maybe a tad bit louder than he meant for it to be. You couldn't help but laugh a little, "Yeah, Tommy found a pig a little big ago and we've kept most of it in the freezer"

None of you were exactly butchers, resulting in the bacon being poorly cut unlike how it used to be in the grocery stores. But it smelled like bacon, tasted like bacon, so bacon was bacon.

"There's some eggs in that one there but not too many, the chickens didn't lay shit this season" You motioned to the small red dutch oven that still had its lid on. The whole meal that laid out on the table was nothing short of shocking, regardless if there was enough scrambled eggs for everyone. There was a large white platter with floral designs around the edge, piled high with biscuits. Two large mason jars sat near them, one full of what looked to be strawberry jam. The other was a deep reddish purple, made from wildberries.

Your jam and your biscuits were always Daryl's favorite so you weren't surprised when he had 3 of them, smothered in jam on his plate.

There was another large pot full of well-seasoned, perfectly cooked, breakfast potatoes. And lastly there was the wicker basket, that had what remained of the oranges, after you had made orange juice.

Once everyone's hesitation wore off, conversations stemming from all different directions filled the air. You talked to Daryl and Tommy who sat on either side of you. "I hate to be the one to do it" Everyone's conversation was cut short by a femnine voice, Carol. You adverted your attention to her as you heard Daryl mutter a, please don't, under his breath. "But, how did you two meet?" For what felt like the fifth time today, eyes were once again on you.

You always hated that question. You weren't sure how people would react, you had heard your fair share of insults and questionable looks from people before. "Uhm, it's a little complicated I guess? D was Eddie's best friend growing up so we kinda grew up together." It wasn't too difficult to notice you and Daryl's age gap, which is why people turned an eye.

Your mom raised Daryl as if he was her own. Daryl never minded it, he actually preferred it, needing an escape from his abusive home. So Daryl was always there. But he was always there six years ahead of you.

"My mom moved us from Georgia to Virginia when I was fourteen and when I was twenty-one I went back to Georgia...that's where we met up again."

-

After breakfast, Maggie was the only one who stayed behind offering to help you clean up. There wasn't a plate left on the table that wasn't practically licked clean. Everyone else had separated into groups, going about their day with their full tummies, taking a tour of their new jobs and responsibilities. Daryl stayed back to help as well. But at the moment he was already on his way back to your home with as many dishes as he could carry.

You could tell Maggie was trying the most out of anyone in the new group. Especially with you. "The food was amazing" Maggie commented picking up all the silverware and tossing them into a basket. You had always been complimented on your cooking but that didn't mean you didn't appreciate some attention here and there. "Did you go to school for it?"

You shook your head at her and sighed, "Daryl always told me to. But I just always felt like if I did it as a job, I'd end up hatin' it." Maggie nodded at you with an understanding look in her eyes.

"The biscuits and jam were the best I ever had. I think they were better than my mama's" You couldn't help but allow a smile to form on your lips, "I've heard that more times than you'd think" You filled an old plastic laundry basket with the dirty dishes to haul back to your home, it was far easier to carry that way. "I can give you a jar of jam if you'd like." You offered, you could see Maggie begin to protest and you waved a hand at her. "I have more than enough in my pantry, won't starve without just one."

A silence settled over the two of you as you continued to clean but you could see the small smirk that lingered on Maggie's face. "Ya know" Maggie stopped cleaning and stood up straight, balancing the basket on her hip causing you to do the same. "You seem like a really good person." You movements stopped at her words. You knew deep down, you weren't. Sure you were kind and generous sometimes but after the things you did, how could you be considered a good person? You shook your head at her, "You don't know me."

"I don't need to."

[hamsteriffic]

Queen Marinette: A Royal Engagement

Posting day for @mlbigbang 2023 is finally here!

Thank you to @burntwaffle12 for being my wonderful beta and sounding board (and @trying414 for her unofficial beta work) to my artists, @sizzleissues and @karin848 (They have some wonderful Art to come!).

Read it here!

Summary:

Princess Marinette had always known she would marry for duty, but she had never even heard of King Adrien until her betrothal (she would know, because she had looked up all the crown Princes within a hundred mile radius).

Nevertheless, her parents were delighted at the offer of marriage and her uncle was given the privilege of escorting her to England for her wedding and the whole thing felt wrong.

Updates Saturdays and Tuesdays!

Rated: Mature (for sexual content)

See below the cut for tags:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857853/

Relationships:

Adrien Agreste / Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Minor: Félix Fathom/Kagami Tsurugi

Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Kagami Tsurugi

Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Additional Tags:

Arranged Marriage Alternate Universe - Royalty Georgian Period Regency Romance Romance Aged-Up Character(s) Adrinette Sentimonster Adrien Agreste Sentimonster Félix Fathom Sentimonster Kagami Tsurugi Fluff and Angst broken peacock miraculous historical methods of medical treatment (abuse) Chat Blanc is a metaphor for his madness Hurt/Comfort Sexual content is in optional chapter Falling In Love Princess!Marinette King!Adrien

Inspired by Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Here it is, read and enjoy. I love hearing from you so please drop a comment if you like.

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: Swearing, vomiting... i think that's it?

Made of Glass

Chapter twelve: Is this Comfort?

If Bernadette Coldwell never vomited again, she would die a happy woman. 

The second Easy started running with bellies full of the Italian adjacent meal, the gagging and heaving began. Not long into the three miles up and several men couldn't hold it back any longer and emptied the contents of their stomachs. 

The sight of the men hurling and smell of their partially digested food festering in the Georgian heat is what got Birdie tossing her cookies down the front of her white shirt. 

She didn't even stop to wipe her face, she could feel another bout of spew rising up her chest, so why bother? 

The most degrading thing about it was having to stand outside the men's showers, covered in her own throw up, and wait for Johnny to be done cleaning himself so she could do the same. 

Birdie sat on the floor, leaning against the building. Her clean clothes and towel were wrapped up in her arms as she questioned why she enlisted and how she got to this point in her life. 

That's how Martin found her, contemplating her existence and sulking about the way they had spent the afternoon. She got up wordlessly and dragged herself to the women's showers. He followed her and stood guard outside so she could rid herself of the brutal stench. 

Not many actually ate the food served to them at dinner, most picked at it but with all the achy tummies and sore throats, the food was wasted. 

“Why do I feel hungover?” Birdie mumbled, voice croaky and weak. She had her head resting on Toye’s shoulder, who looped an arm around her torso to help prop her up. 

“Hey, how old are you, Birdie?” George questioned, pushing the food around on his plate. 

“19.” She responded, she had her eyes closed, the sick feeling hadn’t quite left her system. 

“So... how do you know what a hangover feels like?” Luz grinned, watching as the girl's eyes flashed wide, and she sat up a little straighter. Her mouth opened and gaped like a fish, but no explanation came out. 

Toye laughed at her reaction and unwrapped his limb from around her, teasingly patted her thigh. She’d been called out for underage drink and oddly enough her first instinct was to look over at the three Sergeants who had been babysitting her to see if they had heard.  

Lipton, Martin and Bull continued their own conversation blissfully unaware, and Birdie felt weirdly relieved. 

As the mess hall vacated, Johnny took his place at Birdie's side, ready to walk her to her barracks. Martin opened his mouth with the intention of checking on the girl, but he was interrupted. 

“Hey- woah! You look like shit.” It was the male Coldwell, jumping out from around the corner and making Birdie flinch. 

“Oh, hush your mouth. I've had a helluva day.” Her voice was scratchy and tired. She didn't really want to deal with her high energy brother, but she was happy to see him, nonetheless. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” He offered, eyes flicking to Martin, who stood back watching the siblings with much interest. Johnny understood his silent implication; asking him to leave the family members alone and so did Birdie, so she spoke up, mediating between the two virtual strangers. 

“James'll walk me back, you're free to go.” Her lips were curved into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, she was feeling the effects of the day. Johnny didn't argue, he trusted Birdie's own flesh and blood to look after her and his own bed was calling to him. He double checked with her, just to be sure, and when she nodded, he set off. 

“So... Tough day, huh?” James shot his sister a side glance, watching as she sighed and allowed her shoulder to sag. He wrapped his arm around her and took lead in their stroll, letting her put her weight on him. 

They wandered in the direction of Birdie's barracks, linked at their arms. Bernadette vented to her brother, they had always been best friends and shared everything. Most people confused them as twins since the age gap between them was so small. 

Birdie had no tears left, her exhaustion had drained them out of her, so when she told him all the details of the dark events, she kept a straight face. James had frozen in place, paying attention to his baby sister. Their arms unhooked and Birdie took a step away from James, she still felt the guilt and wanted space to speak without his hands on her. 

James was shocked to learn his sister had almost been attacked and it only solidified his idea. He wanted her to pack up and leave, go back home and live her life the right way. He told her she shouldn't have come to Camp Toccoa and tried to reason that she could have easily been in Harriet's place. He was worried for her and the last thing he wanted was to see his little sister in a hospital bed... or worse. 

Each word stoked the growing fire in Birdie's heart, she was equal parts hurt and pissed off. She let his words hang in the stale air, the tension between the siblings was palpable. Bernadette brewed, listening to him go on about her giving up and how much safer she would be at home. 

“I wrote Ma and Pa and-” 

“You what?” She couldn't hold it back anymore, that was the last straw. She had heard enough of his doubts and could not bear to stand there and listen to him yap any longer. 

“I expected that from every other man here... but not you.” Birdie shook her head, disappointed and frustrated, “You are meant to be on my side....” She put more distance between them, stepping back. James softened at the look he gave her, broken and uncertain. His intention wasn't to upset her, he wanted her to at least consider the option of bowing out gracefully. 

“Birdie...” He reached out his hand to comfort her, but she stepped back further. The distrust she felt for him was visible in her stance and he saw it clearly. 

“Don't....” Bernadette spat, turning her back to him and walking away, leaving him solo on the dirt path where they once stood together, arm in arm. 

The building that housed the women's toilets came into Birdie’s view and she ducked into it, needed to splash some water in her face. The moment she was alone with four walls encompassing her, she broke down. Her brothers' words had cut her deep and the tears were back, flowing freely once again. 

Birdie took a moment to focus on drawing breath but was interrupted by heavy footsteps outside. She halted all movements, keeping quiet to listen and see if the person was coming or going. 

They stopped just outside the entry door, Birdie's stomach dropped. It was dark outside, and no one knew she was here, she had sent Johnny away and left her sibling and now she was alone. 

Well not completely alone, an unknown being was standing right outside, waiting for her. 

“Is someone out there?” Bernadette called out the door, her voice was still wavering from the spilt tears and now her anxiety was rising, adding fear to her already wobbly tone.   

“It’s Joe…. Uh Liebgott.”  

“Oh…?” The concern was replaced with confusion, why was he here? 

She stepped out into the dark night air and immediately spotted the man. His shoulder leaned against the side of the building, and he had a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

“Where’s your shadow?” He asked her, the smoke twirled upwards and dispersed into nothing.  

“Oh I- I gave him the night off…” It was her awkward attempt at humour. Liebgott was the last person she was expected to see, especially now with tear stains on her cheeks and the red puffy eyes that accompanied them.  

“I know Johnny wouldn’t’ve left you so easy.” Liebgott wasn’t being mean or snarky, he could see she was upset, and it threw him off.  

“Yeah, I was… I was with my brother…” Birdie watched as he smoothly slid out his pack of smokes like it was a practiced movement, he held it out towards her.  

“Ah the infamous brother, heard about that.” He paused, his eyes followed Birdie's hands, her slim fingers tugged a single cigarette out and brought it to her lips.  

“So what? He left you out here?” Lieb switched the cartoon for a lighter. Flicking it open, Joe eyed the woman in front of him, she leaned her head down until the flames tickled the end of her cigarette. Inhaling to aid the lighting process, she looked up at him through her lashes, to let him know he could pocket his lighter once more.  

“Ye-No, I left him…. We- We had a fight…” The smoke was exhaled in tandem of the words.  

“Oh….” Liebgott wasn’t sure what to say at this point, was he supposed to comfort her? “Uh...Did- I mean…. Did you want to, like, talk? About it?” He felt like smacking his palm to his forehead.  

“I don’t know… not really….”  

Silence.  

“What-” Birdie began to speak at the same time Joe opened his mouth and uttered: “Are you-”  

“You go first.” Joe had spoken so quickly he wasn’t sure if she heard him. Again, he wanted to hit his head on something, cringing internally. Why was he being so weird, and why couldn’t he stop it?  

“What am I doing here, Liebgott?” Her words were whispered, she sounded so unsure of herself.  

Quiet. What was he meant to do in this situation?  

“He told me to go home. That I don’t belong here.  And I’m starting to wonder… if he’s right…” She explained further, her words trailed off and her stare glazed over.  

Birdie inhaled the smoke far into her lungs, she wasn’t expecting Joe to respond. She doubted he even cared. She would finish her cigarette and head off to her barracks and pretend this never happened.  

“Fuck that.” Joe sounded angry? Upset? Maybe a little annoyed? 

“What?” She had heard him; it was just an instant response.  

“Your brother sounds like an asshole.”  

“Excuse me?!” Birdie's brows rose as high as they could. Normally she would defend her brother with everything she had, she decided to let this one slide, maybe Lieb would explain himself and maybe it would make sense.  

“I just mean- if he said that to you… instead of like, I don’t know, supporting you.”  

Stunned silence. 

He had hit the nail on the head. Bernadette had found herself thinking that exact thought: her own brother should’ve been supporting her. Lieb was right.  

Now she knows she is losing her mind, Lieb was right?! What is happening?  

“He’s wrong, ya know? You shouldn’t go home. You deserve to be here, just like everyone else- MORE than everyone else. You’re a tough gal.”  

More stunned silence.  

“Look it’s not my place to say but; don’t go home. You’d regret it.” Joe finished off his cigarette and dropped it to the patch of dirt they stood on, smushing the ember with his boot.  

“Why-…. Why are you being so nice to me? I- I thought…. you hated me?” Birdie was floored. Was this the same Liebgott she knew? The same one who made bitchy comments every time she walked in the room? The same guy who rolled his eyes every time she breathed?  

“I don’t hate you, Coldwell.” His voice was surprisingly gentle.  

“Really? Coulda fooled me.” Birdie snubbed out her own cigarette the same way he did, her eyes stayed glued to the crumpled butt she’d flattened into the ground.  

“I don’t….” Joe whispered. She heard him, but now both people couldn’t look each other in the eye so she pretended she hadn’t. Lieb stared off where mount Currahee would be seen in the daytime, he squinted his eyes imagining he could see it and slowly the outline came into view. Maybe his brain was just connecting the dots, he knew it was there, he knew what it looked like.  

Birdie examined the hard dirt beneath her boots. It had patches of grass dotted in that eventually connected and widened into a field. The brown earth was the most interesting thing she’d seen in her life, and she found herself mesmerized by the pattern of jagged cracks that flowed through. Her eyes followed one line in particular until it was lost under the layer of vegetation.  

Liebgott cleared his throat, gaining her attention.  

“I’ll- Uh… You shouldn’t be out here without a chaperone, ya know?” Joe was rubbing the back of his neck; he didn’t quite have the right words.  

“Walk me?” She prompted, but she didn’t wait for his answer. She just started walking, knowing she would hear his footsteps behind her. 

A/N: Okay well, in case you hadn't realised by now, this story is in fact; a Liebgott/Birdie rivals or slight enemies to lovers!! Surprise! And maybe the slow burn isn't as slow as I thought lol

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter thirteen

[maitaiwiththecorpses]

if ur open to one shots maybe one where aru goes missing (post noi) and he fights and tries really hard to find her??

love ur writing btw

OMG YES THIS IS SO GOOD (also THANK YOU for gassing me up this week has been really hard for me and suddenly people are just being super sweet 🥹🥹???)

She’d been right next to him. In their big fluffy bed, a million miles from everything bad.

She had been right there.

“Shah?” He called out, sounding strangled. He already knew she wasn’t in the house, he could feel it in his bones.

He called for her again, his attempt futile.

Shaking, he dialed her phone, it going directly to voicemail.

What was going on?

Aiden grabbed his scimitars and his “amamma bag”- Aru loved to call it that, and-

Where was Aru??? Why is she not here???

Her phone wasn’t at home though, and he turned on the find my phone and pressed TRACK on her contact photo. It showed five miles away, in the old abandoned mall near Emory College.

Aiden buckled into the car and took off rapidly speed, breaking at least seven traffic rules in the five miles he drove. His hands were slick with panic, and he could feel his chest constricting, the same thought cycling through his head over and over again. Not again.

He parked on the street outside of where Aru was- or at least her phone was. He needed to get it together. No amount of panicking would help her if she was in trouble. He breathed deeply and searched the atmosphere for anything even close to vajra, her electrical bolt. It usually made the air more charged, a small sign he’d grown to notice over the years he’d been around Aru.

It was faint, but the smell of a storm lingered in the air. It wasn’t unlikely for Georgian Februaries to be stormy, but this smell was too… centralised. Too adamant.

He raced into the warehouse, pulling up his black hood. He heard a muffled scream and the scraping of metal, and then suddenly a thud and pure silence.

Aiden rushed forward, heart pounding in his ears. That scream was definitely Shah. When he entered the room, he saw a demon bleeding from the nose on the floor, groaning and rolling onto its side. And tired to a toppled chair, was Aru, mouth stuffed with a cloth. Aiden put her chair the right side up, pulling the gag out of her mouth with a strangled sob. She jumped into his arms, fearless, and completely unfazed, more comforting him than herself.

“I’m okay,” she told him softly. “You got me. I’m alright.”

“How did I-”

“Not important.” She interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter, though, is getting this asshole-” she gestures to the demon with a broken nose, a neat mark of her handiwork- “dead, or out of here.”

“I vote for dead,” Aiden said grimly, pulling his scimitars out.

“And I don’t,” Aru said. She walked over to her captor, the ground practically shaking with her rage as she gabbed his face and menacingly said, “who sent you, dick wad? Who told you where I live?”

The demon gave a wimper as she continued to squeeze his very broken face. “T-the woman. Pretty.”

Aru frowned. Aiden was at a loss too. “There are millions of pretty women in the Otherworld. Which one, demon?”

“Promise. Promise you won’t kill me.” Aiden couldn’t see the expression Aru made to the demon, but its shoulders sagged for a moment before clearly responding, “Opal.” And promptly dissolving into dust.

I grabbed Aru’s hand, scared she’ll disappear, too. Again.

“Opal, huh,” she murmured, eyes unfocused.

“Shah, do you need to see a doctor? Did you hit your head? Any broken bones?”

She brightened for a second, refocusing on Aiden. “No, I’m fine.”

And so she was fine.

They walked to the car, the chill winter night willing them straight back into their blankets at home, but this time?

Aiden didn’t let go.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1935 Duesenberg

Clark Gable and his 1935 Duesenberg

His wife, Carole Lombard, had one too, which is now in a museum in NZ.

HOLLYWOOD, Calif.

Its 420-cubic-inch straight-8 pulled like a train; it was reputed to have a 115-m.p.h. top speed – “right off the showroom floor,” It could exceed 100 m.p.h. in the second of its three gears, boasted E. L. Cord, the company’s president at the time. Its wheelbase of nearly 12 feet gives the car a poised, unflappable ride. And its massive steering wheel guides the wheels straight and true – although its vacuum assisted drum brakes provide the car somewhat uncertain stopping power.

Today, the car’s odometer shows 13,416 miles.

It was January 25, 1936 and Clark Gable had a new car to show off – to a new object of his affections. She was actress Carole Lombard, and the hostess of the lavish White Mayfair Ball, a formal Hollywood soiree, to which Gable drove his 1935 Duesenberg Model JN convertible that night.

The suave actor eventually convinced Miss Lombard to “take a spin around town” with him; when he invited her to his suite a few miles away at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, she famously replied, “Who do you think you are? Clark Gable?”

They weren’t exactly strangers; they had already co-starred together in “No Man of Her Own”. After filming wrapped Miss Lombard presented Mr. Gable with a ham – with his picture on it! But their professional relationship went no further at that point; Miss Lombard was then married to William Powell (she divorced him a couple of years later).

Nevertheless, after they re-connected at the White Mayfair Ball, a scandalous affair ensued; Mr. Gable, still married, was often spotted traveling in the Duesenberg with Miss Lombard from her bungalow on Hollywood Blvd. to night spots, restaurants and hotels all over town. One of those places, The Georgian Hotel in nearby Santa Monica, now advertises the couple had trysts there often.

[scotianostra]

St John's Kirk Perth.

The oldest church in the Fair City started life back in the early I lth century. This was about 200 years before the town was granted the status of royal burgh in 1208. St John's Toun would go on to give it's name the their football team, St Johnstone.

The church was largely rebuilt in 1448 and just over a hundred years later John Knox preached here kindling the Protestant Reformation in Scotland.

The burgh's graveyard surrounded the kirk until it became completely full in 1580. Five hundred years of burials raised the ground, that's why you have to step down into the kirk, you wonder how many bodies lie beneath your feet as you walk around the perimeter.

St John's Kirk was first mentioned in 1126 and it's first incarnation completed in 1241.

A new choir was added to the building in 1440 and more improvements up to about 1448.

During the Reformation, the angry congregation destroyed all forty altars to saints in the kirk and the 4 monasteries around Perth, more on the Monasteries to come!

After the Reformation, St John's was partitioned when the parish was split into three congregations. The kirk was remodelled in 1923.

What you see today was reestored by Sir Robert Lorimer, who also designed the Thistle Chapel in St Giles on The Royal Mile, which I posted pics of a few days ago, and the Scottish National War Memorial, which I posted about yesterday in Scottish & Proud, as it was officially opened on July 14th 1927.

Part of the old church was torn down to improve traffic flow as the City flourished during the Georgian era.

It's a fine church, but my favourite item in the building is in the fourth pic, it's a collection box. Called a 'Sanct Eloys Offerand Stok" it would once have sat on the altar of The Hammer men Incorporation for donations to be received for the poor.

The "Stok" was mentioned in The Hammermen Incorporation minutes as early as the Year 1518, but is thought to be about a hundred years older, so this simple wee box survived the reformation and the centuries since.

Much more photies to come!

[victorsandvanquishers]

The Red House (and all who live in its walls) - Chapter 1

Fandom: DC Comics

Ships: Bart Allen/Kon El; past Kon El/Tana Moon

Ratings: M+

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Gothic Horror; Southern Gothic; Psychological/Body Horror; Past Underage; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Child Neglect; Demons; Childhood Trauma; Psychological Trauma; Human/Monster Romance; Suicide Ideation; Alcohol Abuse; Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Story Synopsis: When former child star and Metropolis sweetheart Kon 'Superboy' El loses the last vestiges of his career to rampant partying and a budding alcohol addiction, he's forced to move into an old house in the Georgian woods because he can't afford his apartment or his bills anymore. Never the quitter, Kon embraces the crumbling antebellum house and all of its possibilities.

Except a house is never just a house, is it? Nor is a forest just a view, or a pond a makeshift swimming pool. When things start to go bump during the day and night, Kon wonders if his new home is more than just a fixer-upper.

But he's made a friend! Kinda. It's the most annoying man he's ever met in his life, but it's his only friend for miles on end. He's got dark brown hair and plain brown eyes, and he's a friend, Kon thinks. But where the heck does he live? And why is he always around when Kon's feeling less than good, and one bad phone call away from drowning himself in a bottle? Dude's gotta have better things to do than to join Kon during his morning workout, right?

Right?

[Bart Allen/Kon El, No Powers AU, gothic horror romance]

~~~

I was looking to practice my short-ficcing skills this years, and after shitposting BartKon clownery for months, I decided I was going to commit to at least one of my one million plot bunnies.

Chapters can run anywhere from 500 to 2,000 words, aided by visual prompts, standard Gothic horror tropes, and the weather. This story will run through the duration of 2024 and end sometime in December. Updates are sporadic, but the BartKon clownery is forever. There will be plenty of grotesque situations, and I promise you horrid amounts of blood and screwing in not-so-safe-places.

Mind the tags on the tin, and enjoy the first chapter. Don't forget to leave a review! :'>