#Jeep Parts Victoria

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

Tell us about your current and past motor vehicles

gladly! this is gonna be a long post

this was my first car, she was a 1984 mercedes 300D turbodiesel. her name was clifford, named after a button on the dash from a defunct security system. in-line five diesel engine, sounded like a truck, was built like a truck, LOVED this car. i paid $600 for her in 2016. she had 308k miles when i bought her, and she went to the scrapyard with 314k the next year when the hood latches broke while i was on the highway and sent the hood into the windshield. i was okay but the repairs were just too much for a $600 car. she was awesome though, a real head turner even with her peeling clearcoat and plumes of diesel smoke

then there was the corolla! 1999, manual transmission. the best car i’ve ever owned. not my favorite but definitely objectively the best. bought off a friend also for $600, around 210k miles. surprisingly fun to drive, very reliable. drove from north carolina to massachusetts in that car, and then across massachusetts every week. her name was wanda, which carried over from the previous owner. drover her for a little over a year before the brakes failed and i rear ended someone

i replaced the corolla with an ‘05 mazda3 i called the tick, after the cartoon character. also bought from a friend. kept it through early 2021 i think, drove it through most of early quarantine. i didn’t love this car personally, in large part because the transmission and starter both went out on me within the first two months of ownership and the friend i bought it from was entirely unsympathetic. i sold it to my shitty roommate lol

and then for some reason my mom gave me a sports car. she bought a new honda civic and handed down her 2004 subaru wrx wagon, with the manual transmission and everything. she’d named it the millennium falcon so i called her falcon. this car was a blast to whip around. that turbo boxer engine sounded amazing and this thing RIPPED on the highway. the biggest issues with it were that it really didn’t have all that much character on the road, and it took premium gas, so fill ups were EXPENSIVE. i sold her after having her for a few months because the clutch went out and i was quoted $2k to replace it because that’s what happens when you have a sports car. sold it as is to a guy with two other wrxs who wanted to fix it up and use it as a work car

this is the current baby! bit of an older picture because she looks uhhh worse these days but this is clifford jr the 2001 jeep cherokee xj. i’ve learned so much with this car, done a bunch of the work on her myself. she’s a fixer upper im reaching my limit on but she’s served me remarkably well and is my favorite car i’ve owned. not fast, not good on gas, but god she’s got some character. just rolled over 256k miles

like i said i’m reaching my wits end with the jeep, every time i fix something two more things break, and i can’t afford for her to keep being a money pit. so i’m starting to save for something else, ideally a late 80s honda or toyota, or a panther body sedan, like a ford crown victoria or mercury grand marquis

[darkimpala1897]

I'm currently doing a storm chaser Au for MOTA, I posted my three part today, so I just wanted to drop some lore slash headcanons

1. Bucky was adopted at age seven by Jack and Chick, he doesn't call them his dads. He calls them his weird uncles.

2. Buckys parents were killed by a tornado.

3. Bucky has been chasing tornados since he was a kid.

4. Bucky and Buck are married, but currently divorcing. But also at the same time not really.

5. Curt and Dickie have been married since the dinosaurs.

6. DeMarco is engaged to Brady, Meatball is their son.

7. Bubbles and Crosby are married duh.

8. Douglass and Hambone have been dating forever.

9. Helen and Nash are married.

10. Quinn is in a situationship with Bailey and Babyface, I can't even explain it.

11. Ken is married to Winks, they have a son named Sammy.

12. Sammy was carried by Helen, but she is not biologically his mother.

13. Meatball was found in what was left of a barn, he was just a puppy.

14. Helen is the only one with her life together, she's a sex therapist, which Nash finds hilarious.

12. Ken and Winks are farmhands slash mechanics, that live on Jack and Chicks farm.

13. Everyone lives in Jack and Chicks basement.

14. They live in Wakita Oklahoma.

15. Nobodys car dates past 1996 is a running joke between everyone when in reality its like 1990.

16. Hambone is the human barometer.

17. Croz is the navigator, he has a whole a conniption if Bubbles folds the maps.

18. DeMarco drives a retired school bus, for some reason well drunk DeMarco put where it use to say school, it says "Burrito Barn" now. He doesn't know either.

19. Bucky drives a blue 1983 GMC Vandura with a unicorn painted on both sides.

20. Ken painted the unicorns on Buckys van.

21. Curt and Dickie drive a black 1989 Chevrolet Suburban, it's nickname is "The Beast"

22. The Beast has been put back together four times now, the most severe incident was a cell tower piece through the windshield.

23. Bubbles and Croz drive a 1982 Ford F-150.

24. Douglass and Hambone drive a 1983 Ford LTD Country Squire, Hammy calls it "The Boat" or "The Wagon" depending on the day.

25. Douglass loves to drift his Squire, which is not good for it.

26. Rosies drives a 1985 Chevrolet Chevy Van, it has utility lights on it, Bucky calls it "The Boring Van"

27. Helen and Nash drive a 1975 Chevrolet K-10.

28. Bucky is the resident idiot of the group.

29. Rosies operates all the fancy equipment, and the cameras for obvious reasons.

30. They have a YouTube channel, which is called the Windy 100th. Rosie thought of it because he was a history major.

31. Their YouTube channel isn't that popular, but it's more about them having fun then anything.

32. Curt and Brady do audio, they have the best ears.

33. Smokey is their doctor, but he is a registered wackadoodle.

34. Smokey drives this hideous green 1990 Crown Victoria it belongs to Stormy, though he pretends not to own it for obvious reasons.

35. Instead of Brady yelling "Son of a bitch, that's France! He's yelled "Son Of Bitch, that's the tornado." He nearly died that day.

36. Brady just owns a baseball helmet for some reason.

37. Hambone is called Hambone because he literally got smacked by a flying pig.

38. Babyface is called Babyface, because for some reason he keeps getting smacked in the head by babydolls.

39. Stormy is an actual meteorologist, that just helps out the group. So he slightly has his life together.

40. Ken owns a flatbed tow truck for obvious reasons, but he normally drives a 1977 GMC C-15 which he shares with Winks.

41. Buck owns a 1984 Jeep Wagoneer.

42. All of them met in college well studying you guessed it weather.

43. Rosie knows Oklahoma by heart, he sings with Smokey.

44. DeMarco loves rock music, he blasts it on drives through speakers on his bus.

45. Douglass loves classical music.

46. All of them are amazing drivers which is surprising considering.

47. Chick is the one who cooks, Jack bakes and makes pretty much everything.

48. Jack makes wind chimes that he sells.

49. The only one to ever have seen an F5 was Bucky, its what killed his parents.

50. Bucky thinks he's the leader, but it's actually Rosie.

That's it, that's lore for the Windy 100th aka Storm Chaser AU.



[frangipanilove]

Vessels of Hope and Faith: more on the Blue Clues and the Venus symbolism

Sometimes you'll have these thougths and connections simmering in the back of your mind for years, but you don't know how to articulate them into something that sounds coherent.

And then new content comes out and there's a shot that unlocks a Pandora's Box of new theories and correlations.

Yesterday I tried to explain the significance of the blue bird symbolism and its connection to the 101 symbolism. I started researching all kinds of blue bird symbolism after Noah's T-shirt theory was confired all those years ago, and I found a few connections that seemed like they were obvious choised for tptb to utilize, and yet, tptb took their sweet time in confirming they were indeed real, actual connections. The connection between the yellow school bus brand Blue Bird was one of them. We have seen yellow school buses multiple times, some were indeed Blue Bird buses, others weren't necessarily easy to decide, and it wasn't always clear to me if a yellow school bus in an episode was a Blue Bird, and if it was meant to be read into as a part of the symbolism language, or if it was just a random coincidence.

And then, in TWD: Dead City 1x5 Stories We Tell Ourselves, we got the scene that confirmed that yes, the yellow school buses were indeed an integral part of the Blue Bird symbolism seen on the show.

Another blue bird reference I've been anticipating for years was the Crowned Victoria Pigeon. I always thought it was an absolute travesty and missed oppertunity if they didn't use it as a symbol, because it is absolutely perfect for the symbolism language they're already using. And in the episode "Amy/Dr.Everett" in the spin off series Tales of The Walking Dead they finally did. Here's a review on the episode in which it appeared.

"They come across a moment of beauty: a colorful Victoria crowned pigeon. Once on the verge of extinction, the bird is beautiful. "You're alive," Amy says. "You're right here." Amy's marveling turns to heartbreak when the bird flies away."

Sounds a lot like this blue bird is about resurrection. It's on the verge of extinction, and yet it reveals itself for Amy in the episode. And like we often see with symbolism in the spin off's versus on the main show, ot's a lot more over-stated. It's in-your-face type of glaringly obvious. "You're alive"? Come on! If that's not resurrection symbolism I'm eating my hat.

In my Trunk Resurrection 1 and 2 posts from a few years back I elaborate on cars and what they tell us about the subtext of a scene. I also touched on it yesterday, mostly because one of the spoiler pics from the filming outside the Louvre possibly involves a Jeep Cherokee (which I explain the relevance of in Trunk Ressurection 2) (and at this point this is only wild speculation on my part, nothing is confirmed) . TD has also tracked licence plates for years, which deserves a separate post so I'll leave that out for now, but it is relevant because it ties into the car symbolism.

So, anyone familiar with the Trunk Resurrection posts will understand why I was patiently waiting for a Crowned Victoria Pigeon reference, especially when I tell you that the police car Rick and Shane use in the car chase that goes horribly wrong in TWD 1X1 Days Gone By is a Ford Crown Victoria. The car was quite literally the first thing we saw in 1x1 Days Gone By.

From a symbolism language standpoint, Rick's Crown Victoria police car in season one ties into almost every symbol I'm tracking on this show. It's a car, which means it ties into the Three-Tree-Trunk theory (Trunk Ressurection 1 and 2), it's a police car, which means it ties into the Blue Clues theory, and we saw it in TWD episode 1 season 1 (which I talked about yesterday in relation to the 101-1x1-one one-symbolism).

TWD: Daryl Dixon episode 1 season 1 was wonderful in many ways, and symbolism-wise it was a treasure trove. I have so many thoughts it's difficult to decide which trails to explore first. Yesterday I touched on some stuff that I want to elaborate on here. It deals with the same stuff, but I'll try to tie it together some more, and mention a few other exemples that I find relevant. I mentioned the Venus and Sirius symbolism yesteday, and I'll continue to elaborate on that today.

Let's start with the opening minutes of 1x1 L'ame Perdue. We see Daryl, unconcious and resting on top of an overturned (inverted) boat (or shall we say VESSEL?), wash ashore on a French beach.

This little sequence of events sparked a chain reaction of lightbulbs firing in my brain.

For starters, all I could see initially was this:

We saw the painting "The Birth Of Venus" in TWD 7x3 WTDCK, and it was inverted. I've said it before and I'll say it again, @angelthefirst1 had an absolutely brilliant breakdown of the symbolism in TWD 10x18 Find Me, and she very cleverly was able to tie it to WTDCK. I think that's super relevant because Find Me, polarizing and divisive as it was, for me was one of the most magical episodes of the entire franchise. I thought it was absolutely saturated with "underworld" symbolism in every single scene, it was as though the veil between the Realm of the Dead and the Realm of the Living was particularly thin, and in my opinion it had a lot in common with Still and Alone in that respect. For someone who loves underworld themes and themes of liminal spaces between the realms of the dead and the living, it was pure magic. I even kind of liked Leah.

(A quick note on the name Leah, because I have zero self control when it comes to these things... For me, who's already primed to pick up on anything remotely underworld-coded...I wouldn' be true to my soul if I didn' put it out there that the name Leah is an anagram for Hela, which is the Norse goddess of Death. Hel in Norwegian, Hela in Swedish. Yeah. That's a hill I'm willing to die on. Leah was TWDU's Goddess of Death, Monarch of the Underworld. And I love that about her...ok, back to the regular scheduled programming)

In WTDCK, where we saw the famous Bottichelli painting, we could see that it was inverted. The painting depicts Venus, the Roman version of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, arriving onto the shore, aided by the wind gods, in a vessel that is also a sea shell.

In TWDDD 1x1, Daryl, with the help of the wind and ocean currents (I guess), reached shore on top of a vessel that was an inverted boat.

The painting is widely interpreted as to be dealing with themes of "rebirth", which @wdway had great insight into when I discussed this scene with her. When watching the opening minutes if TWDDD 1x1, where I saw the scene from Botticelli's "The Birth Of Venus", which is about "rebirth", she saw themes of baptism, which is ultimately also about rebirth.

When speaking of a "vessel", we are obviously normally alluding to a boat, or even vehicle, something meant as an instrument of transportation of some kind. But "vessel" can also be used about something which holds beverages, such as a "drinking vessel".

And as soon as we started down the rabbit hole of "drinking vessels" it was unavoidable that we eventually ended up discussing "Holy Grail" symbolism...

...which is something we've discussed a lot because of all of the thinly veiled references to the book and movie The Da Vinci Code we've seen in TWDU for at least the past seven years...

...which in turn is increasingly becoming interesting again, seeing as we keep getting spoiler pics of filming currently happening in and outside the Louvre. For those who aren't familiar with the book and film, here's a spoiler: the Holy Grail turned out to be the tomb of Mary Magdalene, hidden underneath the inverted pyramid under the glass pyramid outside the Louvre, where TWDDD are filming as I'm writing this. And there's more; the actual, real Holy Grail in the book wasn't so much Mary Magdalene herself as it was her womb, which in the story had carried and given birth to the child of Jesus, and one of the symbols of the female womb is a V... a reference to the shape of a uteris... Basically in TDVC the Holy Grail was the Tomb of the Womb. Or perhaps the Womb in the Tomb.

@wdway was kind enough to dig up her copy of the book and send over these convincing pics of the part in the book where Robert Langdon, the main character, and Sophie Neveu (spoiler alert: a direct decendant of JC himself) discuss the same symbolism I've just discussed above.

The female symbol:

Thanks @wdway, you're a star and an absolute legend!

Fear not, I'm not going to do a full synopsis of TDVC here, besides it's @wdway who is the real expert on these matters (she's been talking about chevrons for years). Go read it yourself, it's quite captivating. But for what it's worth, it does seem clear that someone in the writer's room in TWDU are more than just a little intrigued by the symbolism presented by author Dan Brown. And they're not afraid to use it in TWDU, because TD has consistently been tracking this type of symbolism since season 5 when Daryl paused in front of the carved wooden reproduction of Da Vinci's The Last Supper in Father Gabriel's church. Probably even before that, I have memories of TD'ers theorizing that Beth and Daryl's "white trash brunch" in 4x13 Alone was their "Last Supper", and that their kitchen scene was actually choreographed and modeled after Da Vinci's famous fresco.

And again, I'm bringing it up again because the writing of TWDDD 1x1 is practically forcing me to. That, along with the abundance of glorious spoiler pics from the Louvre...

Anyway, like the symbolism around the Blue Bird school buses and the Victoria Crowned Pigeon I mentioned initially, there are another few symbols I've been silently tracking over the years, and they both tie into the shot of Daryl stumbling out of the water, onto a Mediterranean beach, like a beautiful, though somewhat thirsty Venus or Aphrodite...

He finds a bucket of fresh water, and drinks it like his life depends on it (which it probably did, to be fair). And it's blue. Of course it is. A blue drinking vessel for our dehydrated but very much still alive Venus/Aphrodite...

My favorite method when it comes to researching symbolism revolves around etymology, first and foremost. Etymology is my go-to for everything symbolism related. And of course I've checked the etymology of the word "vessel" a long ass time ago.

How peculiar, the root word for "vessel" is "vas". And I'm not gonna lie, the results were interesting because OF COURSE I've also checked the etymology of the word "vase" a long ass time ago...

..and the reason for why I checked the etymology of the word "vase" back in the ancient times of Really Early TD was obviously because...

...I'm sure we all remember this lovely decorative piece on top of Beth's piano in 4x13 Alone.

BTW, @wdway, Queen of Chevrons and V symbolism would like you all to appreciate the lovely chevron pattern on Beth's knitted jacket...

...a pattern we've just established is a possible reference to the symbolism around the Holy Grail as it is utilized in TDVC...

And the reason we all instinctively knew this particular vase on top of Beth's piano was more than just random kitchy knick knack was because...

Yeah. In the words of the great Rick Grimes, "That vase...That's something special"...

Yeah. Rick Grimes knows a thing or two about vases/vessels, as he's just woken up from a Tour de Liminal Space between the Realms of the Dead and the Living...

Most certainly a special vase/vessel indeed...

In fact, it was special enough to make an appearence in a hallucination in TWD 9x5 The Bridge, when Rick "died" (but not really).

And much like our thirsty Venus/Aphrodite from the French beach...

...our OG Sirius figure Rick Grimes, the first one to dissappear from the night sky only to return/ressurect/be reborn later and have a reunion with his loved ones, was also feeling the dehydration after his return/resurrection/rebirth...

...and we know Beth likes her drink...

Remember how I’ve been talking about the importance of the Jeep Cherokee symbolism lately? I've even been theorizing, like the desperate fangirl I am, that one of the cars from the Louvre spoiler pics could be a Jeep Cherokee. (if you have no idea of what I'm talking about, do seek out yesterday's post plus the Trunk Resurrection posts)

A Cherokee rose in a beer bottle vase/vessel. Meant to instill hope and faith in Carol. Along with a story about the Grail of Tears, excuse-moi, TRAIL of tears…

(...also I have written probably 15 000 posts about beer symbolism in the past, check out those, and I also don't have time to elaborate on the name of the beer brand, Sweetwater, but I'm leaving it here for you @wdway)

I have a long list of Blue Clues, and I’ve compiled a bunch of them in the Blue Clue post, but among more recent examples that stand out is definitely the "Heart Of Blue" boat from 10x13 What We Become. Be sure to check out the numbers on the sail and tell me if you don't believe me when I say that the Blue Clues and the 101-1x1-one one- symbolism go together. Because it’s the number 11 (or 101-1x1-one one, as we discussed yesterday.

Also, @wdway who is a magician with numerology, would waste no time pointing out that the other number seen on the sail, the "22", represents the 22nd letter of the alphabet, namely the "V".

V for Venus perhaps? Or Team Violet?

This is the episode when Michonne finds Rick’s boots (boot = trunk = vessel) on a boat, no less (another vessel).

The boat has the numbers 672 written on its side...

...something which makes it easily recognizible in case we should happen to come across it again at a later point.

...which we did. We came across it again.

...like here, in the coda of 11x24 RIP, where we see a flashback of Rick throwing his backpack with his boots onboard the 672 vessel before he's apprehended by the Mean Helicopter Guy. This is why Michonne later was able to find his boots in the boat. Again, I highly reccomend this post by @angelthefirst1 for some absolutely glorious side-by-side comparisons of several Beth and Rick moments (and equally glorious additions by others).

So, from a symbolism point of view, what are we talking about here? It's about HOPE and FAITH. When Daryl told Carol the story of the Trail of Tears and the symbolism around the Cherokee Rose in season 2, it was to give her hope and faith. The Cherokee Rose in a beer bottle vase (vessel) is Daryl's vessel of hope and faith, extended to Carol at a time when she didn't have any.

When Michonne finds Rick's boots onboard the 672 vessel, she realises Rick could be alive (boot = trunk = vessel symbolism). She arrived at the island in a blue boat/vessel (called Heart Of Blue, no less), and she found Ricks boots (which in and of itself is a representation of Trunk symbolism, because boot = trunk, check out the Trunk Resurrection posts if you have no idea of what I'm on about) inside the boat/vessel, the same vessel we later see when we for the first time see Rick Grimes alive after he "died" (but not really) in 9x5 The Bridge.

Rick's boots gave Michonne the hope and faith she needed to go out in search of him. She found that hope onboard the 672 vessel.

Daryl's drinking vessel of choice when he stumbles out of the French waters in 1x1 L'ame Perdue is a blue bucket.

The vase we see on Rick's bed-side table in TWD 1x1 has blue decor on white background.

The vase we see on Beth's piano in 4x13 Alone has blue decor on white background.

The "Heart of Blue" boat that brings Michonne to the island where clues about Rick are to be found is blue (obviously, it's in the name), complete with a 101-1x1-one one-referance (and a 22-V referance) on its white sail.

It's like the vessel/vase symbolism represents the journey between the realms, a way for characters to move between the realms, a way in which loved ones, long thought to be dead, can travel between the realms, from the percieved Realm of the Dead, back into the Realm of the Living. They are vessels in which "dead" characters are given an opportunity to "wake up", they are vessels for "life", for "resurrection".

It's like they're Vessels of Hope and Faith...

...and venereal diseases?????

In case it doesn't come across, this helpful poster inside Michonne's Vessel of Hope and Faith implores the public to help stop the spread of syphilis and gonorrhea. I'm not at all opposed to effective public health measures, such as information campaigns, but this poster, in this particular episode, in a literal Vessel of Hope and Faith seemed super random. So I turned to my trusted old friend etymology for advice:

What do you know, the term "venereal” is directly linked to Venus, through my favorite academic dicipline etymology!

Michonne's vessel of hope and faith is ultimately a Venus reference. And because we love repetition:

Daryl stumbling out of the water is a dramatic reenactment of the Bottichelli painting The Birth Of Venus.

Venus and Sirius are two sides to the same story, as they're both concidered morning stars. Daryl's weapon of choise, outside the crossbow, is a Morningstar. Beth is a Sirius figure, a morning star.

Rick is the OG Sirius character, who disappeared from the night sky only to "resurrect" later. Beth is the next.

Beth, Rick and Daryl are all surrounded by the same blue bird symbolism.

And, there's currently filming going on at the Louvre, which, among other things, is home to the famous statue Venus de Milo.

And if this ol' fangirl is correct in her wild speculations, a car seen in a spoiler pic is a Jeep Cherokee, which certainly brings me lots of Hope and Faith that interesting Stuff and Thangs are coming up shortly in Daryl Dixon's European Adventure.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

CATFA: Part Five

Pairing: Ikaris x Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The promise you made to Bucky will stand firm because you're not going to let anything happen to Steve. He's eager to get started, even after seeing his other recruits in boot camp. You're off to the side since you've already done this and are allowed to observe. A very slim young woman approaches the recruits with a serious look on her face.

"Recruits, attention! Gentlemen, I'm Agent Peggy Carter. I supervise all operations for this division."

"What's with the accent, Queen Victoria? Thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army," one of the recruits asks with a smirk.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty."

"Step forward, Hodge," she orders, and he does as he's told. "Put your right foot forward."

"Mmm, we gonna wrassle? Because I got a few moves I know you'll like," he winks. 

Peggy pulls her fist back and punches him square in the jaw. He falls to the ground in shock as blood squirts out of his nose. The Colonel picks the right time to come in on a jeep.

"Agent Carter."

"Colonel Phillips."

"I see you're breaking in the candidates. That's good!" he turns to the fallen soldier. "Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention until somebody tells you what to do."

"Yes, sir," Hodge sniffles as he tries to keep the blood inside his nose.

"General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons," the Colonel begins, "but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men and because they're gonna get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldiers, and they will personally escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell."

Steve has always had trouble trying to fit in wherever he went. This training camp was no different. The other recruits saw his size and immediately thought he couldn't do it. They made his life hell here, but Steve was a fighter. He never gave up even when things looked a little bleak.

When you were a recruit, you had gone through the same hell as them, only more difficult. Your recruitment officer wanted to make it as tough as possible to prove a woman couldn't do it. When you passed with flying colors, he knew you weren't an ordinary woman.

The recruits are doing their run around the camp, but you're hanging out with Dr. Erskine and Peggy in a jeep waiting for them to get to the halfway point.

"Y/N, I'd like to talk about your academy results if you don't mind," the doctor asks.

"What about them?"

Dr. Erskine and Peggy look at one another as if they know something you don't. He tries to get the words out of his mouth, but Peggy takes over.

"How you passed with such perfect scores."

"Hard work, I guess."

"Yes, that's what I thought until I looked at the footage." Dr. Erskine takes out photos that were developed from the footage since he can't show you personally. The first photo is of you alone in the camp when you thought no one was around to see you. The next photo is of you hunched over as you're in the middle of transforming into an animal. The third photo is of you as the animal. The fourth photo is you running away from the spot into the woods behind the camp. "Care to explain?"

"No," you shake your head.

"Not even the best candidates of your group got perfect scores, yet, you did. Now, unless you'd like me to show this to authorities, I suggest you start explaining."

Well, there is no use in lying to them now, so you come clean.

"I'm not human. I'm from a planet called Xenia, and I came to Earth nearly a thousand years ago. Believe me or not, I'm not the bad guy here. I'm a shapeshifting avatar that can control the elements. I can turn into anything and anyone as long as it's living."

To demonstrate, you use your aerokinesis and cause the wind to pick up. There are no clouds in the sky, but you solidify the water molecules in the air, causing them to sprinkle down onto the three of you. Peggy looks up in shock when she doesn't see any clouds above her.

"I once belonged to a government that only wanted to inflict pain. They were bullies. I put a stop to it, and I've been bouncing from planet to planet trying to help them. All I want here is to help," you say and cease all activity. Peggy and Dr. Erksine aren't nearly as shocked as you thought they were going to be. "You two don't seem that shocked."

"We're looking for someone to be experimented on with a serum we've created. It will enhance their speed, strength, and stamina. We like to say we're building a super soldier to help us win the war," Dr. Erskine reveals.

"We'd like your input."

"Sure." The unmistakable sound of feet stomping on the ground can be heard from where you are. The recruits are coming this way. "I guess it goes without saying that I'd like for my secret to remain a secret."

"We'll keep yours if you'll keep ours."

"Deal."

You look back and see everyone running in two lines, but Steve is all the way in the back and falling behind. Seeing him so battered and bruised makes you think about the promise you made to Bucky. Then, you think about Bucky and how you miss him so much. He's in England right now fighting for his life without you by his side. Maybe this weekend, when you have off, you'll fly over there and see how he's doing.

"That flag means we're at the halfway point!" the instructor points to a flagpole ten feet off to the side. "The first man to bring it to me rides back with Agent Carter! Move!"

All ten recruits rush to the flagpole and try to get to the flag, but they're all failing. Some try to climb it but only get a few feet off the ground. They try to help each other up, but none can pass the halfway point up the pole.

"Nobody's got that flag in seventeen years! Now fall back in line! Come on, fall in!" All the recruits fall back in line, but Steve hasn't gotten his turn to try. "Rogers, I said fall in!"

Steve looks at the flagpole and notices the base of it. There is a latch that can be undone. He pulls it free from the base, allowing the flagpole to fall to the ground in a defining thump. Everyone is shocked into silence when Steve grabs the flag. You and Peggy look at the instructor with smirks on your faces; you're kind of proud of Steve for using his brain. He hands the flag to the instructor and gets into the backseat of the jeep.

Once everyone gets back to the main area for training, it's time for more exercises. All the recruits need to do push-ups over and over again, and everyone does them well except for Steve. He's trying his best, but he can't seem to keep up with everyone else.

"Faster, ladies! Come on. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!" Peggy barks orders at the recruits.

You're off to the side watching them when you notice Dr. Erskine and the Colonel talking by one of the keeps. The Colonel takes a grenade from the back, takes out the safety pin, and throws it into the pit of recruits.

"Grenade!"

If you don't do something soon, then it's going to blow up. You stick your hand out and use your aerokinesis to manipulate the air around the grenade to throw it somewhere else. All the recruits hide behind objects that could protect themselves, but Steve jumps on top of the Grenade to take the fall for everyone else. You, Peggy, the doctor, and the Colonel stare at him in wonder as the recruits look at him like he's crazy.

"Is this a test?" Steve asks when the grenade doesn't blow up.

He's proving to be the one they need for the serum, even if the Colonel doesn't think so. He's passed every test and done everything they've asked for regardless if it's harder for the other recruits to do it.

When it was clear who they were going to pick for the serum, Dr. Erskine came clean to Steve about what was really going on. Steve was apprehensive, but he was ready to take that final step. That final step leads you back to Brooklyn. You're in the car with Peggy and Steve and you can already feel some sort of tension. It's nothing bad, but it's definitely something.

"I know this neighborhood," Steve recognizes the area. "I got beat up in that alley, that parking lot, and behind that diner."

"Did you have something against running away?"

"If you start running and they'll never let you stop. So, you stand up and push back. Can't say no forever, right?"

"I know a little of what that's like. To have every door shut in your face."

"I guess I just don't know why you'd wanna join the army if you're a beautiful dame," Steve says. He realizes his choice of words and stutters out an apology. "Or a beautiful... a woman. An agent, not a dame! You are beautiful, but—"

"You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" she interrupts him.

You snicker under your breath, and he lightly kicks your shin to get you to stop. It's his way of telling you to shut the fuck up.

"This is the longest conversation I've had with one. Women aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on."

"You must have danced?"

"Asking a woman to dance always seems so terrifying. The past few years just didn't seem to matter that much. I'd figured I'd wait."

"For what?"

"The right partner." Peggy stares at him in admiration just as the car pulls up to an antique store. You're the first one out, then Peggy, and finally Steve. "What are we doing here?"

Peggy leads you two inside an antique store, and the owner comes out to greet Peggy.

"Wonderful weather this morning isn't it?"

"Yes, but I always carry an umbrella."

The owner gives her a nod, and Agent Carter leads you two to a bookcase in the back which opens up to reveal that they were, in fact, doors. She took the lead down to a hidden lab in a big circular room filled with machinery and a pod in the middle.

"Good morning," Dr. Erskine announces when he sees you. He shakes your and Steve's hands respectively. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Steve acknowledges.

"Good. Take off your shirt, your tie, and your hat," he commands. As soon as he achieves that, he climbs into the pod that is ready whenever he is. "Comfortable?"

"It's a little big. You save me any of that schnapps?" he asks the doctor.

"Not as much as I should have. Sorry. Next time. Mr. Stark, how are your levels?"

Howard Stark comes onto the platform, and you stare at him in admiration. He made an impression when you saw him at the Exposition of Tomorrow. It's fitting that he's working on this project since he's brilliant.

"Levels at 100%. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we're ready as we'll ever be."

"Agent Carter? Don't you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?" the doctor inquires.

"Oh, yes, of course."

You turn to follow her, but Steve grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving.

"Stay, please."

"I'm right here," you whisper and stay by his side.

After a few moments of silence, the doctor picks up a microphone to talk to the people inside the booth as they watch from above.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today, we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step toward the path to peace. We begin with a series of micro-injections into the subject's major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. Then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays."

Wow, if only Markus was this thorough with you back then. Another doctor in the room stuck a needle in Steve's arm and quickly injects whatever is inside.

"That wasn't so bad," Steve comments.

"That was penicillin," the doctor informs him. "Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one." 

The serum is injected into Steve's arm at the end of the countdown. The Doctor gives a thumbs-up to Howard, and the inventor pulls a lever that encloses Steve into the pod and stands him upright. Dr. Erskine walks to the tiny window and knocks on it. 

"Steven, can you hear me?"

"It's probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?"

"We will proceed," the doctor nods.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[zep-writings]

You Feel Like Home

CHAPTER FOUR, part one.

Warnings: Bad words, mention of war and military, fluff, a little heartbreak and Steve being sweet.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Ellie Barnes.

Notes: I do not own any of the characters present in this story, except for Ellie Barnes, an original character. This is pure fiction.

This has not been beta and English is not my first language so be nice haha.

Please give me some feedback, even just a small comment is really appreciated!

I've been working on this one for a while, so please let me know what you think!

You Feel Like Home Masterlist || Main Masterlist.

Chapter three

“Recruits, attention!” A woman’s voice raised a few meters away from Steve was standing in his army uniform.

Steve had arrived earlier that day at the training camp in Lehigh in New Jersey. He was filled with a mixed of emotions, fear, apprehension, but most of all excitement. Saying his goodbye to Ellie had been hard, really hard, but he was glad he was finally here, doing the training and starting to do his part for the war.

“Gentlemen, I’m Agent Carter. I supervise all operation for this division.” The woman added, walking toward the recruits standing in line.

Steve looked at her quickly, she was beautiful, wearing a khaki army uniform, her hair perfectly pulled away from her face and her lips painted in red.

“What’s with the accent, Queen Victoria?” One of the soldiers asked, a smirk of deviance on his face. “I thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army.”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Agent Carter asked him, turning to face him.

“Gilmore Hodge, Your Majesty.”

“Step forward, Hodge.” Carter ordered him.

Hodge stepped forward, looking back at the soldier standing next to him, rolling his eyes. Steve hated bullies, and that man was clearly one. A man too damn proud to take orders from a woman.

“Put your right foot forward.” Carter added, always keeping her cool.

Hodge once more did exactly what she asked and spoke. “We gonna wrassle? ‘Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like.”

Hodge winked at Carter but before he could say anything else, she punched him straight in the face sending him to the ground and Steve couldn’t hold back the proud smile spreading on his lips. He liked her very much already.

“Agent Carter!” A man coming out of a jeep exclaimed loudly and agent Carter straightened up.

“Colonel Phillips.” Carter turned to face the colonel, saluting him.

“I can see that you are breaking in the candidates. That’s good!” The colonel spoke, walking toward her and the recruits. “Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention till somebody comes and tells you what to do.”  

“Yes, sir!” Hodge stood up, straight up.

“General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men.” The colonel started, walking along the line of standing recruits and Steve didn’t let go of him of one second. “We are going to win this war because we have the best... men.” He hesitated, looking at Steve before he glanced at Doctor Erskine standing next to Agent Carter. “And because they’re gonna get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldier. And they will escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell.”

Super-soldiers, that was why he had been given a chance, why Doctor Erskine had offered him a pass. Steve knew it was his only chance to get what he wanted, and he certainly wasn’t going to waste it.

For the following week, Steve did his best. He trained as hard as he could, but most of all he stayed true to himself. If Steve wasn’t a big guy and really struggled with his training, on the intellectual and human level he was obviously one of the best. If Colonel Phillips still wasn’t agreeing with his presence here, Doctor Erskine was only comforted in the fact that he had made the right choice by giving Steve a chance.

On the final day of training, Steve was amongst the other recruits, struggling to go through God knows how many push ups. Every single part of his body was hurting, he was tired, exhausted, but there was no way in hell he was gonna give up now, not after everything he had to get exactly where he was.

“Up!” Agent Carter ordered.

Steve raised to his feet, trying to catch his breath but there was no time for it as they started to do jumping jacks. Steve felt like he was about to collapse to the floor, or be sick, and yet he pushed back, again, and again, and followed others recruits.

“Grenade!” Colonel Phillips yelled as a little metal grenade rolled down on the floor to the middle of the group.

“Move, move, move!” The recruits yelled, running away from it as Steve did the opposite.

Before he could even think about it, Steve ran toward the grenade and jumped on top of it. He rolled his body into a ball and yelled. “Get away! Get back!” Steve thought this was the end and a clear image of Ellie appeared in head. She was standing in front of him, looking at him through her gorgeous blue eyes with that warm smile he loved so much curled on her lips as she placed a piece of her hair behind her ear. But nothing happened and when he looked up, every pair of eyes around was one him.

“It was a dummy grenade. All clear. Back in formation.” Steve heard someone say and he suddenly felt a little stupid.

Steve looked up at Agent Carter, standing in front of him, a proud smile on her face. “Is this a test?” He asked even if he was pretty sure of the answer. A simple look at Doctor Erskine’s face, who smirked proudly, made him think he might have actually made the right choice by following his instinct.

“Alright ladies, everyone in line!” Agent Carter ordered.

Steve pushed himself up from the ground, still trying to catch his breath and process was had just happened. If this grenade had been real, his last thoughts went towards Ellie, the girl he had liked for months, years even, and who didn’t know about it. He joined all the other recruits stood in line and straightened himself up. He quickly glances at Doctor Erskine and Agent Carter exchanging a few words before the Agent nodded.

“The decision has been made.” Agent Carter announced, walking toward the group. “All of you may pack your bags you will be reassigned to your new unites and will continue training. Except for you Rogers.” She added, stopping in front of the blond man who felt his heart banging in his chest. “Congratulation, Soldier.” She offered him a soft smile before he walked away.

He had been chosen. Steve couldn’t quite believe what he just happened, but it was happening and he exchanged a simple glance with the Erskine. He was going to become a super-soldier.

****

Steve didn’t sleep much that night, he was too nervous for it. The previous night he had a talk with Doctor Erskine and his words kept on turning into his head: “The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength and knows compassion.” He had been chosen because he was a good man, not a perfect soldier and Erskine had made him promise to stay that way, to stay true to himself.

Sat in the car that drove the streets of New York, Steve grew even more nervous. He knew this could fail, but he was hopeful, he always was hopeful that what life had taught him.

“I know this neighborhood. I got beat up in that alley.” Steve pointed out, showing a small alley while they passed by. “And that parking lot. And behind that diner.” He added, looking down at his hands.

“Did you have something against running away?” Agent Carter wondered a fond smile on her face.

Steve shook his head and looked up to glance at her. “You start running, they’ll never let you stop. You stand up, you push back. They can’t say no forever, right?”

“I know a little of what that’s like, to have every door shut in your face.” Carter agreed softly with him.

“I guess I just don’t know why you’d want to join the Army if you were a beautiful dame.” Steve started before he realized what he had just said. “Or a… A woman. An agent. Not a dame.” He was only making things worse as Peggy frowned at him. “You are beautiful, but...”

“You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” The agent shook her head, the smile spreading a little more on her lips.

“I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one. Except for my best friend’s sister, but I’ve known her since we were kids.” Steve admitted with an awkward chuckle. “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on.”

“You must have danced.”

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. And the past few years, it just…” Steve shrugged, his mind running to Ellie. “Didn’t seem to matter that much. I figure I’d wait.”

“For what?” Peggy asked softly.

“The right partner.” Steve confessed and for a moment silence fell over in the car. “Can we make a quick stop?” He inquired, recognizing they weren’t far from the Barnes’s apartment.

Agent Carter looked at her watch and nodded. “Sure, we have some time.”

Steve smiled at her and gave the driver the direction to Ellie’s apartment. He needed to see her before the procedure, he needed to talk to her, to explain what was going to happen to him and in case something happened to him… Well he needed her to know, that’s all. On top of this, Steve knew she was the only one that could calm his nerve right now, and truth be told, he missed her dearly in the last week.

When the car came to a stop in front of the familiar building, he recognized Ellie’s figure right away as she was talking to the owner of the small shop a few doors away. He glanced at Peggy who nodded.

“I’ll wait for you here, don’t take too long. We can’t be late.” Peggy told him, offering him a smile as she noticed his eyes sparkle in a way she had never seen before.

“Yes m’am.” Steve replied and he stepped out of the vehicle, looked right and left before he crossed the road to meet Ellie. “Hey Ellie.” He greeted her, the loving smile he had just for her already spread on his lips.

At the sound of such a familiar voice, Ellie turned around to see Steve, standing in front of her in his army uniform. “Stevie!” She squealed, pulling him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck, as he let out a chuckle. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at training camp.”

“I am, I mean was. It’s a long story, I’ll explain everything in a second.” Steve said looking at her. She was more beautiful than ever, wearing a dark blue pinafore style pants and a simple white blouse, her hair cascading down on her shoulders.

“Let’s get inside.” Ellie offered, taking his hand and pulling Steve with her.

Steve took a quick glance back at Peggy in the car across the street and Ellie noticed. She looked back and her heart tightened when she looked at the beautiful agent smiling back at Steve. Ellie swallowed hard and smiled to keep the appearances. Steve was gone for a few weeks and he already found a women… A few seconds later, she stepped into her apartment, Steve right behind her.

“Do you want some tea?” Ellie asked him, dropping the bag of grocery she had been holding on the kitchen counter.

“Actually, I don’t have a lot of time. I just wanted to see you before… Well, before everything.” Steve explained, leaning back onto the kitchen counter near Ellie.

“Before everything?” Ellie frowned in confusion.

“Yes. You know when I told you Doctor Erskine gave me a chance to join the army, I didn’t know it yet, but it was to join a special branch of it. The SSR, Strategic Scientific Reserve. At the end of the first week of training they wanted to choose someone for their project Rebirth.” Steve started to explain.

“Project Rebirth. You’ve lost me, Stevie.” Ellie shook her head, all her attention now turned to her friend.

“It’s a super-soldier program. Whoever they chose would go under a procedure to become one.”

“Super-soldier? Really?” Ellie chuckled, replacing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Is that a joke?”

“No. I’m serious, Ellie. Doctor Erskine has developed a serum that would enhance everything in my body. Look I don’t know how it works exactly, but it’s real and I’ve been chosen for the procedure.”

“So, you’re telling me that you… You’re about to become a super-soldier?”

“Yes.” Steve smiled proudly but he saw Ellie’s doubt. “If it works this could be something… Wonderful. This could change everything Liz.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of…” Ellie whispered to herself before she sighed softly. “Are you sure about this Steve?”

“I’m nervous as hell but I’m sure. This is my chance to make a difference. If it works, it probably means no more health issues Liz.”

For a moment, there was a silence between Steve and Ellie. Steve was nervous, yes, but he was excited of what it could mean for him, for his life. Ellie on her end wasn’t so sure how she felt about it. She was scared that Steve hopes were too high, and he would end up disappointed, or that he would end up hurt somehow. She didn’t trust the process, or this doctor, or the army for that matter. They had already taken her brother away from her.

“I thought you’d be happier.” Steve whispered and it was he’s turn to sigh, crossing his arm in front of his chest.

“I am. Steve, I am. I’m glad they chose you because they clearly made the right choice, I’m just…” Ellie started but at the look Steve gave her she decided not to tell him how scared she really was. “I’m happy for you, Stevie. You’ll be a great super-soldier, I’m sure of that.” She smiled softly and Steve face split into a grin.

“Thanks. I’m nervous.”

“It’s understandable.” Ellie reached out to him and straightened his tie, glancing quickly at his lips. “I told you you’d look good in the uniform.” She added to try to clear the air a little more.

Steve chuckled and felt his cheek turn red before he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to go. I’m gonna be late.”

Ellie nodded. “I’ll come down with you.”

Steve and Ellie made their way back to the street which was a little emptier than it had been before and Ellie’s eyes fell on the car waiting for him, or more precisely on the person inside.

“She’s pretty.” Ellie said, nodding the Agent Carter, her body tensing up a little.

Steve turned around to glance at Peggy and he frowned. “Yeah. Huh… I guess, she’s a beautiful dame.”

“I’m happy for you Stevie.” Ellie said, a forced smile he knew all too well curling on her lips.

Steve frowned a little more, confused by the young Barnes reaction and he opened his mouth to say something but before he could say anything Peggy’s voice raised next to him. “Steve, we have to go or we’re gonna be late.”

“Yes m’am.” Steve answered and he was about to walk away when a thought came through his head. He turned back to Ellie and spoke. “Come with us.”

“What?” Ellie opened her eyes in surprise.

“Steve, she can’t come with us.” Peggy stated firmly but gently. “This project is top secret.”

“Well, she kind of knows everything about it.” Steve pointed out, letting out a chuckle. “Sorry Agent Carter.”

Peggy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine, but you get in trouble because of this, it’s not my problem.” She added before she smiled softly at Ellie. “I’m Agent Carter by the way. But you can call me Peggy. I have a feeling we might see a lot of each other in the future.”

“Elizabeth Barnes, but everyone calls me Ellie.” Ellie offered in return, shaking the hand Peggy was offering her.

“Now, let’s go.” Peggy ordered turning to Steve and she walked back to the car.

“Are you sure you want me to come?” Ellie asked Steve.

“Absolutely. And you know, you could always disguise yourself as a nurse if you need.” Steve chuckled and Ellie rolled her eyes.

“I am a nurse. Well, soon to be anyway.”

“I know.” Steve smiled proudly, offering his arm out to her and Ellie slipped her hand under it, following him across the street.

Steve opened the door for her, and she slipped into the passenger seat before he joined her. Peggy had taken a seat in the front, next to the driver. As soon as everyone was settled in, the car started to drive away.

“Looks like you might go dancing sooner than you excepted private Rogers.” Peggy observed, giving him a glance in the small mirror.

Steve wasn’t sure what she meant by it, or maybe he just didn’t want to believe it. Ellie frowned slightly, not entirely sure she understood what was happening, but she stayed silent, her eyes flickering to the window, as they passed all those streets that were so familiar to her and Steve. She looked back at him and suddenly noticed he was nervously twisting his military hat in his hands. She smiled to herself and slowly wrapped her hand around one of his.

“It’s gonna be okay, Stevie.” Ellie whispered quietly just for him to hear.

“I know.” Steve looked up, his gaze meeting hers. “Thanks for coming. It’s always easier when you’re here.” He admitted, squeezing her hand.

“You know, I’ll always be. Even when you won’t need me because you’re a super-soldier.” Ellie smirked in a teasing voice and Steve let out a chuckle.

“I’ll always need you. Even if I’m super-soldier.”

Ellie was about to say something else when the car came to a full stop. They were in front of an antiques shop, which was odd, and they both exchanges a glance, not sure why they had stopped here. But after all, a secret project couldn’t be held into somewhere obvious right?

****

Chapter four, part two

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 9

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: A lot of shit goes down. A lot of hurt comfort. I made myself cry writing this so you've been warned

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character\

Words: 6.7k

My personal Daryl playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PrdzgwtCiUgwDLLBy5C4g?si=c83773b44c964bb1

TY to @dumbslxtclub for being my editor and hype girl (if you're a fan of eddie munson and stranger things, this girl is writing the most wonderful fic and you should check it out :)

Chapter 9: Chimney falls and lovers blaze

The group fell into an exhaustive silence, happy, in theory, to be leaving behind the hell that they had just endured. But all were reeling with a trauma only viable from living in an apocalypse. Horizontal rain battered the windscreen, and the ancient wipers were struggling to keep up with demand. The storm had made her sodden residence for good. Thankfully their destination for the night, a small and secure cabin, was only about half an hour away. However, Daryl had severely underestimated Peri’s inability to drive a manual vehicle. Her unconvincing “mmm…not really’ was actually code for ‘I have never ever once in my life done this, ever.’ His mind shot to images of richy-rich parents buying their daughter a brand automatic new car and paying for precious med school. But that was a little unfair, he hardly knew the woman. Still, in an apocalypse it was pretty damn important to be able operate any kind of transportation. Daryl never had the luxury of being taught to drive, no one was ever sober enough, and pretty well no one cared. It was something he’d had to figure out shakily for himself. Like most aspects of his life. He was nowhere near a great driver (much preferring the solo rumble of his motorcycle) but he made do. Rick was really the master of the clutch. All the years on the force in the Old Crown VIctoria really solidified his ability. Not that his insight was any help to Peri right now. An icy cold silence swelled from somewhere behind Daryl. He might have thought the Deputy asleep if it weren't for the rage filled daggers being bored into the side of his skull. The Jeep bunny-hopped yet again, and Daryl was reluctantly forced to intervene. 

“Ya gotta rev mbore when ya change gears!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Daryl?”

“I’dunndo, but y’ain’t findin’ the friction point fast enough! S’mbakin’ the whole damnd car bounce.”

“Well if you hate it so much, why don’t you fucking drive?”

Daryl shot her a weary glance. ‘You know I can’t.’  He didn’t want to vocalise his complete ineptitude for any focused activity, and prayed she’d get his telepathic message. He hoped that his glassy eyed stare and unspoken thoughts were reason enough to absolve him of driving. Strangely, he was thankful for the unsteady bumping of the vehicle. He knew, without the loud grumblings of the engine, he would’ve fallen into a desperately feverish slumber. 

Daryl felt a surge of relief when Peri returned his gaze with one of understanding. They held eye contact for a split second before her hand drifted from the gearbox to the pocket of her jeans. She struggled against the drizzle-clad dampness of the denim, but eventually pulled out a small blue pot of something. 

“Please don’t bite my head off, but I grabbed this for you.” She held out the small vessel towards him, semi-shaking it so that he would accept the gift from her hands. “Just thought you could use it…”

Daryl grabbed the small pot from her hands, probably a little too aggressively. It was his natural instinct to refuse help from everyone, always. Well, if it was life or death, maybe not. Daryl just had a cold. A small glance down at his hands revealed the object in question to be an almost empty vial of vapour rub. He thought briefly about rejecting the offer, saying he was fine and trying to keep up his miserable facade. However, at this point, denial was a pretty laughable state of mind. Daryl hadn’t caught a glimpse of his own reflection since this morning in the prison bathroom. He looked frightful then and felt a millions times worse now. Safe to say no one was buying the “I ain’t sick” schtick anymore. Not even Daryl. The almost constant urge to sneeze had subsided somewhat since the morning, which he was vaguely thankful for. Although he’d prefer the ticklish outbursts over the wheezing crackle in his chest, the bunged up sinuses and the febrile trembling. Those symptoms were actually starting to worry him. He’d been sick often enough as a child to remember the drowning sensation of infection well. It was only a matter of time before someone forced antibiotics into him, probably Peri, maybe Herschel. Not that he deserved any. He didn’t really deserve anything right now, except maybe Rick Grimes’ wrath. Which was still brewing in its potency. 

Still, Daryl was grateful for the small comfort Peri had given him, and huffed his appreciation back to her with a forced smile. The action felt completely foreign to him and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt genuine contentment. Rick’s disappointment and anger, that house, the murder of that little girl, - all rattled around inside the sick man’s head. Panic was inching its way back in again and Daryl was goddamn tired of it. Tired of feeling brittle and pathetic. Tired of the ceaseless pity. Fuck! He needed a cigarette. He so longed for the slow rumble of nicotine through his system, no matter how angry it made his congested lungs. But he was pretty sure Rick still had his lighter from early, and there was no way in hell he was asking for it right now. Deputy Grimes might actually kill him. Letting out a shuddered sigh, Daryl unscrewed the lid of the menthol flavoured gold and held it up to his chapped nose. He couldn’t smell a goddamn thing, but if the burning in his eyes was any indication, the product definitely had some potency left. 

A sudden jolt of the car sent his already sensitive nose thrusting into the jar of translucent cream. The broken skin of his nostrils made brief contact with the powerful substance and set them alight with an intoxicating burn. Daryl rubbed his face aggressively, trying to rid himself from the sudden pain.

“Yo, Peri, what the fucgk-”

“-Shitting-dick-fucking-fuck-piece-of-shit-fucking-machine!” Peri cast out a rapid line of expletives, and a small pang of panic arose in her eyes.

“Already told’ya, engage the-”

“Yeah, engage the goddamn clutch! That’s what I’ve been fucking doing Daryl!” She shot him a glance that very much said “stop telling me what to do asshole” and then redirected her manic attention towards the dark, wet road. “Something’s wrong with the car, it’s not me this time…Listen…”

Daryl forced himself to silence the sounds of his own misplaced frustration and he listened. And sure as shit there was something wrong with the car. The erratic jumping and sputtering of the engine weren’t the result of crappy driving anymore. Shit. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Rick’s drawl emerged from the back seat. ‘Oh, so now he talks?’

“Endgine’s havin’ a goddamnd meltdown.” Daryl responded, still absentmindedly rubbing at his stinging nostrils. “Pull over.”

Peri did what she was told, a slur of expletives muttered under her breath all the while. She pulled over and further into the undergrowth, aware that camouflage was key to survival no matter where they pulled up and for how long. Daryl let out a weary sigh, knowing full well he had to brace the hideous weather again in order to check the engine. The day turned to night continued to be a bane to the sick man’s existence. He watched as Peri popped the hood internally, doing a small double take when she went to exit the vehicle. 

“Th’hell ya doin’?”

“Looking at the engine? My uncle had a Jeep, I think I might know the issue.”

“Bullshit y’aint, stay ind the car!”

“What? You gonna stop me, Daryl?” She shot him a daring look that might’ve made him laugh if he wasn’t feeling like fresh death. “You’re welcome to keep my company, of course.”

And with that she shut the door and became visible only from the shadows of her hands backlit by the torch in her mouth. Daryl gnawed on the side of his thumb once again, flinching as his teeth made contact with evergrowing raw flesh. What would little miss med-school know about cars? Daryl was the mechanic of the group, not her. The hunter was on the verge of a mental spiral about his efficacy in the found family when he heard a snigger from behind him. He turned and witnessed Rick huffing out an emotionless, snide sort of laughter. 

“Th’fucgk you laughing at?” He spat back. But before he could entertain a response from the other man, Daryl was out in the cold again. Shivering. With his crossbow held weakly at his side. He couldn’t remember the last time he was warm or comfortable, and that just made him feel even more miserable. Pulling leather tight around his torso he joined Peri at the hood of the car, trying to make heads or tails of what she was looking at in the dark. With an obnoxious ‘popping’ sound, she withdrew the torch from her lips and handed it to Daryl. She looked smug and a little too pleased with herself. Daryl hated that.

“Clogged fuel injector.”

“Okgay, so?”

“So?”

“How ya gonnda fix it, smartass?”

“Uh try and clean it out, but it probably needs a whole-”

“-Whole new onde, yeah.” Daryl finished Peri's sentence, somewhat impressed with her knowledge of mechanical issues. “I’ll tinker with it. Jus’ stand watch ‘kay? Dond’t really feel like bein’ blind walker bait righ’ now.” 

Daryl put the flashlight in his mouth and leant further into the open engine. It took a few minutes to adjust his watering eyes to the pipes and metal in front of him. Apart from the rapid beat of rain on the hood above him, it was all but silence between the pair. Just the way he liked it. Daryl found the source of the problem, but the meek torchlight was flickering, and his hands couldn’t quite turn the injector cap. It was too slippery, and his eyes kept blurring in and out of focus.The dizziness reminded him of the last time he had gotten shit-faced with Merle before the world turned to shit. They were sitting outside his brother’s trailer, smoking and drinking cheap gin in a hot Georgian summer. They were having a competition to see who could sink the most pistachio shells into an old can. At least that's what he vaguely remembered doing. But the night was a blur after the first ten or twenty minutes, and clearly Daryl had lost that little game. Daryl shook his head, desperately trying to avoid painful memories of the only family member who had ever shown him an ounce of care. Damn, he missed his brother. He was a jerk, but he missed him. His trail of melancholy was interrupted by a hurried nudge at his side. 

“Daryl, man, we got company…” The hunter turned to match his gaze with Peri’s. Two shadowy figures were hobbling their way towards them, their snarls getting louder with every second. Daryl cursed and reached for his crossbow that lay perched against the wheel of the car. Before he could aim the weapon, the young doctor waved him off.

“I got this.” She supplied, lunging forward in the darkness. Daryl could’ve been anxious about her disappearing into the night but down deep in his soul, he knew the woman could defend herself. She’d proved herself as a worthy fighter in his mind. Some grunts and thuds of bodies followed a while later, and Peri emerged from the immediate forest, a spatter of congealed blood adorning her blades and the corners of her wet coat. Daryl let out a trembling breath he didn’t realise he was holding at the time.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah, those cunts had it coming…” she responded brashly, wiping her knives on the inside of her damp jacket and ignoring the stymied way Daryl was judging her use of language. “How’s the car looking?”

“Ndeeds a new injector, but I’ll get it goin’ in the mbornin’” He shrugged a shoulder, and then proceeded to close the bonnet with a metallic squeak. “Cabins’not too far from here, s’too dark to try and fix it now…”

Peri nodded and Daryl sniffled back some snot that was threatening to leak out of nose. He was drenched yet again, but that just seemed to be the new normal. He hung his crossbow along the length of his back and rapped on the back door of the car, not bothering to open it.

“Grab yer stuff, we’re goind’ on foot from here.” He yelled through the closed doors, and watched Rick and Carl share a look before they joined him in the rain. The four group members gathered about the trunk of the jeep, picking up what was needed for the night. Pre-packed backpacks and a couple of duffle bags from the house raid hung off their dripping bodies. It was better to take more than necessary, so as to not be caught out. Of course, weapons were pocketed too, with extra ammo. After the events at the cursed red-brick mansion, they all felt like extra caution was paramount. 

Daryl led them through the wet, overgrown forest. He instructed them to keep close as there was scant visibility through the excessive downpour and dense foliage. The hunter actually felt useful for once, being the only one who could successfully navigate their way to respite. Thunder cracked above them like gunshots, making them tense every time the sky echoed its fury. Fortunately, the dissipating booms were keeping the walkers confused and scattered, and away from the four beating hearts traipsing through the woods. Daryl really goddamn hoped it would stay that way. 

After about ten minutes of travel, and silent navigation, Daryl led them all into a small clearing. There was a small but sturdy cabin in the near distance. He raised a hand and they all stopped in an instant. Rick left the tail end of formation and stood flush with his partner at the front. Daryl listened intently for danger, and scanned the area for threats. When he was satisfied he turned to Carl and Peri and began instructing their next moves. 

“We’re gonna stay t’the left side of the tree line. There are bear traps along th’ perimeter, s’watch ya feet.” Daryl was about to move again but Rick caught his bicep in a firm grip.

“Bear traps? That really a necessary addition to the place?”

“You tell mbe.” He quipped. Yanking himself out of Rick’s calloused vice, he sauntered over to one of the traps in the distance, where the shadow of a walker was thrashing in place. Daryl dealt with the rotting being before the others could even blink. His eyebrows hit the roof of his head when he made it back to the group, smirking slightly when Rick hung his head in a sigh. Daryl whistled to garner the group’s attention, then slowly but surely led them toward the safety of the cabin.

Once securely inside, there was a group exhale of alleviation. A reverie of calm swept over the small room, each individual person allowing the idea of safety to enter their bodies for the first time in hours. Daryl ravaged the space, pulling out some oil lamps and lighting them, bringing some visibility in the gelid darkness. He was about to grab some firewood when a small voice stopped him.

“Daryl, this place is great! You really fixed it up all by yourself?” Carl’s puberty ridden voice slipped into the space, a keen child-like admiration adorning his eyes. 

“Hmph, yeh I guess kid…”

Daryl had fixed up the cabin. And a few more to boot. Originally it started out as a selfish project, having a place to stay when he needed alone time to hunt. But as the months rolled on he had started growing nervous when his family started going on longer and longer runs without sufficient safety. As a result he found a few abandoned spaces and did them up, so to speak. Daryl Dixon was not an interior designer by any stretch of the imagination, but he made sure that they were safe, had food to eat and a place to lay down. In the early days of being together with Rick, he’d often freak out and need to get away for a while. Going out on ‘extended hunting trips’ he said. But he really just came to one of his cabins to clear his thought-logged mind. It helped then. And it was a useful resting place for now. Daryl wanted to feel accomplished, he really did, but the guilt and shame rattling around his body were making his throat tight. He needed that cigarette. Now.

“M’goin’ out for a smoke.” He uttered to no one and walked his way over to Rick with a very pretend sense of everything is fine. Daryl nudged the man with his foot, eyeing him as he started to unpack a dry set of clothing. Daryl kept his resolve whilst Rick pinched the bridge of his nose with continued exasperation. The hunter was going to get his lighter back goddamnit! Begrudgingly, Rick stopped what he was doing, reached into his pocket and held out the desired item, glaring up at the sickly man in the process. 

“Really?” He twanged with spite.

“Yeh.” Daryl snatched the lighter from Rick’s hand, and stomped his way over to the door. He knew Rick wasn’t done with him. There was going to be a shit show of contempt and blame and sure as shit Daryl would be at the receiving end of it. But he needed to be alone. Just for five minutes. To wallow in his own specific brand of misery. With nicotine and his own flagrant mind.

“Hey Daryl, where’ya goi-”

Daryl closed the door behind him refusing to entertain another question. Couldn’t everyone just leave him the fuck alone? Christ. They were safe, with dry clothes and food, what more could anyone possibly want from the living picture of torment? It was freezing and wet. And yet Daryl leaned up against the porch railing, inviting the wet sprays of storm onto his already sodden clothing. He fiddled with one of a few cigarettes he had left. He brought it up tremblingly to his mouth, flicking the lighter a careless amount of times. Flame met dart and he held it there, just watching the orange glow spread. His throat was tight, painful, lumpy. Everything was shaking and breathing was arduous. Daryl wasn’t stupid. He knew what a panic attack was. He used to do odd jobs for a Vietnam War vet, what seemed like a million years ago. Adam? Abraham? Aaron? It didn’t really matter anymore what the guy's name was. That was the old world. Adam-Abraham-Aaron would often mistake a young Daryl Dixon for some sort of enemy, try to lash out, realise his mistake and cower in a corner. He’d be gasping for air and crying and shaking uncontrollably. Daryl didn’t get paid enough to deal with that. But he did, becoming all too aware of anxiety symptoms in the process. So yeah, Daryl wasn't an idiot, trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to succumb to a tidal wave of feverish emotions. He was just trying to postpone it with all his might. As he had been striving to all damn day. 

Just as the flame was about to die, Daryl brought the cigarette up to his lips and inhaled as though he wasn’t knocking on death’s doorstep. The nicotine hit his system, a warm glow spreading like a sunrise through his extremities. 

It was so good.

. 

Until it wasn't. 

The coughing fit startled him out of any sort of tobacco related respite. With a hand clamped to the pillar beside him, Daryl was forced into convulsions from his ailing lungs. Vomit, spit, snot, - they all threatened their existence as the sickly man gasped for air. So much for relief. 

—

Rick was tired. Oh so very tired. The sheer number of mishaps and wrongs that plagued the man’s day made the last eight or so hours span into what seemed like weeks. The Deputy stood by the rickety cupboards in the old cabin, firewood clutched to his chest like it had a heartbeat he needed to protect. He was going to start a fire. He was sure he was going to start a fire. But time seemed to move around him without a thought for how he felt on the matter. Carl and Peri had changed clothes and were drying their hair with a singular hand towel. They were laughing about some comic book character, musing about “how wrong Michonne had it. The Punisher was going to destroy Jigsaw.” Or something like that.

Rick wasn’t really listening, he was too busy overthinking. Trying to decide what he was going to do about Daryl. Fuck, Daryl. How did everything become so goddamn strained and complicated? Rick’s heart was breaking for the other man. Sick, embarrassed, angry. Two of the ailments probably directly related to Rick’s unhelpful actions. Images of Daryl's sick face flickered through his memory like an old time-y film. The feverish flush, the sadness, the fragility. Quite frankly, Rick had never seen Daryl like this before. Sure, he had acted like a grouchy wounded animal in the past but there was something far beyond defeat that Rick couldn’t quite put a finger on. Why couldn't that stupid stubborn man just accept some goddamn comfort? And then there was what he did at the house. Fuck Daryl was acting like a completely different person. Anger and frustration swelled from Rick’s gut, a terse grip forming over the kindling in his arms. The Deputy was caught between a rock and hard place. The rock being his heartache, and the hard place being his white hot rage. Leaning into the hotter of the two plights, Rick settled for his valid fury. He could worry about Daryl’s affliction later. He needed to sort out the bullshit.

Hell hath no fury like Rick Grimes.

“Carl. Start a fire.” Rick hissed, tossing the firewood to the ground. Peri was placing a bandage on his son’s forehead. They both looked up at Rick with bewildered expressions. Expressions that Rick felt mildly culpable for. “I’ll uh…i’ll be back.”

He nodded to no one and headed towards the door of the cabin. A muffled, wet coughing fit met Rick’s ears stopping him in his tracks. Rick didn’t love the fact that Daryl smoked at all, but let it slide here and there. The harsh new-world realty was that cigarettes weren’t going to kill him. But the fact that he was smoking now, with a raging chest infection, well. That just pissed Rick off more than we wanted to admit. He waited until Daryl had stopped before joining him on the small porch.

“You shouldn’t be smoking those.” Rick gestured towards the lit cigarette that hung limply between Daryl’s fingers.

“Why don’t-cha take it off-a mbe?”

“Look I know that wasn’t my best move, but you know it’s just makin’ you worse.”

“Mb’fine-”

“Don’t you fucking say it, Daryl!” Rick snapped. He took a step forward and made contact with the weary blue eyes of the hunter. Melancholy and wild indignation stared back. Rick wondered if Daryl would snap back, and engage in the argument. Maybe he’d punch Rick - it’d happened before over much smaller things. 

“Wha’, ya gonna slap mbe again?” 

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I did what I had to do.” 

“Hmph.” Daryl tossed the extinguished cigarette to the ground and tucked his hands into his armpits, strongly resisting the urge to shiver.

“What? That’s all you gotta say?”

“Rick, can we just talk about it later?”

“Nah, we’re doin’ this right now.” Rick stopped his senseless pacing and pierced the area around Daryl with his index finger. “What the fuck happened back there?”

“S’nothin’”

“Cut the bullshit, Daryl! You were half passed out on that wall! A few more seconds and you’da been gone to the damn walkers.”

“Didn’t need no help, I had it.” Daryl returned his gaze to the ground in front of him and Rick rolled his eyes with an icy scoff.

“Bullshit! You could barely stand, and you think you had it? What about when I told you t’go, and you completely ignored me? Y’almost got yourself and me killed! Because of what? A cold you were too goddamn pigheaded to admit to? Was it really worth risking everyone’s lives for the sake of your pathetic pride?”

“It ain’t…It ain’t like that Rick.”

“Tell me then. What’s it like?” Rick waited, hearing only the sounds of wind and rain whipping around them. He watched Daryl biting at the inside of his thumb, and hoped somehow he could read the soft-hearted redneck’s mind. The hunter was normally fluent in silent communication but Rick couldn’t understand a word. “Well?”

“Didn’t want-cha to worry ‘bout it.”

“Didn’t want me to worry?” Rick emitted a sort of high pitched manic laughter that seemed to surprised them both. “Hell, Daryl! That’s the only thing I’ve been doing all goddamn day! I tried to convince myself you’d be fine because you’re my right-hand man and I needed you. But I should-da put my foot down this mornin’, let Glenn come instead. You clearly weren’t up for it, but hey, maybe that's my fault ”

Rick watched his words topple around in Daryl’s head. He was so drawn in on himself now that Rick could barely see his face behind the damp shaggy bangs. He was shaking, and the Deputy could hear the distinct sound of teeth chattering together. He didn’t know what kind of response would follow. If there was a response at all. Daryl sniffled and opened his mouth to speak. 

“Ya don’t trust me anymore.” It wasn't a question or a statement. Just words brokenly whispered out as nothingness, being carried away by torrid winds.

“I do…I will, I just…” Rick didn’t really know how to respond. Did he still trust Daryl? Rick needed the man like he needed air, and the hunter had saved him more times in the last two years than he wanted to admit. But things just weren’t right. A chainsaw couldn’t cut the tension that hung between the pair.

Rick leaned against the sliding of the cabin so he was opposite Daryl. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a tension headache that was brewing. “I took a chance today, letting Carl come on the run. I spent so long tryin’ to get him to do normal stuff and just be a kid again. But he’s a man now, and I wanted to give him the opportunity to be one. I was meant to be worried about him, Daryl, not you. Christ! He saved your damn life out in those woods! He’s my son, I can’t…That can’t happen again, okay?”

Daryl flicked some hair from his eyes and nodded his head weakly, seemingly cognizant of the mistakes that he had made. A neutral quiet befell them, while the horrid weather continued her blistering monologue into the night. Rick felt somewhat relieved to get some bubbling frustrations off his chest, but there was still something sour lingering. Like there was a war raging in his partner's head that no amount of allyship could end. Rick was sick of being shut out, so he had to try. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but this ain’t you Daryl. Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

“Ya wouldn’t get it.”

“Then make me.” Rick almost pleaded. He leant forward slightly, hoping to make contact with Daryl’s icy blue eyes. Yet they remained distant, the very indication that there was to be no follow up to Rick’s desperation. The Deputy intimately knew the mistake he was making, cornering Daryl, basically begging him to talk. But it had been like this for weeks, and Rick didn’t know what to do anymore. He needed Daryl to open up. And if he couldn’t do it with the man who loved him, the man who pounded his prostate every other night, who would he talk to? Probably Carol. Man, Rick wished he could garner advice from that woman right now. Was this how Lori felt everytime she pressed him to open up? Woof, Rick, don’t open that door. 

Instead, Rick sighed ruefully and pressed forward with fruitless interrogation.

“Were you going to tell me you were seein’ Merle again?”

“Ain’t a big deal.” Daryl said with a congested sniffle. The hunter clearly had no qualms with quipping back, as long as it suited him.

“Of course it is, Daryl!” The Deputy exasperatedly ran a hand through his damp curls. “You should’a told me.”

“You didn’t tell nobody about Lori.”

“That’s different.”

“It fucking ain’t.” Daryl looked up now, piercing blue eyes illuminating from behind sickly shadows and hickory hair. Rick sighed silently, fervently trying to keep his temper at a low simmer. The way Daryl had spat out his late wife’s name had sent a chill deep into The Deputy’s core. Not because his lover was jealous. Not because he felt guilty for falling in love again. But because Daryl was right. Rick had waited far too long to divulge the magnitude of the ghosts that plagued him after Lori’s death. And when he finally admitted to his waning mental state, he never explicitly told the most important companion in his life. His best friend, his comrade, his second in command. He never told Daryl. The hunter had, however, instinctively put two and two together and waited with open arms to comfort Rick when reality and grief had boiled to a head. The realisation of his sudden hypocrisy hit him like a baseball bat. He felt ashamed and angry. Emotions probably on par with the shivering man in front of him. 

Rick knew he should concede to the stalemate and end the porch side argument before either man did something regrettable. But there was a stubborn pit of lava sloshing around his insides that refused to satiate until Rick had fully unloaded the expanse of his concerns. 

“Th’last time this happened, your brother was missin’, without a hand, and you’d impaled yourself on your own bolt. Now Merle’s dead, and you’re sick as dog and it’s happenin’ again.” Rick watched Daryl flinch at the blunt mention of his brother’s passing. A reality of unresolved mourning embedding itself deep into sinewy skeletal muscle. Muscle memory doesn’t forget pain. Rick could see the thin ice laying before him, but overarching concern pushed him forwards.

“Daryl, I’m worried ‘bout you and not just ‘cause of today. You’ve barely mentioned Merle since he died and that just ain’t healthy. I know, okay? I’ve been there, and we both know what that does to a person. I just wish you’d talk to me, hell, anyone about it!”

“And what?” Daryl spat, squaring his shoulders from where he sat propped against the old railing. “Ya think singing fugckin’ Kumbaya and talkin’ out our feelings like stupid housewives is gonna mbake everything better?! It ain’t, Rick! They’re all dead. Merle. Lori. Talkin’ about it ain’t gonna bring ‘em back.”

The sick man’s voice trembled on the last of his words, his emotions fighting against steadfast resolve. Daryl was undoubtedly angry and hurting. His pain amplified by cruel viral tendrils lodged within his once stoic body. Rick’s heart was breaking beneath a sheath of misplaced contempt. 

“No it won't. I wish it could, god, do I wish that.” Rick paused, trying to assemble some version of articulation in his brain. “I just know that bottling up trauma can ruin a person. Especially in this world.”

“Pfft.” 

The weak and dismissive exhalation of air was so juxtaposing to Daryl’s previous fervour. The hunter was once again retreating from partaking in serious discourse. Rick had had enough. 

“Jesus, Daryl!” Rick launched himself from the wall of the cabin and took some long strides in the hope of calming himself down.

But Rick was Rick, and pacing on a small semi-dry veranda was not enough to pacify months of suppressed frustrations.

“I know this-” Rick gestured rapidly between the pair. “-Has been a huge adjustment. To me, to Carl, to everyone, to you. I get that, I know that. But fuck Daryl, I’m so tired. So goddamn tired of you running away every time things get hard. Every single day feels like one step forward and five steps back. Falling asleep in the same bed is a wildcard with you if you’re just gonna take off in the middle of the night. And yes, I know when you do and it makes me sad. I wish you’d tell me about your dreams so I could help you, like you did for me when Lori died. I love having sex with you but I just wanna be naked together without being terrified that you’re going to flinch away at the slightest touch. I want to shower with you, I want to rip your shirt off. I want you to trust me.” 

Rick forced himself to take a much needed breath. He watched Daryl for a sign of rebuttal, but the hunter remained glued to the spot, his eyes taking intent interest with the ground. 

The Deputy couldn’t stop himself. 

“Daryl…I’ve seen them. The scars... I know that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s the truth. I’ve seen them and I don’t care. I mean, I do care, I care how you got ‘em, I care about you. But they don’t make a difference to how I feel about you.”

Rick shut his eyes forcefully, taking a momentary reprieve. The word vomit escaping his lips was not eloquent in the slightest, nor could it be controlled. 

“I need you, Daryl. I need to know you. Please, please, let me in.”

Rick’s frantic pacing found himself once again facing the sick body of the hunter. He searched desperately for a response in the misery that sat opposite him. Rick watched as Daryl’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to formulate something audible. Moments felt like hours before chapped lips formed to create dialogue.

“Rick, I…” Daryl’s voice was weak, thick with congestion and evident emotional tumult. He stopped abruptly, inviting a wave of quiet between the feuding lovers. A few wet coughs and wheezy inhales escaped the broken man sitting before The Deputy. Eventually, Daryl seemed to  steel himself enough to return his gaze upwards to the pleading face of a man who wanted too much, who wanted everything. Rick could see the tears pooling in the basements of his lover’s eyes. Eyes that were red-rimmed and exhausted beyond recognition. Eyes that told Rick to stop, to retreat, to leave. 

But he couldn’t. 

“Daryl, please.” 

Before he could stop himself, Rick was inching forward without sense, dropping low to his knees so he could look up at the sick man. So he could plead for trust, for love, for hope. He knew he was inviting a world of mistakes, lunging himself into Daryl’s emotional and personal space. He was quite literally cornering a wounded animal. But he couldn’t stop. Rick was compelled by a force called sheer desperation.

“Rick, don’t.”

“Daryl…”

“Rick.” A warning. 

Rick was now crouched in front of Daryl, blue eyes meeting blue in a haze of warnings and pleadings and needs unmet. Now that Rick was finally up close with the other man he could see the feral energy behind the hunter’s glare. His cheeks were ruddy and feverish. One was visibly pinker than the other. The warm hue trickled down his angular face to an open slit in the corner of his mouth. Blood had coagulated heavily where Rick’s hand had met Daryl’s face earlier in their frightful day. Shameful bile sloshed needlessly in the pit of his stomach. 

He did this.

Rick's hands reached out before sensory neurons told him to. Fervent filled fingers made brief contact with frighteningly freezing ones. Rick gasped at the desperate contact.

Before he could shudder another breath, Rick was shoved forcefully backwards by arms that had had enough. He landed awkwardly on his backside, frustration filling his shallow cup once again.

“Don’t fugckin’ touch mbe!” Daryl had said as he pushed Rick to the floor of the decking. 

Rick sat there for a moment. Embarrassed, angry and hurt. The emotional toll of the last half an hour had taken his rationality and replaced it with blinding dismay. This wasn’t right. Nothing about this made any goddamn sense. Two broken men in the midst of a tornado. Daryl stormed away and Rick couldn’t control himself.

“Fuck I hate you sometimes.”

The words sliced the air with their anger. Words that should never have been said. Words that tumbled out of impulse and reactivity. Words that landed in complete betrayal. 

An utterance from Rick’s soul he didn’t know he had access to.

The Deputy sat there completely flummoxed. He couldn’t fathom why or how he had said what he had. Maybe he didn’t say it. Maybe he just thought it, as a hair trigger reaction to Daryl’s violence and months of stubborness. 

One gratingly slow twist of his head proved him disgustingly wrong.

Daryl stood eerily still, his back facing Rick, stopped in his tracks by the disarranged outpouring of exasperation. The strong, wide shoulders that held the weight of the world, crumbled in an instant.  A strangled sob escaped the man, shattering Rick’s heart into a million pieces. Daryl was visibly shrinking in on himself. His fever wracked body was heaving hard with turmoil. Rick had witnessed Daryl cry a handful of times before, but never because of him. Him, the leader who had sworn devotion and alliance and care to the volatile red-neck. This was a brand new chapter of agony.

The hunter had heard Rick’s words loud and clear. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. It was a waking nightmare. 

Rick scrambled to his feet ungracefully, knees popping unceremoniously as he raced to right his wrongs. Shame was too lenient of an emotion right now. He was disgusted with himself. A fleeting moment of unbridled possession threatened to unravel everything Rick held so dear. 

“Daryl, Daryl, please, I’m so sorry-”

“-Fuck you, man.” Daryl croaked. The voice was small, broken, irrevocably sick. Distorted by hiccuping sobs and window shattering winds. Rick stepped closer, desperately trying to close the distance between the pair that seemed to grow wider with every passing second. 

“I…I didn’t…It ain’t true…You gotta believe me…I don’t…”

Rick’s brain was short circuiting. There was nothing he could say to undo the mess his bleeding subconscious had created. Blinding fear and cascades of regret twisted their way up from The Deputy’s stomach and formed an unmerciful lump in his throat. His eyes felt the telltale burn of a tearful tsunami. But he grit his teeth and clenched his jaw against bodily instinct. Rick would not feel sorry for himself. He would not cry selfishly in the presence of the heartbreak he single-handedly shattered. 

He was about to advance again when a sudden bolt of pain burst from his jaw. In a split second, Daryl had whipped around and clocked Rick with an excruciating blow to the face. The Deputy stumbled, pressing a hand firm against the impact zone. He felt his blood boil and quickly evaporate as he realised it was the least he deserved. 

When Rick eventually straightened he was face to face with Daryl. The younger man was staring back at him with a tapestry of complicated emotions. Tear tracks stained his flushed cheeks and his lower lip trembled faintly until it was stopped by anxiously chewing teeth. Glassy crystalline eyes peered deep into Rick’s soul, screaming with explosive pain. 

“Mb’done, Rick.” 

The hunter tensed and dropped his gaze as he pushed past Rick. He sluggishly picked up his crossbow from where it lay against the railing. A slew of muddy coughs escaped the man who was palpably too fractured to care anymore.

“Goin’ on watch. Don’t follow mbe.”

And then he left. Heavy boots and a sluggish frame disappearing into the night without looking back.

Time slowed to an excruciating crawl. Rick couldn’t do anything. He just stood there, blinding pain in his face and anguish crawling out of his chest. He stared out into the black expanse in front of him where Daryl had been engulfed by darkness. 

Rick had fucked up. Real Bad.

Daryl was done. Done with what? Done fighting? Done talking?

Oh.

He was done.

It was over. 

[swanxlegacy]

@thenightmareofyourdrems for stiles

distraction had engulfed the day. the headlines on area newspapers-- the campus paper too-- had been about another student missing. that was the trouble with dorms, they were public, not an owned domain. anything could get in, no invitation needed. parents wanted to pull some of their kids from campus, she couldn’t blame them. a part of her wanted her father as far away from seattle as possible, but she knew that wasn’t an option. he was as involved in this now as she was. dad’s text message had taken her from a lecture on shakespeare to contemplation of resources. the pack’s tracking ability provided no aid in seattle and a sea of humans under her father’s direction with experience in tracking the eldritch had little success in pin-pointing the red-head’s hideout. perhaps @myersbprd​ ‘s organization could do what they couldn’t, they certainly held the resources when it came to the occult. math class skipped and stray thought considers that she never used to have absences before forks. always responsible. she had loved her mother but bella had always been the adult of the duo. mature. determined in her academics. 

bag is gathered, switched out from her red truck in-between glasses. it didn’t matter she was in a city now or how poorly it ran at times, that truck was going to be with her until the day she died. funny how she had glossed over that meaning so readily once upon a time. so willing to become something more because she had allowed herself to become so consumed by the pull of someone that could so easily leave her. dad catches up with her, brings her a sandwich she eats on a bench with him as he tells her of the latest report. it’s going to hit the news by the next cycle. she’s late for class, that in-between time that finds one of the courtyards of the school fairly empty. she rushes after parting words and while there’s a rather large amount of free space on the sidewalk she manages to run right into a boy she’s fairly certain is in one of her classes. she falls and her bag spills across the ground scattering what looks like a police file a student shouldn’t have-- the name of one of the missing on it, two wooden stakes, a mini, foldable crossbow. she makes an excuse about a theater class but she’s not great at lying when her mind’s so scattered so she gathers her things and scurries away. 

she doesn’t go to class. 

she spends twenty-minutes in her truck in the parking lot before she notices the paper on the seat next to her. a smear of blood on the side of it. had she been more aware of her surroundings like her dad taught her to be, she’d have noticed the jeep that follows her truck when she drives away. she knows better than to do what she’s about to, knows she should have at least contacted her dad or one of the deputies that’s in the faction but she’s so incensed, perhaps a little over-confident, and so tired of other people put in danger over something that’s ultimately because of her that she surges ahead. her dad trained her and she knows victoria isn’t going to make an appearance herself. she’s toying with her. victoria’s fledglings are nothing more than a means to an end and now bella’s going to have more blood on her hands. blood that never seems to wash off because yes, in the state the fledglings are in they are killing, it’s kill or be killed for anyone in their path, but they hadn’t chosen to become what they were made to be. they hadn’t chosen to become pawns in a horrific game that bella wanted nothing to do with. a game that she had been left to face by the people that had once proposed to protect her. now she needed to protect herself. 

warehouse is dark. the creeping realization that she’s allowed herself to be particularly stupid this time, when she wasn’t stupid, is ever-present when fog seems to drift through the indoor space. that was new. they usually lacked the control needed to use those kinds of powers. hand tightens around stake, she whips around and pushes the person behind her into the wall with the stake inches away from their chest before she stops, lowers it confused. “what the hell-- you shouldn’t be here. why would you follow me?” this was bad. and she didn’t even know bad’s name. god, she was so done with being followed, watched. 

[jogodeganhardinheirodabombinha]

¿Cuál es el historial de enfrentamientos entre AS Mónaco Basket y FC Barcelona Baloncesto en términos de estadísticas y desempeño de los equipos?

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¿Cuál es el historial de enfrentamientos entre AS Mónaco Basket y FC Barcelona Baloncesto en términos de estadísticas y desempeño de los equipos?

Historial de enfrentamientos

El historial de enfrentamientos es un tema importante en cualquier contexto competitivo, ya sea deportivo, militar o incluso personal. Estos registros proporcionan una visión detallada de los encuentros pasados entre dos o más partes, lo que puede ser útil para predecir resultados futuros o identificar patrones de comportamiento.

En el ámbito deportivo, el historial de enfrentamientos entre dos equipos puede influir en las estrategias que los entrenadores eligen emplear en un partido. Analizar cómo se han desempeñado en el pasado puede dar pistas sobre qué tácticas podrían ser más efectivas en el futuro. Del mismo modo, en el ámbito militar, conocer el historial de enfrentamientos de un país con otros puede ayudar a prever posibles conflictos y prepararse en consecuencia.

A nivel personal, tener en cuenta el historial de enfrentamientos con alguien puede ser útil para entender mejor las dinámicas de la relación y evitar conflictos innecesarios. Reconocer los patrones de comportamiento que han surgido en el pasado puede ayudar a encontrar soluciones o establecer límites de manera más efectiva.

En resumen, el historial de enfrentamientos es una herramienta valiosa para aprender de la experiencia pasada y mejorar la toma de decisiones en el futuro. Analizar estos registros con cuidado y objetividad puede proporcionar información útil y perspectivas únicas que de otro modo podrían pasarse por alto. ¡Utilicémoslo sabiamente!

Estadísticas del AS Mónaco Basket

El AS Mónaco Basket es un equipo francés de baloncesto con sede en el Principado de Mónaco. Fundado en 1928, el club ha logrado un notable éxito a lo largo de los años en competiciones nacionales e internacionales.

En cuanto a sus estadísticas, el AS Mónaco Basket ha tenido un desempeño destacado en la Jeep Élite, la máxima categoría del baloncesto francés. El equipo ha logrado llegar a las finales de la liga en varias ocasiones, demostrando su potencial en la competición.

Además, el AS Mónaco Basket ha participado en competiciones europeas como la Eurocup, donde ha tenido la oportunidad de enfrentarse a algunos de los mejores equipos del continente. Con jugadores talentosos en su plantilla, el club ha logrado destacar en el escenario internacional y ganarse el respeto de la comunidad baloncestística.

Las estadísticas del AS Mónaco Basket reflejan su dedicación, trabajo en equipo y pasión por el deporte. Con una base de seguidores fieles y una reputación en crecimiento, el club continúa escribiendo su historia en el mundo del baloncesto con determinación y ambición. ¡Sin duda, el AS Mónaco Basket es un equipo que seguir de cerca en el apasionante mundo del baloncesto!

Desempeño del FC Barcelona Baloncesto

El FC Barcelona Baloncesto es uno de los equipos más emblemáticos y exitosos en la historia del baloncesto europeo. Con una larga tradición de triunfos y un desempeño sobresaliente en las competiciones nacionales e internacionales, el club ha dejado una huella imborrable en el mundo del deporte.

Históricamente, el FC Barcelona Baloncesto ha sido un referente de excelencia y profesionalismo en el baloncesto. Su compromiso con la formación de talento joven, combinado con una sólida estructura organizativa, ha sido clave en su continuo éxito en las canchas.

El equipo ha logrado múltiples títulos a lo largo de los años, destacando sus victorias en la Liga ACB, la Euroleague y la Copa del Rey, entre otros torneos importantes. Los jugadores que han vestido la camiseta azulgrana han sido reconocidos por su habilidad, dedicación y pasión por el juego, lo que ha contribuido a forjar una reputación de imbatibilidad y prestigio.

Además, el FC Barcelona Baloncesto cuenta con una base de seguidores fervientes y apasionados, que llenan el Palau Blaugrana en cada partido para animar y apoyar al equipo. La atmósfera única que se vive en el estadio refleja la conexión especial que existe entre el club y sus aficionados, creando un ambiente incomparable para disfrutar del baloncesto de alto nivel.

En resumen, el desempeño del FC Barcelona Baloncesto no solo se mide en trofeos y victorias, sino también en el impacto duradero que ha tenido en el mundo del deporte y en la pasión que despierta en sus seguidores en todo el mundo. ¡Visca el Barça!

Comparativa de equipos

En el mundo del deporte, la comparativa de equipos es una parte fundamental para evaluar el rendimiento y las habilidades de cada conjunto. Ya sea en el fútbol, baloncesto, tenis o cualquier otra disciplina, analizar las fortalezas y debilidades de los equipos es clave para predecir los resultados de los encuentros.

Al comparar equipos, es importante tener en cuenta diversos factores. En primer lugar, se debe evaluar la calidad de los jugadores que conforman cada equipo, considerando aspectos como la experiencia, habilidad técnica y condición física. Asimismo, también es fundamental analizar la táctica y estrategia de juego que implementa cada conjunto, ya que esto puede marcar la diferencia en el campo de juego.

Otro aspecto a tener en cuenta en la comparativa de equipos es el historial de enfrentamientos previos entre ellos. Conocer los resultados anteriores y el desempeño de ambos equipos en encuentros pasados puede brindar información valiosa para pronosticar el resultado de un próximo partido.

Además, no hay que olvidar el factor emocional y la cohesión del equipo, ya que un grupo unido y motivado puede lograr grandes hazañas en el deporte. En resumen, la comparativa de equipos es una herramienta esencial para entender el panorama deportivo y tomar decisiones informadas en cuanto a apuestas, análisis y seguimiento de competiciones.

Análisis de resultados

En el mundo del marketing y los negocios, el análisis de resultados es una herramienta esencial para evaluar el rendimiento de una estrategia o campaña. A través de este proceso, es posible medir el impacto de las acciones implementadas y tomar decisiones informadas para optimizar futuras estrategias.

El análisis de resultados comienza con la recopilación de datos relevantes, como el tráfico del sitio web, la tasa de conversión, el retorno de inversión (ROI) y otros indicadores clave de desempeño. Estos datos se interpretan y se comparan con los objetivos establecidos previamente, lo que permite identificar áreas de mejora y éxito.

Una vez que se han analizado los resultados, es crucial tomar medidas correctivas o implementar cambios en la estrategia según sea necesario. Por ejemplo, si una campaña publicitaria no está generando el retorno esperado, es posible ajustar el público objetivo, el mensaje o el canal de distribución para mejorar su rendimiento.

El análisis de resultados no solo ayuda a mejorar el rendimiento de las campañas de marketing, sino que también proporciona información valiosa para la toma de decisiones a nivel empresarial. Al comprender qué estrategias funcionan mejor y por qué, las empresas pueden asignar de manera más efectiva sus recursos y maximizar su impacto en el mercado.

En resumen, el análisis de resultados es una herramienta fundamental para el éxito en el mundo de los negocios y el marketing. Al evaluar de manera sistemática el desempeño de las estrategias implementadas, las empresas pueden optimizar sus esfuerzos y alcanzar sus objetivos de manera más eficiente.

[paulinawoodpecker]

Tad and the other ladies and the gang followed the trail part 1,2,3,4, and final

@jakkiisthatboy2

Tad: hang on. There’s a trail

Sara: where does it lead us too?

Minnie: I don’t know.

Flora: but if we follow it, will lead us out of here.

Chai there are so many writings on the walls

Tiffany maze: the question is… what do they mean?

Victoria: let me see

Victoria: the exit you enter, it will lead you to the next destination.

Victoria: huh?

Victoria: *takes out the map and notices the next destination is Mexico city*

Victoria: guys! We need to go to Mexico City!

Reena: wait really?

Ramirez: she’s right.

Tad: we need to exit right now.

Tad: Victoria! You’re right! I see lights! We need to go to Mexico City!

Nagham: but how will we get there?

Snowy: it might take days…

Sara: we need to find something that can make us go there faster.

Reena: guys? I found a jeep.

All: 😓

Tad: huh that’s fast.

Jeremy: that’s where we’re going right?

Kenny: looks like it. Yes.

Ramona: so how are you feeling now?

Tad: still have the icky feeling in my stomach.

Reena: we got this. You need a rest.

Tad: alright…

[beansroasted]

BEANSROASTED                    #muselist part 5

LITERATURE

amy dunne, blake lively, gone girl: inspiration for her parents children's books called amazing amy, a fictional character, she was constantly compared to. by her own admission, she has no true personality, just a series of masks she wears according to what benefits her the most. a betrayed housewive & mastermind, setting up her own murder & pinning it to her unfaithful husband, to make him look guilty for cheating on her. brilliant. calculating. manipulative.

silena beauregard, lucy hale, percy jackson : head counselor of the aphrodite cabin. girlfriend of charles beckendorf. charmed & blackmailed into turning into a spy for kronos by luke castellan. kind. romantic. fierce.

cairo baker, mason gooding, percy jackson: son of demeter. passionate plant dad. great cook. kind. empathetic. free spirited. peacemaker.

cedric diggory, daniel sharman, wizarding world: hogwarts golden boy. hufflepuff. prefect. seeker. hufflepuff quidditch captain. son to amos & celia diggory. talented wizard, especially in charms & transfiguration. hogwarts official triwizard champion. kind. brave. soft. emotional. loyal. fierce.

neville longbottom, tarjei sandvik moe, wizarding world: gryffindor. talented herbologist. son to frank & alice longbottom, who got tortured into insanity by bellatrix lestrange. lives with his grandmother augusta. owns a toad named trevor. becomes the herbology professor at hogwarts after he finished his studies. pure-blood. kind. friendly. courageous. clumsy. forgetful. awkward. insecure. disorganized.

lavender brown, ashley moore, wizarding world: gryffindor. interested & fascinated by divination. part of dumbledores army. best friend of parvati patil, close friend to seamus finnigan. opened miss browns tea house in diagon alley after finishing her education at hogwarts. pure-blood. chatty. sentimental. girly. romantic. sensitive.

fleur delacour, camille razat, wizarding world: beauxbatons triwizard champion. quarter veela. elder sister to gabrielle delacour. wife to bill weasley. working part time for gringotts. very capable witch. blunt. helpful. self confident. courageous. loyal. pure-blood

ronald weasley, kit connor, wizarding world: pureblood wizard. sixth son to molly & arthur weasley. living in "the burrow", near ottery st. catchpole. best friend to harry potter. loyal fan to the chudley canons. food lover. became an auror after he finished his education at the hogwarts school of witchcraft & wizardry, before working at his brothers jokeshop weasleys wizard wheezes. formidable wizards chess player. jack russel terrier - patronus. arachnophobic. loyal. brave. funny. immature. sensitive. jealous. insecure.

oliver wood, noah centineo, wizarding world: keeper & quidditch captain of the gryffindor quidditch team. highly accomplished broomstick flyer. determined. driven. competitive. concerned. fair. brave.

louis delacour - weasley, louis hofmann, wizarding world: beauxbatons student. part veela. youngest child to fleur delacour & bill weasley, brother to victoire & dominique weasley. passionate ballet dancer, painter & bookworm. kind. supportive. shy. loyal. pure-blood

emmett cullen, tommy martinez, twilight: born emmett mccarty in 1915. scottish-irish, grew up in tennessee. changed by carlisle cullen in 1935 after rosalie saved him, when he had been mauled by a black bear. favorite animals to hunt are bears. loves to play competitive sports, wrestling with bears & playing chess. drives a red jeep wrangler. husband to rosalie hale. childish. cheerful. joker. blunt. thoughtless. impatient. reckless. competitive.

victoria sutherland, madelaine petsch, twilight: turned by her sister anne, becoming a member of hildas coven, before fleeing the volturi, after they executed hilda for drawing too much attention. returning to london, she was found by james & fell in love with him, before forming her own nomad coven with james & laurent. enhanced self preservation. feline movements, lethal fighting abilities. calculating, persistent, ruthless.

serena van der woodsen, sabrina carpenter, gossip girl: manhattans no 1 it girl. constance billard school. best frenemie to blair waldorf. daughter to socialite, art collector & philanthropist lillian van der woodsen. disappeared to boarding school without a word to anyone. often admired for her natural beauty & looking gorgeous effortlessly. friendly. trusting. extremely charming. commitment issues.

nathaniel archibald. cody christian. gossip girl: manhattan’s golden boy. st judes school for boys. best friend of chuck bass. son to former navy captain howard & french socialite anne archibald. lacrosse player & formidable & passionate sailor. stoner. charming. trusting. kind. caring. people pleaser. naive.

[musingsofabookworm1]

My Last Five Reads

Christmas break was short this year. We went to school the entire week prior to Christmas and returned on the day after New Year's (my birthday). Due to not being able to visit my parents for Thanksgiving, we spent a few days of the break up there. So I did not get as much reading done as I usually do. But I did read!

The Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley: This one's been on my list for awhile, and a friend was kind enough to let me borrow it and its sequel. I'm glad she did as I don't know when I would've finally picked it up! The title character is Daunis. Daunis is eighteen, biracial, and lives in Sault St. Marie, Michigan. (Fellow Yoopers, there is a lot of regional diction and more that you'll relate to in this book) She has a hard time fitting in in town and on the rez due to being biracial, but she is tight with her family. Her father passed away years ago, her uncle passed recently, and her grandmother is dealing with medical problems. All this is keeping Daunis at home instead of fulfilling her college dreams. But something good crops up: Jamie. He's a new hockey player in the area. Daunis plays hockey as well. Things are looking up until Daunis witnesses a murder. And that's where I will end this so as not to ruin the excitement when it appears! I think that whole hockey-player romance is what made me keep passing up this book. That was bad judgement in my part. This book really gets rolling the second half. Lots of good mystery, good dialog, and good relationships emerge. 4 strong stars!

Warrior Girl Unearthed by Angeline Boulley: The sequel to the previous book takes place a few years down the road and follows Daunis' niece: Perry. Perry is looking forward to being done with the school year and on to summer until she gets into a car accident with Daunis' Jeep forcing her to work throughout the summer to pay for the repairs. Her job leads her to learning about an ancient ancestor: Warrior Girl. Her story and the whereabouts of her bones change Perry and the summer she thought she'd have. I think I may have actually liked this one more than Firekeeper. I loved the character of Perry. She was very "real" and stuck to who she was despite the situation. Read Firekeeper first, then move on to this one! You won't be disappointed. 4 stars

Silence for the Dead by Simone St. James: I had this one on hold for a really long time. Ebook and hard copy. The ebook came in first. This one takes place in 1919 England in a mansion-turned-mental-hospital for British soldiers. Protagonist Kitty has had a rough life full of abuse and disappointment. She overhears her roommate and friends talking of their nursing jobs and positions at Portis House (aforementioned hospital). No one stays employed there long. Kitty is desperate and feels it worth a shot to lie about her job history and apply. She's hired. She realizes early on that something isn't right at Portis House. The patients are all sharing the same nightmare. Kitty teams up with a top-secret patient to find out what is exactly is going on. But who can she really trust? She will find out as things unfold in the way St. James' works usually do. Although, this was my least favorite of her work that I've read. A little drawn out and slow moving to begin. 3 stars.

The First Lades by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray: This is a novel of friendship between Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. I didn't know much about Roosevelt, honestly, and only knew Bethune was one of the founders of Bethune-Cookman college. The former is the daughter of slaves who became an activist for civil rights long before the movement. And obviously, Roosevelt is FDR's wife. This is an unlikely friendship due the difference in race. and even when with the First Lady, Bethune was unable to enter or sit in certain places. The chapters alternate between the women, a different author writing each character. However, their voices did not sound different. I sometimes even had to go back and ensure that I was reading the narrator I thought I was. But, they were two educated women, so maybe "sounding" the same worked out after all. It's always uplifting and inspiriting to read about women who do things for the greater good. 4 stars despite the narration and some slow-moving portions.

My Darling Daughter by Jennifer McMahon: I had this one on hold since October, and it came in the morning we left for my parents'. After we left. So it is my first full book of the new year. And I read the whole thing yesterday. I needed something that moved at a good clip! Allison lives in Vermont with her husband and two daughters. She wrote a children's book about their dog that was a huge bestseller, and now the pressure is on to write a follow-up. But life intervenes when her mother is stricken with pancreatic cancer and wishes to live out her final days with Allison. However, her mother was an abusive drunk during her childhood. Allison's brother completely removed their mother from his life, and Allison isn't far behind communicating with her very little. Though she goes back and forth about what to do, she allows her mother to move in. A hospital bed is delivered, and a nurse is set up for palliative care. Soon after her mother arrives....mysterious...things start happening. Is her mother behind it? She certainly doesn't act like it in front of others, but when they're alone, she's the same mother Ali has always known. Fast, great dialog-to-prose ratio, and a little twisty. 5 stars!

[victoriafallsactivitiescentre]

Explore Victoria Falls While Staying At A Nearby Lodge

Victoria Falls is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, with a landscape that will leave you breathless. It's best known for its massive waterfall, which is actually two separate waterfalls—one on either side of the Zambezi River—that join together at the bottom.

But there's so much more to do here than just watch water fall! Here are some things we recommend:

See the Livingstone Island Museum: This museum has been around since 1875 and provides insight into the history and culture of Zimbabwe.

Go white-water rafting: This activity is all about getting up close and personal with nature as you descend from one end of the waterfall to another on an inflatable craft! You'll see wildlife like crocodiles and hippos along your journey.

Take a helicopter ride over Victoria Falls: You'll be able to see everything from above, including how close you can get to both sides of the falls.

Go on a safari: There are tons of safari companies in Victoria Falls that offer all sorts of different types of tours—from walking tours through the bush with local guides who know all about the flora and fauna around them (and will teach you some Swahili too!), all the way up to full-on jeep safaris where you'll get close enough to feel like part of nature herself!

Where to stay in Victoria Falls?

Looking for affordable lodges in Victoria Falls?Check out Shearwater's Explorers Village. The village has a variety of accommodations, from budget backpacker rooms to private villas with swimming pools. The amenities include a full-service restaurant, bar, lounge and poolside terrace, as well as an outdoor swimming pool.

In a beautiful setting with panoramic views of the Zambezi River and the Victoria Falls, Explorers Village is a great option for those who want to be close to all the action. Located just 1 kilometre from the town centre, it's also a great choice if you want to be able to explore on foot.You'll find that Explorers Village offers a range of accommodation options, including family rooms, deluxe rooms, suites and honeymoon suites. It's also just a short drive away from many attractions in town like the Zambezi River Walkway, Livingstone Island Tours & Cruises, Devil's Pool & Vic Falls Swimming Hole tours, and more!

Get in touch with Victoria Falls Activity Centre today if you are looking for affordable lodges in Victoria Falls.

Resource: https://victoriafallsactivities.wordpress.com/2023/02/02/explore-victoria-falls-while-staying-at-a-nearby-lodge/

[melbournenewsvine]

Ram Trucks sales booming in Australia

Seeing a ton of enormous, Australian re-engineered Ram pickups on the roads? Your eyes don’t deceive you. The Australian distributor for Ram Trucks sold 603 full-size pickups in September – 557 of which were the Ram 1500 with its Hemi petrol V8. The September tally was Ram Trucks Australia’s second-best month for the year behind June, and placed the company ahead of Jeep (576) and Skoda (566). For more Motoring related news and videos check out Motoring >> That result also took Ram’s year-to-date tally to 4153 sales, up 45 per cent over the same period in 2021. This tally comprises 3636 of the Ram 1500, and 517 of the even bigger Ram 2500 and 3500 diesels. To put this YTD tally into context, that’s more sales than Land Rover (3446). MORE: State of play – full-size American pickups in Australia Moreover there’s the price, with the cheapest Ram 1500 Quad Cab kicking off at $82,950 before on-road costs, and the flagship Ram 1500 TRX topping out at $199,950 before on-roads. Said TRX sports a supercharged 6.2-litre V8 engine producing 523kW of power and 882Nm of torque and a constantly-variable all-wheel drive system. Those outputs are up 232kW and 326Nm on the Ram 1500’s standard 5.7-litre V8. Ram Trucks Australia is Stellantis’ only factory-backed right-hand drive distributor of its largest pickup trucks. MORE: Ram increases pricing across range by up to $6000 It’s owned by the Ateco Group, and contracts Walkinshaw to convert them to right-hand drive at a round-the-clock factory in Melbourne, with hundreds of new parts fitted. This is the same facility that converts the Ram 1500-rivalling Chevrolet Silverados sold by the factory-backed GMSV brand – which itself is having a good year, with a further 1530 of these pickups sold YTD. Walkinshaw is also involved in Toyota Australia’s plan to sell locally re-engineered Tundras here in the near future. Not one to miss out on a burgeoning market with high profit margins, Ford is also bringing locally converted F-150s here next year in partnership with RMA Automotive at a facility in Mickleham, Victoria. Australians are simply head-over-heels in love with these heavy haulers whether they really need them, or just want them. MORE: How Walkinshaw is making American pickups into heavier haulers Source link Originally published at Melbourne News Vine

[jeep-wreckers-victoria]

Jeeps Dodge Wreckers Chrysler Victoria : Jeep Wreckers VIC

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[dodge-wreckers-victoria]

Dodge Jeeps Dodge Wreckers Victoria  : Jeep Wreckers VIC

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[chrysler-wreckers-victoria]

Jeep Chrysler Dodge  Wreckers Victoria : Jeep Parts VIC

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