#T-Dog Imagine

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

A near-perfect Sunday

When - the evening of Onstage and the following day, which takes place before the S02 episode Secrets. That episode involves the infamous second pharmacy trip and Lori's news coming to light.

Perspective - Daryl POV and You POV

What - Daryl's finally out of that room and is observing the group. He's still limited post-concussion and with his other injuries, but he'll still do what he can for Sophia. As for you, your perspective on your brother shifted so well to the positive that you get brave enough to tell Shane about your idea to leave for Fort Benning with just him.

TWs - I think there's a few cusses? some grieving

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl, where Reader is Shane's younger sibling. Carol and Shane are the other characters featured most in this chapter

Pronouns - she/her

Catch up on what you've missed so far with the Masterlist

(Things have been going poorly, I'd love some prayers. Kind feedback is always welcome, too, even on old, crusty chapters XD)

---------------------------

---------------------------

“Teddy, would you be open to going to the church to do church tomorrow? The one they found on the second bad day?” he heard her ask T-Dog. “I washed my dress so I could re-wear it.” She nodded to where the dress the teenage girl had given her was hanging off the line. “A proper Sunday?”

Obviously, the guy was all in for it, thought it was a great idea, and started asking others near the campfire if they’d come. “Hey Daryl — c’mon brother, you know you gotta come and give thanks with us that you ain’t dead!” T-Dog said to him with a big old smile.

“We’re lightin’ that candle, remember? You survived against all odds, it’s a candle occasion,” Y/N chattered on. “I think it’ll be a near perfect Sunday, so much has happened.”

Except. From what Daryl remembered clearly about that little chapel, the one that’d had that bell sounds on timer, had three geeks put down in it. Hell, he’d been responsible for one of them.

Y/N and T-Dog wouldn’t know, they hadn’t been there. On that day, T-Dog was all fevered up and Y/N had that migraine. She caught up with them late to the search party, but he thought Y/N had mentioned not having gone inside the church even though she wanted to. That’d been the day Carl got shot.

But Daryl didn’t wanna be the one to mention the bodies left in there, not to the two of them.

He noticed Carol looking at them then back to her lap a few times. She caught his gaze. Daryl just looked down and slightly shook his head. ‘Not it.’ No way, he could not be the one to tell Y/N and T-Dog, not them.

Carol was the one to have the balls, in the end. “But are the bodies still in there?” she softly wondered.

“Bodies? No, I-I thought that one was left alone.” Y/N’s eyes turned watery in the firelight. Daryl didn’t like seeing it. “There weren’t even no graffiti or broken glass outside it, n-no soot, or…”

“The people inside had turned,” Carol explained further, still quiet as a mouse.

It was then that Shane strolled over with two spoonfuls of — ew, nasty — peanut butter. “It’s no problem, y’all, they’re out.” He handed one of the spoons to his sister, who took it and checked what he meant.

“Out?”

“Taken out and buried. Scout’s honor. Night y’all.”

Y/N got up and followed him, then hugged him from behind once she was close enough. Her brother turned, kissed the top of her head, and waved off her thanks.

She has a thing about burying the dead, even the turned ones. Counts the one’s she’s put down, too. He pulled his eyes away from her and rubbed the spot on his chest that started to tug.

The details of heading to the chapel were quickly decided by T-Dog, and all the while Y/N stared at nothing in particular with a sleepy, almost dopey sort of smile on her face. She was so caught up that she even forgot to start on her spoonful of peanut butter.

The next morning, Daryl damn near fell asleep on the car ride there. Lori, the boy, Carol, Glenn and him used the fancy new SUV, and they had him ride shotgun on account of his injuries. And yeah, he was nodding off like a milk drunk baby. It was a smooth ride, what can he say?

Jimmy drove the old blue Ford, his ma in the middle, Y/N on the end. Shane and T-Dog rode in the pickup. Riding in the pickup would be more his style, but he couldn’t do none of that yet. They didn’t came across no geeks, neither. Ain’t many around here.

Once the two cars got there and they headed in, the prayer stuff wasn’t annoying or forced or any of that. The place was quiet and clean. There was a lot of crying going on.

Y/N mainly kept her nose in two special prayer books she’d had with her since packing up for Atlanta, and was showing Glenn some stuff in it. After a bit, he noticed that she went to sit by herself, then sought out her big brother and sidled next to him, who kept his head down far in the back. Glenn poked around Y/N’s prayer books more and walked around looking at stuff. He seemed to not know what to do, but then again, neither did Daryl, really.

T-Dog and Patricia didn’t have that problem. They sung together some, prayed together some, and read together with Jimmy. Lori and Carl stayed with Carol, who knelt quietly with a string of prayer beads in front of the candles. And, yes, Daryl made sure to light one.

Two, actually. One was saying thanks he didn’t die, the other was for Sophia. Just in case his reassessment of the situation was wrong and there actually is Someone, right? Ain’t like he hasn’t been wrong before. It was a proper attitude for a Sunday, yeah?

Maybe this was less proper, but Daryl did end up falling asleep in there, right in the church bench he’d tucked himself in.

The ride home involved some switching up of the seating arrangement. Carl asked to ride in the old truck, so his ma road with him. Y/N and Shane swapped to the SUV. Shane drove, Y/N slipped into the backseat with Carol and Glenn. They had Daryl ride shottie again (guess it was some sort of general consensus).

And wouldn’t you know, he fell clear asleep on the car ride back home, too. One minute, he was drowsy and wincing when they went over bumps, and the next, they were at the farm and a car door in the back opened and closed. He woke to his head resting against the window, but on something soft yet coarse, that smelled familiar. It made him want to snuggle his head into it and doze more. It was comforting. A nice kind of shiver went through him.

But, the sound of more car doors meant he had to buck up and open his eyes. He attempted stretching. The makeshift pillow slipped down his side. It took him a sec, but he recognized it after a few blinks.

It was Y/N’s new sweater.

“Highway, Carol?” he next heard her murmur in the back. Daryl just so happened to turn his head enough to see Shane, still in the driver’s seat, lift his chin at what his little sister said. Something about it looked like he thought it was a waste of time. Asshole.

The asshole looked over at him. “You in for the ride? It’ll give you more time to nap.”

That best have been a joke.

Y/N made the quietest little huff at her brother, who dropped the smirk. “If anyone here besides Carol deserves to be there if she’s found, it’s you.” Was he saying that just to appease his kid sister, or? “Just know,” he drawled and gestured to Carol, “the lady gets shotgun if she wants it.”

You know what? In truth, Daryl didn’t mind the ball busting — everyone’s been treating him like a teeny baby. Shane here was treating him more or less like he normal. He let himself smirk back and answered, “I think I’ll nap a little longer.”

Shane seemed to appreciate the joke in return. “Sounds good, man. If the women are all set in back?” he asked with his eye on the rearview mirror.

“I think it’s better if Daryl stays in front, the seat can recline and he needs his rest,” Carol felt the need to say.

…and Daryl would’ve curled his body up like a roly poly from the embarrassment, if his collarbone and ribs would’ve let him.

“Anythin’ you say, my lady.” Shane must’ve heard the groan Daryl tried holding back, because he was that close to cracking up when he announced, “Alright people, let’s roll.” Either that or because Y/N made fun in some kind of yankee accent, “Ooo, ‘my lady.' Such a smooth tawkah.”

Once they were there, Daryl hauled his ass out of the car and pushed himself to walk quickly to the spot, hoping, hoping, hoping, hoping. Carol and Y/N jogged ahead. They slowed. Stopped.

There was no Sophia. Again. No nothing. Nothing written in the car chalk they’d left. No food or drink taken.

Well, about that; starting with the box of cheese crackers, it looked like squirrels or raccoons had themselves a meal. A couple of the boxes had holes nibbled through them, and there were some knocked over containers. He felt some sort of betrayal inside himself. He’d lit a damn candle. He’d hoped that…fuck it, Sunday’s just another day.

Carol didn’t say nothing as she bent down to start picking stuff up. Y/N knelt down with her and helped. Shane looked down at where a few water bottles had fallen, made as if to pick them up, but left them. He climbed onto the nearest van to keep a lookout instead.

Daryl couldn’t do much but shuffle around. He ended up wiping the crumbs off the hood of the car where’d they’d set up the food. Made it look clean for Sophia. The food that was still fine was put back. The ripped-open packages were put in the trunk by Y/N, who said she’d burn the boxes. That girl, still unwilling to litter in a world gone to shit.

It felt worse than falling down that ridge when Carol kept her eyes to the ground as she quietly thanked Shane for driving, then silently went into the backseat again. Y/N’s lip was wobbling when she climbed back in with her. Something about how rodents had gotten to the food instead of a person. It would’ve sucked less if the food was taken.

Daryl was about to join them in the SUV, but he had him an idea. Maybe it was stupid, but this was about Sophia, not him. He stumbled over to the car they’d left the food on, grabbed the car chalk, and shook it up. Once the white goop started coming out, he wrote on the side windows.

BEEN 2 WEEKS WE WON’T STOP

COMING BACK FOR YOU SOPHIA

Good, there was enough room on the bottom for the most important part.

YOUR MA LOVES YOU

------------------------------------

You

------------------------------------

What that man wrote on those windows…

It was really good to see. A blessing. The proper — no — a perfect reminder for a Sunday.

You felt a lot of things, your belly fluttering and chest tugging being two of the sensations. Another was sadness. Pity, too.

You didn’t believe Sophia was alive anymore. Carol didn’t, either. Not anymore.

And for Carol, you couldn’t even stubbornly imagine that the poor girl was still living. Your only hope that when they found her body, that it would be apparent her death was quick, or at least that it happened not long after losing her. God forgive you for reaching that point, but it was reasonable. It was a reasonable hope, right? There’s only so much that one can hold onto without setting oneself up to break.

Yet seeing Daryl just now, finally being able to make it for not even a search, but for a single car ride, two weeks after that sweet child went missing. To see him still hold out some belief that that girl was surviving out there, on her own.

Maybe you could muster one last surge of hope, for his sake? You’ve been wrong about things, like, countless times. So, maybe you were wrong about this. You wanted to be wrong about it. Sophia, the smart girl she was is, could be lying low somewhere secure. Yeah, might could be!

She smiled to herself, believing it with assurance as Shane started the Hyundai up. So, Sophia hadn’t found the food on the highway, big whoop. Maybe tomorrow!

And yet, the very next moment, the inner, private prayer you’d been repeating for days on end starting up again without you thinking twice.

Please let it have been quick. Carol needs the comfort of knowing it was quick. Eternal rest grant unto her, oh Lord…

For not even one minute had you been able to do it.

------------------------------------

Him

------------------------------------

Too loud, his friend blurted out, “Shaney, we doin’ target practice today?”

Shane looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You wanna?”

“Yes. Beth needs so much more work and I didn’t go help yesterday, so that there’s a day lost.”

Making like it’s all on her again, huh? Her brother seemed to notice it, too. “It’s all good,” he told her.

“Won’t be ‘all good’ when it comes down to it and she forgets to switch the safety off.” She made one of those nervous laughs. “Carol, how about you come, too?”

“Y/N,” Shane suggested. “Cool down.”

Daryl heard the inhale Y/N made, but Shane went on before she could spout anything back. “How about you go over draw and safety drills with the girl right at the farm instead? No need to drive out to that field to shoot today.”

“B-But Mr. Greene don’t want us handling firearms on his property.”

Shane’s hand gripped the steering wheel really tight. Ha, and he licked his teeth the way Y/N does when she’s fixing to get mad. “Hershel’s gotta pick his battles.”

“Hey. It’s his land, skills, and supplies that saved Carl’s—”

“—Stop!” cried out from the back so suddenly that everyone immediately went dumb.

It was the biggest noise Daryl had ever heard Carol make. Probably the loudest any of them had heard the woman. The Walshes hadn’t even been going at it that hard, they was barely arguing. Still, must’ve been too much for Carol right then. Who could blame her?

“I’m sorry. Please, I just need some quiet,” Carol told them, softer.

The siblings apologized and shut up. He heard Y/N throw in an “I love you.” Whether it was to Shane or Carol, he wasn’t sure.

The seat began to feel very comfortable. He began nodding off again. Here and there he reckons he fell asleep, but was doing his best to not. When he could make out that the women in back were whispering to each other, it gave him something to focus on to help him stay awake. “Music?” he heard Y/N offer.

“I didn’t realize you brought it.” Carol’s voice still sounded small as a mouse’s. “That would help, I think.”

Y/N made a small groan in the middle of Carol’s sentence. “I just remembered I left it with Jimmy. I have only the headphones, the, the truck’s got a cassette player, so I-I left it plugged in with the converter. He, um — oh, Daryl, we woke you?” She couldn’t have sounded more guilty if she tried.

“Nah, you’re good,” he grunted, sitting up taller—owww! He moved his chest wrong when he sat up and his collarbone was not happy about it.

The car fell quiet again for a few moments.

“Jimmy was real upset about his dad this morning, so I figured the mp3 would be a treat, or…” she finished explaining to Carol, then trailed off.

“Who needs that when we got the radio?” Shane announced, and way too strong. Like, way too strong. And why the hell was he white knuckling the steering wheel? The car wasn’t even pushing 30mph.

And, yeah, did he just say ‘radio?’

“Does 88.9 come in down here?” Y/N piped in from the back, suddenly as peppy as a cheerleader. “They changed it to a white noise station, but it’s super relaxin’.”

Shane pushed radio on and got nothing but static as he scrolled through ’til hitting 88.9. The static had some high-pitched whistles to it. “Wanna leave it on this one?”

“Eh, it’s a mite whistle-ly.”

“Yeah, lemme try 105 instead…”

What the hell is this?

More button pushing on Shane’s part.

Daryl heard giggling going on in the backseat. Even he was starting to grin despite himself.

“Hold up, we’re down near Columbus. Y’all, we need 1420 AM,” and the guy legit clicked through the static until the radio was legit at 1420 AM.

“Aw, yes,” his little sister cheered. “I love this one!”

“And it’s at the best part of the track!”

“Hot damn, y’all are weird,” Daryl couldn’t keep himself from snorting. “Carol, I think we should walk.” He glanced in the side-view mirror and saw that she was smiling big. Good to see.

“Listen, listen, this is it,” Y/N insisted to the both of them, then closed her eyes and held her hand up like she wanted them to wait. Then, she made the shhhh static noise. Her brother copied her.

And then, Daryl lost it.

------------------------------------

You

------------------------------------

Shane has been getting so like his old self — no, better!

Bringing up their silly white-noise radio inside joke, for one. It actually had Daryl wheezing (possibly partially due to his injured ribs and collarbone, ouch, it must’ve hurt him so bad!).

Even more to the point, your joy and pride in your big brother was as high as it ever had been last night, when you learned that he’d gone to the chapel to bury the bodies. Not to burn, to bury. An important distinction. And one that he knows you care about.

Rick, when telling you this in private last night, had surmised that it was part of him trying to atone for…well, for more than Rick knows about. But it doesn’t matter why Shane was ‘atoning’, what matters is that he’s trying to! What a nearly perfect Sunday, right?

So, once you’d gotten back to the farm after yet another painful trip to the highway spot, you were confident and trusting enough to bring up Fort Benning with him. That you thought the two of you should start preparing to go, just you two.

You weren’t quite sure what his reaction might be. After all, he was very aware that you had lots of doubts about a military fort (read: martial law), but there was no other viable option that you could see to deal with the situation. And, well, Shane had been planning to go without you and without your knowing about it ahead of time. Then, his plans changed. It was after Carl got shot that his plans changed.

But with the secret of the new baby, and now the barn, you’d decided there was no alternative than to remove Shane from the equation for a little while. It was safer better for everyone involved if the two of you...what’s a good word for it?

‘Scouted out,’ that’s a good way to describe it.

It would be better for everybody involved if the two of you scouted out Fort Benning, so you’d know if it was trustworthy and safe for the rest of the group. That’s how you chose to phrase it to him, when you walked with Shane to the stables under the guise of seeing Nelly.

“Really, your idea that it’s secure isn’t stupid. If you want to scout it out, I want to go with you,” she told him. You’d worded that sentence carefully so as to not lie, then quickly blabbed away as if it didn’t make your insides scream to consider leaving. “And I figured I’d, um, at the pharmacy run tomorrow, I’d try pickin’ up extras of what we might need if we go out on our own.” You made clicky noises at Nelly, who turned her head toward you but did not move from her spot in the stall. “Aw, don’t act all shy just because a new man is here.” You told yourself it was because she couldn’t be scritched with the protective wire mesh on the stall windows. The mesh must’ve been an outbreak renovation.

Shane’s reaction to your idea was somewhere in the realm of cautious, maybe? Surprised? “Y/N, what brought this up? You was hard pressed to go to Atlanta, never mind Fort Benning.”

You’d prepared for such a question. And again, your answer wasn’t really a lie: “They don’t need us to keep up the search for Sophia, they got plenty.”

He made a face when you mentioned the search. You acknowledged it. “Even though it’ll likely be her corpse, it would still mean she could be mourned properly.” Then, with a wave toward the outside, you continued, “This place is good as gold. Remote but not too much.Secure. Got plenty of food, lots of shelter. There don’t seem to be walkers that happen across the property, neither.” Which wasn’t a lie! None have wandered across the property….they were, as it so happened, housed there purposefully.

Shane crossed his arms.

You didn’t mirror it in challenge like you might tend to, and not only because remembering the barn jumpstarted that breathless feeling of panic. You wanted to be level-headed about this, no arguing. So, you went on to admit, “But, might could not be long-term here.” The words you’d planned to summarize your thesis then, unfortunately, escaped you, so, you bought time by shrugging and moving your hands around. The closing statement ended up being: “W-We should give Fort Benning a look.”

He stared into space, the wheels turning. His head was nodding slightly. “Okay.”

“Alrighty! L-Let’s plan to, to, to,” you stammered, “in a, in, um, a week or so? Two weeks?” The decision being set was more terrifying than you’d anticipated. Your pulse got faster, too, so you took a deep breathe to make up for it.

“Yeah, um, yeah. A week or so,” he agreed in a flat, dull tone, then looked down. He tried to smile when he looked up at you, but it was forced as if he felt guilty. “You sound so scared, kid.”

“It’s scary.”

“It is.” He sighed. The guilty look he had then changed to something different. Brighter. “Whoever’s out there should be real scared, we’re that good a team.”

If you thought you were proud of him before, well shoot.

Shane is back, completely.

What a complete shift, a full 180, from your bearing on the situation from yesterday versus today.

All of these months of seeing him change for the worse, frighten you, shift into a man you didn’t recognize. After it finally culminated in you having a panic attack yesterday. The stranger wasn’t there anymore. It was just your brother. Shane.

You smiled, and thought to yourself how you were actually happy to sacrifice in this way for him. This is how you could protect him, by leaving with him for a little while. His idea to seek out Fort Benning was logical, and if it so happened to keep the peace here, what fault was there in safeguarding Lori’s secret for a little while longer?

Even if setting out on your own was a risk, you two were a good team. And now, with proper firepower from the station back in King County. You feel almost ashamed for how worried and scared you’d been of him.

“I guess it’s gotta be done,” Shane appeared to think out loud. “And Andrea may want to come, she'd wanted to before." This you hadn't known, either. Your brother rubbed his buzz cut back and forth, back and forth. "We all know Rick wants to stay put, but, maybe, after a little convincing, if we prove it’s far safer there.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Mmm, I don’t know which of you is more bullheaded, you or him.” As if; Shane is obviously the more bullheaded of the two. Rick knows how to be a dang good diplomat.

“Easy. It’s you," Shane teases back without missing a beat.

You walked right into that one, didn’t you? Well, naturally you had to feign offense and pretend to huff, “Shut up, loser.”

“Yeah make me, weirdo.” He mussed up your hair (ahghfghghgh!) and started toward the doors. “What’s say you do them drills with the girl now? You can use an empty pistol for it. Hershel can’t have a problem with an empty one.”

“I’ll ask his permission.”

You also walked into this one: “Goody-two shoes.”

“Dumb jock.”

Shane really was back!

It really was a near-perfect Sunday.

------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------

-> Masterlist link here <-

and our tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 ; @oceanticspace​​​​ ; @whistlesalot ; @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer ;  @dreamingaboutthewonderland ; @kwazii-kat ; @darylsmavis ; @outlanderhornet22 ; @battinsonrobs ; @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable ; @writingmybeloved ; @boomergirl123 ; @iheartathena0 ; @moonliight-luv ; @suniloli ; @supernaturalgirl02 ; @cnake-garden ; @daryldixmedown ; @sophehe ; @crashlyrose ; @virgo-sunflower920 ; @jennythe ; @theficbaker ; @vampireautism ; @rosetta196 ; @wifeof-barnes ; @thegemthatreads ; @redjaylee ; @thegirlwiththepurpleshelves

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes! Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know in the inbox. We’re all friends here and your comfort level matters)  

[so-very-small]

a giant carefully picking up their tiny friend for the very first time, after months of building trust and developing their friendship. the giant being utterly enraptured by the tiny in their palm, and the tiny feeling wonderfully overwhelmed by finally being held in such a large hand. neither of them speak, but the look they exchange says everything they can’t put into words.

this intimate moment being swiftly ruined by the tiny discovering they’re extremely allergic to the giant’s hand lotion.

[princessxpunk]

Walter is All Elite!

[abstract-hellbender]

star trek furries au ... this comes from em and the horrible disturbed mind of my bff @fru1tt0ast ... 👽😵‍💫😵‍💫👽😈😈😈😈😈👻🔥🔥🔥

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

You know how we imagine tinies riding animals, whether it’s into battle or to just get around? Well I’m curious, what animal(s) would you ride?

I’m gonna go with Ravens and dogs (specifically Terriers and Dachshunds)

[waste1andb5by]

listening to the track evermore on a loop today made me realize that album is so yellowjackets coded it’s actually insane

[chai-en-kaadhale]

wow orv was so long *proceeds to start lotm*

[justanoasisimagines]

I don’t want to sleep alone - Preference-Set A

Warnings; Mentions of anxiety and past trauma, typical canon violence. Requests are open! Guidlines are pinned at the top of my page A/N; Part two will be up in a few days! So if you don't see your favourite character here, they might be in Part 2 Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and banner

Rick Grimes; The two of you nearly died after an encounter with the Saviours. Both of you are dragging your feet, both physically and mentally exhausted. When you turn to head towards your bed for the night, Rick stops you. He te;;s you he nearly lost you today and he doesn't want to sleep without you. Taking hold of his hand, you ask him which bedroom. He leads you toward his room because in Rick's opinion, your bed is like sleeping on concrete.

Abraham Ford; Ever since the two of you started getting serious, Abraham began to fear losing you. It comes from losing his wife and children. One thing is for certain he refuses to let that happen. This leads to Abraham asking you if you want to stay the night or insisting you two sleep close to each other for safety. Abraham wants to hold you close to reaffirm your there. It does begin to ease his anxiety when you agree.

Shane Walsh; It's you who tells Shane you don't want to sleep without him. The new world is ferocious, unpredictable, and deadly. Shane has adapted to the new world quickly, without question. So it makes sense for the two of you to share a space. Shane accepts because he doesn't like the idea of you being so far away from him when anything could happen.

Father Gabriel Stokes; Before the dead rose, Gabriel couldn't imagine sleeping with anyone whom he hadn't married. It was a sin in his eyes. The realization death is around the corner for anyone forces Gabriel to realise he doesn't want to miss out on these experiences with you. Gabriel eventually picks up the courage and expresses his feelings, you made sure he's adamant before agreeing.

Merle Dixon; Merle doesn't want to sleep without you. For a couple of reasons; one he doesn't like waking up alone. He wants to wake up with your bodies pressed together. Secondly, if Merle was being completely honest with himself, he doesn't trust anyone in Woodbury, There's no way in hell someone's going to hurt you while he's around. He'd gladly die trying to protect you.

Luke; Luke doesn't want to sleep without you. He feels like it's the next natural stage within your relationship. Living together, sharing a bed etc. Luke is grateful the two of you have found each other. It's only natural he wants to progress your relationship as normal as possible. For Luke, sharing a bed feels like the next step.

Siddiq; Siddiq is shaken from his encounter with the Whisperers. He's never been more terrified of dying before. He's struggling to adapt back to real life, constantly dealing with nightmares When you make the suggestion, Siddiq agrees. He'd thought he'd never see you again. He considers your warm embrace will help him sleep through the night again

Eugene Porter; Eugene is taken aback when you tell him you don't to sleep without him. He can't fathom why you would want to share a bed with him. His reaction is adamant, of course, he does. The entire interaction is awkward, soft and endearing as you both decide who's bed to share.

Benjamin; Benjamin never expected to fall in love. Never expected to find someone in the apocalypse, but he has. He's lying in bed one night, tossing and turning, struggling to sleep. His feet instinctively head him in the direction of your room. When he knocks, you are half asleep. He blurts out he doesn't want to sleep alone. You reply by opening the door wider and allowing him in

Beta; Beta insists you don't sleep alone. Living outside with the Whisperers is dangerous, there's danger at every turn. Beta hasn't cared in the past. When you two get together. things change. Suddenly, he's scared to lose someone. There is someone in his life that he wants to protect. So he insists you two sleep side by side.

Theodore "T-Dog" Douglas; When everyone's sorting out sleeping accommodations in the prison. You surprise him when you tell him you don't want to sleep alone. T-Dog immediately goes in search of a comfortable place for you to sleep. It's nice at the end of the end of the day, to know he's going to fall asleep with you in his arms.

Alden; You and Alden are sitting together reading, your eyes drooping, struggling to stay awake. Alden makes the suggestion you go to bed. However, you refuse telling Alden you don't want to sleep without him. Alden smiles, he truly adores it when you're sleepy and completely honest. Alden replies with you don't have to. Alden leads you up to his room.

Justin; Justin doesn't want to sleep without you through jealousy. He doesn't like the way Daryl's been staring at you. He wants to remind everyone, especially Daryl who you come back to after your day has finished. Who keeps you warm on those cold nights

Noah; Things are always tense in the hospital. There's always some politics going around. Noah's favourite part of the hospital is you. You two are hanging out, when Noah brings it up. He doesn't want to sleep alone, because its time he could have spent with you. The sentiment is sweet and when you agree, Noah asks you which side you prefer.

Jerry; You come to Jerry in the middle of the night, tears running down your face, pain-stricken. Immediately Jerry opens up his arms, embracing you. Jerry sets into consoling you. The world is harsh and cruel and even the strongest people break. When you tell Jerry, you don't want to sleep without him, he tells you you don't have to because he's right here.

Axel; Axel struggles to get accustomed to the harsh reality of the world. You are the best thing to come out of it. Companionship, patience, love. So when you come into his cell asking to sleep with him, he scoots to the side, pulling back the blanket. He tells you, you don't have to ask. He'll protect you from the nightmares.

Gareth; Axel struggles to get accustomed to the harsh reality of the world. You are the best thing to come out of it. Companionship, patience, love. So when you come into his cell asking to sleep with him, he scoots to the side, pulling back the blanket. He tells you, you don't have to ask. He'll protect you from the nightmares.

Micheal Mercer; Micheal is always busy. He takes the job seriously because it's important. However, sometimes he can feel like he's not spending enough time with you. It's why one night, he decides to ask you, to stay. He tells you, he doesn't want to go to bed alone anymore. Not when he can fall and wake up to something beautiful

Negan; Negan smirks when you tell him you don't want to sleep alone. He's been waiting for you to come to him. He didn't want to put any pressure on you, but he's been wanting to share a bed with you for a while. In Negan's mind, it's another way to be close to you. An excuse to feel your body against his.

[beastblade69]

these two made my 13 yo bisexual arse go nuts lmao

[ohworm-writes]

True mental illness is fixing on a certain character to the point that you waste countless amounts of money on things even remotely related to them.

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Penance + (knock-off) Ambrosia

still alive, slowpokes :P

When -- during the meal at the Greene's Farm as seen in S02 Chupacabra. After Shame on a plate.

What -- Carol wanted to cook a communal dinner for the Greenes in thanks for all they've done to help your group. Under the weight of Otis' death as well as possibly having to vacate to God-knows-where, the shared meal is tense. Meanwhile, Daryl's busy beating himself up alone in his room and won't eat.

Relationships -- slow burn Daryl x You

Perspective -- You 2nd, Daryl 3rd

Pronouns -- neutral

TWs -- some language, and a non-descriptive allusion to Shane's actions in Stuck in a damn bed.

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

feedback is nice to get :D

Jimmy’s note to you reads: “What’s a pirate’s faverite letter?”

Easy, you know this one!

After double-taking at the typo, you scribble back “aRRRR!” and pass it to where he sits beside you, a smug grin tucked in your face. Only rule is: don’t laugh.

Yo, this table is fun, you’re not even embarrassed about being in your mid-twenties and sitting at the kiddie table. It’s too bad Carl tired himself out earlier, he’d be in stitches!

Oh, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be good, his actual stitches are still healing. So are yours, for that matter…

Anyway, it started off as a silly thing: Not 5 minutes into the meal, Beth had tiptoed to get her drawing pad from the den and wrote “please pass white gravy + pepper?” instead of whispering it, because supper had/has been that darn quiet.

This immediately (and somehow wordlessly) turned into the no-laugh competition you’ve all got going.

Granted, laughing out loud might would make the dinner a little less stiff, but you aren’t certain.

The big table seems rough. They’re barely making eye contact, not really talking, eesh.

Before dinner began, Patricia, Lori, and Carol were chatting as they finished up the cooking, and at the same time there was light discussion as you were helping wash the dishes and set the table with your friends. Even Lori exiting Carl’s room after plainly having been crying didn’t alter the good jibing any, things were chill.

But when everyone came in, sat down together? It got uneasy. When Mr. Greene said the blessing it almost felt too loud.

Now the room is limited to clinking, scraping noises, murmured niceties, and hushed requests to pass things.

You did almost lose the no-laugh game first when Glenn quietly mimicked the way Gollum said “what’s taters, precious?” because you whispered at him to “pass the mashed taters, please?” instead of ‘potatoes.’ Don’t fret, you’d obviously murmured back the only correct response of ��po-tay-toes?” as well as the cooking instructions Sam says in the movie.

You almost lost it again when Glenn next decided to break the silence by asking the entire room if anybody knew how to play the guitar. The crickets that followed, hilarious!

Except, then Patricia spoke up that her husband had known, Mr. Greene agreed about how skilled Otis had been.

Oh, did the tension spike.

First thing you'd done was peek around to see if Shane was okay. He wasn’t.

His expression had taken on that 1000 yard stare sort of deal he’s been slipping into. Scared, lost. Then hard and almost mean.

Something got broke in him real bad that night Otis got killed. It’s scary, especially considering how he snapped at you yesterday and even…never mind, you don’t want to get into it.

At any rate, he made a very serious apology to you earlier today, very serious.

So, yeah, the room turned way more tense after that innocent guitar question, certainly sobered you up right quick.

And the strange sensation you’d had after Amy got killed, the one where it felt as if her blood was back on it, it started to come back pretty strong. Granted, it had come back after what happened with Shane the other day, too, but the sensation revved up more after the guitar question. Rest in peace Otis.

And at least to you, it made the unspoken understanding of Sophia twist harder, too.

When poor Jimmy got teary when his dad was brought up, you traced a blessing on his forehead and set to scribbling the next dumb joke you could think of on another scrap of paper for him and reminded yourself your hand was clean and that Otis and Sophia’s fates weren’t on you.

As for poor Glenn, once the exchange was over, he looked like he wanted to transform into a chair.

Silver lining was that Maggie helped him feel better; she slipped him a note that must’ve been a really good joke because Glenn seemed giddy as a schoolboy as he wrote down the punchline or whatever.

‘Schoolboy’ is definitely the best term — Mr. Greene and Dale happened to see Glenn sneaking back his response and were staring at the folded paper in his hand.

It’s kinda silly, right? Not only were you, Margaret, and Glenn sat at the kid table, but you were also acting like kids, what with the note-passing. Caught by the principal lol.

In the moment, you’d figured might as well, and so scribbled in big letters on the back of the notepad itself: “Too quiet, so we pass notes!”

When you held it up to the two of them, Dale read the words, swallowed a smile, then mouthed "troublemaker" to you.

As for Mr. Greene, his expression was, per usual, unreadable.

That was, what, all of 10 minutes ago? And it’s still a quiet, tense meal.

Maggie hasn’t taken the note from Glenn out her pocket to share it. A part of you hopes it’s something sweet, therefore private.

And, well, right now, you’re staring at your plate and thinking on how you’ve already got helping #2 on it. It makes you wonder if the quiet in the room, tense as it feels, might could be related to the food?

’Cause dude, it’s been so long since a hot meal this good!

Even the heartbreak about Sophia isn’t enough to stop the cravings from going into overdrive (not true, actually, but the meal is great, is what you mean)—and Carol orchestrated the dinner, anyway. She’s in a place where even she can eat, so…

Wiping your hand on your napkin again (and again), you take another sip of water, and fidget with your fork and knife.

God save you, you want to go hog wild on the food and shove it all into your mouth in one fell swoop. So, you know, maybe everyone else is also extra quiet to focus on eating politely and not stuffing it all in their face like half-starved hamsters, too.

That’s a nice thing to imagine, rather than it being gonna-get-kicked-off-the-property-and-we’re-very-sorry-Otis-is-dead-and-are-we-allowed-to-enjoy-things-when-Sophia-is-probably-dead? tenseness.

Because the food really is so yummy! And there are potatoes! Carol was so thrilled to find out they have potatoes! And there’s dairy! Therefore butter and cream and milk — hallelujah!— oh, you did a happy dance the second a forkful of the mashed taters touched your lips!

Back to the present, as you set to crafting an unnaturally large bite featuring a taste of everything from your plate, Jimmy is reading your response to his pirate joke while — grinning wide and shaking his head?

Then, you see as he scratches with the pen again on the note in his lap and hands it back to you.

Is not a pirate’s favorite letter R? What other letter could it…

You keep chewing while you open the folded note.

It reads:

“aRRRR? Nay, ‘tis the C!”

…

…

OH MY GOSH—

___________________________

Him

___________________________

A familiar laugh belted out from down the hallway where they was all doing dinner. This was followed by couple seconds of silence even more dead than the dinner already sounded.

But after that? It was as if a dam had burst and carried in pack of hyenas who quickly overtook the dining room.

He next thought he heard the word “pirate,” but that made no sense. A few minutes later, the hyenas seem to have left, judging by how shit got all quiet again.

That is until another noise, this time suspiciously moan-like, called out from the dining room. Within a second or two, he heard the food’s praises sung, T-Dog leading the charge, and, well, the din stayed put after that.

One, big, happy family.

Minus one missing little girl.

Daryl hadn’t touched his plate yet, hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. Didn’t feel like eating.

How those dickbags was having a dinner was beyond him at that point.

The search today was a bust, yet again. The neighborhood T-Dog’s group went to check was mostly burned down, and the highway spot set up for Sophia was still untouched.

Carol’s words to him wouldn’t shut up, neither — and why in the hell she gave him a kiss on his head?!

“You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole life,” she’d told him.

Can you believe that shit? “You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.” If failing and getting benched for a week was the best that little girl ever got, she had a piss poor life, and that fact whipped Daryl on the back harder than his own old man ever had.

Speaking of, when Carol brought him his tray, she hadn’t knocked. Meaning, Daryl hadn’t had time to pull the sheet over his shoulder before she walked in. His shirt had been off.

Daryl’s hope was that it’d been dark enough in the room that she wouldn’t see the scarring, just the tattoos. It's his own damn fault— he hadn’t felt like putting his shirt back on after Patricia checked his stitches, and house got warm from the cooking, besides. And because he didn’t care to slump out of bed and wrench open the window more, he stayed shirtless and decided to simply kick off his blankets.

Joke’s on him. And now, someone else had seen them.

He could just about hear Merle tell him, “quit wallowin’ like you’re on your period, Darylina.”

Well, Merle wasn’t really there, so Daryl would wallow all he wanted, and think on Carol telling him that he was also “every bit as good as them.”

As Rick, as Shane, as T-Dog, as Glenn, as — fuck, who cares, it didn’t matter. Because Daryl was not.

Carol wasn’t the best judge of character, just look at the turd she’d married.

“You did more for my little girl that day than her own daddy ever did in his whole li—”

—A steady knocking sounded at the door, breaking up the echoes of Carol’s words and setting Daryl on edge.

Yup, it was Y/N’s knocking, no mistaking it.

“Just open it!” was the loudest he’d spoken all day. He didn’t want to be around people, was that such a big ask?

There was a pause before he heard the door open a crack.

“Would you prefer to be left alone awhile longer?” his friend asked softly.

The annoyance Daryl had felt eased and drained off. His whisper was hopefully loud enough for Y/N to hear. “What is it?”

After another pause, whatever they said in response was too quiet and blocked by the door. All Daryl heard was “Red furseh?”

“Y/N, y’can just come in,” he relented. He even bothered to turn toward the door for them, except, his friend hadn’t opened it up yet.

“A-Are you decent?”

Am I…what, did they think he had his hand down his pants or something? “Yes.”

He watched as the door opened and Y/N (nervously?) looked at him, eyes flitting down along the bedsheet.

Goddamn, Y/N really did just worry if I had my hand down my pants.

“Are you ready for seconds?” Y/N repeated, relaxing.

Got it, that’s what they’d been asking from the doorway.

Daryl responded by way of a gruff, soft, “Nah.”

Another pause.

“Do you feel sick? Or are you,” they tilted their head and frowned again, “‘wallowing’ ain’t the right word — are you beatin’ yourself up, Daryl?”

Yes, somebody has to. “What do you want?” If Y/N could not hit the nail on the head right now, that would be great. He had a bandage on it, after all…

“I’m-I’m asking ’cause the symptoms are usually the same, I mean,” his friend started walking toward the bed as if they was hesitant to do it, “you ain’t even touched your plate, your voice is — for real, sugar, d’you feel sick, depressed, or both?” Saying this, they laid their wrist against his forehead.

“Careful, I got a bandage!” was stupid of Daryl to grunt, because it was coming off tomorrow morning and because Y/N was careful, but he grunted it anyway. Just — why’d they need to use that pet name?

“There were a whole lot of ways you could have contracted yourself an infection, and, well, y-your shirt is off. Ain’t never seen you do that, um…” Y/N inhaled, then exhaled slowly, and pulled their wrist away. “You are kinda warm, but it is warm in here. Really warm, actually, um, d’you want the window open more?”

Yes, please. “M’fine.”

He shifted back onto his side and resumed staring into space.

“Let me do somethin’ for you before I go,” Y/N gently insisted. “Please.” They put a soothing-type tone on. Normally, a tone like that would cause him to feel belittled or pitied, but, he didn’t know, maybe after this week he was used to it. And, he didn’t know, maybe pity wasn’t such a bad thing.

“First, would you like a shirt, or are you good?” his friend asked.

‘Would he like a shirt,’ hell yes, he would like a shirt.

The tugging sensation in his chest came back for a sec. Y/N had a knack for hitting the nail on the head with him. And while the offer was both innocent and loaded, he started to feel as if his soul had been stripped bare-naked in front of them again.

The fact that he’d even let them see his back had been a lapse, a huge lapse. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

But, if right now he didn’t act like it was the worst thing, he hated hated hated people seeing, nobody was supposed to see, weren’t nobody’s damn business! a big deal, it wouldn’t be, right?

Which is why Daryl decided to make no effort to cover up more at that moment, so that nothing would seem off. It made his skin crawl to not, it made him feel cornered, but he left the sheet where it was and decided to kick Y/N out.

Yet, strangely, instead of hoarsely grunting at them to 'leave him be' like he thought he was about to, he softly admitted, “Yeah.”

Y/N grabbed the clean, folded shirt and pants that Lori had brought and placed it beside him.“Here’s your pants, too, make it easier in the morning when you get discharged. Miss Patricia will come in and you’ll be all ready!” A nod at his untouched meal. “Want the plate to stay, or go?”

“Take it.”

“Positive? Carol, Lori, and Patricia went ham cookin’ the food. Literally, they cooked some salt ham, but there’s also a little of the fish left that Andy caught for me, if you’d prefer?” They tried to entice him more. “The green beans are fresh, the veggie casserole is creamy, and the mashed taters got fresh butter in ’em? There’s white and brown gravy…”

The thought of eating was tempting as hell, he’d give it that. He was hungry and the food smelled amazing. Still, he shook his head. The thought of putting a bite in his mouth made him feel sick.

Y/N looked a little disappointed, but accepted his decision with a tiny, forced smile. After a beat, their smile turned real. “You’ll get awarded MVP for not touchin’ your plate tonight,” they teased. “It’ll get shared well. I don’t reckon there’ll be crumbs left at the rate we’re hoovering it down, I-I accidentally already had thirds. But, um,” they added, biting their lip. “Dare, in a little while, please might can I bring you a bowl of dessert, in the least? You must be terrible hungry by now and you need to eat if you’re gonna heal, hon.”

He just sorta stared back, didn’t know what to answer yet. Them using a pet-name again wasn’t helping none.

This was no problem for Y/N, who seemed to have begun nervous-jabbering. “When I told Jimmy there was dessert, his eyes got all big. I’m not gonna lie, it was so darn cute. But I didn’t ruin the surprise and tell him what it is, I just winked and let him imagine. Do you wanna know what it is?”

His cheeks warmed. “What is it,” Daryl dutifully responded.

“It’s a surprise!” was the completely expected answer. Y/N looked very pleased. “But it involves hand-whipped cream,” they sing-songed.

___________________________

You

___________________________

You haven’t seen anyone’s mood here drop as low as Daryl’s has in the past few days, not since Andrea’s did after Amy died. Not even Shane after what happened to Otis, he’s handling the pain differently.

But just now when you enticed Daryl with the notion of whipped cream, he almost smiled, you saw it!

Victory!

And, before you went to Daryl’s room to see if he wanted more, you’d walked over to the big table and whispered in Shane’s ear that when dessert was served, he should wake Carl to give him a bowl and get “cool uncle points,” and he smiled, too!

Victory!

Why do you feel like you are personally responsible for holding everyone’s shit together?

Like, even at the dinner, after you’d burst out laughing, it felt so good to have eased the tension in the room, even if by accident. Then, when you heard the laughter dying down and the room going quiet again, you felt as if you’d just failed. So, you had to fix it.

Cue you to shove a big bite into your mouth and loudly moan about how good it was in the hopes that saying so would keep the momentum going. And prompt Hershel to accept your people, change his mind, keep your family safe, and keep everyone together because what if you personally aren’t trying hard enough or doing it the right way and things fall apart? Who’s fault will it be? Why does your stupid hand feel like Amy’s blood is on it again? Dale already explained how it’s ‘self-reproach because of survivor’s guilt,’ so why can’t you shake it off?

Okay, chill out, it’s not all on you. You’re not responsible, you cannot control and fix it all, it’s not all on you.

Surrender it up, and trust.

Offer it up and trust…

Thankfully, Theodore had joined in with your noise of appreciation, declaring, “I second that, mmm-mm!”

Good Moses, you could’ve legit knelt down and pledged him your fealty (or whatever it is squires did for knights in shining armor).

Heck, you were tempted to ignore the age difference and propose marriage to him instead, you were that relieved that he’d gone with it, because it prompted those at the big table to join.

Shane was right there for you, too. “This meal is hittin’ all the marks,” he quietly praised, “ain’t had grub this good in a while.”

Then there was a toast (thank you, Ricky and T-Dog), and things stayed fairly light after that. Light and comfortable.

And only during your last bite, when you noticed everyone else had seconds (…or thirds…), was it that you scrambled off, mid-chew, to Daryl’s room to see what he wanted for seconds and maybe convince him to join everyone.

Instead, you were met with an untouched plate and a man who’s voice could barely raise above a gruff whisper. So, you had to try and fix it, obviously, even if the only thing that would actually fix it is finding the little girl who everyone’s hearts have already mourned.

“Wha’ was so funny earlier?” Daryl suddenly surprises you by asking.

You snort. “We were trying to see who’d break first and laugh — this is at the kiddie table, by the way.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Psht,” you play-grumble. “But yeah, I lost the game big time. I’d just taken a very impolite sized-bite of food, too. Ain’t never swallowed a bite that big in my entire life, but I didn’t want to snarf in front of everyone!” Way to overshare, weirdo. “Oh, right, you’ll probably want to know the joke,” you remember. You can get scatterbrained when you’re carrying on. “What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

“A pirate’s what?”

“Favorite letter.”

“A pirate’s favorite…” Daryl makes a low, soft hum as he exhales. “Didn’t, uh, wasn’t most pirates illiterate?”

“Bro.”

“I dunno, um, the…P,” is the gem he comes up with.

Bless his heart, has Daryl never heard the ‘arrr’ joke before?

“Why a P?” you’ve simply gotta know.

“P…P for pirate, and peg-leg and um, eye-patch, and, the uh, they got parrots. That’s a lotta Ps.”

The immediate gut reaction you have is the strong desire to gasp with delight and smooch him square on the lips WHAT THE, why did his answer turn you on?? Oopsy lol, yeah, gross, no way. You meant to say, um, ah,…?!?

Anyway, you unfortunately end up squealing, “Oh Lord, that was hot.”

It’s fine, you slip in a ‘dude’ right after. “C’mon, dude, what do pirates say? Like the, the sound they make in movies and books?”

“I don’t, uh…'Yo-ho…ho?'”

That’s now you, belly-laughing, even as it makes your stitches pinch more. “No, the noise they make, like, when they’re mad or tryin’ act all scary.”

Hold the darn phone, is he — good Moses in heaven with the angels and saints, Daryl Dixon is blushing.

He’s gone from plain to red splotches on his cheeks, it’s visible even in the low lighting. The inconvenient butterflies start fluttering around in your stomach again, but this is such an unexpected treat, who cares? Ha!

“No way you’re turnin’ red, nerd,” you whisper.

“Stop,” he grunts in his way, and his eyes are crinkled and his mouth is threatening to grin.

A pleasing shiver travels down when you scrunch your pointer finger into a hook. “Arrr,” you enunciate with spot-on cartoonish flair, if you say so yourself.

His eyes shut when the punchline hits him. “Sonofa—it’s R, then?”

Hot damn, is this joke satisfying. “R? Nay nay, boy, ’tis the C!”

___________________________

Him

___________________________

That he’d gone from wishing he were left for dead in a ditch to laughing out loud in the few minutes his friend was in the room with him…Y/N was something else.

A weirdo, too.

The dessert was ambrosia, by the way, Y/N eventually came back into the room with two bowls of it. “Ambrosia” was a loose term; it didn’t have none of the usual stuff but for the pecans and cream dressing.

“It’s peach, raspberry, wild blueberry and pecan ambrosia with hand-whipped cream — Glenn won’t even know to miss the marshmallows!” Y/N had chirped.

Him telling them it was “knockoff ambrosia” (as a joke) only lead to them pursing their lips, giggling, then immediately going back to happily twittering on how: “Lori hand-whipped it to make it extra special, and Carol added a mite bit of buttermilk to get the tang it needs. Can’t wait to taste how it came out…”

Their little food dance as they took the first bite was cute.

And shiiit, the little moan they made as they shut their eyes and tilted their head back shouldn’t have been enough to turn his thoughts sexual, but yeahhh did it. The cabin fever was apparently messing with his dick, too, great.

But, like, why did Y/N say something he did was “hot?” Was it slang for something else, other than what he knew it usually meant?

“Dare, what do you think?” Another quiet, hummed moan, and then Y/N opened their eyes and saw that he hadn’t tasted any. “Oh, Daryl, c’mon and try some? It’s heavenly. I think I’m dying, it’s so yummy.”

Nah. As good as Y/N was making it seem, he couldn’t, and so, shook his head.

But then his friend said something that, weird as it was, for some reason hit the nail on the head for him once more. It was as if there Y/N was, seeing his soul bare-naked again.

“If I were your confessor,” they began so casual-like, “other than explaining how accidental injury ain’t sinful, I’d tell you your penance was to eat what’s in front of you.”

Y/N almost took another bite as if in example, but hesitated before the spoon reached their lips. The light expression they wore dimmed and turned serious. “All you’ve gone through this week isn’t divine justice, that ain’t how God operates. It was an accident. Just like Sophia. It, it wasn’t no test or punishment what happened to her. It was just a… a bad thing,” they hushed, eyes fixed on their bowl, spoon. With an empty half-laugh, they mumbled, “Suddenly can’t stand the thought of food, now, neither.”

With that, Y/N put the bowl to the side and didn’t seem to know what to do next other than maybe cry, by the look of them.

Daryl would’ve missed it if he’d gone back to spacing out and wallowing, but from the corner of his eye he noticed them wipe their palm on their knee a few times as if to dry it off.

He recognized what was going on, or was pretty sure, anyway.

After Amy got killed, Y/N had this messed up thing go on with the hand, the one they’d used to try and stop her from bleeding out. For a few days, it felt to them as if Amy’s blood was still on it and wouldn’t clean off.

Back when Sophia first went missing, he noticed their hand thing came back a little that first afternoon.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s clean.”

“What is?”

“Your hand.”

They took an extra beat to respond. “I-I know. It’s nothin'.”

“It’s clean,” he repeated, which resulted in Y/N bowing their head. “Ain’t nothing there, Y/N. Lemme see?”

His friend lifted their head back up, raised their hand for him, and shrugged. “Dale says it’s a guilt thing.”

Yeah, he could see that.

“It's not on you to fix everyone’s everything,” he needed to say. Y/N seemed like they didn’t remember that sometimes.

“Ayy, way to come at me with a hammer,” his friend answered with a dry smile. “I know I can’t fix everyone’s stuff,” they spoke carefully, their throat sounded tight. “But we’re called to help, right? After how far things have fallen, we’re called even more now to, to bring, you know, that, that light, to do what we can. And, and,” they stuttered, then took a deep breath. “I dunno. Before all this—did you ever feel like your life was stagnant? Like you was just...existing?”

Did Y/N know how well they could hit the nail on the head?

Yes, Daryl felt like his life was stagnant, it fucking was, he was a nobody! Didn’t do shit with his life, he’d just…rotted, and fixed up bikes in whatever direction his brother drifted. “Yeah.”

“That’s how I was was for years, too. Kinda floated one day after another, just tryin’ to make it to the next.”

Daryl stayed quiet. Yet again, they’d hit the nail on the goddamned head and he wanted Y/N to keep on talking.

And Y/N did, they kept chatting very matter-of-fact. “It got better, ev-eventually, I um, I got help, and then started forcin’ myself to do stuff, get out in the community, all that. Healed a bit.” They swirled their spoon around the bowl. “It didn’t fix everything boom, like: I still felt stagnant a lot, or like a failure, or that things were all my fault, still sometimes wanted to die really bad,” they shared with a shrug, very chill. “But that’s why we can’t rely on feelings, right?”

The invisible string was tugging Daryl’s whole damn torso toward them at this point and he just wanted to hold them to him and — shit, sorry, uh, he meant he wanted to pat ’em on the back, at least.

“Really, it was when the, um,” his friend bit their lip. “This is gonna sound weird.”

“Prolly, if it’s you we’re talkin’ about,” he ribbed, completely dead-pan.

His friend liked it, and even taunted back all goofy, “sure is, betch,” before their smile fell away. After a beat, Y/N quietly, quietly told him the rest. “It was when the…outbreaks happened, that I-I didn’t have to force it anymore. There was suddenly such a, a, a clear duty, clear sense of purpose, I dunno. Just—so much to do, so much to live for, and,” a big exhale, “so much work to be done.”

That explained a lot. Y/N tended to go hard, burn the candle at both ends, if that’s the right phrase.

In fact, he flat-out said so. “Is that why you push too damn hard to be ‘useful?’”

“Again with the hammer on the nail, dude. And, no, it’s—” Y/N found their words. “When you think how w-we, we might could get killed, at any second, any one of us. And how we’ll look back on it all, all our choices, and then answer what we did ‘for the least here on earth’…”

Ah, that checked out, too.

It was something, to see someone still believe in all that stuff after the world fucking ended, he’d give it that.

He used to, too. Not that he’d been any good at it.

Didn’t matter, he didn’t anymore. Not after the dead started walking.

“Now, before Teddy materializes in here to scold me, I get that ‘It’s not through our own efforts.’ And the problem I have with feelin’ worthless is a separate issue my faith helps tackle. Now, I know it ain’t about racking up works of mercy, but, dude—there’s so much work to do! And I want to do as much as —” Y/N shook their head a few times as if shaking out of it. “Sorry, I-I’ma just quit while I’m ahead, here. Oversharing Olympics.”

“Mm.” Hey, it was. “But that’s part of the deal with friends, right?” he murmured while trying to think of a good way to razz on them. “Means you trust ’em.” Y/N tended to make light about everything, so a tease would do ’em good, right? “It, like, Sunday or somethin’, preacher?”

The tease might’ve missed the mark that time, if he was seeing it correctly.

“Friday,” was all his friend mumbled back, and looked embarrassed as shit. The forced smile they offered in return — it made Daryl’s side ache more, somehow. And the way Y/N then sat there, curling their feet in and looking as if they felt…just about as small as Daryl did?

It was as if the invisible knee to the nards was connected to the invisible tugging string on his chest, because while that knee to the nards got him good, he felt that strange string tug toward Y/N big-time.

It was next, when Y/N stood up and moved to take the dishes out, that something very forceful moved in Daryl that had him sitting himself upright (sort of upright) and reaching for his bowl and spoon (oww) before his friend could get to it.

“It’s still good without the cherries and the marshmallows?”

His friend blinked. “Th-there are some, uh, it’s technically got those mini freeze-dried ones, as an extra-surprise.” They tilted their head, squinting at him in a way not unlike how Rick squinted at shit. “The Greene’s had some hot chocolate packets in the back of the pantry, we separated the marshmallows out.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Daryl commented, scooping a spoonful. Looked real pink because of the raspberries.

Y/N next twisted their mouth and almost seemed shy, when they realized what he was about to do.

It made Daryl feel good, seeing them spark up like that. And their shy smile was damn cute, as always.

“Oh, here, try mine if you’re only havin’ a bite,” Y/N asked, holding out their own bowl to him.

“Nah, m’gonna do the whole thing. It being penance and all,” he grunted, then waved his spoon at them. “You, too, go on. Do your penance.”

“My penance?”

“Yeah.” Oh goddamn, the stuff was delicious. “Have a seat, eat up.”

His friend settled on the side of the bed, still looking as if he’d caught them off-guard. They watched him eat for a few moments, and, Daryl had a random, unusual worry that he was eating too sloppy. But holy shit, fresh fruit and whipped cream!

He glanced over mid-scarfing to see Y/N nibbling on (no lie) half a pecan.

“Quit playing with yer food.”

This earned him a small huff and a “I’m savoring it.”

“White lies cost a quarter, remember.”

The amount of attitude Y/N next put into their next bite was funny. “I’b also sduffed a’ready, banjy hick,” they added with their mouth full.

Don’t smile too big, Daryl. “Penance is penance.”

“But pedaces ca be cobooted.”

Don’t smile too big! “They can be what?”

Y/N apologized, swallowed their food and their giggle, and repeated: “Penances can be commuted.”

“They can travel to work?” was his idea of a dumb joke, and this time it did the trick and he made them burst out laughing a second time.

Y/N broke into a laugh so hard they hinged forward and caused some of the cream dressing to get onto their shirt right before their spoon clattered to the floor.

“Laughing like that still hurts, you butt,” his friend wheezed, pressing their arm to their stitched-up side. They coughed a few times, still giggling, and when they thudded their chest a few times they winced. “Ow, bruise. And Lore just washed this top, too.” Another snort. “My fault for bein’ a sucker for dumb jokes, I guess. ”

“Ain’t nobody’s fault, just an accident,” he got the immediate urge to tell them, and so, did.

In response, Y/N looked at him with an expression he wasn’t sure how to read. It wasn’t a bad expression. Then, because that expression made his stomach do more flippy-floppies, Daryl gestured to their bowl again, and Y/N obligingly took another spoonful.

“Dis is so gub,” they hummed softly after taking the bite.

“Damned tasty for knockoff ambrosia,” he had to admit, joining along with another scoop of that damned tasty knockoff ambrosia.

“Do’d even deed deh bigger barshballows.”

Y/N was so fucking cute sometimes. “Or cherries.” He loved the cherries the best, after the marshmallows.

Y/N swallowed their bite.“Or the mandarins.”

“Or the pineapple.” His third favorite part.

“Oh, or the coconut,” Y/N realized, then thought out loud, “Shucks, this is a knockoff.”

“Tasty knockoff, I’d eat it again in a heartbeat,” Daryl murmured. He couldn’t believe his bowl was already empty. “Y/N, you just say ‘shucks?’”

“Shut up.” His friend shook their head and smiled. “Y’know, Daryl, this is prolly one of the top five penances I’ve ever gotten.”

“Top five?”

“One time I got ‘buy yourself something nice that you’ll get good use from. It’s okay if it’s a little expensive, it’s okay if it’s a little frivolous.’ Almost a direct quote, that. I’d been bein’ too, um,” they cleared their throat, “the priest thought I was a bit too hard on myself.”

Daryl knew whatever came next had to be something good, based on his friend’s playful little grin.

“That’s how I bought me my PS3. Pre-owned, so it was a solid deal, and it got very good use.” And with a wistful sounding exhale, they finished, “I miss that thing.” Y/N wiggled their bowl at him. “Please help me with this?”

Daryl’s mouth watered. The stuff tasted so good. Fresh, creamy, sweet, tangy.

Y/N raised their eyebrows at him and smiled.

“If I gotta,” he grunted back.

“Thanks for the assist. Plus, it’s penance.”

“Mm, guess I have to." Oh yeah, big scoop. "If it’s penance.”

------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------

-> Masterlist link here <-

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 ; @its-freaking-bats​​​​ ; @whistlesalot ; @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer ;  @dreamingaboutthewonderland ; @kwazii-kat ; @darylsmavis ; @outlanderhornet22 ; @battinsonrobs ; @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable ; @writingmybeloved ; @boomergirl123 ; @iheartathena0 ; @moonliight-luv ; @suniloli ; @supernaturalgirl02 ; @cnake-garden ; @daryldixmedown ; @sophehe ; @crashlyrose ; @virgo-sunflower920 ; @jennythe ; @theficbaker ; @vampireautism ; @rosetta196 ; @wifeof-barnes ; @thegemthatreads ; @olive-branch-witch-library

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know in the inbox! We’re all friends here and your comfort level matters)  

[plasterhound]

since my bedroom is so small i had to shut down (? idk if thats the right word) my fish tank and im sad af.... that thing gave me so much pain and grief but i miss my fish.... theres no one to watch me doing stuff now. sad af

[rosecartridge]

Since my own dog is trying to steal my cake, and Boris is now on this blog-

Here's a little note that the good inky boy cannot have chocolate even if he really really wants some. Gives him stomach cramps something fierce.

[clovenhoofedjester]

i live in my own beautiful little world where i think about transgender rum tum tugger so much. to me hes a bitchy diva who does drag. hes on t but he shaves and draws on a moustache. he manspreads one day then crosses his legs the next. he doesnt bind one day then wears silicone chest plates the next. is anyone else in herehhwith me

[fragglerockopinions]

.