#east end food coop

[mkdigi]

ALWAYS REAL, FRESH, AND REAL FRESH AT THE EAST END FOOD COOP!

This local mainstay has the highest of standards. The East End Food Coop is one of our favorite markets, and a large part is due to how their standards line up with our own. They recently shared the details on how their prioritize their produce- 1- local and certified organic 2- local and organically grown 3- certified organic 4- local and conventionally grown 5- conventionally grown We…

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter six (Final for now), Life's Too Short

Chapter one , two, three, four, five, <- if you missed it.

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

No beta.. I tried to edit 🫠

Leaving it here from now.

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

This is fluffy and a lot of smut. Biting, riding, finger fucking, leaving marks, screaming.. it goes on. V and P. Deviates from canon clearly.

🚨+18 only - MDN🚨

Slow burn is over!

Please be nice this is my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️ Like please tell me I am old and don't know things anymore.

Getting out of the Deathclaw’s territory proved to be tricky. Particularly with a Brahma, the beast was not really happy about being dragged along. There was also the Deathclaw’s head strapped to it. Making sure it got water and something sort of like food was difficult. It made the traveling slow.  By the time they got to the next outpost, Lucy was out of water and Cooper was dangerously low on chems. They had gotten a lot of looks as they walked through the big pieced-together gates. Most went back to whatever they were doing. But some stared. Lucy made sure to keep herself close to the Ghoul. They hadn’t really discussed anything since the warehouse, much too busy trying not to die. But something had changed, the leather-cladded man didn’t scoff when she ran into him. Didn’t mind when she snuggled up to keep warm overnight. The idea of a bed and not being hunted by giant damn monsters sounded amazing. 

The head of the Deathclaw that Lucy had blown up hit the front desk of the outpost hotel. Well if you could call the two-story pieced together building that. The small man looked at the head for a moment, then back at the two of them. 

“I am guessing you want a room?” He raised his eyebrows at the two, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. 

Cooper also grabbed a paper from beside the hotel manager's head and slammed it down beside the head. “Also take the caps for its bounty, and where we could offload a Brahma.”

“Well,” The man looked up over his glasses at Cooper. “The bounty is for the full body of the Deathclaw, and the beast can go to the farm east of the town.”

Cooper leaned closer to the little man. “Want me to ‘ive yah directions to the thing? Or should I walk yah over to the corpse ‘yself?” 

The man had tried to lean away from the Ghoul but he had followed him. Making sure his face was within the inches of the man. Lucy bit her lip, something about watching him take charge did-. Well, it made things get hotter in the room. 

The man stammered, “Let me get my manager and we will sort your caps.” 

Cooper stood up and gestured dismissively at the small man, as he scuttled away. Coop leaned against the desk as Lucy watched the door hand on her pistol. The man came back looking flustered and plopped the bag of caps onto the desk along with the room key. Cooper snatched it up, tipping his hat at the man. 

They walked back into the town, Lucy bartered some of her bits and bobs with a merchant getting herself some radaway and a few stimpaks. As well as some better-fitting clothes, and a new poncho. Then she and the Ghoul walked a little ways outside the camp to trade the Brahma. The farm had looked a little flustered but offered to give them a good supply of dried foods and moonshine. They didn’t want to owe Ghoul but a Brahma was something sorely needed. Cooper had accepted the offer as he was not interested in hauling the animal around. 

Then they were back in town with all the eyes on them. Cooper had disappeared into a particularly shady spot. Dogmeat standing guard in the dingy alley. She made sure to keep her wits about her. The place wasn’t bustling but it wasn’t quiet either. Women sneered at her muttering about Ghoulfuckers. It made her stomach flip again. Was it that obvious? After being on the road for weeks, being beaten to shit by various creatures. She figured she’d had to have started to blend in a little. She looked around again. A couple more men had walked out to look at her. She moved closer to the alleyway entrance, her finger on the pistol. 

“Come on Coop, get the chems.” She muttered her hands mindlessly running over Dogmeats soft fur. 

The longer she stood out there the more people she saw looking at her. She licked her lips, they had become permanently chapped at this point. Maybe they'd be callous over time, like the rest of her. The wounds in her back and thigh still ached. The mark on her shoulder had healed, for the most part, but it still aches if she overused it. A hand touched her hip. She jumped hands on her pistol as she turned Cooper’s crooked grin greeting her. Her shoulders sagged as she leaned against him. 

“Come on Vualtie, let's go see what accommodations we got.” He guided her back toward the hotel.

***

Coop locked the door behind them as they got into the room. It was more of a closet with a somewhat functional toilet and standing shower. But at least they weren’t hiding from any deathclaws tonight. Maybe some pissed-off townsfolk but they’d take that as they came. Right now his eyes were on her. He had gotten a nice stash of Chems from the backdoor pharmacy, they had water and some decent food. As far as wastelanding went they were better off than most. Dogmeat had already settled into the bathroom closest to the door. 

Lucy had placed all their weapons within reach and laid out some food. She had even drunk a good slurp of water, and they could get more too. 

“What do you feel like? They said this was mole jerky, but I don’t know how reputable the vendor was. Plus I haven’t seen a mole that wasn’t glowing in a long time.” Lucy rambled, waving the offending jerky in the air. 

“Not really feeling like eatin’ food,” Cooper stated licking his lips. 

Lucy turned her brows furrowed, she looked up at him. “Oh. Well.” She looked back down at the food and then back up at him. He could see her piecing it together. 

“Oh. Oh. Do you mean?” Lucy blushed and looked down at her feet. 

“Don’t get bashful on me, killer. You nearly blew me up with a grenade and dragged me across the desert barefoot. Stripped me down to my unmentionable and pulled out a damn piece of bone out of my chest. You don’t get to play coy with me anymore.” He stated plainly as he walked towards her, his hand tilting her chin up so he could look at those big doe eyes. 

Lucy licked her lips looking up at him. He didn’t know what she saw in him but whatever it was had her melting in his leathery hands. 

He couldn’t fuckin take it anymore his free hand grabbed at her hips pulling her into him. His mouth clashed against hers as he kissed her. Not gentle like the first time, or even the second time. No, this was hungry. The months of being together, watching her move and change. Her lying on the floor of that fuckin warehouse. No, not anymore. He wanted her and he wanted her now. He wanted her more than he had wanted anyone in two centuries. 

She started pulling at his duster fingers, shaking as she pushed the leather off of him. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and dragged it up off of her. She untucked his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Hat falling onto the ground behind them. Lucy giggled and snatched the hat placing it onto her head, before leaning back into kissing him. She pushed him down onto the mattress sliding herself onto his lap. He groaned as she ground her hips down onto his crotch. He grabbed her hips rocking up against her, eyes rolling back in her head as she felt him press. 

He grabbed one of her breasts in his hand rubbing against the smooth flesh there, fingertips rolling nipples that had Lucy biting her hand trying not to cry out. Cooper batted her hand away. 

“No, no, I want everyone to hear you.” He hissed, pulling her down so he could bite at the top of her breast. 

A small cry squeaked out as he left an indent on her skin. She ran her hands over his head holding it against her skin. He rolled her so he was on top, leaving a trail of fresh bite marks that had the Vaultie rolling underneath him.

His hands trailing along the edge of her pants, she tried to wiggle free of her pants but he held her firm. Licking and kissing along the top edge. Tomorrow if her shirt rode up everyone would see the marks. He wanted them to see the marks. To know that her screams came from him. He bit hard right below her navel and she bucked 

“Oh, Oh, dang it that hurt.” Lucy groaned and pushed his head down. 

“Come on darlin’ tell me whatcha want.” Ghoul grabbed at the edge of her pants pulling them slowly down.

“Just-” Her voice cracked.

“Come on. Say it.” He growled, pulling them a little further down. Her hips moving and wiggling trying to get him to take them off.

“I want you to lick me.” She swallowed looking down at him eyes so dark 

The man grinned, yanking her pants down. Leaving her underwear on, he pushes his shoulder in between her knees pressing his face against her. Breathing her in, she smells so good. 

Lucy lets out gasp her knees pushing against the side of his head as her ankles lock behind his head. His tongue flicked out to go over the thin fabric. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Lucy let out a few strangled sounds as her hands grasped for purchase. He sucked at the wetness coming out through the underwear. 

“Say it.” 

“Ohmy, if you-” She choked again as he kept sucking. “Please- ughn- I want to feel your tongue in me please.” 

“Good girl,” He grinned using a finger to push the thin fabric aside he leaned in and ran his tongue along her. She tasted so good, he groaned and sucked on her lips. Before sliding his tongue down using his fingers to separate her folds, she was dripping as licked in there. Her fingers gripped the sides of his head, as her back arched up pushing him forward. He moved his hands under her ass, lifting her hips towards his face. 

“Oh, don’t stop.” She trembled her body, vibrating as he licked inside of her. 

He pulled his head away licking at his tattered lips and sitting back to admire her. Lucy’s legs trembled as he pulled her underwear off, leaning in to nip at her thighs. She cried out as he left a line of marks up where her thigh and hips met. 

Lucy pushed herself up, staring at him, her eyes lidded, lips red and swollen. “If you don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Cooper hummed, taking his fingers to run up and down between her lips.

Her eyes rolled and she shuttered,” Torturing me,” Her words were stuttered and hardy formed as a finger sunk into the wetness. 

“Not torturing you,” He hushed, “No gulper bait here.”

She gasped as he pushed back and up, hitting a soft spongy spot that made her toes clench.

“Motherfucker,” Lucy gasped as her hips started to push down onto his finger.

The Ghoul leaned forward sucking at her clit as he pushed another finger in slowly. Purposefully dragging it out, making her keen and grabbed at the bed as he scissored and edged her. He watched her for a moment more before he began to a steady pace the wet sounds filling the tiny room. Her hips rolling with him, insides sucking him further in and squeezing tightly.

“That’s it, let it go.” He murmured licking and sucking against her clit. 

Her legs began to shake as her fluids gushed forward as his fingers kept going until she was trying to push him away. 

—

Lucy was a puddle, and there was actually a puddle under her ass at the moment. The damn man between her legs was going to kill her. Nothing in her very small sexual history had felt like that.

Cooper rested his bald head against her thigh as he lazily made circles around the bruises. Then he was moving before she had time to recuperate, his pants clattering to the floor as he snatched that hat off her head. 

“Think this belongs to me, little lady.” He grinned down at her, gold eyes almost black as he pushed his hips forward against her. 

Reaching up she pulled him down on top of her, she was so overstimulated but the hard line of his cock against her was making her want more.  Damnit if she didn’t want it right now. She rolled her hips up and kissed along his jaw. She could taste herself on him, they tasted so good together. 

“Fuck me,” She whispered into his ear taking the lob into her mouth, her hand found away between them fingers running over his hard length. 

“Come again,” He grinned and sucked at a new mark along her neck. 

Her toes curled as she stroked him, fingers pushing at the slit on top making his hips stuttered forward. 

“Fuck me, Cooper,” She said into his ear as her hand tried to get him where she wanted him to be.

He leaned back looking down at her like he had never seen her before, as if he was trying to memorize her features. Then he pushed his way in, and both their mouths opened slightly. The girth made her inside ache as he seated himself as deep as he could go. They stretched a hot fire that made her inside shiver. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.” He groaned and began to pull out, Lucy immediately wrapped her legs around his hips trying to get him pushed back in. 

“Nuh-uh,” He grinned as he grabbed her legs and bent her in half. He slid back out and then slammed himself back in making Lucy see stars as he bottomed out. “I am in control here.”

Each word was punctuated with a snap of his hips, Lucy felt like her brain had gone foggy, her mouth hanging open as she pushed back against him. His pace started to increase as he held onto her hips bouncing off of her hips, her breast bouncing. She let her fingers grab at her nipples pulling at them, how was she so close already? Heat spills into her stomach as another orgasm builds up again. 

“I am gonna-” 

He pulled himself out, making her scrambled to try and get him back. The Ghoul placed one large hand on her stomach holding Lucy in place. Cooper grinned from under his hat the tip of his penis sitting right at the entrance. 

“Told you, Princess. I am in control.” 

Lucy growled fighting herself up from under him rolling so that she was on top of him. She grabbed his cock without a second thought and pushed it back in. 

“Oh, oh yes,” Lucy groaned, tipping her head back as she started to move her hips in circles. His hands grabbing at her breast, squeezing, started to move his hips up against her. She tucked her legs a little, hands on his scared stomach pushing herself up and ridding him as he fucked her. 

The heat built as the man’s fingers rubbed at her clit. There was no stopping it now heat uncoiling as her hips moved wet making his dick slip in and out with slick wet sounds. Lucy’s voice came in as she called out his name, her second orgasm making her tremble and bite her lip hard enough that she felt blood. 

Cooper took the opportunity to roll them again, one hand grabbing both of hers and pinning her to the bed. He bit onto her collarbone hard enough to make her wonder if he was going to take a chunk out of her. His hips snapped so quickly as his other hand held her hips close, his eyes rolling close as his own pleasure slipped deep into her. Hips stuttered from overstimulation in jerky motions till he stilled. The Ghoul let go of his bite, a deep mark blooming, his head resting over her pounding heart. His tongue licked out over his lips.

Then he was up, Lucy groaned. Trying to get him to come back, she watched as he walked over to his saddle bag. Muscled body moving swiftly as it dug around for something. She sighed staring up at the ceiling. Her body hurt in many different ways. The marks would be visible for days. Lucy’s fingers came up and felt at the one on her collarbone, clear indents where his teeth had sunk in. Her face flushed realizing that everyone would be able to see that.

The bed dipped and Cooper handed her a bottle, the label was barely readable ‘Rad-x’. Reaching across he also grabbed the flask with water.

“Take two,” He said firmly before getting up again despite her small whines of annoyance. 

She looked the bottle over and uncapped it, taking out two of the pills. They smelled awful, not nearly as awful as some of the bugs she’d eaten. She popped both in and swallowed, they burnt a little but it could have been worse. Sighing she stared at the ceiling, it was stained. Lucy rubbed her face as Cooper came back in with a towel. 

His hand grabbed her ankle and he dragged her to the edge of the bed. She squeaked as he spread her legs and started to clean her. Biting her lip she watched as he carefully wiped her down. Leaning in to kiss the bruises before he tossed the rag into a corner. 

“Thank you,” She giggled, reaching for him, he climbed in dragging her to his chest.

“Anything for you. Life's too short."

I may come back to this, I haven't decided yet. But I like it where it is fo now.  

Let me know! Thanks for reading. More to come <3

[snippychicke]

Hi, according to one of your posts you are open to suggestions concerning Kuro to teach you to understand the character a little better, so I propose this idea :

In the manga, Kuro can no longer stand being a pirate because of the altercations constants of the Marine and organizes his own death to be peaceful. So I propose a Kuro/Reader fanfiction where Kuro wants to organize his death but faced with the reader's dismay he realizes that the reader loves him and a story is created in them (why not a story with a little NSFW).

Thank you very much for your work, I really like it! 🖤

Thank you so much! I really hope what I ended up writing. Not too especially spicy, however.

Being the cook of the Bezan Black meant you heard everything. Even though you were usually cooped up in the kitchen, making food for all of the crew as well as your captain, the crew would wander in for food and drink and usually felt comfortable talking to one of the few women on the ship, especially since you weren't seen as one of the dangerous ones. 

Little did they know, you reported right back to the captain anything you heard, happy to be his little mouse. 

You were actually one of the few in his trusted inner circle besides his First Mate Jango and the 'Nyaban twins' Buchi and Sham. Well, truthfully, you felt as if you were possibly the most trusted by the captain. 

You knew Kuro trusted no one. How could he, when he was one of the most feared pirates in the East Blue, as well as the most targeted by bounty hunters and marines alike. 

But… he trusted you enough to cook for him, which was a high honor. 

"Mouse!" Jango called as he entered, closing the kitchen door behind him that you usually kept open. You watched rather confused as he checked every inch of the galley as if looking for someone. 

Or something. 

"Is… something wrong?" You asked once Jango seemed satisfied with his search. 

"You and the Cap'n are close," he said softly as he slinked backwards towards you, only pausing when his back was pressed against your shoulder. (Such a drama king, Jango. But you were used to his eccentricities.) 

"You could say that," you answered hesitantly, returning back to the roast you were cubing.

 Jango was Kuro's right-hand man, but Kuro's paranoia had rubbed off on you enough that if anyone started asking vague open-ended questions, you were wary. 

"...have you heard about his latest plot?" 

You scoffed out of habit. "Jango, we both know the Cap'n has a dozen plans going at once. You're going to have to be a little more specific, and even then I probably won't know." 

If anything, the blond hypnotist tensed further. "What about the plan to die?"

You missed the meat and sliced your own finger. 

~*~

Kuro leaned in his chair, his distant gaze looking out the port window as he thought. So many variables to consider.

His last great plan. 

No more looking over his shoulder. No more  worrying of someone burying a knife in his back. Or killing in his sleep. 

It sounded better than any treasure he had seen on through his career. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a timid knock at his door. A glance at the clock confirmed his suspicions. His little mouse, right on time.

"Enter," he called out, moving enough to watch you carefully opening the door, one hand carefully holding a dinner tray. 

"Evening, cap'n," you greeted as softly as usual, closing the door behind you before setting the tray on the table. 

"Good evening, my little mouse." He smiled to himself as he watched you blush. You were such an adorable thing, so unsuited for a pirate's life, yet you survived. Flourished. 

Something twisted in his stomach as a new idea crossed his mind. 

His plan would involve leaving you. The one he was able to keep close without fear, because you were so meek and loyal. 

His crew would slaughter you once he was gone. His protection kept you safe. Without that threat…

He pushed that thought away to deal with later as he noticed how nervous you were--more so than normal. Then he noticed the bandages on your fingers, red with blood. 

You went to try and hide,but he quickly grabbed your hand, yanking you closer. "What happened." 

"I-I just cut my fingers cutting a roast." 

Kuro wanted to call a lie, especially consider knew your had more skill and finesse with your knives than he had with his claws. You had full conversations with him before, your eyes rarely looking while you finely minced and diced. 

"Why?" He asked instead. 

You shifted guilty, "Jango came to talk with me and said-and told me about your plan."

Of course. Jango had been startled, and while he wouldn't talk to anyone, he would talk to you. "Of course. What did he say?" 

He let you go and turned to the meal you had prepared. Amazing, as usual. What you had been doing in the dingy little port bar, he had no idea. You deserved to be in some five-star restuant as head chef. 

"You-you want to… die?" 

You sounded so stricken, tears in your eyes when he looked up at you again. Your knuckles were white as you clenched your fists at your side, your head was to the side as if avoiding his gaze. "I-I… sir, please…I don't know if… if I could stand that." 

Kuro was stunned for a moment as you silently cried. Jango had only told you half the plan? And you were affected this much? 

He didn't think. Kuro stood and cupped your chin to make you look at him. "Dear little mouse, you have it wrong." 

Oh. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. He had been aware of his attraction to you, but seeing you like this, looking up at him like this… your eyes wide and watery, your expression pleading. He could see where you been biting your own lips, causing them to be a little more swollen.

"I'm going to fake my death," he said softly, trying to ignore the feelings tumbling in his chest. "I don't actually plan on dying." 

The relief in your expression in your eyes, was enough to make his breath hitch. Or maybe it was because you overcame your usual shyness and impulsively wrapped your arms around him in a hug. 

"Oh thank god!" You swore into his chest. "I was so worried, so scared!" 

Kuro slowly relaxed into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you even closer. Do you really care for him that much? You were his most loyal, most devoted crew member, but didn't imagine you had this much emotion dedicated to him. 

Leaving you behind would be unacceptable. there was absolutely no way he could abandon you. 

"You have a choice," he spoke. "You can stay as part of the Black Cat crew, or you can come with me." 

You had no idea what the plan was. None at all, yet there eas no hesitancy as you looked up at him. "I want to be with you, sir." 

Kuro's lips captured your before he could allow himself to second-guess. Yet you instantly melted against him, fingers reaching up to tease the hair at the nape of his neck as you returned his kiss. You parted your lips for him, allowing him whatever he wanted. 

His perfect little mouse. 

He had been aching for you for such a long time it felt like all control was lost as he picked you up and placed you on the table, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, his hips flushed with yours. He didn't care for his meal still waiting for him, not when he was able to taste you. 

He'd steal you away once more. He'd abandon the rest of the crew, leave this life of uncertainty behind him, but you he would keep. 

[trivialbob]

Yesterday Sheila and I rode bikes on an 18-mile loop we like through Minneapolis. It took us three hours.

Two miles im my front tire popped. I have no idea what I ran over, but the tire was flat before I came to a stop.

Luckily I had tools, a pump, and a spare tube. It's been a while since I changed a tube. This time I accomplished the task in under five minutes, barely getting my hands dirty.

With that taken care of we re-started the ride. The Minneapolis Greenway is in better shape that previous years. The path has been repaved and re-striped. No tents were set up along the way.

When we got off the Greenway we went to one of my favorite local bike shops, Hub Bike Coop. Sheila pet the dog that was in there; I looked at bikes and bought two new tubes for spares (one for each of our bikes).

Years ago I put a Hub Bike Coop sticker on my old Corolla. Matt ended up with that car. The Hub sticker and another for the University of Wisconsin remained on the car while Matt lived in New York, Connecticut, and New Hampshire. It's a Corolla, so despite being nearly two decades years old I like to think that little blue car with my two stickers is still banging around somewhere on the east coast.

From the bike shop we pedaled south to Venn Brewing. An Australian Shepherd and three other dogs were inside. Sheila pet all of them. For her drink she ordered a Fruited Plains: Grapefruite Wheat. After taking a sip of it, I ordered the same thing. Wow, what an excellent beer on a warm day while biking.

Then we headed south and east to Lake Nokomis. There's a concession stand there where we've ordered beer before. Yesterday we saw a sign posted by the counter stating no beer and wine sales.

The place had been serving alcohol illegally for 12 years. Someone finally noticed that there isn't sufficient "covered seating" to allow beer and wine sales. Good thing after a dozen years of alcoholic chaos someone put an end to that madness and pulled the liquor license.

Still thirsty, we headed west along Minnehaha Parkway to Chicago Ave. Then it was just two blocks north to the Town Hall Tap. Sheila had a blood orange lager while I went with the Masala Mama IPA.

We sat at a table on the front sidewalk and split an appetizer. People watching was decent. Sheila, however, thought it was "people talking." She had nice comments for everyone who walked by.

"Oh I like that dress you're wearing." The woman in it was flattered and chatted with Sheila briefly.

"That's a cool tattoo." That woman also stopped to talk with Sheila, explaining how there was still a lot of coloring to be added to it and what it was going to look like. The tattoo parlor two storefronts away.

"Those are nice sandals. Are the straps a light auburn brown, or is that a darker eggshell (free range, not grocery store egg)?"

Now do you understand why it took us three hours to complete the loop?

Next door to Town Hall Tap is a theater. An old movie projector sits in front of the building. A theater employee told me it had been in use there from about 1945 to 1965.

Next to the theater is the Creekside Supper Club. As Sheila talked to everyone walking down Chicago Avenue, I went over to check the supper club's menu. Next time we are in that neighborhood I want to eat there. Maybe I can also find out how that woman's tattoo coloring is coming along.

Finally we paid our tab. Sheila said goodbye to all her new friends and acquaintances. Then we rode more of Minnehaha Parkway over to Lake Harriet where the car was parked. We thought about getting a beer at the Lake Harriet concession stand (which apparently does have sufficient covered seating). But after seeing all the bike shop and brewery dogs, we wanted to get home to our dogs.

At home we swapped two bikes for three Aussies and went to our local brewery. Sheila went to get us a beer. Oliver, Sulley, and Ella would not stop staring in the direction she went. Sheila always comes back, but they don't trust me on that.

The food truck on site served pizza. We didn't want any. The dogs had other ideas.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Supernatural Special

Sam & Dean Winchester

Summary: Sam finds a thread of odd coincidences and happenings in a small town on the East Coast. Maybe this is just what they need to get back on their feet. With a lack of evidence and fickle leads, will Dean take him up on the case?

Warnings: None.

Words: 414

A/N: Literally have had this in Google Docs since... let's see- January 2018. I decided to rewrite some of the parts I thought needed more clarification or editing, anyway, enjoy!

“Dean, I just picked up a case. It seems pretty sketchy so I did some research on it and found that this place has a whole reputation for weird things like this, get a look," Sam tells Dean.

Turning the laptop around to face his brother as the man sets down the grocery bags he was carrying, having just come back from the store. Dean reads over the information quickly, looking at the pictures, contemplating it. “Come on Dean, we’ve been cooped up in here for days! Plus, who doesn’t love a little road trip?” Sam jokes as Dean finally takes him in.

“Mm… Yeah, fine. Let’s do it.” He answers blandly as he picks up his bags again and walks towards the kitchen.

“That’s it? No argument, just a flat-out ‘sure’? No, ‘this seems sketchy, how’d you get wind of this’?” Sam laughs, having not expected him to go on a case with such little evidence and very fickle circumstances of stumbling onto it.

“Yup. That’s it.” Dean sets the bags on the counter and starts to open the cupboards, putting away the food. “I mean, do I think it’s risky? Absolutely. Do I want to know how you found this case? Well, I could probably go ahead and guess it was some conspiracy website you found it on, so… not much of a stretch for your typical ‘Sam’ here. But a road trip, Sammy? Seriously? I mean, you and I both know those never end too well with us. I’m up for a go if you are, cause, why not?”

What Dean’s saying is actually not what he expected, but then again- Dean hasn’t been one to live up to set expectations. He’s not really lazy anymore- he cleans, he cooks, he frickin shops- I mean, I don’t know what’s gotten into him but I have to say that I don’t mind. “I’ll make lunch and then you can pack and we’ll head out tomorrow morning, how bout that?” Dean offers as he closes the fridge, done putting away the newly bought food.

The next morning they get up early to make it to their destination in good time. Sam lugs the duffel bags out to the car and throw them into the back before slamming the door. Climbing into the passengers seat, Dean waits in the driver's, “So… Where is this place, anyways?” Dean asks as he pulls out of the Bunker’s garage.

“Some town in Pennsylvania- it’s called Silent Hill.”

~~~~~~~~

taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[veale2006-blog]

Do you really believe that Donald John Trump supports or supported our enemies? LOL With a $770 Billion dollar defense budget, never started ANY wars, talks about ending defense contractors and lobbyists because they make excuses to keep us in stupid wars, Sword Ceremony in Saudi Arabia, walked into North Korea - FIRST President to do so and didn't start a Nuclear War, he dropped the MOAB on Afghanistan, wiped out the Caliphate and destroyed ISIS, and the list can continue, established the Abraham Accords aka Peace in the Middle East - Oh ye of short memories. 

Insubordination definition: defiance of authority; refusal to obey orders.

Insubordination LOLOLOL as Commander-in-Chief, he is the Authority. He's the very top of the 'food chain' in the Chain of Command. 

None of the other UNDER the Espionage Act applies when the premise of the Act is checked off. They're showing the whole world via the "Documents" that were shown that there's a Military Operation that's been taking place and it's all already in public information and view, one must critically think versus watch a 30 second TikTok video and also differentiate who's got your best interest versus ALL the podcasters out there wanting a platform for other reasons. 

The other thing is… by allowing the Courts to take actual current and live Documents, that allows ALL Presidential Documents to be UNSEALED. Hence CIC DJT's truth that the "Seal" has been broken with "Seal" in quotations. Those people out there who think 'Q' is a 'Conspiracy Theory' and don't want to understand Military Intelligence and Comms. The Q Drops on the "Seal" to the day are mirror images written in 2018 and 2019. 

There must be a 'value' put on learning the truth before documents are or have to be unsealed. Majority of Americans need to value, appreciate, and take pride in the Foundation of America. Which means Americans need to learn the difference in Politics and Government… and understand the line was drawn in the sand in 2016 by the United States Military Generals with a World Alliance who are in operations to obliterate the Deep State aka the Swamp to drain that political side where 'we the people' can take back our Government with Checks n' Balances our Founders put into place where it doesn't create this crap show effect of the multilayered divisions and splitting of hairs. 

This isn't just another 4 years of Politics. Everyone's watching the most brilliant Chess game played, and it's all been planned for a LONG time, and the good guys are in control. 

They literally just showed the whole world the Military's been in Operations with the COG now known as COOP which are found in the most recent issue of the FCDs, April 2023, consistent with DONALD JOHN TRUMP'S Executive Order 13961, the Federal Mission Resilience Strategy, that too, outlines National Essential Functions of the 3 Branches of Government 

Time to wake up and start using the critical thinking of your brains again. #MakeBrainsStrongAgain 🇺🇸

[kaynothanks]

Menaces And Monsters

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: It was early on when you found that being cooped up in a settlement was more horror for you than the horror that was awaiting you outside the high walls. So, you packed your bags and got on the road, only to find yourself stuck in a small town with a rugged stranger on a roof and a herd of hungry dead just below.

Warnings: blood, walkers, Daryl with his longer shaggy season-six-to-eleven hair (because I feel like that should be a warning), a bit of an undefined age gap, angst :(, killing of non-walkers, reader with major commitment issues, fluff, cursing

Word-Count: + 21k

Life… Life was complicated. It was filled with pain, sorrow, thoughts, love, worry, death – but looking at the way your life had been in the past few months, reminded you of these few nights you had spent crying in your bed, feeling everything and nothing. Lately, it had been more everything than nothing. The loneliness scratching at the inside of your chest was more prominent than it had ever been before. Sure, you had been alone quite a lot of times over the years. Even before the lost souls came back to terrorize the human race.

You remembered life in the forgone world faintly. Perhaps you just hadn't paid enough attention to the things you would now give your last can of food to see for the first time. New York City at night with its flashy lights? God, you definitely had regrets. Everything you got to see nowadays was the woods or streets littered with broken cars or undead people.

Between all of your slip-ups and regrets, you could not find leaving your settlement in them. You had hated your settlement with a fiery passion coursing through your veins. The constant arguing and the constant fight for dominance, which in the end was never won by anyone. It drove you insane. So, you left – with nothing but two guns, a handful of knives, and a few cans of food that wouldn't be missed.

The loneliness you were feeling wasn't at all because you had left your settlement, nor was it that there was no one to talk to. It was the quiet. When you left, you had expected some sense of adventure, wanting to encounter something great, but it seemed like the world wanted to keep you wrapped in bubble wrap. Somehow wandering these woods alone has been easy for you. No ghouls – as your settlement had called the living dead – no people, no voices and almost no animals either, which was the reason for the unstoppable growl coming from your tummy.

You remembered one specific night at the settlement when you had prayed into the nothingness of the dark, while you listened to two men from your settlement argue about who had shot the most ghouls, that everything would just be quiet for once. You hadn't expected your wish to come true – at least not like this. You hated it, loathed it. It made you want to be one of the living dead. They had nothing to worry about. Their life was all about walking, growling, and… well… more growling.

A sigh escaped your lips when the loud sound from your tummy came back once more. The food in your backpack had run out three days ago and you were not about to eat bugs. No, you needed to go on a supply run, urgently. You had spent almost a year in the settlement, where people had been assigned their tasks and you had not gotten the job of a scout but the one of cook. They didn't care that you had no experience in that area whatsoever, neither did they know that you were in college when the world was overrun and lived off of pizza rolls and Lunchables.

You would have been so much better off as a scout. Not only were you a great shot, but you had been sauntering the dead-befallen streets on your own for quite some time before you had chosen to join the settlement. When you first made up your plan to run from your settlement, you had started speaking to different scouts, asking questions about where they preferred to go when they were going out for supplies. At least you knew not to head east, but west instead. It wasn't the best idea to cross paths with one of them, seeing as you had stocked your backpack with everything you had found and just disappeared in the middle of the night. There was a rule that they had made up, that if anyone wanted to leave, they would have to do it barehanded. No food, no weapons, and only thin clothing that did nothing to protect one from the cold of the night.

You just needed to find a few houses, maybe a town you could hopefully successfully raid. With a walking stick in your hand, that you planned to make into a weapon, you jogged in the direction of the street. It was smarter to travel on the side of the road, where the ground was even and it was less exhausting to walk for a longer period of time. At least you thought it was smarter until you heard the loud roaring of a motorcycle engine. Your heart skipped a beat, as your feet did quick work of rushing back. Well, you had the intention of stepping back to hide, but your foot caught on a root. You let out the quietest yelp you could muster as gravity took over. Your behind hit the mossy wet ground first, followed by your back as the world turned upside down for a second until your knees were pressed into the moss. You tried standing when the momentum brought you to your feet, but you lost balance and toppled over, landing you back on your back.

A defeated sigh left your mouth, your eyes staring up at the treetops and the clear sky. Grumbling, you rolled over, pushing yourself up with the help of a tree, a few curses tumbling from your tongue before you blew some loose strand of your hair out of your eyes. You checked if all your weapons were still in the holsters, ere you grabbed the relatively straight walking stick. For a second you listened quietly for any sign of the unknown traveler, but it seemed as though he had neither seen nor heard you.

You were quietly humming a song that had been stuck in your head, repeating it over and over again, until your feet started to hurt and you wanted nothing more than to take a break. Sweat covered your forehead and the dryness in your throat made swallowing uncomfortable. Groaning sounded behind you, as a dragging of feet followed. You turned around just in time to see a ghoul stumbling mere feet behind you, pulling out your knife and ending its undead life once and for all. The rotten blood you wiped on your already dirty pants, not caring a bit that you had only one other pair to change into, which, granted, wasn't the cleanest either.

By the time you reached civilization – or more like what was left of it – your shirt was soaked in sweat, the hair at the back of your neck drenched. With a sigh you shoved back the exhaustion clawing at the back of your mind, arming yourself with the gun in one hand and the knife in the other. Your eyes scanned over the town, seeing a ghoul stumble into a backstreet, without noticing you. Some cars were scattered on the otherwise empty streets and some of the shop windows were broken in. For a second you tried looking for the name of the town you were in, wanting to note the name in your journal like you always did when finding someplace you had never been before, but that thought quickly vanished, when you spotted the pharmacy, that was almost across from you.

Looking over your shoulder once more, you headed straight for it. Its windows were dirty, so dirty, you could not tell if the dead were waiting inside or not. Knife still in hand, you wiped as well as you could at the grime, peering inside, coming face to face with a ghoul that tumbled into the window. Stumbling back in shock, a string of curses flew out your mouth, your heartbeat was sent into overdrive. You had encountered enough of them to not be scared of them, but still, you could be scared by them. Shaking off the prickly feeling you mustered the ghoul. Its skin had started to rot off on one side of his face, hair had fallen out in most places and a few patches of flesh missing from his throat. Whatever ghoul did that to him, took the term "love bites" a bit too seriously.

You waited a bit, wanting to see if there were more of them inside, but none followed. So, you went off the front door, pulling it back and stepping behind it, as the ghoul stumbled out. You whirled out from behind the door, smashing your knife through his right eye, ere he could let out another groan. Pulling the knife back out, you let out an annoyed grunt at the ghoul dropping right in front of the entrance with the door closed. You waved your knife through the air, trying to get some of the blood off, before wiping it off on your pants. Your nose scrunched up, making a mental note, to find a clothing store right after. Sticking the gun and knife into the make-shift holster on your belt, you grabbed the ghoul's legs, pulling him away from the door. Inside, you walked from shelf to shelf, looking at the different labels, and even though it was obvious that someone had been in here, it was still quite stocked. You swung the pack from your back, grabbing a few bottles of vitamins, ere moving on to grab a bottle of some special deodorant. You did not care what special gadgets it had, if it masked the smell of your sweat, you were fine with it.

Hopping over the counter, you took a look at those shelves, too, searching for antibiotics and painkillers. Surprisingly, you found more bottles than you had hoped for or hoped you would ever need.

You were about to put the small bottles into your backpack when an almost silent click sounded behind you. Whirling around you lifted your knife, ready to stab whatever or whoever had been sneaking up, when you came face to face with the tip of an arrow ducked into a crossbow, that was pointed right at you. Unconsciously, your mouth opened a tat, trying to sort through everything that was running through your mind at the moment. It took you a few seconds, to actually register, that this in front of you, really was a crossbow. You hadn't seen a single person running around with one of those these days. Hadn't expected to either. And now it was being pointed at you, by a man, that looked like he hadn't seen a shower in a very long time. But then again, neither had you. Not saying a word, you let your eyes wander behind the bow and over his features.

His hair was long and shaggy, a few brown strands hanging into his eyes. You could barely make out the color, but even when hidden behind hair, you could catch streaks of a pretty blue color.

"Gimme those."

You blinked at him, shaken out of your trance of surprise. Your eyes fell onto the medication you were holding and back to him. "Um," you made, completely lost on what to do in this situation. Obviously, you could not tell him straight up "no", or an arrow would fly through your head, but you wouldn't just give up your find like that. "I… I have a gun?" You cringed at yourself.

"Now, girl."

Before you had even really registered what you were doing, you hurled one of the bottles at his head, gripping your backpack and bouncing for the door as fast as you could. Behind you, the gruff of a man let out a curse that could have made milk curdle, as the bottle hit home.

You were barely out the door when it was ripped open behind you. "Ya'd better stop, girl, or I'll shoot cha," the man grumbled. It was loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for any ghouls to pick up on it. "Turn around."

"Bossy, aren't you?" You retorted. If you were going to die, you were at least going fake some kind of courage. "Couldn't hang a please on there somewhere?"

"Gimme the meds."

"How about you take that fancy bow of yours out of my face first?"

"Ain't happening."

"Well, I'm not giving you the medication either."

"Ain't nobody gotta get hurt, just hand over the damn meds."

"You know what, Mr. Crossbowman, bite me," you pushed out of your mouth, not quite sure if you were about to faint from fear or because of what you were daring to say to the redneck man in front of you, as you forced your feet to work and turn your back to him again. Something in your mind was reassuring you, that he wouldn't just shoot you like that, that some part of humanity still remained in the living, even with the dead walking among them, even if it was just a fool's hope. When suddenly an arrow flew past your shoulder, stopping you dead in your tracks. "I'm going, to be honest, I somehow did see this coming."

"I ain't gonna warn ya again," he grunted as he gripped your arm, turning you back around, grabbing at the bottles.

"Hey- man-" You pulled back, pushing at him. "Let go of me or I will…I will- I will punch you." With all the might you had left in you, you shoved him away from you, although you were sure he let you. "If you want meds so damn bad, then go search for some yourself." You didn't even have a chance to protest, as he sheathed his crossbow onto his back and grabbed you again. Your eyes widened as a hand pushed against your mouth, pulling you back into an ally. Curses left his lips, followed by some muttering about a herd, as he pulled you further until you could make out a dark green ladder of a fire escape from the corner of your eye. He shoved you towards it, nodding upward.

"Climb, now," he growled, but silenced as he seemed to listen for something you couldn't hear? Was he so concerned about a few walkers groaning? "Or don't, whatever, ain't my problem," he shrugged and pushed past you.

You were left gaping after him, as he pulled himself up a few steps. "I thought you wanted the meds?"

He shrugged again, looking over his shoulders. "Easier to pry them off of yer dead body later." He turned back. "Or what's gonna be left of it."

"What… What are you talking about?"

"Herd's coming. ‘S already here, actually."

"What herd?"

"The dead, girl! Where ya been living?" Without waiting for what you were going to say, he continued climbing until he had almost reached the roof. "You coming or what?"

You looked over your shoulder just as a ghoul stumbled into the alley, following the sound of talking. About to pull out your knife from the holster, you stopped and listened as more growls were carried through the air. Listening more closely, it didn't only sound like a few ghouls, but dozens. Your gaze fell to the roof, where the stranger had vanished, as your legs started moving without wasting another thought, hastily pushing the rest of the bottles into your backpack.

The stranger was kneeling at the edge of the roof, peering over the three feet high stone, that was lining the edge, crossbow beside him. You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Why did you help me?" He grunted, saying nothing more. You nodded. "Alright then." Reluctantly, you wandered up to the edge of the roof beside him, daring to take a peek at what he was so intently staring at. Your mouth opened in complete bafflement at the scene playing out mere meters below your feet. "Oh my…" Your hand crept up to your mouth, pressing against it, scared to make even the tiniest sound, which would make this situation a whole lot uglier than it already was.

"Damn walkers changed course," the low voice declared from your right.

"You've seen this before?" You whispered back to the man, your eyes white.

"Woman, where ya been hiding this last decade?"

"Thank god not wherever you were," you huffed, eyes falling from ghoul to ghoul. "I have never seen half so many ghouls in one place."

"Ghouls?"

"Yeah," you nodded down. "You know… flesh-eating monsters. Thought it was quite fitting ‘cause… you know… they eat flesh." Eyes falling to him, you lifted your eyebrow. "And you call them-"

"Walkers."

"Yeah. That's… smart," you mused quietly. "Inventive." Whispering, you swung the backpack off of your back, getting a glimpse of the meds inside. "Were you looking for the meds because you wanted to stack up, or because you actually need them?"

You could see him eyeing you from the corner of his eye. "Ain't none of ya business."

"I'd say it is very much my business, ‘cause these meds are mine and unless you wanna get a bullet wound - which you would need these meds for, too - you might want to tell me."

"You threatening me?"

"Obviously."

He seemed to be pondering over it for a second, waging whether or whether not he was able to trust you, but then let out a grunt, that sounded somewhat like approval to your ears. "Some people are sick,"

"Settlement?" You questioned, crossing your arms as he stood, shouldering his crossbow. Seeing his brooding look at your question, you lifted one brow. "Not used to conversation? Cause just f-y-i that's how it's done." He didn't even make a move to comment. "Let's make a deal." His eyes narrowed, as he shifted from one foot to the other, letting his right arm hang beside him. "We will share. You get however many you need if we make it out of this alive."

"And whatcha gettin' out of this?"

"Alive- if you are any good at this." You pointed at his crossbow and turned away from him - showing that against all odds, you did not think him to be a danger to you, even giving him a chance to attack you, and crouched down to retrieve your water bottle. A sigh left your mouth at the lack of fluid in it, as you shoved it back into your pack with disappointment. You had barely turned back to him when a can of water was thrown in your direction. Caught off guard, you opened your hands, at last, trying not to let it fall to the floor until you were clutching it against your chest. You cleared your throat. "Thank you." Unscrewing the cap of the can, you hastily swallowed a few gulps, stopping when you noticed it was probably all that he had left. Even when there was no water left in your mouth, you swallowed once more, putting the cap back on the can, and walked up to him.

He was looking down at you with watchful eyes as you extended the can back to him. A grunt left his throat. You blinked at him. "Alright," you said, moving past him to check on the situation below again. You didn't need his help. Honestly, you didn't. You could have just bagged the medicine and fled the scene, but whatever glint was in his eyes was stopping you from doing exactly that. Also, if it was true what he said about the sick people in his settlement, you did not want to be the reason they would end up dead. He would get the antibiotics and somebody to watch his back while he was at it. "How often did you see something like this?"

A shrug of his shoulders. "Few times. This one ain't as big as the others though."

"So, what do you want to do? Wait it out?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "Ain't got the time to sit on my ass and to nothin'."

You huffed out a breath, wanting to get on with your journey already. Actually, you wanted to get on with your search for food and other essentials. "So we divert them west. Got a problem with that, too?"

"Oh yeah, smart-ass, do it then, if it's so goddamn easy."

You could not for the life of you work with him. It was impossible. Granted, two minutes ago you thought he was a half-decent guy, but Christ - you were wrong. You dug into your backpack, taking out about half of the bottles, throwing them at his feet, ere you gripped the strap of the pack. "Good luck, or whatever," you mumbled, walking toward the other side of the building, that held the fire escape which you had climbed up previously. Instead of climbing down, you threw the backpack to the roof of the building across from you. Your pulse thrummed in anticipation, as you started walking backward.

"Ya insane or omething'? There ain't no way you're gonna make that jump."

From the corner of your eye, you saw him taking a step towards you, but before he could get too close, you took off in a run. Reaching the edge, you jumped. You had done this countless times before you had joined your latest settlement. You had had all but a sharp kitchen knife and didn't want to risk an encounter with a ghoul. You were a few years younger then and it seemed a lot more coordinated, too, as your hands barely caught the other building. A low grunt left your mouth, as your feet scratched at the stone walls, trying to ease the strain on your arms as you struggled to pull yourself up. God, the time you had spent inside the settlement walls had really made you soft. You could have easily managed this jump and wider ones before. Your breathing had quickened and your heartbeat increased when you finally managed to heave yourself up. The relief you felt when your feet were safely on the roof was about the same amount as the satisfaction you got when you looked over your shoulder at the man who stared after you.

Once more you walked to the side of the building where the fire escape would be and looked down, seeing nothing but a single ghoul. A slight grin crept onto your lips as you got your knife and put the handle between your lips. Leaving your backpack on the roof, you started climbing down the fire escape. Within seconds the ghoul was lifelessly laying on the ground. You hurriedly rammed your knife into his torso, cutting downward until his insides were on display. At once you stopped breathing through your nose, the stench close to making you gag. Your face contorted by itself, as you scooped up the first bit of ghoul guts and spread them on yourself. Their rotten smell was hard to endure when they were not cut open, but now with no barrier between the foul insides, it stank like you imagined an old cadaver would, that had been left in the brooding hot sun for months.

Covered up to your neck, with a few streaks of dark red on your face, you snuck down the alley, to the grey van you had seen standing there. It would have been no problem to just act like one of the dead and stumble and groan on, but you still wanted to get the supplies you needed – without having to walk the speed of a snail.

You opened the luckily unlocked door of the vehicle and loosened the handbrake, pushing the car forward. The car kept rolling slowly beside you, as you kept pushing until you had reached the farthest building, just as a few ghouls stumbled through the alleyways. Tumbling around like one of them, you pulled your knife and quickly stabbed one of the ghouls in the back of the head, catching him before he could fall to the ground. You put his arms around you and started pulling him towards the fire escape of the building, where the car was now parked. With the ripped fabric of the ghoul's clothes, you tied his hands, so they were secured around your neck from behind, as you started climbing the green ladder. The extra weight on your back made small beads of sweat appear on your forehead, as you pushed the dead body you carried onto the roof, climbing down again right afterward.

With watchful eyes, you wandered by the ghouls, steering toward the small shops, searching for a grocery store. You didn't care that there could be ghouls inside, the stank you gave off now, too, enough to mask you for sure. The food that was left on the shelves made your mouth tingle uncomfortably, as you passed it without stopping, your tummy growling angrily. This seemed to have gotten the attention of a few ghouls that were strewn in the shop. Hungry growls and groans followed the commotion of footsteps. You let out a groan yourself, more so at the annoyance that coursed through rather than trying to act like one of them. They took in a whiff of the air, smelling for anything alive enough to take as their next meal. You stilled, your hand slowly inching towards your knife. But they did not attack. Each of them let out another short groan, ere they stumbled on.

You made sure you had a slight limp in your step as you stumbled towards the liquor shelves. Taking out four bottles with an alcohol content of over 40 %, you shoved them under your shirt and turned back to the door, where several of the dead were blocking your exit. Another annoyed sound tumbled from your lips as you stopped in your tracks. With a roll of your eyes, you gripped another glass bottle, before hurling it towards the other side of the wall. The loud crashing sound immediately caught the attention of the dead as they turned, limping away once more.

When you were back at the car, a few ghouls had started surrounding the area, dividing the large herd into smaller sections. As quietly as humanly possible, you unscrewed the fuel cap and opened one of the liquor bottles. You looked over your shoulder, making sure none of the ghouls had gotten suspicious, as you titled the liquor bottle and filled the tank with it. The rest of the bottles you squirted note the floor, making sure you were covering enough ground. After checking if the car battery was still intact, you snuck back up the fire escape, dodging a few of the ghouls while doing so. You gripped the dead body on the roof, heaving it towards the edge of the roof, over the car, ere you pushed it off. With a hopeful gaze, you watched as the body fell, hitting the roof of the car with a loud thump, as not a second later a blaring alarm sounded through the groaning and moaning.

You nodded satisfied with your work, as you oh so slowly climbed back down the fire escape. Bodies were tumbling in your direction but all of them passed by you, following the loud sound of the car alarm. As most of them went by, you looked over your shoulder, searching for the building with the foreign man, that had wanted to rob you of your antibiotics. Your eyes searched and searched but found nothing. A spark of disappointment settled into the bit of your stomach but you shrugged it off and turned back, walking straight towards what seemed to be the only clothing store in the small town.

After you had finished your business there – and had gotten your hands on another backpack to carry the things you raided – you gathered some cans of food, bottles of water, and some chocolate bars. Thank God, no bacteria could live in chocolate, its taste was a small heaven in the hell that was earth. The new backpack and the old one you placed on the street beside a building, taking out the lighter you owned, which you usually used to make a small bonfire at night, when it was freezing – and only when it was freezing, otherwise the risk was just too great. You quickly squeezed all of the supplies you had gathered into the old backpack – it was bigger and you wouldn't risk traveling with too much luggage.

The lighter was tightly placed in your hand as you pushed through the great number of ghouls, your eyes closing from time to time, as one looked at you just a bit suspicious. When you were almost at the source of it all and the blaring of the alarm was too loud for you to stand it, you stopped at the edge of the wet ground, where you had spilled all the alcoholic liquid. You flipped on the lighter, holding it for a second as you took a breath, knowing you would have to run the second the lighter hit the ground, and the ghouls would probably take notice of you. Without further ado, you threw the flame down, watching for just a moment as the lighter clinked onto the asphalt. Slowly but not too slowly you took a few steps backward, bumping into a few bodies, that turned to you with an irritated growl.

You swallowed as the fire reached the car, choosing to abandon your plans of slowness being safe, as you started to run, shoving dozens of ghouls that got in the way away from you. A loud explosion sounded, as you ducked down in an instant, scared you were going to be hit by any flying object that had been hurled off by the explosion. From still being in close proximity, as ringing filled your ears, forcing you to shake your head a few times, trying to get rid of this horrid sound. But it didn't matter anymore, as you felt an icy hand grab at your shoulder. In seconds your fingers were wrapped around the handle of your knife, spinning around in an instant, as the lifted knife pierced the ghoul's skull – and another and another. Over the shoulder of a ghoul, you could see that a few were laying on the ground dead from the impact of the explosion or perhaps from being burned to black crisps. Other dozens had caught flame, stumbling around unconcerned, but they would be down sooner or later – so would you be if you didn't get out of here right this second. All you needed to do was climb over the chain-link fence and run. As long as the fire had something to feed on – and dead bodies were amazing as firewood – it would keep burning, hopefully taking down another few of them while it was at it.

Almost completely drowned out by the high-pitched ringing, a motorcycle neared from behind you, just as you slashed at another ghoul.

"Jump on!"

You whirled around staring at the man you thought had already left you behind. Your eyes laid on him for a moment, ere you felt another hand clawing at your arm, causing you to snap out of your gaze. For once, not second-guessing your action, you swung your leg over the motorcycle, gripping at his leather vest. Remembering your pack, you lightly slapped his shoulder, wanting to get his attention. You pointed to an alley. "Drive through there, stay close to the left building."

"What? No."

You sighed. "Just do it!"

He seemed to consider it for a second longer than necessary, before making a sharp turn, already on the way to the other direction, as he followed your instruction. When he noticed the bag sitting by the building, he understood immediately, slowing down just enough for you to lean out farther, grabbing it in passing. You slipped your arms into the straps, not clipping the front shut, knowing it could become a problem if you had to get it off hastily.

You didn't know how long your rode with him, all you cared about was that he went in the direction you were heading anyways. Sitting behind him like this, gave you time to rest after a whole day of exhaustion – walking, running, fighting… carrying a ghoul up a fire escape. Your eyelids were close to dropping shut, causing you to sway forward, your forehead slightly touching the warm leather. God, he was so warm. If you had had any less self-control, a whimper would have escaped you at the body warmth you were receiving, not having had any for… well, you couldn't even remember how long it had been, so probably quite a long while. Shocked you jolted upright, as you noticed your cheek completely pressed against his back, redness rising up your neck, heating your face uncomfortably.

When you were far enough from the herd and dawn was breaking, he slowed to a stop, getting off the bike, just like you had done. You simply watched as he hid his bike in the bushes so well that even you had trouble still seeing it, ere he started to walk deeper into the woods. Were you supposed to follow? Did he even want you to?

"You comin' or are ya just gonna stand there?"

Well, okay then.

Not waiting for another invitation your legs got moving, tumbling after him. He stopped a bit further in, still, it wasn't far enough that in a crisis he wouldn't be able to reach his bike. You didn't want to admit it, but he was quite smart – or at least he knew what he was doing. You hadn't even noticed he had been carrying a duffle bag, as he set it on the ground and was off again, gathering a few sticks. Seeming so useless by doing nothing, you too put your pack down, following his lead, and picked up a few branches, which you knew would make for a good fire. Seeing the wood, you were holding he gave a nod and a grunt, throwing his on a pile, so did you. He fished for something in the pocket of his pants, pulling out a silver lighter, which he threw in your direction. "You know how to make a fire?"

You caught it easily as your head cocked to the side ever so slightly, raising your eyebrow at him. Did you seem that stupid to him? "Yes, I am very much capable of making a fire. Thank you very much." Again, you only got a gruff sound out of him, as he unzipped the duffle bag and shouldered the crossbow. You didn't even question where he was going as you rearranged the sticks and branches to a formation that would lead the fire to catch on quicker. From the ground, you pushed in a few dry leaves and set fire to them. You watched as the fire took over the leaves and moved on to the first few sticks. Before you went to your pack, you shoved some dirt and stones up to it, to ensure you wouldn't cause a wildfire, ere you used the moment alone to change into the fresh set of clothes. Inhaling the smell of the fabric you were greeted by what reminded you of something fresh out of the warehouse. Not having gone through a single washing, just… new.

From your pack, you got out a string you had tied small bells and other noisy things to, which was wrapped in a cloth to prevent it from jingling while it was in the pack. You walked up to the nearest tree, tying the string around it, ere moving on to the next tree and the next, until you were completely encircled. You sat down leaning against the trunk of a tree and once more your eyes fell shut before you could help yourself.

Dozed off for a while, you were woken by the clattering of your warning system, your knife in your hand in an instant as you jumped up – only to be met with a cursing redneck as he shook out his leg, trying to get the string off. "Wait, before you rip it!" You put the knife back on your hip, as you reached for his leg, but instead of letting your help, he shook his leg once more, managing to get free after all. He turned instantly, grumbling on about God knows what, as something he was carrying hit you in the face because of his sudden turn. You blinked in surprise, not expecting the impact on your face nor the animal smell that followed. He walked to the other side of the fire, where he had left his duffle bag, and dropped what he was carrying on his shoulders. You watched the animals drop – a few squirrels and one rather big rabbit. "Did you… Did you just hit me in the face? With a rabbit?"

"No," he grunted and you had already opened your mouth to disagree. "It's a hare."

You were dumbfounded. And in the blink of an eye, you were ready to argue with that man, whom you found to be extremely infuriating, but you kept your mouth shut. Instead of wasting more energy resenting him, you got out a can of stew that you had raided in the small town. With the knife – cleaned of walker blood – you punctured the can several times, before sticking the knife into one of the holes and pressing downward lifting the cap with little struggle. You leaned forward, placing the can at the edge of the flames, staring at it, to prevent you from looking at the stranger. Even though you were not looking at him, you could still hear as he removed the furs and guts. You had gone through too much to be disgusted by it – ten years ago, before the dead started walking this earth, you definitely would have been.

Swallowing the lump in your throat at the memories coursing through your mind, you took to rummaging through your backpack in search of the one spoon you owned. It didn't do any good the sulk at what was lost, at all the lives and people that had ended, there was no way of changing it anyway, no way of getting it back. There was simply no way of escaping. Finished with his meat, he pierced it with a sharpened stick and held it over the fire. The silence wasn't particularly awkward but for you, it still felt just a tat bit uncomfortable and the longer you tried to avoid looking at him, the harder it got until your eyes flitted to him for just a moment… and another and another.

Shaking your head at yourself, you pulled your shirt over your hands and grabbed the can. You were getting delusional, for sure. Perhaps you had gotten bitten and hadn't noticed because something was seriously off. The more often you took a look at him, the more attractive you found him. He wasn't pretty, but the roughness he wore so open on his sleeve made him seem so naturally appealing. Dirt slightly stained his face and the skin of his arms. His hair wasn't any cleaner, some of the strands at the front sweaty and cut at a length that fell to his somewhat knobby nose. The one thing about him that struck you as utterly pretty was the striking blue of his eyes that reflected the burning orange flames in front of him.

"What ya did back there," he grumbled out, turning the squirrel on one of the sticks and your eyes were on him immediately. "Fucking risky."

You opened your mouth, stirring the contents of the can that sat in front of you. "In this world, just breathing is risky."

"Yeah, well if it had gone any more wrong, you'd be breathin' no more."

And would that be so bad? The thought crossed your mind before you could stop it, leaving you with a cold shiver running down your spine. "Listen – I don't need your opinion on the way I stay alive. I am grateful that you helped me out back there, but I would have managed just fine on my own."

"Oh, yeah? You were in the middle of a goddamn herd, that you set on fire. That ain't fucking staying alive, that's just plain suicidal."

You gaped at him, straightening your back. "Alright you know-it-all, first of all, I led the complete herd away from the main road and into an ally, then I took out a fucking good portion of it with the explosion and with the fire-eating up their damn rotten flesh, there is no way they will continue their little walk-away. So, smart-ass, if you had a better idea let's fucking hear it!" He stared at you and you stared back, not even daring to blink. You were so, so sick of men telling you what to do. It had been the exact way all your life and apparently not even an apocalypse could bring men down from their ego-trips. A burning sensation entered your eyes as you still stared unblinking just like he did until finally he let out a grunt, turning his gaze away from you and focused on the cooking meat.

There was no further conversation for a while until they held out a squirrel towards you. You looked at it for a moment, until you switched your uncertain gaze to him, only to find him already looking at you. He nodded at the meat, letting out a grunt. Without questioning it further you reached for it. You didn't know if it was simply kindness or maybe even an apology but appreciated it nonetheless.

After a while of mindless staring into the flames, you took a deep breath, directing your eyes to the stranger. "So... did you grow up around here or something?"

"Nah."

"Kay."

Well, there was that.

You were fairly certain he was trying to avoid conversation as he laid down and turned his back to you. Huffing quietly, you did the same, using the backpack as a makeshift pillow like you usually did. You had no idea why but not even after what seemed like two hours of simply laying there with closed eyes, were you able to fall asleep. The stranger on the other hand seemed to have drifted off a while ago, judging by the steady breaths that were leaving his lips. Giving up on sleep, you stood as quietly as possible not wanting to wake him, as you started walking away from the little camp. You had almost reached the alarm system when you stepped on a small stick, the crack the only sound in the silence. Quickly looking over your shoulder, you checked to see if the man had woken, but he had not even stirred. More carefully this time, you lifted your leg, stepping over the string, until you were out of earshot.

Back when you still were part of the community you used to do this a lot. You weren't allowed outside the anyway unstable walls, so you used to sneak off to the weakest point and climb over it, until one day you just didn't come back. When you first joined them, you didn't know what you were getting into – by joining their community and them protecting you, you made a debt that you had to pay off by doing the jobs they assigned. Only was it a trap, because there was no way to pay off the depth. Some of the people hadn't realized it back then, but you knew right away that that settlement was out on foul play. Still, safety was enough to keep making your stay, until you couldn't take it any longer.

So, you searched for a spot where no ghoul – walker – could catch you off guard and scratched a cross into a tree with your knife. You walked back a small distance, gripping the handle of your knife as you adjusted your stance. Rolling your shoulders you lifted your hand, hurling the knife towards the tree. You watched dumbstruck as the knife flew clean past the tree. Taking a moment an almost silent laugh escaped your throat. Wiping your hand across your face, you went to retrieve the knife. You were lacking. After only a little while of not practicing anything, you were seriously lacking skills. Trying to regain your focus you executed another throw, which you thought wasn't half bad – granted this time it did hit the tree, though still way too high, and instead of the blade piercing the trunk, the handle made contact causing the knife to clatter to the ground. Frustrated with yourself you gathered the knife and walked back to where you were standing, getting ready for another throw.

"You ain't holdin' it right."

You jumped in shock at the sudden intrusion, forcing down the scream that was already making its way up your throat. "Jesus," you swore, pressing your hand against your jumpy heart. "If you are trying to kill me, I'd appreciate going in a classier way than a heart attack."

He didn't respond to your joke, only nodding to your hand. "Ain't gon' be no good throw."

"You know if you use ‘no' twice it automatically becomes the opposite," you commented, expecting to get any reaction out of him, but none came. He stayed silent and crossed his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your target. Raising a hand, you hurled the knife forward, closing your eyes in annoyance as it clattered to the ground again.

"Want me to show ya?"

No, no you really didn't. You took the same position as him and crossed your arms, shrugging. "Go for it." Your eyes followed his every movement as he picked up the knife, waging it in his hand, first at the blade and then at the handle. He grunted, flipping the knife so he was holding the blade as he signaled you to step aside. It took him only seconds to put his left foot forward, throwing the knife without the big fuss you had been making – and he hit the middle of the cross perfectly. The pettiness you were feeling almost made you scoff. You didn't say anything as he retrieved the knife, yanking it from the wood. He stopped before you. And for just a second you thought he was too busy looking at you to hand over the knife until his blue eyes fell from yours and the knife was ready for you to take.

You got back to the throwing spot, the handle in your hand, but your eyes flitted to the men on your right as you turned it, so you were holding the steel. Lifting your hand to throw, a grunt from him stopped you. "Didn't you watch?" He grumbled, taking a step towards you and before you knew it, one of his hands was gripping your wrist as the other moved your thumb. In an instant, your breathing stopped and his heat seeping from his skin into yours was so prominent it was the only thing you could focus on. His fingers were rough, skin stained with callouses – proof of what the life had held for him. You swallowed hard as his one hand moved to your shoulder, the other gliding down your forearm until landing at your elbow. With a strong touch, he straightened your back, until he too seemed to notice what he was doing and let go of you immediately. He cleared his throat and then he did it again, stepping back uncomfortably – flustered? Maybe.

As quietly as possible you forced breaths back into your lungs, not wanting him to know the fucking weird effect he had on you. You just hadn't been touched in a very long time, you assured yourself. You were sure if an ugly walker had tried it with sensual touches, you would have reacted the same. God, you were delusional. Delusional through and through and deeply affected by years of touch deprivation. You were biased, really.

"Ya gon' throw or not?"

Snapping your head in his direction at the sudden disturbance of your inner monologue, you were left speechless and with reddened ears at the embarrassment. Holding the knife as he had shown you, you managed a relatively good throw with a relatively good aim. The blade sunk into the wood just above the middle of the cross, making you grin. Just as you went up to the tree, groaning caught your attention. Your vision focused on the single walker stumbling through the trees towards you, probably smelling humanity on the two of you.

"Try it," he said, tilting his head to the walker. Flipping the knife around in your hand you pulled back, letting it fly towards the ghoul's head – and hitting it perfectly.  "Not bad."

"Thank you," you gave back, yanking the blade out of the walker's skull before wiping the blood off on its clothes. "And for helping, too."

He grunted in acknowledgment ere he extended his hand towards you. "Daryl."

You took his hand, shaking it. "Y/N."

*  *  *

The next morning you took down the alarm system and stomped out the last evidence of a fire, taking off before Daryl had even woken. The sun was up high in the sky already and no doubt would he wake soon enough, nor did you worry much about him sleeping out in the open, after all had he woken up yesterday after hearing a twig snap. You went back up to the main road, continuing to head south, with the intention of heading west at the next crossroad, wanting to know where you were at the moment. For the good part of an hour, you were on your feet until the sound of a motorcycle driving up could be heard.

You didn't slow down your pace, not even as he drove by you and halted, getting off. Still, you walked past him. It didn't matter, you'd probably never see him again. "Hey, Y/N!" He called after you, causing you to huff. You couldn't stand goodbyes, couldn't stand the awkwardness that came with it. "Hey, Y/N- How many… How many walkers have you killed?"

You stopped at the out-of-the-blue question, turning to face him. "Excuse me?"

"How many walkers have you killed?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What? You expect me to keep books or something?"

He took barely a step forward. "And how many people? How many people have you killed?"

"Why-"

"Just answer."

"None."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Because I never had to. Those are pretty fucking stupid questions, you know?" Still frowning you turned from him, carrying on with your walk. "Bye, Daryl." Goodbye. God, how much you hated that word. Hated all the looks, the uncomfortableness, and all the other unwanted feelings that came with it. And you hated how much it reminded you of all your friends, who had laid in your arms the last seconds of their lives.

He called after you once more. "You know that settlement I need the meds for? We are always looking for new people."

"Well, good luck with that then."

"Don't go acting stupid now, ‘cause we both know ya ain't."

You took a deep breath, looking at him. "I appreciate that you are kind enough to ask if I had any interest, but I don't. I really don't," you answered, crossing your arms with a shrug. "I've done the whole group thing before and it's just not right for me."

"Safety ain't right for you? A home?"

"Nope, but thank you very much for the offer." You gave him a wave. "See ya."

"At least le' me take ya a bit, I'm headin' in the same direction."

You nodded. "Alright." Scratching slightly at your scalp you stepped up to him and his motorbike. "I saw a map a while back. There should come a mile marker soon and not too far after a crossroad. Is that okay?"

He, too, gave a nod. "Yeah, I know that marker." He swung his leg over the bike, starting the motor without any trouble, and waited until you had gotten on securely until he took off. The drive was not filled with words nor was it eventful in any other way. But it wasn't uncomfortable either - actually, it was kind of nice even. And before you knew it, the mile marker - that had been sprayed with red color - had been passed and the crossroad came into view. When you were getting off the motorbike Daryl cleared his throat. "So, where you headed?"

Unsure yourself, you lifted your shoulders and let them fall. "Don't know. Ashburn maybe. Heard it's nice." Or it was nice at least. "Well… goodbye."

He grunted quietly, giving a subtle nod of his head as he looked at you with furrowed brows from the sun getting in his eyes. You had almost turned around when you saw him quickly lift his hand in a wave. A smile snuck itself onto your lips and after spending the last day surviving together, he was transformed into nothing more than a distant memory.

*  *  *

TWO MONTHS LATER

Ashburn had turned out to be quite the shit-show. The way there was peaceful actually. There had barely been any walkers and it had taken you only three days - with quite a lot of stops because you were looking for stuff to raid. While on the road you had also decided that you needed something like a safe house. Or perhaps just a place where you could stock your food and water and medicine, as your backpack alone simply wasn't big enough, and carrying too many cans of food was just too heavy if you were on your feet all day.

You had continued on to Leesburg, raiding every supermarket on the way and clearing out the houses you came across. The supplies you gathered, you placed in your "safe house". It was anything but a safe house, really. But you were standing in the middle of Leesburg and had asked yourself what the place was, where no one would ever go searching for supplies. And so, you had stocked everything into different caskets of a funeral home on the east side of Leesburg. And you had a system for it all, too. The black caskets were for medicine and antibiotics and hygiene, while the white were for drinks and the wooden ones were for food. You had made the inside of the funeral home safer, too with wooden planks and furniture pushed up against the windows, so there was no way for a ghoul to break in. While the back of the funeral home now held a bed for you and some more clothes. Some things you were missing, though. For one, weapons - guns, knives, ammunition. You had only two bullets left after an attempt at clearing out the town's library, where a massive ghoul feast seemed to have taken place. It was filled to the brim with the dead and you had taken out a lot of them already but they always just kept coming.

So, after a good night's sleep, you wheeled out the three shopping carts that you had tied together with a zip tie. You had also fastened a belt at the handle of the last one in the row so you would be able to pull it along. The first place you wanted to look for guns wasn't the gun shops, knowing they would - at least for the most part - already be empty. No, you were going straight to the shooting range on the west side of the town. Immediately upon walking inside you could tell not many people had been there - put enough walkers were and telling by how slow they were, they hadn't fed in a long time. It took you about ten minutes until every single walker was laying on the ground with a hole in their head. With a few grunts and groans, you pushed them to the side to make way for you and your carts and pulled on the belt until you were at the back, standing before the storeroom. Not only did you need a key to open the door, but also a six-digit code. You turned to the desk, letting your eyes fall to the computer and the folder cabinet, and the single locker that was standing there.

You shook it lightly hearing jingling inside. Yup, keys. Your eyes fell to the combination lock. Yeah, you did not have enough patience for that. You gripped your gun from the belt around your waist and lifted your arm before smashing the handle down with enough force to break open the lock. Letting out a steady breath you gripped the keys out of the locker and turned back to the desk, hoping to find the code written down somewhere. Your hands glid to the back of the computer, searching for a piece of paper - but you found none.

If you were stupid, where would you hide it?

You stilled, your eyes falling downward. You kneeled, looking under the desk, met with a little yellow sticky note with exactly six digits on it. 443761. Repeating the code in your head, you whirled around, quickly turning the numbers into the other - bigger - combination lock, you removed it, opening the door with the key. Looking back, you should have just tried smashing the second lock, too.

On the inside, you were screeching with happiness as your eyes wandered over the two dozen or so handguns - among them pistols and very few revolvers - two rifles and three shotguns. You loaded them all into one of your carts, going for the ammunition next. There were two whole cabinets full of them. Why in the holy hell had no one raided this place yet? Without really looking at the different types of ammo, you just scooped it onto one cart. After the range you went to the closest gun shop "Bullseye", clearing it from the two ghouls inside, and took the rest of the guns nobody seemed to want, plus a few hunting knives, and then did the same with the next gun shop until you were standing in front of a store solely dedicated to fishing.

And for once in your life, you were grateful that your dad had forced you to accompany him on his yearly fishing and camping trip. Now, you didn't learn a lot, but you learned that the knives these shops sold were sharp as hell as your dad tried and failed to fillet a trout, cutting himself quite badly in the end. You had to cut the trip short after that, thankfully, and had never gone with him since. Passing the countless fishing rods, you grabbed the few knives that were hanging at the walls and threw them carelessly into a cart. You turned around, wanting to see if there were any more knives on the wall that you might have missed, only to find eyes staring at you.

You let out a shriek, stumbling back in fright. Your heart was pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ear, as you took a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself.

Frank the Fisherman, read the life-size cardboard cutout of the round man in front of you. He wore a broad smile and a beige-colored hat and cargo shorts and a beige vest that matched his hat, whose pockets were filled to the brim with fishing supplies.

"Fucking Frank," you swore under your breath, putting your hands to your knees. You shook out your head, letting a laugh escape you at the utterly stupid situation that had passed. God, you didn't get scared by rotting dead, but Frank the cutout person had managed to scare you shitless. When you were pulling your carts back to the funeral home, you stilled, thinking you had heard the loud clanking noise of a muffler. But as no other sound followed, you stored the carts in the funeral home and barricaded yourself in there for the night.

The following day you went out once more with the three carts rolling in front of you, heading in the direction of the library. It was one of the most beautiful libraries you had ever seen, looking more like a national treasure itself. The building seemed to be from the Victorian era, with high ceilings and perfectly carved wooden decor. The inside of it was full of massive dark oak bookshelves, combined with a few other vintage furniture pieces, that were probably worth more than anything you had ever owned. And now there was no one to appreciate them. How little these things mattered when you were trying to survive.

You had almost reached its doors, readying yourself for the number of ghouls you were going to encounter upon opening those doors when the unmistakable sound of a muffler reached your ears. So, you hadn't just imagined it yesterday. The weight of the guns on you seemed to grow heavier by the second, knowing that a meeting with any person nowadays could get quite unfriendly. You put on a bit of speed, stopping in front of the library. The carts you turned around, laying them on their sides a few feet from the doors, and were about to pull open one of the doors, when the muffler came closer. You ducked slightly, intending to use the untrimmed bushes alongside the building as a shield for unwanted glances. When you noticed who it was that was driving by, you almost couldn't believe your eyes.

Before he could manage to get out of earshot, you jogged to the sidewalk and brought your hands to your mouth, to louden your voice. "Daryl!" Hoping no walkers were going to stumble onto the street because of it, you shouted after him again, until he threw a look over his shoulder. His facial expression would have remained the same if it wasn't for his eyebrows rising in surprise. He slowed to a stop, getting off the bike and leaving it standing in the middle of the street. Slightly uneven-shouldered he took a few steps towards you and you, too, got closer, till the blue of his eyes was as clear as day to you. "Hey," you breathed, the corners of your lips upturned. You couldn't believe you were actually seeing him again. "You're alive."

"Why'd ya sound so surprised?"

Because everyone else I ever met died. You shrugged, grinning. "Maybe your survival skills just weren't as impressive to me as you thought."

He scoffed - though he didn't sound annoyed or angry, but amused. "You' been here this whole time?"

"In the area, yeah." You crossed your arms and cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heating. "Are you searching for meds again?"

"Nah," he answered with a shake of his head. "Just lookin' for people."

You lifted a brow, shifting on your feet. "So, you just drive around all day… looking for people?"

"I hunt, too."

You snorted, giving him a nod as you turned back around, starting to walk back to the library. When you didn't hear steps following, you halted, looking at him over your shoulder. "You coming, or what?" Giving a grunt, he trailed after you, crossbow strapped to his back. You stopped in front of the library, getting out your knife and putting the safety off on your gun, which was still resting by your waist. "Alrighty," you mumbled, nodding towards the door after throwing a glance over your shoulder. "Wanna help me clear it?"

He once more shifted on his feet, forehead in wrinkles as he eyed you for a moment. "Why'd ya wanna clear a library?"

Because you really, really wanted to go in and grab all the books you could ever dream of. But instead of admitting your addiction, you gave a mere shrug. "The fewer ghouls the better, right?" Your eyes trailed over his shaggy brown hair and down to the cut sleeves of the shirt, he was wearing. "Plus, I need something to keep busy." You turned away. "We can't just all spend our day driving around… and hunting." Without giving a single warning, you hurried forward, around the carts you had put there, and ripped open one of the doors. At the light reaching their undead eyes, the dead turned around, stumbling out of the building and out into the open. Jumping over the carts, you got ready for the trouble, blade already raised, as the first walkers fell over the obstacle in their way.

An arrow whizzed past you, hitting a walker in between the eyes before he could fall, silencing its hungry groans. You slashed at the nearest one and the next that fell piled on top. Arrow after arrow followed, until his supply ran out, forcing him to come forward with his hunting knife. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed his carefully planted precise strikes and the quickness he delivered them with. He was constantly moving, slashing a walker's skull and then pulling back to safety until he lashed out again. By the time the last three ghouls stumbled out of the dusty library, sweat was gathering at the back of your neck, uncomfortably heating your body, that made you want to take a dip in the river nearby. After the last body fell with a quiet thud, you pulled back, taking a few exhausted breaths, and wiped at the sweat on your forehead. There had been so many you thought you had never in your life miscounted a situation any worse. And even though you might not have wanted to admit it out loud, without him - Daryl - here, you would have ended up fleeing the scene or trying to gun them down, just to attract more. "Thanks," you spoke up, while he was gathering his arrows. "For the help." Wanting to roll your eyes at yourself, you cringed instead, knowing that at the moment he was looking the other way. It had been obvious what you were thanking him for, there was no need for clarifying anything.

"Coulda' used some kinda warnin'."

You shrugged. "Didn't think there would be so many."

He grunted.

You nodded. A second skipped by followed by the next, but he was still busy with whatever crossbow business this man usually got into, so you walked past him, opening the second door, too, as you stepped inside. The entrance hall was large. You had never set foot in a mansion but this is exactly like you imagined it would look like. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, two paintings on the wall left and right, and in the middle of it all was a giant, two-sided stairwell, with a banner hanging from the middle of it, reaching the ground. In its prime time, you couldn't imagine what the sight and feeling must have been like. Now, between all the wonder, you felt a sense of disappointment, upon noticing the situation of the stairs.

You cleared your throat and nodded as a plan started forming in your head. Walking up to the blue banner, you held the end out to Daryl. "Could you hold it still?"

He shifted his crossbow to rest on his back, as he walked up to you. "Why?"

"‘Cause imma climb it," you stated.

His head turned up, eyes running along the long stairs until he craned his head to look at where the banner ended. "Ya nuts. Ain't no way you're gonna make it up ther'." You raised your eyebrow, still holding the end out to him with an expecting gaze. "Nah." He shook his head. "Don' do tha', ya' just gonna end up hurt - or worse."

"Fine," you mumbled and turned to the banner. For a moment you thought you had seen relief flash across his eyes, which soon vanished as you started twisting the banner to use as a tow. "Never depended on the help anyway."

Daryl took a step back, shaking his head slightly before he started walking away. "Crazy woman."

You turned to look over your shoulder with a frown turning your features sour. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out!" With tightly clenched teeth you took the jump, gripping the fabric of the banner, as you swung your legs around it. Pushing yourself up with the help of your feet, your arms moved up bit by bit until your muscles were trembling in exhaustion. A grunt fell from your mouth, as you twisted your arm into the banner, for a little rest. This position was most preferred for when you would need to make your way back down again. You could just slowly lower down with the banner looped around your arms, but for now, you pushed through the straining muscles and let out an ecstatic sigh upon reaching the top.

You followed the arrows and pointers until you hit the fiction section of the library, grabbing a book card while you were at it until about two dozen books were placed on it. Wheeling them back to the staircase you thought of ways to get them down, realizing that it would have been so much easier with Daryl waiting for you down there, able to just catch them one by one if you threw them to him. Instead of doing that, you held one flat in your hand, letting it fall. It hit the ground with a loud thump that made you jump a bit. You shrugged it off and repeated the process with the 23 other books. After, you swung yourself over the railing and gripped the banner, ere you looped your arm through it. Starting to lower yourself, your eyes stayed on the floor below you, until snarls and hungry groans reached your ear. Not a second later a ghoul fell over the railing, landing on top of you. Your grip slipped as the walker hit the ground, leaving you to be caught mid-air by the sling around your arm. A sickening crack sounded from your shoulder as a pain-filled cry fell from your lips. Your breathing was ragged as you tried to regain your position. But with your left arm limp and panic in your core, you couldn't get your other hand back on the fabric. You whimpered at the not lessening strain on your shoulder, tears climbing into your eyes.

Hasty steps sounded in the hall and within a beat of your heart, the groaning of the fallen ghoul under you stopped. At least something to soothe your nerves. "Shit," Daryl grumbled as you saw him step closer from below.

"It's dislocated!" You called through tears, letting your head fall back to keep them from falling.

"Shit," it sounded again more quietly this time. "Uh…. Try wiggling. It's gon' hurt like shit, but the sling's gonna loosen. I'll… I'll catch ya."

Another whimper tumbled from your mouth, stopping the objections that were bound to rise in your throat. "Okay." As he had suggested, you started moving wildly, wiggling and turning, until your arm kept sliding further out of the sling. Your tongue was between your teeth, being bitten on furiously to keep from screaming out until a metallic tinge filled your senses. The taste only subsided, when suddenly you were falling. You shrieked out, eyes closing. But instead of hitting the floor and hearing a splashing sound, a surprised grunt reached your ears, as Daryl stumbled with you in his arms. He lowered you carefully onto the ground, reaching for your arm, but you pulled back immediately.

"Did it bite or scratch ya?" You couldn't answer, scared that if you opened your mouth terrible wails would follow. "Hey!" He snapped his fingers in your face. "Ya bitten or scratched?" You shook your head and this time when he reached for your shoulder, you didn't flinch away. "This is going to hurt like a bitch. Ya ready?" Again, you only answered with a simple gesture of your head and within the next second, you heard another crack, that made an ill feeling appear in your gut. Blackness flickered before your vision until it had engulfed you completely.

*  *  *  

Your eyes shot open, as you noticed rustling close to your ear, reaching for the knife at your belt. With the blade lifted in front of you as protection, your view became clearer. You were inside a house you didn't remember ever seeing, with a fire brooding before you in an iron trash can. Eyes wandering further, you found a figure sitting closely by you, busy with skinning… a possum? You moved to sit up but stopped at the pinching pain that shot down your arm. Your head snapped down, noticing a makeshift sling had been made for you. Clearing your throat, you made sure that you swallowed a few times, not wanting your voice to crack as soon as you spoke up. "How long was I out?"

"2 hours… give or take," Daryl answered without looking up from his possum. You thought he would continue to ignore you but were proven wrong only a second later. "Don't do that, I said. You'll get hurt, I said. And what did you do?"

You rolled your eyes, as a grin formed on your lips. "Stop being grumpy. It's lame." His eyes fell to you, wandering over your arm and up to your face, lingering on the smile until he quickly focused back on his dinner. "Thank you," you said after a while. "For helping… with the ghouls and my arm."

"Nah, you're good."

It was silent for a few moments, the fire illuminating his face in an orange hue. "What's your story?" You asked, sitting up with just a tad bit of trouble. He gave a confused grunt. "You know… how did you get here? How are you still… alive, I guess?"

"From the start?"

"Yeah," you whispered, eyes moving over his features until they fell to the fire. "From the start."

He seemed to contemplate whether or whether not to tell you his story, but then he cleared his throat. "It all started in Atlanta…"

About an hour later, your throat seemingly had tightened and even though you didn't let him see, tears had crept into your eyes. You cleared your throat, thinking over everything he had told you and despite your expectations, he was quite good at telling stories. Only they weren't stories - not really. Everything he had told you was real and to a certain point perhaps you could call it a story because it was his story. His life and the god-awful hardships he had to face to make it as far as he did. While trying to survive, you had lost a good amount of people, but it was nothing close compared to what he went through and the fact that he remembered every name that had once walked along with him and did so no longer, made your heart ache for him in ways you could not explain.

"I'm so sorry," you breathed, gaze glued to him.

"I ain't want no pity."

You gave a shake of your head. "It's not pity." Biting at the skin inside of your cheek, you thought about what to say to him, but you knew nothing of it probably mattered. "I'm just… All of it… I'm just really sorry that you lost every home you ever had," you finally said. "Not only them being taken from you - and your group in the cruelest ways, but also that those people tried their hardest to not make them feel like your home anymore."

He seemed caught off guard at what you had said but did his very best to shake it off. "Not every home."

"Right," you nodded. "Alexandria."

Giving an agreeing grunt, he took a bite from his possum, which he had cooked over the fire and forgotten about once while he was telling the story, so one side was blackened. The meat he had given you rested almost cooled between your pointer finger and thumb. "Wha' about you?"

"Uhm," you made. Memories came rushing back to you, leaving you speechless for a second. You had forgotten how much had happened in the last decade. "I, uh, I was in college when everything went to shit." You swallowed, plucking at the meat. "I was at a party, actually. First-ever college party and uhm, one of the on-campus janitors died - probably a heart attack or… whatever." Distant screams sounded in your ear, as photos flashed in front of your eyes, of screaming young adults trying to get away. "It spread like a wildfire. I mean - we had heard about a sickness a day or something before but… we were college kids. We didn't care-" You stopped yourself. God, you were terrible at telling stories and explaining things without getting carried away. "I didn't really have any friends there yet, so I ran as I saw all the…guts. I didn't know where to go either, so I ran to the only place, where I knew no people would be."

"Library?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I lived off of apples for three days, with the dead just outside those doors, but I was safe - safe as could be, at least. Then the military came and fought off the hundreds of dead, while I was brought to a helicopter, that was supposed to bring me to a safe zone. Only the pilot had been bit, while trying to get to the helicopter and turned mid-flight. We came down in the middle of nowhere and nobody but a female soldier and I survived. I remember when I woke up, the first thing I heard was gunshots. She killed them - the other soldiers. People she had trained and served with for years." You put a piece of meat in your mouth and chewed it slowly, eyes cast downwards. "Back then I didn't understand - I thought those people were just sick. I resented her for it for so long. All while she was trying to keep me alive. She taught me everything I needed to know about surviving, shooting, and hunting. And then one day she didn't come back from a run and I went out looking for her and I… I did find her. But…" Your throat tightened even more. "Sargent Ava Wilson was my first kill." You smiled slightly - a pitiful smile, filled with sadness and guilt. "Even in death, she gave another lesson. She taught me how to get over myself and just… strike." Without wanting to get into it further, you shoved another bit of meat into your mouth. "After spending about two years with her, I was alone on the road for about another two years, I guess. Then I met some people and for a while, I felt safe. Or safer than I had in a long time." Shrugging you let your teeth graze your bottom lip. "Turned out they were bat-shit crazy and kept walker heads as trophies." One of your eyebrows twitched upwards. "Ironic that one of them fell asleep too close to one of the heads. Bit his throat out. He didn't make a sound loud enough to wake the others. Most of them died and I was really fucking grateful, that I didn't trust them anymore and slept on a tree."

"The walker heads?" He chipped in, shaking his head. "Ain't as uncommon as ya'd think." After finishing his meat, he took a heated up can and spooned up the contents. You lifted your brow at him but didn't ask further, deciding you would ask him about it another day. "What'cha do after?"

"We went our separate ways," you replied. "People came and left and… died." Giving another shrug, you finished the meat, too. "After a few years wandering, I joined a bigger group. They had found themselves a home, a safety net, a system." You clenched your teeth. "I wanted it to be real so bad. I just wanted to not have to sleep with one eye open, not have to look over my shoulder everywhere I go. Just not… fight but live," you rushed out, stopping yourself before you took it too far. "Well, and as it turns out, I'm not the type for big communities." You gave him an apologetic smile. "I went back to doing what I'm best at… surviving on my own."

"Tha' what ya been doin' for the whole time I ain't seen ya?"

"Uh," you made. "Well, I cleared out all of the houses on my way here and the trickiest was the library, so... guess I will continue clearing the area."

He pointed to your shoulder with his spoon. "Clearing's gonna have to wait."

"What?" You asked, giving him an offended look. "I'm still fully capable of kicking your ass."

He snorted - he actually snorted. "Yeah, right. You wanna test that theory?"

"What, ‘you saying I can't?" Raising an eyebrow at him, you leaned forward a bit.

"That's exactly what I'm sayin'."

Your mouth gaped open. "You, me, right now. Move that damn fire pit."

"Why? Can't do it yourself?"

"Oh, shut up," you jokingly hissed at him, knowing very well you would struggle with it until sweat came running. The corners of his mouth were turned up, as he threw another piece of meat at you, which he hadn't eaten. It wasn't one of the burnt parts and you didn't understand why he would rather eat the same old canned food, he didn't even seem to enjoy, but the thought that he had saved the piece specifically for you, made your tummy bubble up a sensation you had almost completely forgotten about.

*  * *

He had promised to stay for as long as it took your arm to heal - which would have been about six weeks, but even after six months, Daryl still hadn't left your side. Every time you questioned him about it, he said it didn't feel right, to leave you here all alone "when you were not fully healed" - you were, though. You really were. He assured you that his settlement would be more than fine without him for a couple more weeks. Then the thirteen weeks turned double and the more time he spent here, the less he wanted to leave - the less you wanted him to leave. Surprisingly, you got along well. There were disagreements, more than you could count off with the help of both of your hands, but either he brought you back something he knew you liked - like canned pudding or any type of candy, really - or you switched out the canned peaches, which he didn't like, with his favored stew or sharpened his knives.

Another rather surprising thing was this one morning, as the sun rose slowly, sending a majestic glow across the town, and not one thing disturbed the peace you had longed for, for so long. There was no growling or groaning or thudding or teeth clattering or whatever - no, instead bird twittering sounded in the trees. Summer was coming after a rather short winter and you were not complaining. Almost all of the winter was spent in one of the houses. You had brought lots of food and other supplies from the funeral home (that Daryl still was unaware of) and spent your time being taught card games or playing scrabble and Uno and just simply talking with each other. The quiet grumpy man you had met, had turned into a warm-hearted goof, that refused to let you feel cold and that had taken to preparing almost every meal for the last two months.

You were just coming back from an early supply run, that you had decided to go through with alone when you spotted him from afar loading something into the trunk of a car. A giddy feeling came over you and the lightweight of the gift you were holding was seemingly getting heavier. Your steps quieted and your pace did, too, as you ducked behind a trash can mere meters away from him. Waiting silently until he had his back turned again, you rushed forward, jumping on his bag with a shrill roar of "attack!". He jumped in shock, hand flying to his crossbow, which was already placed inside the car trunk.

"Jesus Christ, woman," he swore, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, while you were still clinging to him like a monkey.

"You know what that means?" He rolled his eyes at your question, muttering something you couldn't quite catch. With a broad grin, you let go of him, your feet hitting the ground safely. "That means I'm leading 30 to 26. Ya' gettin' rusty, Dixon?" You copied his accent, watching as he once more rolled his eyes at you. "I got you a consolation present, though."

He raised his eyebrow at you, letting his gaze wander over your bright features. "If the present is anotha' one of these little girl's hairstyle kits, I ain't want it."

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy the first two."

"I didn't," he grumbled, but a small grin had snuck onto his lips at the memory of waking up with a dozen colorful strands braided into his hair, after having gotten shit-faced drunk with you one night. "Especially not the one with that sparkly stuff tha' got everywhere."

"You mean the Princess Rainbow Glitter one?"

He grunted in agreement. "Stuff was in places it ain't had no business ever being."

You snorted and shook your head, as he pushed a few strands of his hair back, that were directly hanging into his eyes. "Well, if you disliked all my other presents so much, I guess, I'll just keep this one for myself."

Daryl eyed you for a few seconds, ere his gaze dropped to your arms, which were being held behind your back. "What is it?"

"Something I know you would have loved," you shrugged. "But I guess I'll just take it inside now." You started passing by him when he reached out for you and pulled you towards him. Letting out a yelp at hitting his chest, you fought off his hands that had started trying to pull your arms from behind your back. You let out a high-pitched shriek as he repeatedly brushed against your sides in the process, unintentionally tickling you. Both of you wore happy expressions, as he finally managed to pull your arms between the both of you, immediately staring down at what you were holding.

"No way," he said, examining the plastic in his hand. "Where'd ya find this one?" He turned the limited edition Lynyrd Skynyrd CD to face you, a grin on his face. You had found it months ago, after meeting him, when you were journeying alone once more and had taken it for yourself. It had been stacked away at the funeral home for all this time. Instead of saying all of that, you gave a simple shrug.

Staring up at him, you took notice of the lack of space between the two of you, causing you to take a step back. You cleared your throat and nodded to the car. "What were you up to?"

"‘You ever been fishing?"

"Uhm," you made. "Yeah. It's been a while, honestly."

"D'ya wanna go?"

"Sure. I'm sick of your squirrel anyway." He opened his mouth, ready to argue, with his brows drawn together, but you interrupted. "Yeah, I know, I know. When the cans run out, I'll be thankful for your squirrels."

"Damn right," he agreed, giving a nod. "You'll be begging fo' them on ya knees. And guess what."

"What?"

"Ya won't be gettin' any."

"And all of that cruelty after I brought you a present," you pouted. "Ungrateful fuck."

He forced the laugh down, which was clawing its way up his throat. "You are the ungrateful fuck. Disrespectin' my squirrels like that."

"Get in the car, Dixon," you laughed, moving towards the driver's door.

"Hold up," he called after you, following you to the left side of the car. "Ain't no way in hell you are driving."

"Why not?"

"‘Cause I wanna get there breathin'!"

You sucked in a sharp breath. "Are you insulting my driving skills?"

"I would. If you had any."

"Prick."

"Cunt."

You stared at him and he stared right back at you, both of you waiting on who would first break and let any indication of a smile slip. Your teeth were already clenched, fighting the smile, but you shook it off, crossing your arms instead.

"Fine," he sighed. "But ‘ya hit any trash cans, we're switching."

"I'll take those conditions." Flashing him another smile, you opened the car door, sitting down and pulling it closed, ere he could change his mind. With a thud, the trunk was closed and steps sounded as he walked around the back of the car to the passenger seat. Seated, he immediately pulled on his seatbelt, causing you to roll your eyes at him. "Drama queen," you breathed out, moving your seat back to be able to reach the cables that would allow you to short circuit the car. Cutting two of them with your knife, you bound the opposites together and then again, causing the motor to jump to life not a second later.

The start was a little bumpy, but the car got moving nonetheless. "Keep driving straight, I'll tell ya when to take a turn," he informed you, glancing down to the small map he had gotten from a stand in the library - you had been so smug about it when he came back with something useful from the one place, he thought to be mostly useless. He took the CD out of its packaging, making a sly grin appear on your lips. Pushing it into the CD player, he leaned back, ready to hear one of his favorite bands play again, but instead -

"Baby, can't you see I'm calling. A guy like you should wear a warning…"

"What the hell?" He frowned, hitting a button to move on to the next track, but when no guitar came blasting through the speakers, he turned to you with an offended look. "What is this?"

"Britney Spears, baby!" You exclaimed, hitting the wheel in fake ecstasy, as you started humming along to the song you barely knew.

He leaned one of his arms against the car window, slipping two fingers into the handle on the car's roof. "You're so dumb."

You laughed. "You love me-" Cutting yourself off, your eyes widened. Without moving your head, you stared straight forward, acting like you were just concentrating on the road with all your brain energy. You cursed yourself out in your head, no doubt blushing furiously on the outside. Again, you cleared your throat and leaned forward to get the actual CD, where you had tucked it into the band of your jeans. You held it out to him. He took it into his own hands carefully, like he was expecting the plastic to explode. Switching the CDs, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"Idiot," he commented, lightening the tension within seconds.

"Hey, you fell for it. Not me."

Daryl's eyes lit up in seconds as some of his favorite tunes started blasting through the car. He slapped the car door slightly. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

You gave a forced chuckle, swallowing hard as the words replayed in your head. God, why were you so stupid? At the thought, your heart gave a weird unrhythmical beat, that had your breathing stuttering. The palms of your hands were getting sweaty against the leather-coated steering wheel and your throat was scratchier than the pullovers your grandma had hand-knitted for you when you were younger. What was happening?

"Ey!" A voice called. Your head snapped towards Daryl, who had taken to slapping your shoulder. "Ya' just missed the turn." Taking a glance in the rearview mirror, you indeed noticed the street sign in the far distance, telling you to go right. "Was telling ya fo' ‘bout two minutes and I ain't got no reply from you."

"I just need to-" You swallowed and stopped the car, ere you swung open the door and rushed out. A feeling was pressing against your lungs, hindering you from intaking any air. You needed… you needed… Closing your eyes you tried to breathe once more, but Daryl's confused voice crept into your ears. "I just need a minute!" Without thinking, you rushed into the trees on the left side of the street, dodging low-hanging branches while jogging away from… from what? When your lungs were aching with the strain of running, you stopped and pressed your hands against the nearest tree. With your eyes tightly shut, you counted down numbers in your head, trying to blend out the images of Ava swirling in your head. It wasn't hard to ignore those, but the stinging in your gut was not the oversee. You had cared for her so much and when you had to… Your arm flew up to your mouth, pressing against it just in time to silence a sob. You couldn't do that again. You had done it so often over the years, and this time you weren't sure you would survive it again. Having feelings in this world was beyond stupid because having feelings was what would get you killed in the end. On the outside or the inside, it didn't matter. You didn't know which one was worse either.

When you had calmed yourself enough, you leaned your back against the tree trunk, letting your head hang just for a little while, thinking about how you would explain your little breakdown to Daryl, who would without a doubt ask you about it. A tree branch snapped before you. Your head flew up, hand falling to your knife, but you halted when you saw the shaggy-haired redneck standing only a few feet away.

Again, the feeling of being overwhelmed filled your all. "I said I needed a minute. Jesus." Rolling your eyes at him, you turned around, ready to walk away, but his hand wrapped itself around your wrist, pulling you back. "Don't-" You ripped yourself from his grasp, stepping back. Giving him another look, you tried again to turn away from him - and succeeded for about all of half a minute, ere you were swung around once more.

"Don't ya dare walk away from me."

A piercing pain appeared in your chest. You shook your head. "You know what, Daryl? There is one thing I'd really like to know. Why are you here?" You snapped.

"‘Cause you ran away like a madwoman-"

"No!" You wanted to growl in frustration. "Why are you still here with me and not your people? What are you running from?"

He frowned at you. "The heck you talkin' ‘bout?"

"Why didn't you leave? I'm healed, Daryl! I don't need you anymore," muttering the last sentence, you went to step away again but suddenly your back met another tree. Shock overcame you as you stared up at him, the same he stared down at you. Left speechless, your eyes started trailing his features, that you had gotten so used to these past few months. Eyes wandering down further, the roughness of his nose, the little scars his skin held, the curve of his lips… Your heart was hammering against your ribs as his nose slowly knocked against yours, causing your lashes to flutter. His head dipped down just a little lower, as the surprising softness of his lips brushed against your own. You savored the few seconds of weightlessness and the hundreds of thoughts rushing through your head stopped, until-

Your eyes flew open as your hands pushed against his chest forcefully, causing him to stumble back.

You didn't know what had your mind whirling more - the fact that you needed him to leave you alone forever or that only after a few seconds you were already yearning for his lips to be upon yours one more. Everything felt so unreal you wanted to hide away and cry. "Don't you understand?!" You asked gripping at your hair for a second as your hands clenched and unclenched. "I want you to leave - leave me alone. I don't need you, nor do I want you here." Forcing your bottom lip to stop the light wobble, you crossed your arms. "Can't you just leave me alone? Please." Please because I can't be that person again. I can't bury anyone else and be left standing, staring down at another grave out of hundreds.

He looked like he wanted to argue without you about every word that had just left your mouth, but bitterness settled over his facial features. At the hurt in his eyes, you thought you might be the one dying at that moment. He gave a nod of his head and you were left to watch as he turned his back to you and walked away.

When you had gotten back to the main road, the car was gone.

Your things were strewn on the side, resting lonely on the grass. It's better this way, you told yourself. Better, better, better…

*  * *

ONE MONTH LATER

Someone had been here. You had heard them from the safety of the funeral home, laughing and talking about whatever you couldn't deceiver. A lot of them were men, you had gathered, maybe even all of them. You hadn't dared to risk a peek through the glass. Their presence in the town forced you to stay in the funeral home for over a week and you would have stayed there longer, hadn't a high-pitched scream rung through the streets.

You were up on your feet in an instant, hands gathering two guns that you strapped to your hips and two knives before you grabbed one of the shotguns just in case since you still didn't know how many of them were out there.

The scream you had heard wasn't the one of a man or a woman but of a child. Neither man nor child was in the street as you stormed out of the funeral home, but as you quieted and listened closely, the growling of walkers was carried through the breeze. You took off, cursing the group that passed through and had obviously drawn the ghouls in.

Close by the empty grocery store stood a line of broken-down cars that you had once shoved away from the middle of the streets because Daryl and you had wanted to drive through. Your heart clenched at the thought of him Better. It was better. He wasn't in your mind for long, your eyes landing on the roughly dozen ghouls and one little girl running between cars trying to get away.

"Damn it," you cursed quietly, pulse thrumming. Before you could even form the first bit of a plan, a shout tore from your throat. "Hey!" You clapped your hands, turning the attention of the dozen ghouls to you. "Yeah, you fugly dipishits!" They didn't need to be told twice as they stumbled towards you, and you turned your gaze to the young girl, barely ten years old. "Kid, get on top of one of the cars now!" There was no time to worry about the tears in her searching eyes as you impaled the head of the first ghoul getting just a bit too close. You tried your hardest to blend out the sobs of the little girl, as you fought off walker after walker until not a single one was left standing. Drops of blood were running over your face, you knew and exhaustion was clawing at the back of your mind. You doubled over, hands on your knees and your chest heaving. Turning to the girl you wiped at your face with the sleeve of your arm. "Are you bit? Scratched?" She didn't answer, her small body still racked by sobs. "Kid!" You spoke louder, startling her. "Are you bit or scratched?"

"N-No," she breathed, fighting her cries. You nodded holding out a hand to help her off the car's roof. She hesitated, you would have, too, were you offered a hand by a blood-drenched stranger, but she took your hand and you lifted her to the ground.

"Where are your parents?" You looked around, ready to shout at whoever that child belonged with for being brainless fucks, but another cry tore from her mouth.

"M-My-My dad," she blubbered pointing behind her and at first nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, till your eyes fell to the red blood between the rotten one of the ghouls. Your mouth opened flabbergasted at the ribcage lying so carelessly on the sidewalk as though it belonged there.

"Shit," you hissed, eyes falling to the weeping girl in front of you. "And you mom- do you have a mom?" She shook her head. Shit. Your mind was rushing with thoughts, trying to think of a way to comfort that child but by the holy spirit, you had absolutely no idea how to. One thing though was certain, you didn't just start a rescue mission to let this girl die out here on her own. "Okay," you nodded to yourself. "Okay, come on. We are gonna go somewhere safe, alright? And then we will figure this out."

Inside the funeral home, you cleaned yourself off as best as you could with wet wipes and your make-shift water bottle shower and then kneeled before her. Her eyes were wide with shock, not even reacting as you brushed a wet wipe over her cheek to clean away the ghoul blood. From one of the caskets, you took out a chocolate bar and sat down beside her on the floor. You cleared your throat. "Do you want some chocolate?" As she stayed silent, you hummed. "Got me feeling like Forrest Gump here, kid."

Her ears perked up at that. "Who?"

"Right," you murmured. That was a ten-year-old kid who had never gotten a day in the old world. "He is a character from a movie. Do you know what movies are?" She gave a silent nod, turning her big brown eyes to you as she waited for you to continue. "Well, Forrest sits on a bench one day, wanting to visit an old friend, and waited for a bus to come and pick him up because back in the old-world busses would drive around all day bringing people from one spot to another, wherever they wanted to go. Anyway, while he is waiting for his bus some people sit next to him and he asks every single one of them if they want some chocolates." You shrug. "Then he tells different people his life story, which is actually quite amazing."

She sniffled a bit. "What did he do?"

"What did he do?" You repeated her question, brows quirking up in thought. "A lot of things." Resting your head against the wall behind you, you furrowed your brows. "Let's see. Well, he was a soldier, a ping-pong player, a shrimping boat captain, and a college football player and he really loved to run."

"What's ping-pong?"

You explained to her what ping-pong was, what a shrimping ship captain did, what a soldier was, and what college football meant. And then she sat there contemplating the answers you had given her. Her sniffling had stopped somewhat halfway through the explanation of a shrimping boat captain. "Can I have some chocolate?"

With slightly lifted corners of your lips, you held out the chocolate bar and she dove in, barely opening its package. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as she practically inhaled the chocolate bar. "Still hungry?" You asked her after she had finished, leaving her with sweet sticky brown smears around her mouth.

"Chocolate?"

"Uhm," came from your mouth as you eyed her. You didn't know all that much about children but you were sure feeding them merely chocolate was not the right way to go. "I have some stew?"

"With potatoes?"

"I think so?" You gave back, gazing at her questioningly. "You want some?" She nodded and while you stood to gather the can and heat it, she followed your around as though you would disappear any second. While she was spooning the warm stew into her mouth you sat across from her and cocked your head. "What's your name?"

"Lia."

"Lia?" You inquired to confirm, even though you knew you had heard her right. "I'm Y/N." You hesitated. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Her head hung low as her appetite seemingly vanished. "He told me he might not always be there," she mumbled and you understood right away that she was referring to her father. "And he said I'd have to be very brave." The sniffling returned in a flash. "We were hiding from those men," her timid voice croaked. "They had- they had shot him in the leg because we wanted to leave."  

"Leave?" You echoed. "Leave what? A settlement?"

"Our group."

"Okay," you whispered. It meant that those men that had drawn the walkers had been here for them and you hoped dearly they had given up their search and just returned home because no matter how many weapons you had stocked here, you could not compete with a whole group.

"Are you all alone?"

The question had come so suddenly, that it took you a second to pick out the meaning of the words, and when you had, your chest hurt. You tried answering, but your throat was so tight no word was able to fall from your lips and you didn't understand why you were reacting like this. You had chosen, had wanted to be left alone, but no matter how often you told yourself that, the agony amid your chest stayed persistent. No matter how often you told yourself it was better this way, because it was, missing him did not cease. Clenching your teeth to fight off the tears, you blinked away the salty droplets gathering on your waterline.

"Yeah," you whispered and pulled your knees to your chest. "I'm all alone."

"But-" She pulled her brows together tightly and stared at the can in her grip. "When you are sad, who is there to comfort you? Or who do you tell when something happened that made you happy?"

With every word she spoke, the harder it got to blink away the wetness in your eyes, until you suddenly stood, clearing your throat. "You are a kid. Kids nap, right? Why don't you take a nap? I'm going to take care of something."

"I'm not four," she stated. "And I'm not tired."

"Then count sheep or something," you said and excited the funeral home. Five minutes later you found yourself back where you had found Lia. If those men came back, they would know something was wrong when seeing those corpses and they would know there had to be someone else than Lia's father to do this since his dead body was between them, too. You couldn't risk them getting nosy. Grunting, you heaved body after body inside various car trunks and hoped none of them would be so curious as to look inside there, too.

Lia and you spent the next four days getting to know one another and you told her all about your time in school and college, which she seemed to be most interested in, while she told you what they did growing up. They had barely been on the road at all, but after a new leader had taken over their group and cruelty reigned, her father decided to get up and go in the middle of the night, taking with him a backpack full of weapons and food. You thought that was the main reason they came bag. Who wouldn’t go looking for a bag of missing guns?

It was on that fifth damn day that you decided danger was gone and the men weren’t coming back, that you allowed her to go outside. After you had told her about the library, she had shyly asked you if you could go there, and since now you were sure that absolutely zero ghouls were left in there, you showed her the library. Instead of going for the books, she went through the rooms below, looking at the different clothing articles and stuff that was still left from the people who had once camped out there.

With a doll in hand that looked suspiciously similar to a vampire, she ran out the door, pretending it could fly, leaving you to stare up at the banner, feeling the ghost of the dislocated shoulder at its sight. For barely a second you felt Daryl's arms around as he had caught you, as he had promised, and then – a high-pitched scream from outside. You were out the door in a second, the situation bringing such a déjà vu only this time it wasn’t walkers that you faced.

"Hey!" You shouted, eyes flitting from the young girl in their forceful grip, as she was being pulled away, to the four men. "Let her go!" They turned startled by you, but none of them made a move to let go of Lia, instead, they let their gazes run along your body and laughed.

Hastily your orbs checked them for weapons. Two of them had guns, you noted. The other two carried only knives and you thanked Lia's father for his little thievery. "We are just getting what belongs to us, Sweetheart," came back the gruff voice of the one gripping Lia's arm and your confidence wavered her lips started wobbling.

Before either of them had a chance to react, you pulled out one of your guns, holding them at the man's head. "Leave that kid alone." The one of the two with a gun that wasn’t holding Lia, took it from his belt, mirroring your stance. You heard the click of the safety notch from his gun and lifted your chin. There was no way in hell you would let them take that girl. Neither of them made any move to free her and your eyes narrowed. "I'm not gonna say it again," you voiced lowly. "Let her go."

The man with the gun moved and before you could stop yourself, you pulled the trigger. Another shot that wasn’t your own echoed through the street, though you barely felt it as it grazed your arm, as you pulled the trigger a second time, aiming for the leg of the man holding Lia. He let go with a shout and Lia ran past you, back inside the safety of the library. Curses that would have made Daryl halt in his tracks flew from the stranger's mouth as the other two with knives walked up. You lifted your gun again in warning, but at the same moment the man on the floor pulled out his. With wide eyes, you went to jump aside, being blocked by one of the other strangers, who immediately wrestled the weapon from your hand. You slammed your knee into his stomach and shoved him away, causing him to land on top of the gunman. Moving to get your second gun from your hip, a fist collided with your cheek. You landed on your knees disoriented as your sight blurred through the impact. Someone kicked you into your side and pain shot through your whole torso. Heaving you whirled onto your back, pulled out the second gun, and shot. He dropped like any other when being shot in the head.

The one you had kicked in the stomach appeared in your line of sight, knife held over his head, ready to pierce your head, too, but your finger worked by itself and another shot rang through the streets. And it all left you to stare up into the barrel of another gun. The man who you had shot in the leg stood over you.

One gun on him, one gun on you.

"Fucking bitch," he spat down at you, ready to shoot when a dead groan from behind caught his attention. In the blink of any eye, when his attention wasn’t fixed on you, you swiped his legs out from under him. He fell with a yelp and you jumped, gripped the knife lying abandoned beside you, and rammed it into his heart. Swiftly you turned and shot the ghoul ready to make you his next meal and then all was silent.

You sputtered on the pile of corpses, pain running along your side, and God… being shot hurt worse than you would have thought. It was a burning sensation so fierce you could not put it into words.

And then everything came rushing back and your mind cleared. "Lia!" You shouted, trying to move. "Lia!" If she had gotten herself bitten in the time you were fighting for both of your lives you would kill that girl. Relief flooded you as you heard your name being called and the rushing of fast footsteps.

"Oh, god," she gasped, seeing the blood soaking your shirt. "You're bleeding." You chuckled at the dumb conclusion and nodded your head lightly. "Does it hurt?"

Groaning you shifted yourself to lean on your elbows. "Little bit," you pressed out. "Lia, I need you to lift my shirt and check if there is an exit wound. Can you do that for me?"

"You are dying!" She sobbed. "You are dying. You can’t die, you can’t just-"

"Lia!" You held your breath as the pain became piercing. No raising of the voice, you thought, noted. "I'm not dying. Okay?"

"Promise?"

You didn’t know. You truly didn’t know, but you hoped not. "Promise," you said nonetheless. "But I need you to be brave, okay? Like you promised your dad, kay? Now, lift my shirt and check for a hole."

With shaky fingers, she lifted the blood-soaked shirt, whimpering. "I- I think so, yes." She sniffled. "Is that bad?"

"No," you answered quickly. "That’s good." Your face scrunched up. "Well, not good, 'cause now I have two holes in my body that do not belong there, but it could be worse." Grunting a pained tear fell from the corner of your eye, as you turned to lay on your back. "Okay, Lia, I need you to listen closely, alright? I shouldn’t move right now and I need your help, okay?" She nodded, eyes red and puffy. "I need you to go back to the funeral home and get some things, can you do that?" Again, her head whipped up and down. "In the black casket on the floor are medical supplies. I need you to get me bandages. Lots of them. And in there are some pink bottles with disinfectant. Pack it in my backpack by the door, and come back."

"Okay." She scrambled to her feet, repeating what you had told her in a whispered tone as she took off running. The second she was out of earshot a string of curses flew from your mouth and your head fell back against the corpse's legs, your hand tightly pressing against the wound on your side.

Lia came back with your backpack swung over her shoulder, throwing it down beside your head, and pulled out the things you had asked for. Forcing your hands to steady, you pulled up your shirt and carelessly squirted some of the antiseptic liquid over your wounds, biting your tongue at the fiery feeling. You cleaned it as best as you could and pressed an impressive number of gauze pads to both front and back, instructing Lia to keep a hold on the once on your side, you started rolling a bandage around your torso, pulling it tighter with every layer.

Your own blood on your hands you turned to the girl. "Help me up."

"You said you shouldn’t move."

"Yeah, well if I don’t move now, I'm not going to make it." You didn’t want to use the word die and give her any more shocks. Hastily she helped you up and took the backpack with her after you told her to and collected all the weapons strewn on the ground. Slowly both of you walked toward the alley beside the funeral home, where you had parked your safety car. It was the only car in the whole area that had a full tank, thanks to gathering the remaining fuel of about two dozen cars. You basically fell into the driver's seat and made quick work of getting the engine started.

Two minutes into the drive, you told her to get the map out of the backpack. "What's A for?"

"That's where we are going, so they can patch me up, hopefully." A was something Daryl had drawn on there, obviously hinting at the settlement he was adamant to tell you about. "Rules for this drive, you ready?"

"Yes."

"If I look like I might fall asleep, take a water bottle and pour it over my head. If I actually lose consciousness, jump out of the car. Clear?"

She gaped at you. "You want me to jump out of a moving car?"

"Only if I lose consciousness," you replied. "Don’t jump out while I'm awake that would be stupid." Had this been the old world a police car would have been immediately up your ass with how fast you were going, almost flooring the gas pedal. What you thought would be a one-hour drive, you halved simply by your reckless driving.

"You are bleeding again," Lia noted. "And on your arm, too. And you are really pale."

"Yeah, I'm trying really hard to ignore all of that and you are not helping."

"Thank you," she mumbled after a while. "You saved me."

"Twice," you corrected her. "I want a chocolate bar for every time." Before she could reply you took a sharp turn, almost missing it and she yelped. "Whoopsie."

"I'm going to be sick."

"Please don’t."

"You don’t drive very well."

"So, I've been told." You slowed a bit, blinking your eyes tightly as your sight became a bit blurry. "Are these walls?" You questioned, trying to get your eyes to focus. Spacing in and out, you brought the car to a stop, mere meters from the tree-high walls. Through your haze, you saw some people point guns down at you, but you couldn’t care less. If you didn’t get out of the car now, you would be dead either way. "Stay," you told her and pushed open the car door. Another shout sounded from the guards inside the walls aiming down at you.

You made to lift your arms in peace, but your legs gave and you crashed onto the stone path. Coughs worked their way up to your throat, and you barely heard the second car door opening. Lia rattled your shoulders, pleading up to the guards but your eyes just wouldn’t work right. "Daryl," you pushed out, catching her hand. "Ask for Daryl." But the gates were already opening and some faces you had never seen before shifted in and out of focus.

Shaking your head, you were supported left and right, as Lia persisted someone should go ask for someone named Daryl. God, you appreciated that girl. The male to your left shouted the name. Once. Twice. Your name struck through the community in a panicked tone. His voice, you noted. He was here. You let the darkness take you.

*  * *

You groaned, shifting where you were lying. A bed, you thought. It was too comfortable to just be a simple mattress on the floor. The blanket had a weirdly fresh smell, too, making you want to bury your nose in it to take a deep whiff. Instead, you became aware of the dull throbbing everywhere. You forced your eyes to snap open, blinking against the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Wanting to swallow the dryness of your throat greeted you and you huffed annoyed. Something so simple and quiet as a huff stirred awake the shaggy-haired brunette sitting beside your bed.

"You are awake."

You chuckled. "No shit," you croaked and flinched at your own voice, scarcely more than a whisper. He ignored your bickering and reached for a glass of water by the bedside table, tenderly lifting your head so you were able to take a few sips. Clearing your throat just to be sure, you gazed up at him. "How long?"

"Day or so."

"Help me sit up," you ordered, already angling your arms, ready to push yourself upward.

"Nah, ya ain't supposed to." He sat down again, leaving you to roll your eyes. "Who did this to you?"

You didn’t answer, staring up at the ceiling. He was about to repeat himself when you interrupted him. "You remember those dumb questions you asked me? When we first met?" You mumbled. "Ask me the second one again."

He seemed hesitant but you shifted your waiting eyes to him. "How many people have you killed?"

"Four," you whispered. "I killed four men."

"They do that?" He questioned as if he didn’t already know the answer. You still nodded. "What happened?"

And then suddenly, you shot up as far as you could without him immediately pressing you back down. "Where is Lia?"

"She is out playin' with the other children," he answered, keeping his hold on your as you tried to sit up again. "Would ya stop doing that?!"

"Don’t shout at me," you complained and pinched his hand, to make him let go of you. "Prick."

"Then stop being fucking stupid, Cunt."

"Hey," you whined and pointed your finger at him. "That were two insults. I got a freebie now. Gonna safe that one."

He cleared his throat, as though he had in a flash remembered everything that you had said to him and he backed up just enough for you to notice. "I'm gonna go get that kid." And away he went.

*  * *

You were on bed rest for a week, much to your dismay, and to be fair, you wouldn’t have stayed there for so long, had Lia not looked at you with pleading eyes, making you pinky-swear it. Daryl had not once visited and you knew why. You knew exactly why. After all, you had told him you did not want or need him.

Lia had helped you out of bed, persistent in taking you for a stroll through Alexandria, which she was ecstatic about. All the while you were forced to stay in bed, she ran around with the other kids and for what appeared to be her first time, she had made some friends. When you saw Daryl walking right across your path, you told her to give you a moment. No leather vest was donned, only a grey shirt and his usual rugged pants. His hair was as messy as it always was.

Though the pain in your side wasn’t completely gone, the pain medication certainly did its job as you quickened your steps, his name falling from your lips. He halted and by the movement of his shoulder, you saw him inhale deeply. "Can we talk?" You asked, seeing all the people around you. "In private." Grunting in agreement he nodded towards the house he had left just minutes prior. You shut the door behind you, anxiously playing with your fingernails.

"I'm really sorry, D." Your tongue and teeth grazed your bottom lip as you tried to gather the words you had wanted to say to him since you had sent him away. "That day in the woods-" Your voice cracked. "I panicked," you admitted. "I panicked so bad because I jokingly said you love me and I-" Stilling, you swallowed the lump in your throat, stopping yourself before you poured all your heart out to him. "It's lonely out there without you." When he didn’t react with anything, your shoulders fell. "Could you just… say something… anything?"

"What d'ya want me to say?" He urged. "I'm just doin' whatcha told me. I left."

"You could tell me not to leave," you offered. "You could tell me you want me to stay."

"But you said-"

"I know! I know and I'm a fucking idiot for saying it." You clenched your jaw to keep yourself from tearing up anymore. "I just flipped out-"

"Because of a stupid joke?"

"Because when I said it, I realized I do!" You admitted. "I realized I love you and that scared the shit out of me." Despite your best efforts, a tear dropped from your eye onto your cheek. "And then I thought of you dying and it scared me so much that I couldn’t breathe." A sob racked its way from your lips, having said it out loud for the first time. He still hadn't said a word and you chuckled unamused. "Funny, isn't it? 'Cause you were fine and I was the one that almost die-"

He had taken a step towards, his hands resting on your cheeks and then he sealed his lips to yours. His lips were so tender against yours and the butterflies in your stomach seemed to multiply as your eyes fluttered shut. You pulled him closer, slinging your arms around his neck as he walked you two backward until your back hit the front door. He lifted his head barely a millimeter, his blue orbs gazing into yours.

"Stay."

"Okay," you smiled. "Prick." He frowned, lifting his head farther. "I was using my freebie."

Chuckling he shook his head. "Cunt." Ready to protest, your mouth opened just slightly, but before a single syllable could escape you, his lips fell back to yours. "I love you, too."

You might just let it slip this one time.

[buryustogether]

can i request a heisenberg x reader one shot of him being jealous/protective 🥺 please!

listen heisenberg gets jealous of anyone and anything, that’s just how it is, sorry

heisenberg x reader

552 words

tags: established relationship, unwanted male advances, jealous!protective!possessive!heisenberg

The afternoon was beginning to come to a close as the sun started its descent below the mountain range upon the horizon, bathing the skies in hues of pinks and oranges. The village was quiet, having hidden itself away from the recent snow storm that had its grips in the small community not long ago. A few of the only sounds included a dog barking somewhere from the east end, the loud creaking of the windmills in the Reservoir, and the crunching of ice beneath your feet.

Leaving a clear print of tracks in your wake, you pulled your hood from over your head as you approached the village. After being cooped up in the factory for so long, waiting for the storm to cease its roaring, you were eager to breathe in fresh air and speak to other people. Not that your courter, the Lord Heisenberg himself, wasn’t enough to talk to. Goodness knew he kept you occupied while you were trapped inside - in more ways than one.

Following the trails you knew like the back of your hand, you wound your way between the houses and to a quaint little cottage near the edge of town. Roseanne, the older woman who lived here, made the most wonderful breads that you loved so. And Heisenberg didn’t think they were bad, either. He always said the village food was strange, but that didn’t stop him from sniffing through your bag of goodies when you returned from these little trips.

Kicking the snow off your boots as you stepped up onto the porch, you brushed the fresh powder off the shoulders of your coat before reaching up to tap your knuckles against the door. You waited for a long few moments, clutching the strap of your bag. Of course you meant to compensate Roseanne with payment, a small heap of Lei that sat in the deep pocket of your extra layer.

With a great squeal of protest, the door opened to reveal not Roseanne, but a tall and lanky man you knew to be her son. You hadn’t seen him much since joining your suitor in his factory once you began to go steady with one another, but his tilted, crooked face reminded you of how much you disliked him. He was known as a player throughout the village, a rat that moved from body to body when he was no longer satisfied.

A pleased smile spread across his sickly features when he spotted you on his mother’s doorstep. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said and opened the door wider. “I hadn’t expected to see you until next harvest when the metal was brought down from the hill.”

Attempting to keep your composure, you shifted your weight slightly and shrugged a shoulder. “I apologize if I’m intruding. I was hoping to buy a few loaves from your mother. Is she home?”

“I’m afraid she went across the village to visit a friend,” he said, then brushed his hair back over his scalp. “But I’m sure she has a few lying around. Care to come in and relax?”

“Thank you, but no,” you said, instinctively taking a small step backwards. You recalled all the stories the other girls told you of his tactics and ways, his silver tongue and darkened eyes. “I’ll just come back later. Good day.”

Before you could turn and hurry down the steps back to the factory, his hand reached out and wrapped tightly around your wrist. You nearly jerked in his grasp, whipping your face around to look at him again. He tilted his head, that smirk never leaving the plane of his face. “Come, now, I’m sure that trek from the hill was tiring. Surely your Lord wouldn’t mind if you stayed just a while for your trouble? I’ll be sure to keep you warm.”

Just as you were about to give him a piece of your mind, a long, twisted metal nail flew through the air on its own accord and planted itself in the doorway beside his head. His grip wavered in his surprise and you pulled yourself away, only to stop at the edge of the porch as a large shadow fell over you. A familiar warmth pressed against your back and you felt your racing heart calm. His chest heaving for breath, his gaze trailed up and above you, his eyes widening in terror.

“I would thank you for the offer,” chuckled a sharp, rumbling voice from behind that you had come to love, “but I really shouldn’t. Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch what’s not yours?”

Roseanne’s son trembled in the shadow of the Lord, no longer even aware you were there. “I-I’m sorry, my Lord, I didn’t-“

“Get out the fuck of my sight, boy. Scram.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled inside and slammed the door shut, which was followed by the sounds of multiple locks clicking into place.

Your breathing having slowed, you allowed his large, gloved hand to wind around to your front and take hold of your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Gently, he turned you head and you let him until you met his gaze through his shades over your shoulder. “I told you I would be fine, Karl.”

“And yet here we are, honey.” He was still for a moment, as if inspecting you for anything that seemed to be out of place, even a single hair in your head, before he was satisfied and gave the ghost of a smile. He stroked the angle of your jaw with his thumb, his touch warm and comfortable and possessive. His face leaned down until the edges of his lips ghosted over yours, breath rolling over your mouth. “Here we are.”

[theramseyloft]

i read your long pigeon poop post, and after some poking around online i saw that a loft in melbourne australia failed. do you have any idea why that is?

Oh... my fucking God. I am so furious.

Look at this thing!

$70,000 went into this monstrosity?

It looks like they converted a fucking water tower by punching holes in it and welding on entryways shaped like the stereotypical toddler’s first house drawing!

Who fucking researched this?!

Was it designed by a committee purely by aesthetic?!

Here is an article I found on it’s decomission and removal.

https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/melbourne-city-councils-70000-pigeon-loft-turned-into-scrap-metal-20160724-gqcmsc.html

According to the pigeon expert quoted in this article: 

“Frank Hayes is the president of the Australian National Pigeon Association. While his group is mostly interested in show pigeons, a different breed to the city pests, he says it was fairly predictable the coop idea was never going to work.”

“ "The nature of the pigeon is that they find a home and they stick with it. So finding them somewhere else to go is a bit of a dream," said Mr Hayes.”

“ "Trying to shift them is one big headache. It's a worldwide problem and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it." ” 

LOOK at this structure!!!

It’s made of fucking METAL!!!

In AUSTRAILIA!!!

In the fucking OPEN!!!!

From this charming article:

 http://melbournedailyphotodaily.blogspot.com/2011/03/pigeon-loft-batman-park.html

“The loft is painted with light coloured corrosion resistant to reflect the heat and minimise internal over-heating. It houses two hundred nesting boxes for pigeon breeding. Eggs laid will be replaced with artificial eggs intended as a humane way to control and reduce pigeon numbers.”

That is a metal structure in the Melbourne sun...

No amount of Paint is gonna make that less an oven.

And I can’t imagine you can add anything to paint to make it corrosion resistant that isn’t noxious in a small space when the metal under it heats up.

“Bird feeding around the loft base is permitted to attract birds out of the CBD to this area. Bird feeding is not permitted in any other area around the CBD.”

But the city council is not actually providing the birds with good quality fed...

“... and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it."

No one, you ignorant twit?

NO ONE?!?!

Here is the site of a successful branch of the German Stadttauben Projekt, translated:

https://stadttauben-stuttgart.de/

“The Stuttgart pigeon project

Dear prospective customers,

nice that you found our homepage. We would like to introduce our project to you on the following pages:

The Stuttgart City Pigeon Project is an animal welfare-friendly concept for regulating and reducing city pigeons for the benefit of people and animals. We operate several supervised pigeon shots in the Stuttgart city area, in which the pigeons are cared for and their eggs are exchanged for dummies so that no offspring hatch. By the end of 2019, there had been well over 45,000 eggs. By feeding grain mixtures in our shots, the animals are no longer forced to look for food on the streets and squares in the area. They spend 80% of the day and the entire night in the dovecote. Ergo - your droppings also stay there and no longer land on roofs or balconies.

We were awarded the Baden-Württemberg State Animal Protection Award 2015 for our commitment .

The city pigeon is one of the most successful residents of the urban living space and today populates all major cities worldwide. It is the free-living descendant of the wild rock pigeons from the coastal and mountain areas in Africa and Eurasia. Long ago, the rock pigeons were domesticated by humans primarily for the purpose of meat production and thus also carried to our latitudes and cities. In modern times, the stock of the archetypal rock pigeon increasingly mixed with breeding, racing and sports pigeons that either escaped, were abandoned or, exhausted by exhausting competitive flights, ran aground in the cities. Today's city pigeons are the overgrown children and children's children of these rock, breeding and sports pigeons.

In cooperation with the state capital of Stuttgart, the Tierschutzverein Stuttgart und Umgebung eV launched the pigeon project in 2008. The cooperation was formed with the aim of bringing about a permanent and humane solution to the city pigeon problem.

The concept of the Federal Working Group for City Pigeons or the so-called * Augsburg Model * was helpful. It is based on scientific publications, practical experience and has already been successfully recommended by several federal states such as Hesse, North Rhine-Westphalia and Baden-Württemberg. Today it is implemented in more than 80 German cities and towns. For example, there are pigeon houses looked after in Aachen, Augsburg, Hamburg, Berlin, Frankfurt, Saarbrücken and Wuppertal.

We aim for a small, supervised and healthy pigeon population in Stuttgart. Then the image of the city pigeon may rise again. Because healthy animals, which have a permanent home and receive animal feed, do not bother anyone!”

https://stadttauben-stuttgart.de/?page=1,0,0,Chronik+%26+Fakten

“Care instead of fighting: our chronicle

2008:The first step was a dovecote at platform 1 in Stuttgart main station

2009:The second blow was made in the roof of the Leonhardskirche

2009:The third pigeon house was on the Mühlgrün parking garage in Bad-Cannstatt, which has since been demolished and replaced by the pigeon tower in the rope

2010:The fourth facility was the pigeon tower in the city garden on Max-Kade-Weg

2011:The fifth pigeon house stood on the roof of the town hall garage until February 2016. Reconstruction on the roof of the city comb in April 2016.

2011:The sixth dovecote was a second stroke on the roof of the Leonhardskirche (other roof side)

2013:The seventh dovecote was built in the roof of the Fairkauf building in Stuttgart-Feuerbach

2014:The eighth pigeon loft was built (as a replacement for the location at the main station) on a flat roof in the Kriegsbergstrasse

2016:Dovecote number 9 was inaugurated in July 2016 at the Marienplatz in Stuttgart in the roof structure of the imperial building

2017:

On Landhausstrasse in the east of Stuttgart, we were able to set up dovecote No. 10 in the attic of a residential building. It was opened in June 2017

2018:In summer, an indoor pigeon tower was opened at Seilerwasen in Bad Cannstatt as a replacement for the Mühlgrün pigeon house

2019In autumn a new pigeon facility was inaugurated at the station in Zuffenhausen and the first egg was laid in December.    

In addition, a dovecote (trailer) on the grounds of the shelter Stuttgart and Nistwand for about 30 pigeons on the will of the ASPCA Stuttgart  House  Adam Müller-Guttenbrunn in Stuttgart Zuffenhausen care.

... more dovecotes are to follow!

Health hazard facts

A health hazard due to pigeons flying around, running and sitting can be largely excluded. New scientific studies have shown (again) that pathogens that may be contained in the pigeon droppings are usually bird-specific and are therefore not transmitted to humans. This was confirmed in 1995 by the Federal Ministry of Health.

The general classification of the pigeon as a pest was withdrawn by the Federal Institute for Consumer Health Protection back in 1989 on the basis of research results at the time and the opinion from 2001.

Feed facts about pigeons

Feeding pigeons in Stuttgart is prohibited on public land. Well-meaning pigeon friends increase the population density of the city pigeons by regular feeding in the same place, without offering the additionally attracted animals sleeping and nesting places where they are tolerated or the clutch can be exchanged. This creates people who work there or often live more pigeon hate and more pigeon misery.

Above all, too many food scraps are thrown away on the streets and squares of the city! This waste is mostly not compatible with pigeons. They lead to illnesses, shortages and thus, among other things, to the unsightly liquid starvation. Nevertheless, due to the scarcity of bird-friendly feed in cities, these human foods are usually the main basis for the feeding of city pigeons, but their organism is designed for pure hard grain feed. So this means sick pigeon populations that nonetheless reproduce disproportionately due to their (pet) genes raised by humans.

If you would like to help sustainably, please contact us. Only other supervised dovecotes in the city area (including food and egg exchange) start at the root of the "problem". We welcome any support!”

From their gallery:

Here is a loft.

Small, wooden, well insulated from heat and cold.

Those openings are not the nests. They are just doorways with a landing ledge designed around the comfort of pigeons, which are social birds.

Here is the inside.

Lots of comfortable nest boxes, perches in the back, food, water, comfortable socialization space...

Here is an entry into another loft currently in use.

Here is the inside.

Water and feed are provided by the care takers. You can see feed and drinking stations all over the floor.

And this is the inside of a huge new loft in Frankfurt.

These German Taubbenhauses are designed around meeting the birds’ needs for food, comfort, safety from the elements, and socialization with their flock mates.

None of these birds had to be coerced or forcibly relocated.

Because their needs were better met, they came on their own.

Look at the $70,000 Melbourne monstronsity again!

More specifically, look at the bridge behind it.

And tell me where you would rather me.

Compact metal tower designed exclusively around convenient human access, metal nest boxes, 0 landing platforms, no socialization space, no protection from the elements, still no choice but to forage for what ever garbage people toss you...

or the comfortably Cool space under a concrete bridge with a convenient water source.

Three guesses what’s more comfortable for the pigeons.

Now, would you rather live under a bridge with constant noise from traffic, open to predators, 

or

A well insulated apartment building with comfortable suites, a spacious common area, and a nutritious free meal plan with clean water included by default.

"It's a worldwide problem and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it."

My ass, Mr. Hayes!

[kiatheinsomniac]

Unwoven Fate IX

[MASTERLIST OF CHAPTERS]

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The next morning, she woke before the sun could climb over the horizon, dressing by candlelight and heading down to the kitchen to grab breakfast. The hall was empty, the fire from yesterday evening smouldering and the only noise being the coos of the caged carrier pigeons over on the desk. Today, while food and sleep may have fuelled her body, her mind was fuelled with spite.

She had done more training than all four of them combined, she had managed to follow the mentor of the Brotherhood without being noticed, she had been asked to train them in archery. What had they done outside the safety of the hideout? Nothing. Today, she decided, she would go above and beyond, for the single purpose of daring them to challenge her loyalty ever again.

Finishing up her bowl of oats and cinnamon, she made her way to the pigeon coop where she collected her two assigned contracts and stashed them away into her hip bag after skimming over their contents.

In an hour, a cargo wagon would be arriving through the western gate, carrying an entire district's worth of weapons for the Borgia guards. Her task was to intercept it and then destroy it, killing anyone who may try to follow her back to the hideout afterwards. The assassin made her way to the roof, seeing the first few rays of the sun warm the far horizon with its fiery tones.

Spreading her arms out, as though crucified, she leapt into the hay below, beginning her journey to the western gate of Roma. She traversed rooftops, easily avoiding the attention of sleepy rooftop guards whose night patrols were coming to an end, keeping her steps fast and silent in her well-worn boots.

By the time she was perched atop a roof, hiding in whomever's garden was set atop it, the sun was coming down in slanting rays from the east and the city was beginning to wake. Merchants with their carriages and boats filed into the city for its markets, a few groups of nuns or monks flocked to the churches for prayer and the apprentices of artists and tailors were scurrying about with a crate full of pigments, bunches of brushes and rolls of fabric in their arms for their mentors.

(Y/n) waited patiently for the cargo wagon for the next forty or so minutes, with its armoured soldiers and Borgia bull painted upon its side. When it began to approach the gates, she crept down the back of the building and fished in her pocket for a handful of coins, throwing them to the ground in the path of the horses.

Immediately after a series of tell-tale clinks echoed off the cobblestones, a crown of people flocked to the floor, scrambling to snatch up as much wealth as they could as the Borgia soldiers called out for the path to be cleared. But humans are ever blinded by the prospect of money and, seemingly, deafened by it too.

The moment one of the two soldiers dismounted the wagon to begin forcibly shoving civilians out of their way, (Y/n) made her move, streaming towards the wagon. With her hood hanging low as to conceal her face and features, she swung herself into the empty seat, the guard opening his mouth to protest but it was cut off into a gargle as her hidden blade made its way into his jugular, causing the dying man to slump in his seat. Many a time had (Y/n) ridden in a carriage or a horse, but steering a wagon would be new to her. Tugging at the reigns, she forced the wagon into a u-turn and back out of the gates, quickly forcing the horses into a gallop away from Roma and back towards the country road.

"Ma che-" The voice of the other soldier cried out, "Stop! Stop that wagon!" Tsk'ing under her breath, (Y/n) spurred the horses on faster, casting a look over her shoulder to see that she was now being followed by three guards on horses. She had planned on burning the wagon but it seemed that she would have to improvise now. Scanning her surroundings, she looked towards a hill which she had travelled over with the courtesans those few months ago. There was a bridge where a river ran far down below, splitting the earth just over it. If she timed everything right, she could use it to her greatest advantage. She set the reigns on the handle beside her as she dug around in the wagon for any sort of weapon. Though, her eyes soon snapped up when a crossbow bolt whizzed past her.

A panic settling in, she searched faster until she was pulling out a freshly carved bow and a satchel of arrows. Lifting the weapon and pulling at the string, feeling the strength of its limbs, she let the arrow fly and watched one of the horses tumble to the ground, taking the crossbow-clad guard with it. She had been a little off the mark but the shot had served her well, regardless. A second arrow was notched and she cast a glance over her shoulder, thanking the Romans and their direct roads for her not having to steer the horses. This arrow knocked the guard off his horse, falling to the ground with an arrow through his nose. The final guard was smart enough to start zig-zagging and after two missed shots, the assassin novice realised that she would have to take control of the horses once more as the river was quickly approaching, the sound of roaring water filling her ears. She shoved the dead body off the wagon in the hope it could serve as an obstacle for the man in pursuit of her but it made very little difference.

Leaping onto one of the two horses, (Y/n) cut the one to the right free and remained perched on the other and the horse ran its own route, likely spooked by the crossbow bolts. The novice's head turned rapidly between the river ahead and the guard behind, knowing that she could not be afraid and cut it loose neither too early nor too late. Setting an arrow into the bow, she reached for a knife and finally cut the creature free as the guard was right at the tail of the wagon. With a sharp turn to the left, she was now safe from falling down the ravine and the bow was rapidly raised, a single arrow making its way into the horse that crumpled to the ground, the soldier upon its back flying forwards and into the back of the wagon mere milliseconds before it fell, crashing to splinters in the rapids below.

Taking a glance at the wreckage, (Y/n) nodded her head, satisfied with her work and riding back into the city, shrugging off her cloak and unbuttoning her shirt to reveal the pearls around her neck, pulling off her fingers to reveal her expensive rings and tucking the leather garments away into her pocket, draping the long cloak around her waist to appear like the skirt of a dress.

"Business?" The guard at the gate asked, his spear blocking her entrance into the city.

"I'm attending my cousin's wedding tomorrow, I'll be renting out a room in the eastern side of the city." She lied. Often, her femininity served as her strongest disguise.

"Very well," The guard replied, "Did you see a wagon leaving the city on your way in?"

"Why yes! The guard put an end to that man's reckless riding. Thank you, gentlemen, for your noble service to Roma and her people." She dipped her head in respect and the guard's chest puffed out with pride as he signalled with his hand for her to continue her travel into the city. The moment she was around the corner, the cloak and gloves came back on, hood hanging over her head and expensive pearls hidden under her shirt's collar once more.

Reaching into her pocket for the second contract, (Y/n) needed to rendezvous with a courtesan by the name of Giuliana. She would be at La Rosa in Fiore. Using the horse to traverse the city, the novice began her travel into the northern sector.

⚜⚜⚜

By the time (Y/n) arrived, most of the customers in the bordello were all just starting to sober up after the night and were flocking either to home or work. (Y/n) made her way up the steps, pausing to wave back to the courtesan that she had met back in Monteriggioni, before making her way into the madames' office.

"Buongiorno, (Y/n)!" Claudia exclaimed, spreading her arms for an amicable hug before pulling back, a pitiful smile on her face. "Ezio sent word to me of yesterday's events." (Y/n) sighed.

"I couldn't care less what the other recruits think of me. They wouldn't know what a sense of brotherhood meant if it struck them across the face. I've trained harder than any of them and yet I'm the one being questioned on my loyalty? In the same moment that I discover that my parents weren't murdered but assassinated, by my own family no less, I have them all screaming in my face and badgering Ezio to kick me out like children fighting for the last word." The Auditore held a solemn look upon her face.

"If my opinion is worth anything to you," She began, a hand placed upon (Y/n)'s shoulder, "I believe that you are truthful." The novice smiled in return.

"It means a lot to me. Now," She changed the subject, wanting to get her work for the day cleared in record time in order to prove herself, "Where is Giuliana? I believe I have a priest to kill."

"Yes, I will let her explain that part to you, I have to take account of the girls' wages from last night." She picked up a book and quill from the desk. (Y/n) nodded her head and made her way outside where she was almost immediately stopped by a woman whose dark hair hung in ringlets and rouge lipstick was smudged.

"You must be the recruit sent by Ezio." She spoke up.

"Yes, (Y/n) (L/n), at your service."

"Ah! You are the one who joined the girls from Monteriggioni! I remember you! I couldn't recognise you with your face covered like that." She exclaimed, "The girls here still all speak highly of you. Now, there is a priest who has been catching some of us girls off guard and threatening us to share the secrets we learn from our clients." The two of them began walking as they spoke, "Anna managed to follow him far enough to see him meet with some known Templars in the bathhouse ruins. He is a threat to our intelligence for the brotherhood and we fear that it is not long before he starts sending people to kill us off. We need him gone."

"These ruins. How often does he go there?"

"Every three days at noon. He should be there today when the sun is at its highest, Anna says." Giuliana replied, "In the meantime... There is a drunk who spends his days in the thieves' tavern and his nights prowling the streets in search of one of us girls to attack. He has been a monster to us all this past week and we wish to see him gone. We will all contribute our coin to you if you rid Roma of him." (Y/n) nodded her head once and unslung the bow from her shoulder, holding it out.

"My blade is yours, but I wish to leave this here, if possible."

"Of course, I will store it in the room you stayed in when you first came to Roma," Giuliana replied before scurrying off, leaving (Y/n) to travel east. The sun continued to climb higher in the sky and the novice managed to swipe a handful of peaches from a fruit vendor as he was distracted with another customer, slipping the fruits into her pockets and beginning to snack on one once she was out of the market square, the packed buildings sparsing out into fields and ruins of what was once the world's mightiest empire. Beyond that, stood a few clusters of trees and then the thieves' tavern at the very eastern wall.

Along the way, she came across a bordello beneath an aqueduct, realising that she could use this extra task to her advantage, especially among an audience of courtesans, the source of much of the brotherhood's intelligence.

"Morning, ladies," She called out to a group of them who stood posing outside, beckoning passers-by inside.

"Morning," One of them called out in a drawl, leaning forwards to give an ample view of her cleavage but (Y/n) merely held up her hands from the horse's reigns.

"I'm running an errand for Roma's ladies of the night and I need one of you to help point out a man to me. I hear a drunk has been filling himself with alcohol in the day and preying on you ladies in the night. I'm heading there to put an end to his behaviour now but would like one of you to point him out to me so that I know I'm getting the right man."

"About time that stronzo got what's coming his way! And from a woman no less!" One of them spoke up, making her way over to where (Y/n) sat upon her horse, "I'll gladly show you the pig's ugly face!" (Y/n) held her arm out to pull the woman up upon the horse.

She continued her ride east until they arrived at the stables just outside the thieves' tavern. The novice took her purse and contracts to shove them down the front of her stay, lest she loses them to the nimble fingers within the La Volpe Addormentata. The courtesan, streaming towards the tavern like a hurricane, seemed more eager than (Y/n) to see this man dead. Lurking in the doorframe, the prostitute's stormy-grey eyes scanned the room before her face contorted in a scowl, pointing to a man who was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a group of people in a gambling match of sorts.

All around the room, men and women alike drank or cheered over games of cards. The bar didn't seem too busy, considering it was still relatively early in the morning, but some of last night's drunks were either just waking up or falling asleep in some areas. The room was low-ceilinged but cosy and full of amiable chatter.

"Leave it to me, I'll see to it that he never bothers you ladies again." (Y/n) rested a hand on the shoulder of the courtesan who went to wait by the bar, watching.

The assassin novice joined the crowd surrounding the tipsy man who cheered as he took his turn with the dice. (Y/n) knew very little of gambling: of games such as war, Irish snap, blackjack, but gambling had always been left out of it. 'That's men's business, not ours.', her aunt had always told her whenever she asked about the games she would watch her uncle play during the drinks and friendly chatter that he so often shared before his meetings.

(Y/n) eagerly eyed up the man before her and ran through different ways in her head in which she could kill him - what would be the most efficient? As she began to ponder whether it would be best to leave him slumped in the corner with a subtle wound, make him seem like a blacked-out drunk, a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She turned back to be met with the eyes of La Volpe, one of the men who had known her parents, the one who had told her that she had her mother's face. He shook his head and looked out towards the door, a silent demand to kill him outside of the thieves' hideout. Silently, she nodded her head once to communicate her understanding. The assassin novice made her way back to the courtesan and leaned back against the bar.

"Volpe has asked that I get rid of him elsewhere." She began, "I don't know much about gambling, but from all the raving he's doing, I'm sure he's winning, which means he will be drinking too. Once he's intoxicated enough, can you lure him outside? I promise that I won't let any harm come your way, I just need to get him behind the tavern if possible."

The woman seemed hesitant, thinking over it for a while as she stared at him with equally furious and pensive eyes. "And you swear that no harm will come to me whatsoever?"

"It's my job today to make sure of it. He won't live to see the next sunrise, so long as you can help me to get him outside." Once more, the woman seemed hesitant but eventually made up her mind.

"Alright. In the meantime, we wait."

As they both leaned back, taking in all of the people who came, went, stayed, (Y/n) offered the courtesan one of her stolen peaches and learned that her name was Beatrice. She was from Roma but had moved to Milano and then returned when she heard that La Rosa in Fiore was under new management.

(Y/n) wished to share her story with her but, if she hadn't already learned from the girls at La Rosa, it may only rouse the same suspicion that the recruits had shown towards her. It was best to keep her mouth shut, she had learned, even if she knew that that only meant she would have to carry all the weight on her shoulders by herself. Though, Ezio said he wouldn't let her go through this alone. Currently, he was the only person she felt like she could trust and now she had been depicted by the other recruits in a light that made him not want to trust her.

She only came to realise at that moment just how much it stung to be away from him on a day that was supposed to be spent training with him as she watched her alcoholic target raise his new drink into the air in victory.

[oss-crime]

Chapter 2-Project “Ma” --Eve--; Scene 1

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 16-21

This is the story of the beginning.

From where shall I tell?

.

--They say that the witch of the forest uses a blue spoon instead of a staff.

It was a concerning situation for Eve that this rumor was spreading amongst the Mogera.

She made her living selling fruits and mushrooms that she’d gathered in the forest.

Though she was the village chief’s daughter in the small village of Nemu, that didn’t mean she could escape from having to work.

It wasn’t all that hard in itself.

At the very least it was much better than having to stay cooped up in the village all the time, and fortunately she was never wanting for customers. The Mogera who worked in the plains that stretched from the east of the village were always looking for a meal.

The Mogera referred to those who excavated legacy pieces. They would come in and out from the twelve royal capitals, and though it was their fault that these plains were now riddled with holes, there were few who’d voice any ill-will towards the Mogera in the village.

It was an undeniable fact that the money they brought in had made the village prosperous.

Even the automated carriage that Eve was driving had been bought with that money. Technically her father owned it, but he’d never used the carriage once. The chief had ended up becoming confined to his house ever since he had injured his lower back two years ago.

That was why he had allowed Eve to use the tools for his trade in his place.

The carriage was on its way to the biggest excavation site, the luggage area packed with her harvest from the forest.

Though she called it a carriage, unlike the usual kind the main body wasn’t pulled along by horses or anything. The wheels were moved by special gears that operated by magic that Eve would let off.

Those gears were one of the legacy pieces unearthed by the Mogera. Eve had no idea how they were made, specifically, but whatever the case it was certain that this carriage was ordinarily a very expensive luxury item.

Her father told her that he’d been able to buy it relatively cheaply through some old connections of his, but even so it must have cost enough money to live idly for a year. It probably would have caused a big row if her mother were still alive.

She would have to use this carriage to save up quite a bit to make up for it.

.

“Everyooone, good to see you all. Eve Zvezda’s mobile sale cart is open for business!” Eve shouted when she’d arrived at the excavation site.

It was around lunch time, so a bunch of brawny men began to shuffle around the carriage.

The most popular item was pfifferling. Apparently it was a trend among the Mogera right now to cook these mushrooms alongside venison bought from hunters. After that was trauben. Though it wasn’t the fruit itself that sold well so much as the wine made with it. It was the village chief’s specialty.

Close by where Eve was selling her wares, some Mogera were lighting a fire to start cooking with.

At once they started tossing the ingredients they’d bought from Eve into a pot.

Eventually they filled some copper bowls with the food that they made from it; after receiving them the men then sat down on the ground and started eating.

Around then, having mostly run out of the ingredients in her luggage compartment, Eve started to pack up. When she did, a good-natured Mogera approached her and handed her a bowl with soup in it.

Sharing the bounty with her. She decided to accept it with thanks.

Ah…

Then she realized that she didn’t have a spoon.

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that. I forgot.”

The Mogera who had given her soup came back with a spoon.

“Oh, that’s alright, I actually already—” About to say that she had one on her, Eve clammed up. “…Thank you kindly,” she said instead, taking the spoon.

…Phew.

She sighed inside her mind.

She couldn’t very well show him her blue spoon.

Today as well, as the Mogera were eating a discussion bloomed regarding that “witch of the woods”.

“I hear the witch of the woods has driven off the ‘White Army’ again.”

“Serves ‘em right. Thanks to her this dig site is peaceful now.”

The white army was a savage tribe causing havoc in this area.

They all had white hair, and they could summon flames. Apparently they were originally nomads who came from the east, but after having a dispute with the “people of the forest” long ago, eventually they changed into a bandit clan…Or so Eve’s father had told her.

The white army had killed hundreds of citizens of the forest. And apparently they were also after the artifacts excavated here, and so had attacked the dig site several times before.

Whatever the case, there was no one more dangerous to the people who lived here than the white army.

The witch of the forest was a hero of righteousness who punished this white army…Or at least, that’s how the Mogera took it.

“But then, how does the witch of the forest counter the white army’s frightful arts? That Peck guy get a huge burn from the flames that those white-haired bastards let off, didn’t he? Wouldn’t be surprised if she died to those.”

“I hear that the witch of the forest uses some extreme lightning art. Rumor is she turns the white army to ashes before they can throw fire at her.”

“A battle between fire and lightning, that’s pretty badass. But if they overdo it the forest’s gonna vanish without a trace, ha ha.”

Eve finished up her soup and returned her eating utensils to the Mogera.

She’d have to get back to the village soon. …Right as she was thinking that.

She heard a loud scream from the north.

When she turned in that direction alongside the Mogera, she could see a cloud of dust in the air far away.

She heard another scream. Not just one, but many people.

“Is that…The white soldiers?”

The Mogera started to murmur.

“This is serious. Are they coming to attack us!?”

“No…That’s not it.”

The troupe of white soldiers appeared to be fighting with someone else.

They all fired upon a large silhouette at once.

“What’s that, a giant?” one of the Mogera said.

Eve replied in her mind that it was not.

That…was probably an automated carriage.

Something much bigger than the one Eve had been riding.

It was being attacked by the white army, and attempting to escape…that’s what it looked like.

I’ve gotta move!

Eve jumped into her carriage and poured magic into the crystal in the control console.

After quickly turning the carriage around as it roared to life, she raced towards the direction where the cloud of dust was forming.

“Oi, miss! Stop, it’s too dangerous!” she heard someone cry from behind her, but Eve ignored it and pushed the carriage onward.

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[synmorite]

Behind These Eyes- Chapter 3

Summary: Life in the bunker, a hunt gone bad, cuteness, and goodbyes.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3642

Warnings: fluff, angst, injuries, more angst

A/N: This section was definitely written to be more “slice of life.” There’s a few time jumps. One more part after this!

*****************

You settled into life in the bunker quicker than you thought you would. Dean took you shopping and you picked up some essentials so you could be set for the next couple of months with them. You also insisted on picking up food so that you could cook for them. Mostly, you wanted to return the favor. They took you in and welcomed you as part of their family. The least you could do is give them some good home cooked meals. The first time you cooked, Dean moaned at the first bite of chicken. Sam smirked at his brother.

“Hey Y/N?” Sam turned to you.

“Yeah?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Clearly, you’re an excellent cook. Can you bake?”

You frowned at the random question, missing how Dean’s gaze zeroed in on you. “Yeah, I can bake too. Why? Something in particular you’d like?”

“How about cake?” Sam said, smirking at his brother before dodging the spoon that Dean threw at him.

“Sammy!” Dean growled. You looked between the brothers, utterly confused at what was going on.

“Can you bake… pie?” Dean asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“Yea, I can bake pie. Apple, cherry, blueberry, strawberry rhubarb, peach, basically any type.  You got a preference?” You shrugged.

Dean was staring at you. “Can you make all of them?” 

Sam burst out laughing. You frowned at them. “Can you guys eat that many pies?” You asked. Sam dropped his head into his hands, practically choking on his laughter now.

Dean glared at him. “Sammy doesn’t get any pie. They’re mine!” You joined in with Sam’s laughter, finally realizing that Dean must REALLY love pie.

***

One month later...

The boys still looked for hunts, but for the ones they found, Sam usually called another hunter to take care of it. They had a fairly large network of hunters set up. Dean explained that they had ended up in an alternate universe and brought back several people with them from that world. You weren’t surprised when Dean informed you of the existence of other worlds.

“I have an angel inside me. Why shouldn’t there be other worlds?” You shrugged.

It wasn’t long before there was a hunt that they needed to take. Something was killing soldiers that had returned from the Middle East. Wounds they received in the war and had long since healed, were reappearing and killing them. Sam and Dean had never come across this before and didn’t want to send someone else in to investigate something unfamiliar. There was no question that you would stay behind in the safety of the bunker.

Before they left, Dean cupped your cheek in his hand and ran his hand over your cheekbone. He’d been doing this a lot more. Little touches here and there. His olive green eyes burned into yours.

“Sometimes I swear I can see Arti behind your eyes.” He whispered. 

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

His hand dropped and he shrugged. “I dunno. I just feel like I see something that isn’t you.” You frowned at him and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Stay in the bunker. Stay safe, sweetheart.”

“You too, Dean. And you, Sam!” You called over to him where he was climbing into the impala. Sam gave a short wave and Dean climbed into the driver’s seat. He flashed a grin at you. “See you soon, princess.”

***

Dean checked in with you each night to ensure you were still safe and inside the bunker. They still didn’t know what was killing the soldiers, but they had tracked down that they all signed up and served together. Sam and Dean couldn’t get a hold of any details of where they served that may have caused them to become targets for whatever supernatural creature was now hunting them. 

However, on their fourth night away, Dean didn’t check in at 10pm as he usually did. You waited and waited, but he didn’t call or text. Neither did Sam. You’d tried calling them both, but their phones went straight to voicemail. You paced through the halls in your PJs, clutching the phone that Dean gave you. You tried not to worry, but as the silence from the boys continued, your anxiety over something being wrong grew. As 4am approached, you heard the growl of the impala and bolted to the garage. Sam was getting out of the driver seat and Dean was leaning against the passenger window asleep. Sam gave a small smile as you approached and gave him a hug. You could smell blood and smoke on him.

“I was so worried when Dean didn’t check in.”

“Yea, sorry about that. My phone died and Dean’s got...damaged.”

“Are you guys okay?” You asked.

“Yeah. Turned out it was a valkyrie. She posed as the army recruiter, and when her recruits didn’t die in Iraq like she planned for them, she decided to take care of it herself. FYI, fire kills valkyries. She hit Dean pretty good and he thinks he has a broken rib so he asked if I could drive us home.” Sam explained. He leaned down and called over to Dean. Dean didn’t move. 

You leaned down to the open driver’s door.

“Dean? Wake up, you’re home.” You called to him. He still didn’t respond. It was then that you noticed the light sheen of sweat across his face and the paleness of his skin.

You ran to the other side of the car. “Sam! Something’s wrong!” You pulled the door open and Dean fell out into your arms. His skin was clammy, but still warm. Sam was right behind you and helped pull Dean from the car to lay on the garage floor. Sam didn’t hesitate to pull Dean’s shirt up to expose his chest. There was dark bruising all across his skin. You could see his chest rise and fall shallowly so he was still alive luckily.

“That’s where the valkyrie hit him.” Sam whispered.

“What do we do?” You looked at him, panicking. Sam just stared at his brother. “Sam! WHAT DO WE DO?”

He shook his head. “I-I don’t know. The closest hospital is half an hour away and he has been bleeding internally for at least 8 hours while we drove back. I- I thought he was just asleep. I didn’t know.” Sam’s voice cracked. “Cas is too far. He can’t help in time.”

“Wait, Cas can heal because he’s an angel!”

“But he’s too far, Y/N.”

ARTI! You screamed internally. You forced all of your urgency and panic into the scream to hopefully reach him.

Little one? Arti’s soft voice echoed through your mind.

Please Arti. Please heal Dean. You choked on a sob.

You felt Arti’s presence move through you and had the odd sensation of him looking through your eyes to what was happening.

Little one, I am still weak. To heal him will weaken me further. I am not recovered enough to even fully heal him.

Please Arti. I need him. I need you to heal him.

Very well, Y/N. Press your fingers to his forehead and let my grace flow from you to him.

You did as Arti said and pressed your fingertips to his forehead just as Cas had done for you. You felt Arti’s warmth spread from your own chest, down your arm, and into Dean. You watched in amazement as the bruising on Dean’s chest vanished. His breathing strengthened and he let out a low groan. 

He is as healed as I can make him, little one. He will live. Arti replied weakly and you felt him recede.

Thank you, Arti.

Sam was staring at you. “Arti helped me.” You said softly. Sam nodded slowly and reached down to his brother. He pulled him up so that Dean’s arm was around his shoulders. Sam dragged his brother down to his room. You followed behind, suddenly feeling very tired. Sam laid Dean down on his bed. You reached forward and tugged Dean’s boots off before tugging the blankets out from under Dean to pull over him.

Sam walked out of the room and you looked at Dean again before following and pulling the door behind you leaving it cracked. Sam was on the floor with his back against the wall, shaking. You slid down the wall next to him and grabbed his trembling hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I thought I was going to lose him.” Sam whispered, squeezing your hand.

“I don’t want to lose him either.” You replied softly. 

Sleep didn’t want to come that night. Or rather morning. Sam had retreated to his room and you to yours, but you couldn’t stop worrying about Dean. Eventually, you got up and went back into Dean’s room. He was still fast asleep, but he looked much better than he had earlier.

You tentatively climbed on top of the bed and laid down on top of the covers next to him. You finally fell asleep watching him.

***

When you woke, you could feel fingers threading through your hair. You blinked your eyes open sleepily and realized very suddenly that you were curled up into Dean’s side. He was sitting up slightly in bed, with his computer on his lap. He had a tv show that you instantly recognized playing. Dr. Sexy. 

“I love this show.” You said softly and Dean looked down at you.

“Hey sleepy head. Was wondering when you were gonna wake up.” He smiled at you.

You scoffed. “Some of us didn’t spend most of the night unconscious. Some of us spent it worrying because someone missed check in and then showed up half dead.” You glared at him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. That valkyrie broke my phone when she hit me. And I just thought it was a couple of broken ribs.” He looked sheepish. “Sam said that Arti healed me?”

“Yeah, he did. He depleted his grace again, but he helped me and saved your life.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” His green eyes held your Y/E/C ones. You broke the eye contact and looked at the computer screen again.

“This is a good episode.” You murmured.

He hummed his agreement and continued to comb his fingers through your hair as you tucked back into him.

***

Another month later...

Dean pulled Baby up to a small park with a little pond.

“Why are we here, Dean? Thought we were doing a supply run?” You asked.

He shrugged. “You spend most of your time cooped up in the bunker. You said most of the places you visited in your haven were nature related so I thought you’d like to get outside a bit.”

You grinned at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know the bunker covers the libraries part of your haven, but there isn’t much variety to Kansas nature wise. There’s a little pond here. It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thank you.” You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, missing his blush. You opened Baby’s door before climbing out and running over to the pond. You leaned over the edge of the water and saw the tadpoles swimming in the shallows. You sat down on the grassy bank and sighed happily. You liked the bunker. But there was no sunlight. No breezes. No nature. Dean came over and sat down beside you. You dug your hands into the grass and felt the warm dirt beneath your fingers. You laid back onto the ground and closed your eyes against the bright sunlight.

“I forgot what the warmth of the sun really feels like.” You murmured.

“I never really thought about what it feels like. But it’s nice. It’s not just a warmth on your skin, but it’s down to your soul.” Dean replied just as softly. 

You peeked your eyes at him and saw him watching you with a soft expression on his face.

“Will you miss it? Will you miss… us?” He whispered. You sat up and laid your hand on his knee.

“Yeah. I’ll miss the bunker. I’ll miss Sam. I’ll miss you.” You rubbed your thumb gently across the fabric of his jeans and he was looking at your hand instead of your face now.

“Do you ever think of not going? Of kicking Arti out?” 

You let out a slow breath and looked across the water. “Yes. I do.”

Dean hesitated. “I don’t think you should.” You looked over at him, surprised. “Arti can protect you. I don’t think you should kick him out.” 

You felt a pain in your chest at his words. You nodded slowly to show that you’d heard him. You sat in silence with him for a few more minutes, but the comfort the pond had given you was gone. You stood up and dusted your jeans off. 

“C’mon. We should get the shopping done before it gets too late.” You were quiet during the drive to the store and you separated in the store to get everything you needed. As you checked out, Dean kept glancing at you. When you got back to the car and were loading the groceries into the trunk, Dean smiled and said, “Would you like to drive Baby back to the bunker?” You dropped the bag you were holding in surprise. Luckily, you had already moved it to the trunk and nothing spilled out or broke.

“What?”

“Do you want to drive Baby?”

You looked towards the car and then back to him. “YES.” He laughed and tossed the keys to you as he returned the cart to the corral and went to the passenger side. You sat in the driver’s seat and stroked your hands down the wheel. You pushed the key in and started her up. Listening to the roar of her engine, you glanced towards Dean. “Are you sure?” You asked.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Let’s get home.”

The drive from the store back to the bunker was all too short for you. You pulled into the garage carefully and shut the car off. Sam was leaning against the garage door, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his brother. “You let her drive your car?” Dean shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Gotta give her something to reference when Arti takes over again.” There’s a weird note in his voice that you catch, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. When you turn to look at him, his face is smoothed out with no sign of what it was. Sam raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

“So you gonna help us unload these bags or what, Sammy?” Dean asked. Sam shook his head and walked to the open trunk to start bringing the groceries in.

***

Two weeks later...

“Wanna go outside, Dean?” You asked, bouncing up to him. Dean raised his eyebrow at you.

“It’s raining.” He replied with a frown.

You grinned at him. “That’s the point.”

“What? To get wet?” 

Still frowning, he said, “I don’t get it.” 

“Haven’t you ever danced in the rain, Dean?”

“No? Why would you?”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed at his hand and pulled him towards the bunker door. He offered little resistance as you pulled him outside into the summer storm and to the little clearing near the bunker door. You let go of his hand and toed your shoes off so you could feel the wet grass beneath your toes. 

“Sweetheart, I’m getting wet.” Dean whined at you. Closing your eyes, you laughed and tilted your face up as the droplets ran down your cheeks and through your hair. You could feel the warm water soak through your t-shirt and you spun in a slow circle. You opened your eyes and smiled at Dean who was just standing and watching you.

“C’mon, Dean!” You reached for his hand again and pulled him toward you. You gripped his other hand and tugged him further into the clearing and started pulling him back and forth.

“Now what are you doing?” 

“Trying to get you to dance!”

He frowned slightly at you before looking around. He pulled his hands from yours and moved them to your waist. You rested your hand around his neck as he started to sway with you in the rain. 

“Why do you like the rain so much?” He asked with a cock of his head.

You shrugged at him. “It just feels freeing. Like I can do anything. Be anything. Smelling it on the summer air, feeling it run across my skin. The sound of it hitting the trees and the earth. Seeing the clear puddles and the drips off the leaves. It lets me just BE, ya know?” You blushed at the admission, knowing that Dean would think it’s silly.

You looked up and met his eyes. His normally bright green eyes were darker as they looked at you now. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth at the intensity you could feel in his gaze. He started to tilt his head down towards you and your breath froze in your chest as he got closer. 

“What are you guys doing? It’s pouring out here!”

You and Dean jumped apart at the sound of Sam’s voice. You looked over at Sam to see him trying to hold his coat over his head to keep dry. 

“You worried that it’s gonna ruin all that hard work you put into your hair, Sammy?” Dean said, walking over to his brother. Before Sam could even retort, Dean grabbed Sam’s coat and pulled it off. He ran further away, laughing at Sam’s startled look.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled and he took off after Dean. You laughed, watching the brothers chasing each other through the rain. Your heart panged at the realization that you were running out of time with them. With Dean. You could feel Arti inside you again and knew that any day now, your time was up.

***

It was close to 3am and you were still sitting up in bed reading a book when you heard it. Dean was having a nightmare again. His grunts and whimpers could be heard through the wall. You could hear him having nightmares almost every night. You listened for a few more minutes before deciding that you needed to help him. Setting your book down on your bed, you got up and went to his room. The door was cracked open slightly and you could see Dean in his bed. His fists were clenched in the bedsheets and the veins in his neck were sticking out from how tense he was. His brows were furrowed and there was a slight sheen of sweat on him.

Carefully, you made your way to his bed and softly climbed over the top to him. You reached out and stroked your hand through his hair gently. You started to hum ‘You are my sunshine’. Your mother used to sing it to your little sister when you were a kid, so when you needed a distraction, you’d hum it to yourself. Slowly, his body relaxed under your fingers and his breathing evened back out. His head turned towards you and he let out a soft sigh.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He whispered as he fell back into a deep sleep. Once you were sure he wouldn’t wake up, you leaned over and kissed the top of his head before slipping back to your room. You read your book for another hour and waited to hear if Dean had any more nightmares before cuddling down into your blankets and shutting off the lamp. You drifted to sleep quickly.

***

You were sitting in the library of the bunker and Arti was sitting across from you. A grin stretched across your lips.

“Arti! You’re okay!”

He nodded. “Yes, little one. I have recovered my grace. It’s time I take control again.”

Your smile dropped instantly.

“O-oh.” 

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“I just- I’ll just miss the boys is all. Can I say goodbye to them first?”

He tilted his head to the side and frowned a little. “If you wish. Let me know when you are ready.” 

You blinked your eyes open in the darkness of your room. You took a shuddering breath. How were you supposed to say goodbye? Dean and Sam had quickly become your family. You didn’t want to give them up. But you had given yourself to Arti so that he could help people. People like you. Rather, like you had been. You realized that for the last couple of months, you’d been happy. Truly happy. And most of that had been because of Dean. You felt so whole when you were with him. How could you say goodbye? You couldn’t. Not really. You pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and wrote a note. 

Dean-

I’m sorry. Arti’s recovered and I made a promise to be his vessel so it’s time for me to go and I’m too much of a coward to say goodbye directly to you. I want you to know that I won’t ever forget you. Or Sam. You gave me some great memories over the last 2 and ½ months. Singing along to music in Baby. Watching Dr. Sexy. Family dinners. Baking pies (and eating them!) Dancing in the rain... I’ll be reliving them in my haven forever. Thank you.  For everything.

Love, Y/N

You folded the note in half and wrote Dean’s name on the front. You propped it up on the desk and looked around your room. At your home. You debated going back to Dean’s room one more time to look at him. But you doubted that you’d be able to walk away from him if you did. You sighed.

“Ok, Arti. I’m ready.” Everything went dark.

Go to Chapter 4 >>>

[thewritingsofamadwomen]

I Hope You Don’t Mind

Mia Walker didn't know what was the next step in her life but it for sure wasn't any of this. Her complete life plan was changed around around with a simple sorry. And yet somehow she didn't mind much. Well to much anyways. Paul/OC

                                   Chapter 1 : Ocean Blues

Mia Walker always wanted to leave her small town in New York, to run away and finally be able to become her own person. She never will have that at home, always having to live under her parents. They always expected too much from her within abnormal goals and expectations but there wasn't anything Mia could do beside follow through with what they said. Stressed till the day she was able to get away from them and start living her own life. Mia couldn't even remember what the argument was even about anymore she just remembered packing her bags and deciding to leave for a while. Just remembering being so furious at them and unable to stand being in that house one more day, she packed her bags quietly that night and slowly put everything into her mini coop and drove away. She wasn't even sure where she would go but at that point she didn't really care, so she just drove. Mia knew her parents cared about her but they showed it in the worst ways possible, they were judgement over little things, always expecting much more then capable. Then they believed if they just gave you nice things and took you to places that all would be okay. It was such a long time ago that Mia tried to stop pleasing them but yet she always hoped that one day they would finally be prod of her. It was a odd dynamic. But it was all to much after eighteen years, she needed to go and be herself for a little bit before having to continue living that way. So she left, stopping by all the road side shows and shops she could find, enjoying all the things she always wanted to see but never could. It was a nice adventure, a break from everything even if it was a little lonely. Eventually she found herself in a city called Seattle, Washington. It was beautiful and busy and so much different from her small home town and she loved it. Staying in city for a few days Mia decided she might as well head to the ocean, so she can officially say she took a East Coast to West Coast road trip.

And that's how she found herself sitting on a sandy beach late at night, watching the waves crash. It was peaceful besides a bit cold, the sky seemed to be clear which she assumed was abnormal for the area as it was raining everyday since she got here. Even the log was still damp that she had to put her sweater down first which led her to be cold in the first place. She could see the stars in the sky, the full moon illumining the water in front of her. A group of people were a little off to her left around a bonfire, their laughs echoing over the beach. She didn't feel like going back to the motel anyways, she felt like she needed to be here. Not sure quite why but Mia was okay with having some time to think and relax.

Mia needed some time to think, her goal was always to become a school teacher and nothing else would work. She worked so hard in school making sure her grades were perfect, taking all the extra classes that would get her ahead. She knew that much wasn't going to change no matter what but the question was where? She could end up back in New York, living with her parents for a bit longer or maybe going to a school completely away. Mia went to Charleston a couple years ago and she loved it there, or even maybe someplace in California or Florida. Her grades should have been good enough to be accepted into a lot of different schools. But she didn't have much time to figure out where, she had a plan. Go to school, have her first job becoming a teacher proving to her parents that should could do it, then find some guy to settle down with then have the marriage and have two maybe three kids running around. The plan was set and Mia was determined to follow it, nothing else would work. Part of wished something could just tell her what to do but that was the whole point of getting away from her parents so she could decided for herself but it was such unfamiliar territory. She knew what she wanted but just getting there was tricky part.

A gust of cold air whipped across the beach, causing Mia out of her head as she shivered, thinking it could be time to go soon before it got colder. Part of the group to her left were running into the water, which Mia thought was completely crazy. When she first got here she went straight to the water and it was far to cold to put your feet in yet alone your whole body. But these guys ran in like it was nothing, what she could make out there were three of them tossing each other around, splashing each other like children all while laughing at each other. So Mia watched them as they slowly ended up basically in front of her, unsure if it was a bit too creepy that she was watching them but technically she was there first and they did end up where she was looking. They looked like they were having fun, not a care in the world but she knew how much of an act that could be. But eventually the cold had to be to much for them as they slowly were getting out of the water close to where Mia sat. Seeing them more clearly she realized they all looked alike, they could be brothers, brothers all on steroids for sure. They all had matching tattoos it seemed, maybe it was thing here. Their bodies soaked as they were all shirtless and only in a pair of shorts, oddly none of them were shivering and yet here she was completely dry and getting cold in her jackets. Mia couldn't imagine how they could have even stand dressing like that without even being in the water. The shorter of the front two laughed at the taller one, retaliating the taller one shoved him down into the sand not even a foot away from where Mia sat. Causing her to slightly jump having looked away so they didn't see her staring at them.

"I'm going to kill you Jared." The boy said almost in a growl but his face had a smile on it so he couldn't have been to serious. "Sorry 'bout that." He said turning his attention to Mia.

He was close enough that she could actually see him now, he looked a bit older then Mia was, maybe in his mid twenties but age has never been her specialty. His muscles huge as he held himself off the ground, completely covered in sand from falling. His jaw was sharp with almost perfect features, his eyes and hair dark brown yet he looked up at her. His facial expression unreadable. The smile fell from his face but not quite to a frown just more in shock, his eyes staring to her own unable to look at anything else. Worlds turning and twisting to fit them together, finding the two of them together they sat there, eyes connected taking each other in.

"And another one." One of the other boys said behind him as they all headed back to the fire besides the boy in front of her.

"It's no problem." Mia whispered after what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time but he didn't seem to think so or care. She was glad that the others left or this would have been more awkward for everyone around.

"My names Paul." He said moving so he was now sitting up completely in front of her, sand falling from his very toned chest. Her eyes following his chest as a blush spread across her cheeks, hoping it was dark enough that he didn't notice she was just checking him out.

"I'm Mia." She told him trying to come up with something more interesting to say to get him to stay longer but her brain just coming up empty. Which is pretty understandable when a hot guy just falls at your feet.

"I haven't seen you in La Push before." Paul said giving her a smile, holding his hands in his lap trying not to reach out to her.

"No, I'm from New York actually. A really small town." Mia told him "I just kind of started driving a couple days ago and I just kind of ended up here. I didn't even know where I was till earlier today basically."

"You just ended up completely across the country? Can't say I have ever accidently done that. I've also never done that on purpose though either." He told her giving her a smile causing her heart to beat in her chest, if it got any louder the group of his friends would be able to hear it.

"I had to get away for a bit and I was already so close to this side of the coast I figured why not just go all the way and make it a kind of coast to coast trip." Mia explained, picking at her nails nervously, trying hard to not mess up her words in front of him. She was doing quite good so far only stuttering over a couple of words in front of him.

"Well I'm glad. Are you going to be staying in town for a while?" Paul asked, looking almost hopeful but Mia knew better than to get her hopes up. Paul was very attractive, and there was no way he could be single and interested in her. She was different in this small town and she was assuming that's why he even bothered to talk to her at all.

"I was thinking so for a couple days, I got a motel for a week in a town called Forks. It's not too far from here actually." She told him.

"I'd like to take you out, maybe tomorrow if you don't mind? We can go out to dinner if you don't have any plans."

"Uh.. Yeah.. Sure." Mia stuttered out, reaching out to the side of her for her phone in the sand. "You can give me your number and I can call you in the morning?" She asked unlocking her phone and handing it to him, guessing he wouldn't have a phone on him.

"A friend of mine's parents own a diner, It's not much being such a small town but the food is pretty awesome." Paul told her handing back her phone, looking at his contact info on the screen.

"Love of my life? Little bit ahead of yourself there aren't you?" Mia laughed giving him a smile.

"Maybe but it's true, you'll see." He said getting up from the spot, trying to brush off the sand that dried to his chest. Reaching out a hand to Mia to help her off of the ground, she grabbed her sweater shaking it off a bit before throwing it over her arm before turning back to him.

"Guess I will. Bye Paul." She whispered, giving him a shy smile before heading to where her car was sitting on the side of the road. Her thoughts all on Paul when she drove back to the motel, the way he smiled, the sounds of his laugh the fact she barley knew the guy and he asked for her number. Mia always knew she was a bit boy crazy but something was different about Paul and she wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

It didn't feel long when she arrived at the motel and found her way to her room, it was a small motel. Not the best place she has stayed in but it was one of the few options in the town. It seemed to be clean and had a bed, basic bathroom, and a little kitchenette in the corner if she needed to cook anything. She was sure it would be fine for at least a week, specially if she had Paul to occupy her mind. Mia pulled out her phone, hoping her friend wasn't going to be too busy to answer the phone. After a couple of rings she actually answered.

"CALLIE! I'm in love! His name is Paul and well that's all I know about him beside his got great great abs and doesn't mind the cold." Mia basically yelled into the phone when her friend answered the phone, laughing as she could just tell her friend was rolling her eyes. Her best friend was quite used to Mia's ways, at least every six months it was another boy that Mia was obsessed with. Telling her she was in love, it long becoming a joke between the two friends. They've known each other for years ever since kindergarten when Mia stole the crayon that Callie wanted so she decided to dump the box of crayons across the floor. Neither were quite sure how they became friends after a rude first meeting but they managed. And roughly thirteen years later they still were best friends and kept each other in check.

"With a guy you just met? Tell me he's at least attractive this time." Callie asked while Mia placed her on speaker phone as she dug through her bags for something to change into after she showered.

"Of course!" Mia defended him.

"Callie approved level of attractive?"

Mia laughed at her friend. "You would even find him attractive. I actually have a dinner date with him tomorrow, which was his idea but I'm excited and super nervous. So you may get lots of photos of outfits cause you are too busy in London to be with me in my time of need."

"Be better at picking out clothes then." Callie said laughing, yells and laughter coming from the background.

"Why would I when I have you to do it. I'll let you go so I can go to bed." Mia told her, cutting the conversation off for a different time guessing her friend was busy.

"Yes and call me afterward so I know this Paul didn't kill you." Callie said laughing but slightly serious, Mia wasn't one to pay attention to actually bad people she tended to be oblivious. So Callie often felt the tend to protect her from things, even if she never did a good job, she tried at least.

"He won't but sure. Byes" Mia said hanging up the phone and finished getting ready for bed.

A/N I clearly own generally nothing of this story, I only get to claim Mia and Callie. It is what it is

[aboutcaseyaffleck]

BOSTON BY CASEY AFFLECK

October 25, 2020 For the record, what follows is nostalgia, false memories, and generalizations. But it’s all true. I grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, across the Charles River from Boston proper. Cambridge was one of the most diverse, multicultural cities in America. It was a beautiful, colorful, vibrant place. People from all over the world lived there, all mixed-up together. It is the place I was born and will return to, God willing. It is the city with the smells and sounds and tastes and people I love the most. Despite how much I loved it, when I look at old photos, I often look like this:

I’m in the front in the blue shirt. My best friend was Michael, the tall kid in the red shirt, whose family came from Barbados. Through the middle school years, anytime we weren’t in school we were roaming the streets like Dickensian urchins.

In the ‘90s, Cambridge got rid of rent control. Families who had lived there for four or five generations were squeezed out. Now the city is gentrified; but when I was growing up there, it was scrappy and beautiful. It was mostly working people, except for West Cambridge—where wealthy families lived, where professors lived. Where Cornel West, Yo-Yo Ma, and the Governor lived. East Cambridge was working-class Portuguese families, butcher shops, funeral parlors, and tow yards. Cambridgeport, where I lived, was mostly poor, Italian, Black, Greek, and Irish families. North Cambridge had some big housing projects and the school where my mom taught fifth grade—in a gigantic cement structure called The Tobin School that felt like it was far away because I would have to take a train AND a bus to get there. In reality, it’s like three miles from where we lived.

This is me hanging out in her classroom:

As people and places evolve, the past always reveals blemishes unseen at the time. However, Massachusetts manages, as time unfolds, to be a place that was so often on the right side. Not always, but often enough that I am proud to be from Cambridge, Massachusetts, no matter what.

From Massachusetts came the first national publication denouncing slavery, America’s “first feminist”, and The Cambridge Woman’s Suffrage League, which formed in 1886. My high school had the first girl to play tackle football in that division. Cambridge voted-in the first openly gay African-American mayor in our country. Right now our mayor is a very popular and forward-thinking Muslim woman who immigrated from Pakistan named Sumbul Siddiqui. We have marvels of architecture, science, and tech. It was in Cambridge that the very first email was ever sent (and received). And every year the Red Sox stand up to the wealthier bullies from the Bronx. These are all things we are immensely proud of, but nobody is resting on these laurels.

I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not.

Luckily, the city’s history isn’t going anywhere, and it hasn’t lost all of its charms. It is a place best seen by walking. So just walk. It’s also seasonal. Different activities for different seasons. But if you can hoof it for a few miles do this: start at the Old North Church and go by Paul Revere House, through Faneuil Hall, by The Old State House through Boston Common, through the Back Bay, go left and pass through Roxbury, another left, and go through South Boston till you hit the water and go left till you hit the Children’s Museum. Sit down and relax. If you just want a path, walk that. Map it or wander around. The city is full of little back streets with lots of character.

MY BOSTON FAVORITES

When looking for things to do and see in the area, you can ask ten people and get ten different answers. You will get a long list of historical buildings, or you will get names of some of the country’s prettiest parks, or you will get pointed toward the campuses of some of the very best schools in the world. But for every Bunker Hill, there are ten other places you haven’t heard of. So I am going to tell you about the places I remember fondly, whether they are still there or not. The thing about Boston is you can miss all the best stuff, and you will still leave thinking it is one of the best cities on Earth. Have fun. 

Pinocchio Pizza, Harvard Square. I asked my son to describe it. He says, “the food is good but the vibe is fire, old school; whatever, just get a slice and sit on the ground. That’s why I like it.”  I have no idea why he wants to sit on the ground, but I guess that’s part of the charm of the place. We’re both vegan so we both scrape the cheese off and eat bread and sauce. That should tell you something.

Oleana Restaurant on Hampshire Street in Cambridge. Chef Ana Sortun is a baller. The food is Turkish inspired, and it is delicious. Always. Friendly people, pretty inside, and it is in a nice residential neighborhood. My dad lived in an apartment a few blocks away behind a Store 24 until he was evicted back in 1989.

Maharaja, Harvard Square. Incredible Indian food. And it has one of the only third-story views of Harvard Square.

Veggie Galaxy is great diner food. It is vegan. It has breakfast, lunch, dinner, milkshakes and other deserts. All day and all night food that is filling and really good.

Life Alive Organic will serve you the healthiest and heartiest meal you can find anywhere. It’s across the street from City Hall, the post office, and the oldest YMCA in the country.

Cantab Lounge, where my dad was a bartender, and then a janitor when he was too drunk to be a bartender. I drank six thousand ginger ales, sitting in the corner at a sticky table while he worked. Forever it was a bar for postal workers that opened at 10 am, where alcoholics ate hard-boiled eggs from jars that had been sitting on the bar top for two weeks. A couple of days after initially writing this, I got an email from the owner. It is being sold after tens of thousands of years. I don’t know why I care because I don’t exactly have any fond memories from the place, but seeing the brick-and-mortar of your childhood torn down is a kind of mid-life, coming-of-age moment. Life is change.

Darwins Ltd coffee shop and attached mini-grocer and sandwich spot. If you get a coffee and then walk west two blocks on Mt. Auburn St. you will discover on your right a nice little park with a fountain to hang out. It is called Longfellow Park. Or you can look to your left and you will see the Charles River, and you can stroll there.

Fomu for dessert.

Zhu Pan Asian Cuisine and True Bistro for good vegan food.

Newbury Comics is famous and cool. 

Million Year Picnic is for comic connoisseurs. They are both great. And they were both plagued by roving bands of middle school thieves in my day. The most notorious was named Mathew Maher. He is now a well-known theater actor on Broadway and appeared in the comic book movie Captain Marvel. But back then he stole shit.

Harvard Coop is the best place to browse for books. Especially the kids section. We spend hours there and nobody kicks us out.

After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages [from me] on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is my favorite museum in town, maybe anywhere. It was once her home and it features an indoor garden that is perfect. It also has a great collection of art from around the world.  Back on March 18, 1990, two famous paintings were stolen from the museum. As I remember it, a couple of guys showed up in the morning in police uniforms and the guard let them in. They tied the guard up and took a dozen paintings—Vermeer, Rembrandt, Degas—and vanished. The FBI never found them and never found the art. There are two plaques below two empty spaces on the walls to this day. On some days, classical musicians perform in random rooms while you walk around. You won’t want to leave.

Fenway Park. Greatest professional sports arena of any kind. I used to sell sausages in front of the Cask ‘N Flagon, a bar behind The Green Monster.

 It is the best baseball bar in the country. When everyone was in the park watching the game, and there was nobody buying food, I would go in and find a seat and watch the game with whoever I was working with; I have seen hundreds of games from every part of the park. After the game ended everyone would come out and buy sausages on their way home, then I would clean up and go into a bar outside the park, where my boss was drinking and I’d wait till he was done so I could get a ride home. I was 12 years old. A couple of years ago I threw out the first pitch. Life is change.

Plimoth Plantation is a living museum in Plymouth, which is 40 minutes from Boston. It is amazing. The actors working there are some of the best I have seen anywhere. If you are even mildly interested in history you have to go there.

Fresh Pond is where you can go running or biking. Two and a half-mile loop. 

Or you could hit The Emerald Necklace which is a great run that hits many of the best green areas, Franklin Park included. When we were young we would hop the fence and swim in the water. That isn’t done anymore ever, and everyone has grown up and leading better, more responsible lives.  

John Weeks Footbridge is a very pretty, very old, brick walking bridge that spans the Charles River. Watching the Charles Regatta from here is awesome. That is in the Fall. But it’s also great any night.  

The King School is a grade school not too far from there. It has maybe the best playground in the city. If you are there in the summer you can just walk on. When I was a kid, the King School is where a girl went who I was head over heels in love with. I finally got a shot at winning her heart in my early twenties and blew it.

Mount Auburn Cemetery is beautiful if you like that kind of thing. Lots of cool people are buried there, and the trees and stones are really nice. It’s a maze but just walk uphill. You will reach a monument with a great view of the city.

The American Repertory Theater puts on good plays. I grew up going there cause a friend of my mother’s directed many of the shows and could sneak us in the back. I wasn’t the adult making that decision; had I known better I would have scraped together the ticket price and supported the arts.

Boston Common is beautiful but you have to avoid all the shopping around it. If you have to shop go to:

NOMAD on Mass Ave in Cambridge is a store that you shouldn’t miss. In a world lost to chain stores and general homogenization of everything, Nomad is the real deal. Deb Colburn has been curating this place since I was ten. It is her store, and she has been trying to wake people up to folk art from around the world since Reagan was in office.

Bodega is a hidden high-end sneaker and casual wear store that must be entered through an unmarked door inside a bodega on a nearby side street. It’s cool how they have done it. Great presentation. Kids will like it.

KIDS ACTIVITIES

There are lots of things you can force your kids to do—things they won’t like the sound of at first, but will ultimately enjoy.

IMAGE CAPTIONS, LEFT TO RIGHT

On a rainy day, hop on the T and ride around town all day reading comics. Then stand outside in the warm rain (kids from LA don’t get this much).

Looking at murals. Cambridge has great murals everywhere. They are old and, incredibly, not vandalized. This one has been on this wall near the river since I was a kid. The child is mine and he is sick of walking around Cambridge.

If you feel like a pilgrim hit the gift shop at Plimoth Plantation.

Playing chess at Leavitt & Pierce Tobacco. You can inhale the scent of pipe tobacco without smoking it, and rent a chess set, clock, and table for $2 an hour in a beautiful old, wood-paneled shop with great ambiance.

Going to the oldest YMCA in the country.

Kayaking on the Charles River. You can get your kayak on Soldiers Field Rd. Take it east under all the bridges until you get to the inlet at Kendell Sq. It will all be clear. It will take about an hour.

Climbing the stairs at Harvard Football Stadium.

Reading books at the Harvard Coop.

NEARBY BOSTON

If you wanna go a little farther, go out to Gloucester for the day. Swim, eat, walk around, go back.

Whale watching sounds like a lame tourist trap but seeing whales up close will change the way you think about life on Earth.

You can take the ferry from Downtown Boston to Provincetown. It is a great place to visit or stay a few days while in town. Ptown is the eastern-most point on the continent. I might be making that up, but it’s close. It’s an arm that sticks out into the Atlantic. It’s really lovely there with a great vibe all around. You can’t have a bad time and everyone is super happy to be there. The beaches are all beautiful.  Sharks mostly only eat the seals and won’t come any closer to shore than two feet—but if you want to see a great white up close, we can make that happen.

Cape Cod has some great flea markets.  If you plan on spending time on vacation with your family you can find some essentials, like a medieval battle helmet, at the flea market.

SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS

30 minutes on the local train line from downtown. Made famous by the Salem witch trials; a fun place to visit and walk around for about 128 minutes. Newburyport and Rockport lines, which depart from Boston’s North Station, stop at the Salem station. You can go into the homes of people who lived during the witch hunt.

The House of the Seven Gables, made famous by American author Nathaniel Hawthorne‘s novel The House of the Seven Gables, is a 1668 colonial mansion in Salem, Massachusetts named for its gables. The house is now a non-profit museum, with an admission fee charged for tours, as well as an active settlement house with programs for children. It was built for Captain John Turner and stayed with the family for three generations.

The Jonathan Corwin House in Salem, Massachusetts, known as The Witch House, was the home of Judge Jonathan Corwin. It is the only structure still standing in Salem with direct ties to the Salem witch trials of 1692, thought to be built between 1620 and 1642. Corwin bought it in 1675 when he was 35, and he lived there for more than 40 years. The house remained in the Corwin family until the mid-19th century and is located in the McIntire Historic District. 

A MECCA FOR ARTISTS

Lastly, for centuries, Cambridge has been a mecca for artists, especially writers. Here are some spots to see if you like that kind of thing:

The corner of JFK Street and 1390 Massachusetts Avenue. This is a good spot. Here is why: America’s FIRST PUBLISHED POET was a woman named Anne Bradstreet who died in 1672 and lived on this spot! It went through lots of changes, and 300 years later, by the time I was walking around, it became a great burger place called THE TASTY. In 1996 or whatever, The Tasty appears in the movie Good Will Hunting in the scene when Matt Damon kisses Minnie Driver. It might have also appeared in the film Love Story back in the 70s. I mix them up. Now it is a CVS.  God help us.  

The Longfellow House. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lived at 105 Brattle Street. The great poet taught at Harvard and lived in the Georgian mansion from 1837 until his death in 1882. Before the author, George Washington used the house as his headquarters during the Siege of Boston. The house is open to the public, and it is where I had my eighth-grade graduation ceremony. The mayor attended and forgot the name of our school in his address to the kids. I heard people mutter that he was drunk. I can’t blame him. I had my first drinks hours before that ceremony.

71 Cherry Street, Cambridge. The woman considered to be American’s FIRST feminist, Margaret Fuller, was born and lived here.

Henry and Alice James lived at 20 Quincy Street. The house was knocked down in 1930 and the Harvard Faculty Club was erected there.

W.E.B. DuBois lived at 20 Flagg Street. The writer and pioneer of civil rights rented a room in this Cambridgeport home from 1890 to 1893. This is blocks from my childhood home. He was the first African American to receive a degree from Harvard.

Robert Frost lived at 35 Brewster Street. Frost, who attended high school in Lawrence, Massachusetts, lived in the West Cambridge home from 1943 to 1963.

T.S. Eliot lived at 16 Ash Street.

E.E. Cummings lived at 104 Irving Street. He was an innovator. He also wrote a poem about “Cambridge Women”. He lived at the Irving Street home from 1892 until about 1917.

Also you can find homes of the genius Nabokov and the great and beloved Julia Childs if you look around.

Source

[jinsai-ish]

All right, all right, fic storage will move to Archive of Our Own.

But in the meantime, have this:

Title: Ballad on the Streets of Vienna

Author: Ish

Characters/Pairings: Austria/Hungary

Ratings: R

Warnings: A wee bit of smut?

Summary: Request was for a fill inspired by poetry that wasn`t by Shakespeare. Poem used was Ballad on the Streets of Buenos Aires by Yehuda Amichai. I can no longer read that poem without thinking of Hungary. (Poem attached at end.)

Ballad on the Streets of Vienna

He waits for her on the corner, despite the warning sirens blaring over the loudspeakers. The sound hurts his ears and his eyes keep flickering up to the skies anxiously, but he searches the crowd of people streaming towards the bomb shelters far more anxiously.

He’d offered to go out after the bread, but she had insisted. Her warrior’s spirit didn’t sit well with being cooped up, she’d argued. They might have been driven into a retreat, but that didn’t mean she was going to hide in her hole like a mouse so afraid of the cat that it starved to death.

He spies her at last, her hair tossed about by the wind. Her hat must have blown off, because she’s clutching it in her hand, along with a loaf of bread. He grabs her free hand when she reaches him, and together they run for the shelter.

Later, when they are safe (or as safe as they’re going to get with bombs falling outside), she lets him kiss her. She doesn’t let him undress her completely though. The shelter is small and cramped, and they might have to leave it at a moment’s notice. But she lets him remove her trousers, and he does so as respectfully as if they were the full skirts she’d worn once, made of satin and lace instead of rough wool. He thinks of the metronome on his piano as she clings to him, biting his shoulder to keep quiet. One-two-one-two-one-two, keeping perfect time amid the chaos.

Her teeth are holding tight to his shoulder, so he kisses her where he can – the top of her head, her tousled curls, her ear, her cheekbone, her eyelid. And if there is moisture on his lips when they left from the last, well, he knows not to speak of it.

After the war, he hears the rumors before the treaty is finalized, and he rushes to Berlin to be there before the ink dries. They are dividing up Germany, he has heard, dividing up the world between an East drowning in red and a West marching to the beat conducted by the stars and stripes of America. An iron curtain falling down across Europe…

He stops Prussia for a moment, just before Russia leads him away.

“You deserve this,” Austria hisses at him, anger an emotion that leaves him less vulnerable than any of the others tangled up in his chest. He won’t allow himself to feel sorry for Prussia. What sort of idiot sacrifices himself for another nation this way, even for a brother? “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you at all.”

Prussia snorts, seeming no more concerned than he ever did. But his eyes glitter hard and red, like rubies soaked in blood as they meet Austria’s. “Sure I do,” he agrees, taking a step back. His lips turn down, that gaze narrowing. “But you – you never deserved her.”

Austria wheels back from the venom in his voice. Like the bite of a cobra, it is so sudden and swift that he doesn’t understand the meaning of it right away. It is only when Hungary emerges, eyes uncharacteristically downcast that the full import of Prussia’s retort sinks in. She follows after the newly christened East Germany, after Russia, and only then does he begin to understand.

He wants to call out, to shout at her. To grab her arm and yank her back to him. But his voice dries up in his throat and all he can do is stare.

As if she can hear even his silent cries, she raises her eyes at last and looks over at him. It is a long look, and he feels himself swallowed by it, but she does not speak and she does not cry, and all too soon she turns and he has lost her.

That night, in his empty house, he sweeps the metronome off the piano in a hollow rage. It bounces on the floor and he hears it tick away – one-two-one-two-one-two. He sits on the bench and pounds away at the keys, desperate to drown out that even beat. Note after furious note spills into the air in a torrent of sound.

He plays until he is exhausted that night, and the next, and the next. He plays until his ears are deaf to the sound, and so he doesn’t hear the door open behind him.

Austria finds it in him to accept the help forced upon him as gracefully as he can. America brings food and supplies, and Germany is a source of silent companionship while Italy tries to dust the house. He thanks them, and thinks of Hungary, wondering if someone is bandaging her wounds, if her house is warm and her cupboard full. He listens for what little news leaks through the Curtain. She is too far away to hear his song, so he writes it down for her, ruining countless sheets of paper with ink in an attempt to capture his feelings in lines and bars.

He clutches these papers close when he sleeps, and he waits.

Ballad on the Streets of Buenos Aires

And a man waits in the street and meets a woman

precise and beautiful as the clock on the wall of her room

and sad and white as the wall that holds it

And she doesn't show him her teeth

And she doesn't show him her belly

but she shows him her time, precise and beautiful

And she lives on the ground floor next to the pipes

and the water that rises begins there in her wall

and he has decided on tenderness

And she knows the reasons for weeping

and she knows the reasons for holding back

and he begins to be like her, like her

And his hair will grow long and soft, like her hair

and the hard words of his language dissolve in her mouth

and his eyes will be filled with tears, like her eyes

And the traffic lights are reflected in her face

and she stands there amid the permitted and the forbidden

and he has decided on tenderness

And they walk in the streets that will soon appear in his dreams

and the rain weeps into them silently, as into a pillow,

and impatient time has made them both into prophets

And he will lose her at the red light

and he will lose her at the green and the yellow

and the light is always there to serve every loss

And he won't be there when soap and lotion run out

and he won't be there when the clock is set again

and he won't be there when her dress unravels to threads in the wind

And she will lock his wild letters away in a quiet drawer

and lie down to sleep beside the water in the wall

and she will know the reasons for weeping and for holding back

and he has decided on tenderness