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retroellie · 1 year

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Dating Daryl Dixon in eras

Summary: What it would be like to date Daryl in different eras of the show

A/N: I don't really talk about my personal life on here because yall are here to get horny not sad, but I've been going through it. My girlfriend broke up with me, so I've been needing some Daryl Dixon in my life rn. This is just a bunch of ideas put together because I'm sad lol, but enjoy :)

Warnings: Normal TWD things and NSFW mentions

Word count: 4.2K

Short hair era/ Farm

-this was not his best era, he was a complete dick head to not only you but everyone else

-I wouldn’t even say that y’all were dating around this time because Daryl didn’t see you as his girlfriend, he looked at you more like a fuck buddy

-he refused to call you his girlfriend and he scolded you when you would call him your boyfriend, but y’all were weirdly together-ish?!?

-he was so up his brothers ass that he didn’t have time to have a girlfriend plus he always said he only fucked girls not dated them, “relationships are for pussies” he would tell you

-you did enjoy the sex but somewhere around that time you started to actually fall in love with Daryl Dixon

-You hated when Merle and Daryl were together and it was pretty much always

-Merle degraded you in so many ways and Daryl would turn the other cheek, it broke your heart every time.

-Daryl was a dick to you, yes, but he would never even think about going to Merle’s level. He never made you feel bad about yourself or made you uncomfortable, he was always somewhat respectful.

-He would even tell you that you were pretty sometimes… in his own way

-“god this shirt looks terrible on me…”

-“Shut up… your tits look nice in it”

-when you all assumed merle was dead that’s when Daryl got a bit nicer to you

-He started staying the night with you instead of fucking the shit out of you than leaving you all sweaty and sticky

-he would never cuddle you though, like ever. If you wanted to maybe wrap yourself around him, he’d let it but he wouldn’t be giving the same energy back

-He was bearable without Merle, you liked it actually

-When you guys got into the CDC building, Daryl was all over you… I mean literally

-He was always touching you in some way, holding onto your arm tightly or putting his hand on your thigh

-You knew it was because he was happy, for the first time in a couple of weeks he felt somewhat safe

-you guys definitely fucked in the shower… many times

-“Fuck… one thing I missed about the old world is hot water… and being able to fuck you anytime I wanted..” he moaned while literally rearranging your guts

-After the CDC Daryl started to appreciate you a little more, you all could’ve died… it opened Daryl’s eyes

-he realized that you were too good for him, like way too good yet you still chose him even after him being a dick to you

-Daryl would pick you flowers and lay them at your pillow at night, he was too scared to give them to you straight up but you always knew they were from him

-You realized you were in love with Daryl when you found yourself by his side after Andrea had shot him, he was all cut up and his head wrapped

-You saw how he did that all for a little girl, maybe he did have a mental breakdown but he still did it for her

-That’s when you knew you had fallen in love with him and hell maybe he was falling in love too

-You would read to him, he rolled his eyes and pouted when you did but he secretly loved it

-Daryl found himself in the woods by himself because of you… he wanted to be a better man for you, he wanted to find himself so maybe than he could be the man you deserved

Prison era

- I love this era so much because I know this man was a little horn dog towards you

- I mean he was quite literally inside of you at all times, sex was at its peak in this era

-He’s had so many near death experiences at this time that he learned to appreciate a woman’s body when he had it

- your cell neighbors hated you because no matter how quiet you tried to be, they always heard your muffled moans at night

- Daryl would be so protective of you too, when you went on runs (which were very rare since he wanted you to stay in the safety of the prison) he would have you stay behind him at all times

- “Daryl! It’s just two walkers!! I can handle it” you whisper screamed

-“Yea, two walkers that could rip out ya’ throat in a heartbeat! I said stay put!!”

-“Your no fun..” you said rolling your eyes

-He knew you could fend for yourself, you were tough but he couldn’t risk it. He would never admit it but you were his reason for breathing

-He never quite had a home, he lived in places but it was never a home to him. So finding you, someone who made him feel at home anywhere… he cherished that

-When the prison was in the first stages of development, Daryl noticed you only had one flimsy blanket you would cuddle up with at night… and the nights got cold.

-Daryl hunted for hours for a nice fluffy blanket for you, it took him hours to find one but he found the perfect one. When he got to the prison that night, walking into your shared cell, he saw your shivering underneath the thin blanket.

- He softly wrapped you up in the blanket, making sure every part of your body was covered with the soft material… you woke up that morning confused about the blanket but you knew who it was from

-you gave him head after that :)

-Whenever Daryl brought you gifts, you would savor them… even if it was a lingerie set, it wasn’t exactly flowers but it was something.

-Daryl wasn’t just protective… bitch he was also possessive

-You were his… nobody else could touch you or talk to you or even think about you. Especially men.

-it’s not that he didn’t trust you, he trusted you with his entire life but he didn’t trust other men

-He was a guy so he knew how they thought, he knew what a man can do to a girl like you and the thought of it made him angry

-Every guy in the prison knew you were off limits… like completely.

-When they tried to talk to you, literally just a normal conversation, Daryl would make it known that he would break their jaw if they made a move on you

-You didn’t mind though, you thought it was sweet and you felt protected plus the jealous sex was always a plus :)

-When the flu hit, you got sick…

-Daryl was terrified, he watched as you would cough your little heart out and you looked so sickly…

-He hated himself for allowing this to happen, he should’ve protected you even though he had no control of the virus

-“I’m sorry…” he said, watching your chest heave up and down weakly

-“Dar… honey, it’s not your fault…” you said weakly

-when Hershel found a way to stop the flu from spreading and help the sick, Daryl made him give it to you first… he couldn’t risk losing you without a fight

-It worked obviously and that was the day Daryl Dixon could see his entire life with you, he could see him walking up to you everyday… even when your all old and weak

-Daryl held you a little tighter at night now, kissed you more often and became softer with you when he fucked you

- he was starting to actually fall in love with someone, something he never knew he had the capacity to do

-Until the governor came along splitting everyone up including you and Daryl

-You found yourself alone and Daryl was stuck with Beth…

-Daryl assumed the worst, he knew you were too good for him and something was obviously going to take that away from him so he just figured it would be easier to mourn you

-Beth knew Daryl was depressed, she knew how much you meant to him and now you were gone…

- Daryl tried to act like it didn’t matter to him, he tried to make it seem like you were just another girl he had met along the way but Beth wasn’t stupid… she knew

-She tried to get him drunk, sing to him, make him forget that you were gone just for a minute… just so he could heal

-It never worked and as the days passed, Daryl gave up on trying to be sad and instead went numb

-You weren’t doing any better, you were all alone which made it so much worse.

-You cried yourself to sleep for days, holding on to the only thing you had left of Daryl… a black shirt that he mostly wore to sleep

-You we’re almost about to give up until there was a sign of the group still… that fueled you to go on, only caring to see if Daryl saw the same signs

-When you saw him again… it was when he carried Beth out of the hospital and suddenly you felt his pain… you weren’t happy to see him suddenly, wishing you could go back to your loneliness just so you didn’t have to see him the way he was

-He never talked about Beth to you… ever. You don’t know what happened on their trip, you don’t know if he even Thought of you but you knew right now he was hurting… hurting so bad that not even you could break his sadness

- Even if he was wallowing in his own pity, he still needed you. At night he would hold you close to him, he would hold your hand secretly while walking down the roads, he would always cover you up with his jacket at night

-His brother and Beth’s death changed him… Maybe for the better or maybe for the worst, which ever it was he learned to appreciate the little things now

Alexandria

-Daryl kinda retracted in this era I think, he had experienced so much loss that he became numb. He went back to his “being Merle’s little brother” mindset and he became a bit of a loner

- he also felt like such an outcast in Alexandria so he didn’t want to be there

-You made him feel better though, you would always try to include him in things

-you made it clear to him that you would much rather spend all your time with him than anyone else

-“don’t let me stop you from having fun… go to the party.”

-“no! I’m not going if you aren’t… besides, we’ll get the whole house to ourselves” you smirked

-His sex drive never slowed either which was nice but also wasn’t

-you had to share a house with your entire group to privacy was a luxury in such a small home

-The only way you were able to get Daryl into the shower was telling him that the shower was the only privacy YALL will be getting any time soon

-Let’s just say showers became yalls favorite thing

-Daryl warmed up to everything after a while, he actually kind of liked Alexandria especially after you guys were assigned a small little house for yourselves

- Again this era of Daryl was possessive as hell, like he made sure everyone knew you were his from day one

-You would always have hickeys on your neck or complain of your body hurting after a night with Daryl

-Daryl became a lot less touchy with you around this time though which was weird because he loved to touch you

-The only touch you received from him was through sex and maybe sometimes he would cuddle up with you at night, but mostly so he could press his dick on your ass go hint that he wanted you

-Daryl’s gifts also slowed too, it was rare to receive a gift from him around these times.

-You could tell Daryl was just trying to heal and cope so you didn’t mind much, you even spent those times focusing on yourself.

-You never let Daryl forget how much he meant to you though and honestly sometimes he needed that.

-Obviously Daryl wasn’t completely cold to you like he would be in the early seasons

-He made time to spend with you, he would always let you know he was thinking of you in some kind of way.

Post-negan Alexandria

-This was a extremely hard time for Daryl, after being captured and blaming himself for Glenn’s death… he was completely numb even after he had put himself back together again

-This point in time he was extremely needy though, like he needed you all the time because he was genuinely scared and he didn’t know what he was doing

-He couldn’t sleep without you there with him, if you weren’t there he would be overthinking and it would be almost impossible to fall asleep

- When he was held captive, tortured in so many devilish ways… Dwight used you as a threat

-He explained everything that he had in store for you, telling him that you were next on negans “girls to marry” list and Daryl was the only one who could stop it

-It was all lies though but Daryl believed them, almost giving in if it meant to keep you safe

-“I’m telling you Daryl… that sweet girl of yours isn’t going to be yours forever, especially if you don’t make this choice.”

-“you stay away from her… Lay a finger on her and I’ll kill you”

-When he got back, he was far more protective of you than he was before

-Daryl liked when you rubbed his back at night, dragging your fingers softly over the old and new scars on his back

-He would lay his head on you, cuddling up at your side while you laid on your back. He would look up at you, seeing you drift to sleep while rubbing his back

-Daryl always left a note for you that told you if he was leaving, it doesn’t matter how long he would be gone, he would always leave one

-He knew that him being taken scared you to death, carol told him that you were extremely depressed and wouldn’t get out of bed most of the time

-so he leaves a note just to tell you where he’s going, just so the memories of him being gone won’t fill your little head

- Daryl always says “I love you” to you as well, it’s such a common phrase to yall know because he wants you to know how much he cares about you

-This is the era when Daryl is at his bottom peak bitch… lemme tell you

-He is so broken down and afraid that he will let you take whatever you need from him plus give him what he wants

-He’s such a bottom, like a whiny bottom too

-He will beg for you to let him cum inside you or literally have tears streaming down his face while you go as slow as you possibly can while take his cock inside you

-“please… y/n please go faster…”

-“Don’t be an impatient baby… you can wait!”

-He will literally moan and whine so much, such a little baby and you’d tease him for it too

- It took him months to come back into himself, you felt like he was a shell of who he once was but Daryl always came back to you… always

-You made sure to always reassure him that you loved him and you weren’t going to leave him

-He suffered from nightmares, bad ones too and some nights they would wake up. The sad thing is, Daryl apologized for waking you up and that broke your heart

-You hated when you felt like he had to apologize to you all the time, he would say he’s sorry to you like a mantra

Whisperers Era

-This was like Ricks “death” era so this means mf was so fucking sad, like he could not forgive himself

-The months following ricks “death” though he was always gone

-It started with small trips out in the woods but it slowly turned into full weeks of you being without him

-You waited for him for the first few weeks, staying up until he came home so you could clean him up

- but then you just gave up with it and went to bed without a second thought

-You however did always make a second plate for him and left the living room light on just in case

-you would go out and find him sometimes when you had a feeling something had happened, he was always in a different spot but always by the river

-You would bring him food and clean clothes, he was always happy to see you of course but he always seemed so sad

-“Are you coming home?”

-“Nah… not yet honey.”

-He only came back when he found out about the whisperers, mainly so he could keep you safe

- As soon as he did come back though, Judith and RJ were giving to him… that only added onto his anxiety

-You saw Daryl get lost along the way, he was stressed… full of rage and hatred for this stupid group that he knew nothing about

-When y’all took in Lydia, you could see the pain Daryl felt for her… and that’s when he opened up to you about his childhood

-It was when you were finally able to cuddle up with each other and get some sleep, Daryl was cuddled up into your side as you brushed your hands through his hair

-You don’t know what triggered it but he just bursted into tears, he tried to muffle his cries in your chest

-You went silent, not exactly knowing what to do but you made sure Daryl knew you were listening… even if he didn’t want to talk

-He told you all the horrors that he went through in his childhood, how his father beat him so many times and his moms death… he even told you about the river he used to go to when he wanted to get away from everything

-You listened silently, tears falling down your cheeks as you held him so unbelievably close to you

-“I just look at that girl… I see me, I see the same damn scared look on her face” he whimpered out

-That night brought you two together, it patched up the rocky relationship that had arose due to his absence

- The whisperer had taken so many people from y’all, causing more hatred and anger to arise from Daryl but he tried to keep his cool but you knew

-You were with the small group that went out to find the herd but instead got stuck in a cave that alpha set up for you

-Daryl’s main priority was you, always and forever but especially right now

-He made sure you got through the herd first, he made sure you were able to get through the small areas of the cave first, he cuddled up next to you to make sure you were warm, he made sure you got out first

- you both were exhausted after everything the whisperers out you through but than they unleashed the herd

-You all knew it was coming but this sparked a deep fear from within you that you had from the very beginning

-“Daryl… What if this is our last fight? I mean what if we lose?” You asked as Daryl sharpened his blade

-“We’ve always worked it out in the end hun, don’t start talking like that now.”

-That day you made sure Daryl remembered how much you loved him, you made sure you bore it into his skin

-You both made love like it was your last time doing so, filled with soft kisses and moans that you didn’t even try to hide

- Than you fought together, fighting off the herd along with the whisperers that hid between them… you made sure it wasn’t your last fight together

- when you all thought it was over, beta decided to take revenge and trap y’all in the hospital

-You went through the herd with Daryl, holding his hand like it was your reasoning for life and Daryl made sure you were safe

-After everything was said and done, life never went back to normal but all you needed was Daryl and you were happy with that

Commonwealth

-Okay this is probably my favorite Daryl era :)

-He turns into a little house husband and it’s so cute

-Y’all live in a shitty little apartment with Judith and RJ, which they have basically become yalls children

-He’ll get the kids ready while you are still fast asleep because work took it out of you

-He’ll get up extra early just to make you some breakfast even though I just know this mf is terrible at cooking REAL food

-He’ll let you take a shower after work while he does the house chores but most of the time he joins you in the shower

-Okay obviously y’all will have sex in the shower like it goes without saying butttt, after or even before he’ll just help you clean yourself up

-He’ll help lather your hair up and scratch your scalp with his finger nails, it feels so good and you’ll just go limp in his arms for a bit

-Daryl hates his job lowkey, like he’ll do it but having to go through all the training and then having to take orders?!? Daryl is a loner and he feels he is his own boss so having to follow rules is hard for him

-You make sure to make his job a little easier by packing his lunch, you’ll put candy and sweet in there for him as well as real food.. the cute part is that you always write a cute little letter for him

-“Have a good day at work my love <3 just make sure you come back to me in one piece!!”

-He’ll just smile down at it, not even attempting to hide his smile

-Everyone else will make fun of him, laughing at his silly little blush as he reads your note for him

-“Hey Dixon! Don’t get all soft on us now!”

-“Hey, you mind asking your girl to make me one too? Shit may be blowy as well!”

-“You really are head over heels for that stupid girl ain’t ya? She’s not all that.”

-Daryl doesn’t care, he spent so long trying to hide you or make your love secret that now he doesn’t even try

-Speaking if you work, you have a cute little job!

-Daryl always visits you when he gets days off and just wants to see you, he thinks you look so cute in your uniform

-You’ll light up when you see him, bring him into a big hug and than tell him how your so happy to see him even if you saw him that morning

-He’ll bring you lunch with him as well, sometimes he’ll bring Judith and RJ just so they can see where you work

-Y’all are such a cute little family and it gets me so fucking soft

- Daryl just becomes a bit softie for you omfg

-The sex gets softer too but Daryl still has his hard times with you, if you want it hard and rough that night… you don’t have to tell him twice

-Okay but when you are at work and he visits you on your lunch break, he would definitely drag you into the nearest bathroom or have you go to the back of the store just so he can take you right then and there

-You would both go to the little parties they have at the commonwealth together :) like Daryl doesn’t dance at all and he’ll probably just stand there all tough but he’d still like seeing you all dolled up

-I keep getting this image in my head of the commonwealth being the first time Daryl had ever seen you drunk, idk why but it’s stuck in my head

-You’ll be all loopy, trying to grope in through his jeans and kissing all over him

-Daryl loved how touchy you were but you were drunk and he doesn’t do that

-“Come onnn daryll…” you dragged out as you attempted to kiss his lips

-“Doll… I swear to you that I want to take you right here right now, I would give anything… but ya’ ain’t sober and I want you when you’re sober.”

-You eventually vomited everywhere and than fell asleep but Daryl thought you were cute when your were drunk

-When Daryl got the record player?!? You literally bought all types of records

-Daryl would get out of the shower, towel wrapped around him to see you in the kitchen cooking up dinner in only his shirt and underwear, dancing around like a maniac

-He also likes fucking you to music now

-When you guys had to move out of the commonwealth you were pretty upset

-You hated what the people there were doing but you couldn’t help but love it there, you got a glimpse back to the old work

-As you were packing up, Daryl noticed how sad your were so he came up behind you and kissed your neck softly

-“I’m sorry you have to leave your home again..”

- “You’re my home… I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together.”

#daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 9 months

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close to home | chapter fifty three

plot: the reader and Daryl's relationship continues to develop as more time passes

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,111 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!!

When you found out Rick wanted Daryl running the sanctuary for a little while, you wanted to give Rick a piece of your mind. But, as much as you hated to admit it, you knew that Daryl might be the only one that could. So you packed up yours and his belongings. Daryl asked you to stay behind, but you wouldn’t hear it.

So you moved to the Sanctuary with him--leaving Tora with Michonne at Hilltop. It broke your heart to do so, but you didn’t fully trust what remained of the saviors, and Tora loved the Hilltop. Besides, with your new role, you’d see her often enough.

Rick wanted you in every community as his eyes and ears. So you would start to rotate around. At first, you tried to refuse, but after everything, you knew the communities needed it, and Rick needed to know what was happening. So you’d spend a few days at Hilltop, then the Kingdom--which you didn’t mind so much after being there for ten minutes--and then back at Alexandria, helping to get the place back together. Then you’d return to the Sanctuary for over a week and start again.

You hated not being with Daryl and leaving him with just Eugene and Rosita. But you got used to it after a while, and when you did return, it made being with him even more special. And having sex with him after being apart for two weeks was enough to keep you both up all night.

Slowly, fall changed to winter and then winter into spring. Things got better between the communities, but the Sanctuary wasn’t improving. Nothing grew there, and there was a lot of resentment. You begged Daryl to ask Rick for a break, but he always refused. His stubbornness was something you both loved and hated about him.

The end of spring neared too quickly, and summer came in full swing.

Maggie had her baby, and you were there to help her through the birth. It was a little boy who she named Hershel. You cried with her and held the baby until you started crying again. After that, you spent extra time at Hilltop and made Daryl take a small break to meet him.

But things were getting worse at the Sanctuary, and when you arrived back for the first time in two weeks, you knew Daryl needed you with him. Though it’s been under a year and a half since the saviors were defeated, you knew Daryl was still haunted by it. And being at the Sanctuary didn’t help.

Eugene was the first to greet you, and you hugged him as he told you about what was happening. You heard someone yelling your name, and when you turned, you saw Frankie running up to you.

“Hi!” You exclaimed, welcoming her hug. Like always, she hugged you tight for a few seconds before backing away.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon; how’s Maggie’s baby?”

“He’s beautiful,” You mused, “He is happy and healthy. How are you? Where’s Amber?”

“She’s probably with her new boyfriend. I’ll have to tell you about it later. I missed you.”

You smiled and grabbed her arm. “I missed you, too. I gotta go see Daryl, but I’ll find you later, and we’ll catch up.”

She gave you one last hug before she bid you goodbye.

Besides Daryl, Rosita was the one you spent the most time with at the Sanctuary. And she smiled widely when she saw you.

“I thought we lost you to the farmwork and that little nephew of yours,” She teased you as you walked into the ground level.

“And miss out on your company, Rosita?” You nudged her arm. “If I didn’t see your face every day, I think I’d go mad.”

“Oh, get out of here.”

You laughed and headed towards the impromptu garage, where you knew you’d find Daryl. If he wasn’t with you or yelling at some asshole savior, he was there, working on motorcycles. What used to be a maze to you wasn’t anymore, and you found your way there quickly.

Daryl was precisely where you knew he would be. The garage was empty; you knew it was because everyone was getting ready for the upcoming corn harvest. You crept up to Daryl and covered his eyes with your hands.

“Guess who?” You laughed. He grabbed your hands and pulled them away before standing up and hugging you. You laughed louder and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I missed you, too.”

“Gone for too long this time,” Daryl told you as he pulled away. He pressed a light kiss onto your lips twice and then a third. “Ya gotta tell Maggie she can take care of Hershel without ya,”

You laughed and leaned up to kiss him again. “I’ll let her know that.” Then you walked around to see the bike he was working on and smiled when you saw the spray-painted muffler. “I see my bike is coming along great. It’s even in my favorite color.”

Daryl grunted with a nod and knelt next to it, grabbing whatever part he was using in the first place. “Sit on it, woulda ya?”

“The bike or you? I’d much prefer you.”

“Shut the hell up, and sit down, crazy girl.”

You laughed as you sat on the bike, keeping it balanced so he didn’t have to get so low under the parts. You ruffled his hair and heard him sigh with annoyance. Then you leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “You’re getting to be such a grump in your old age.”

Daryl looked up at you. “Ya done? Ya the one fuckin’ an old man.

“Don’t tease me with a good time, Dixon.”

He snorted and shook his head, “Ya gonna be the death of me. Why don’ ya just start talkin’ ‘bout everythin’ ya wanna tell me. Might as well start, gonna be yappin away all day.”

You tugged his hair as your revenge for the comment and smiled when he swatted your hand away. “Okay, okay. If you insist, I will tell you all about everyone.”

So you did, and you told him how the Hilltop was doing, how Maggie and the baby were. You told him about your brief visit to Oceanside just to drop off some neighborly gifts and then how Kingdom was. You gossiped about the budding romance between Carol and Ezekiel, but how the latter seemed keen on declining every mention of marriage-which, you admitted, you only knew about it because you were eavesdropping to get more dirt on them anyway.

“Alexandria is doing well; they’ve really built it up nice. And Judith is talking. She is so adorable,” You mused, playing with Daryl’s hair as he worked. “She painted you a picture. You and Rick have matching big bellies, according to her. Maybe you should come with me. It’ll be nice of you to see them. You haven’t been in a few weeks. She asked me all about you.”

Daryl looked up at you, tossing his wrench aside. “I still don’ like the idea of you out there alone.”

“I’m fine,” You brushed his hair back to see his entire face. “And once my handsome old man fixes my bike, it’ll be even faster than the horse.”

“Maybe if ya didn’ crash it,”

You waved him off and slowly stood up from the bike. “Yeah, well, shit happens. Eugene told me there would only be another week or so before harvest. Summer’s nearly over again.”

“Still hot as hell.”

You nodded and walked over to him, grabbing his greasy hands and seeing the black grease smudge against your skin. Then you looked up at him and wiped the grease off his cheek. “You look tired, honey.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. “Don’ know how much more I can do this for. Wanna be with ya out there, wanna see my family.”

“I’ll talk to Rick. I’ll tell him that I want you out there with me. The walkers are clustering up again and I need you with me.”

“I-.”

You shook your head. “You’ve done enough for him. I love Rick, and I know you do too, but this was an unfair ask, and you’ve been here almost eighteen months. You deserve to rest.”

Daryl kissed your forehead, and you knew that was his way of agreeing to it because he’d never speak the words out loud.

“Why don’t we go find Rosita and get dinner? I wanna hear about all the shit you’ve been up to since I’ve been gone.”

“Oh, forgot to yell ya, found your machete. Some asshole here had it; it’s in our room.”

***

You sent a message to Rick that you’d be staying at the Sanctuary through the upcoming harvest, which he agreed to and thanked you for your help. So you spent the next few weeks with Daryl, Rosita, and Eugene and helped in every way you could. Harvesting was the worst, and some of you wanted to run off to Alexandria to play with Judith all day.

Daryl had initially picked out the room that once belonged to you, which you had no issues with. It was easy enough to shake the memories from your head after the time passed, and being there with Daryl made everything easier. It was like he replaced every lousy memory with a good one.

So when you walked into the room after spending the evening with Frankie and Rosita, a little tipsy, you were more than happy to see Daryl against the counter, eating.

“Hey sexy,” You said, closing the door behind you.

“Ya drunk?”

“A little,” You laughed, taking off your shoes and walking over to him. You wrapped your arms around his lower waist and set your head against his chest. “It was so fun with the girls. I miss them when I’m gone.” You smiled.

Daryl kissed the top of your head. “Ya smell like wine.”

“I spilled,” You said, backing up and pointing at the stain on the bottle of your shirt. “Luckily, not too much, though."

Daryl laughed and set his late dinner down, “Come on, why don’ ya change and get ready for bed.”

You did as he said, taking one of the old shirts you kept here and then collapsed next to him on the bed. “I hate harvesting. We should run away.”

“Yeah? Where we goin’?”

“An island, just me and you. We can be all alone to do whatever the hell we want,”

Daryl grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Not a bad idea, darlin’."

You smiled and rolled over, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I love this shoulder…” You yawned.

He snorted, “Ya’ll have a whole bottle?”

You giggled and looked up at him. “Frankie knew where ratface liked to hide shit.” The two of you had devised a nickname for the man who’d made both your lives hell, though you were the only ones you said it to.

Daryl chuckled and moved, “Come on, in bed."

“You’re no fun,” You whined.

But you did as he asked anyway because you always did. And besides, the bed was soft and comfortable, and he let you wrap yourself up in his arms the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Gonna have Eugene call Alexandria tomorro’, was thinkin’ we should make a run into the city, that museum gotta have some shit we can use. Was lookin’ at some books.” Daryl told you as he absentmindedly played with your hair.

You pressed your hand flat against his chest, “That’s a good idea. You’re so fucking smart,” You mumbled as you looked up at him, just in time to watch him shake his head. “You are. You know so many things. You’ve taught me so many things.”

“Like what?”

You propped yourself up on your elbow and cupped his cheek. “You’ve taught me how to track and helped me get better at hunting. You taught me fighting skills and how to use my bow and arrow even though Carol stole it from me. And you taught me about motorcycles when you talk about them while working.” You rambled on and on.

Daryl stared at you, the corners of his lips just barely tilted up. “Ya just sayin’ stuff 'cause ya drunk.”

“I’m not even that drunk, just a little tipsy.” You leaned down and kissed his cheek. “But we should get drunk together one day; that would be fun.”

Daryl made you lie back down. “Any chance of ya stayin’ home if we go to the city?”

You shook your head, “No way.”

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

Text

Whumpuary Day 25-26 & 29-31

Prompts: Can’t stay awake | “You’re safe.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drugging, Overdose, Allusions to past child abuse

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You shouted, keeping your eyes on Daryl while Tomi loudly rummaged through cabinets and drawers behind you. “Daryl. Daryl, stay awake.”

“M’tired.” The archer mumbled, eyelids heavy, breaths slowing before your eyes.

“Tomi!” You snapped again.

“They injected him with some sort of opioid. I need narcan.” Things were flying around, hitting the floor as the surgeon continued his frantic search. “How’s his breathing?”

“Too slow.” You shook Daryl again. Each time he responded, you felt a short lived relief but it never lasted long. “Daryl, stay with me. Look at me.”

“Y/N…tired…”

“I know but you can’t sleep.” Those normally sharp blues were dull, his pupils contracted to barely there black dots inside the pale cerulean. His eyes closed, head lolling forward. “Daryl? Daryl!” He inhaled sharply, giving you hope that he might regain a normal breathing pattern.

He didn’t.

“Can’t…can’t stay…”

“You have to. Just for a few more minutes okay?” You hadn’t seen when the man had used the syringe, only catching Daryl yanking it from his neck to angrily toss it aside before plunging his knife through the attacker’s skull. It wasn’t even a minute before the archer staggered back against the wall and slid down to where he still sat. “Tomi!” When Daryl’s eyes closed this time, he didn’t reopen them.

“I’m trying!”

“Daryl!” His breaths were further and further apart, agonizing torture to know that one would eventually be his last.

“If he stops breathing, you need to breathe for him.”

“Al-alright.” You could do that. You placed two fingers to his neck, counting the beats over and over, witnessing that number fall each time. “Please, please.”

“Got it!” Tomi dropped down beside the archer, foregoing any measure of sterilizing to just jab the needle into the muscle of Daryl’s bicep.

“What now?”

“We wait. He never stopped breathing. The narcan should level him out enough to move him safely.” The nod you gave was curt and unbidden, your sole focus was the rise and fall of Daryl’s chest. “Okay. Okay, good. It’s picking up. I’ll get a stretcher. Keep watching his breathing.” Another nod.

“Daryl, can you hear me?” Unresponsive. At least each breath was coming in at a slow, but steady pace. You could work with that for now. The wheels of the stretcher were loud in the otherwise empty hospital.

“Vitals are stable for now. I grabbed all the narcan but we need to have access to intubation supplies and IV fluids.” At your confused expression, he added, “I’ll need to insert a tube to help him breathe for a while if he struggles to on his own.”

You nodded calmly before the two of you struggled and fumbled to get Daryl onto the stretcher. Truthfully, the thought of Daryl needing a machine to keep breathing was horrifying. For that moment, you just continued to watch his chest, breaths remaining steady and unlabored.

It took only moments for an IV to be inserted and fluids to begin running into the archer’s hand. His breathing slowed only once more and one last dose of narcan was administered.

Hours later, Tomi concluded that Daryl was out of danger and would likely wake up at any moment. So you waited, instinctively listening for danger as employees returned to the hospital, the walkers having been cleared as well as the living threats, thanks in part to the man on the bed in front of you.

You couldn’t wait to get him home and sleep for at least a day, snug against his side with your head over his heart, able to hear each beat and feel each breath.

Finally, his fingers twitched in your hold, his head rolling back and forth on the pillow, face scrunching.

“Daryl?” You stood, leaning over him. He hated hospitals. The memories of so many visits when he was a child, broken bones and open wounds at the hands of his father. You wanted to be the first person he saw and heard, in hopes of easing that anxiety.

His eyes were clouded, tired and unfocused, when they finally landed on you. “Where ‘m I?” He slurred, still appearing to be exhausted and slightly influenced by the drug working its way through his system.

“You’re in the hospital. You’re safe and you’re gonna be okay.” You squeezed his hand, smiling when he weakly reciprocated.

“Tell me what happened?” His eyes were already trying to close, most likely without his permission but leaving him with no choice.

“When you wake up. I’ll tell you everything when you wake up.”

Daryl hummed and inhaled deeply before settling into a peaceful sleep; one you didn’t fear and from which you knew he would wake. For now, though, you’d rest your head on the hand holding his and count his breaths like counting sheep until you joined him in blissful unawareness.

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foxglovepng · 2 days

Text

Random Headcannons 3 🌼🥀

Requested: naw

Characters: Scarabia + Pomefiore

A/N: I'm getting back into the writing mood yay I'll probably take requests in the future because I am slowly getting over writer's block. I looked up a word in Arabic and if the word is incorrectly translated incorrectly feel free to correct me.

If you liked reblogs and likes are appreciative <3

Kalim

Knock knock who's there? Autism br br br where the hoes at? not here

I love my Autistic headcanon for Kalim. I also saw a headcanon he has ADHD too. (I forgot the word for ADHD and Autism combined help)

When he's unmedicated Jamil is that one meme of Shinji his stress levels are high. He's practically lived with Kalim so he knows he can get hyper although he pushes through it being used to it.

I headcanon Kalim has sensory issues that mainly have to do with touch. (Mine are sound and taste :skull:)

Since he likes parties and is extremely sociable I feel like sometimes he can get overwhelmed he chills in his sensory swing. I also feel like since he plays the drums he does have backup headphones on hand in case it's too loud.

Jamil tends to calm him down with essential oils (Don't ask me what kind he likes I only know Rosemary, and Cherry blossom)

Jamil

Jamil drop the hair routine or I'll break your ankles Sangwoo style so you can't dance anymore. I will even report your music-listening account so you are no longer allowed to play hip hop DROP THE ROUTINE RN JAMIL

This is my no 2 pookie bear I love him sm ANYWAYS

I feel like in his alone time Jamil has his own hobbies he hides from Kalim and will go above and beyond just to have them to himself. One of those I feel like is reading romance books (Not the feral ones booktok gooners read) romance is one of the genres he reads I feel like he also reads fantasy. (He has read Pride and Prejudice)

He'd probably also go to art conventions on his spare time. He has a sketchbook and draws on occasion (I think he draws similar to Hyunjin's style)

Him and Kalim speak Arabic and English although I feel like when Jamil wants to cuss someone out or insult someone he will bring the Arabic out.

*Ace messes up a play*

Ace: so um great play

Jamil: اهبل (Google says this means stupid/idiot)

Ace: HUH?

Vil

*Throws my genderqueer headcannon at you Eminem style*

Gender queer Icon Vil.

If I am correct he is referred to as Queen by Rook?? so I believe Vil doesn't really care for pronouns and just simply exists. So Vil would use any pronouns interchangeably.

Also random headcannon but Vil's father is like..famous right? So I feel like he gets insulted and called a Nepo baby.

Peep Epel and Vil get into a fight and Epel calls him a Nepo baby. Oh all hell is breaking loose.

(I also headcannon he'd make an appearance in Eurovision)

Rook

I need Frenchie to become a slur so I can shout FRENCHIE at Rook 24/7

This man either has a really good memory or a diary in which he keeps info of students. (Their height, weight, UM, etc) its freaky ngl. AND NOT A GOOD FREAKY WAY.

I saw some art of him and Floyd in the bathroom and he was peeking over the urinal. BRO KEEP YA EYES ON YA JUNK.

I can imagine certain NRC students have a group chat dedicated to slandering Rook.

He probably knows about it :Skull:

Epel

Guys this my son <3

I am a firm believer he is an Amish hater.

"I hate the way you talk the way you walk" ahh beat.

From a farmer's perspective I don't think he's 100% vegan, but if you bribe him with bbq he will start foaming at the mouth.

Bro probably listens to Dixon Dallas good looking-

He's also a Dolly Parton and Carrie Underwood fan.

I feel like with people he's close with especially the first years he lets his country accent loose and it will get even looser if someone (or Yuu) has a country accent as well. The rest of the first years will be like "They are speaking in tongues"

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scintillyyy · 4 months

Text

okay okay here's the full essay on my expanded look at understanding classism & conservativism within 90s comics-

okay, so. dixon. dixon has some truly terrible views imo. but. but. sigh. the thing about understanding his biases and how they were inserted into his works means understanding the absolute contradictions and cognitive dissonance commonly seen in conservative beliefs.

because it's easy--very, very easy--to make blanket statements like dixon hates poor people & dixon hates women. but to simplify it into a blanket statement like that is to miss a lot of the less obvious, far more hidden biases in favor of focusing on things that were not necessarily only a him problem specifically so much as they were larger, more widespread problems of the 90s.

the views on wealth or: they hate poor people, but no, not that poor person, that poor person doesn't count

okay, so the thing to understand about conservatives like dixon, probably, is that they do very much hate poor people on a societal level. they are itching to slash benefits & place the blame for the ills of society on the lower classes & in fact feel that poor people are responsible for the fact that they are poor. they hate poor people for having children that will go into the "system" & "leech" off the hardworking americans, & they hate that those children will grow up to also be poor and remain in the system as much as they very much vote for policies that contribute to it. in their eyes, poor people would just choose not to be poor and then will be able to make it happen for themselves, so if you don't, you're just not trying hard enough.

however, despite having a deep societal hatred for the lower classes, when it comes to poor people on an individual level, it gets a little more murky for them. because they don't necessarily hate poor people on an individual level. in fact to them, in this world, there exists the following: the Good Poor and the Bad Poor. and conservatives like chuck, despite their overarching societal hatred for the lower classes, love who they deem the Good Poor. because the Good Poor prove their worldview right. they are proud of the Good Poor. the Good Poor are everything america stands for & deserve everything in the world. so who are the Good Poor? who are the Bad Poor? well, it's pretty clear-cut, actually:

the Good Poor are largely white, but do not discount that the Good Poor, on occasion, will actually include a person of color. conservatives (well, those who will go blue in the face assuring you they're not racist. obviously for the very overtly mask off racist conservatives it is highly unlikely that a person of color can achieve the Good Poor status, but it's not impossible so long as the person in question is self hating enough) absolutely lap up stories of young children of color who rise up from disenfranchised circumstances to do something great (think: the fb news article about an inner city black girl who invented something super cool. conservatives love stories like that. their worldview is so vindicated with them.). the Good Poor do not have to utilize benefits, or if they do, it's only for a short period of time so they can get on their feet and make something of themselves, after all, conservatives love the american dream & they love when people achieve it. the Good Poor are hard at work & uncomplaining because they just have to work hard & be patient & they will be rewarded for it. the Good Poor scrimp & save & don't allow themselves luxuries, but if they do get a luxury, it's because they worked hard for it & saved up & deserve it. the Good Poor are able to catapult themselves into a better standing regardless of help because this is america, where hard work is rewarded & you too can pull yourself up by your boostraps. the Good Poor don't let themselves get caught in the trap of being dependent on the state or having too many babies or having babies too young, but if they do, they make the right decision. the Good Poor try to leave Bad places in order that their children can get a good education so they can avoid getting trapped in the system. the Good Poor do not complain, they just work harder. i guess to really summarize who they perceive as the Good Poor, it's those who reject the trappings of the Bad Poor.

the Bad Poor, to them, are largely people of color, especially those in inner cities (though there is such a thing as the white Bad Poor for them & it usually includes those they deem white trash or methheads) the Bad Poor are those who they see as content to use benefits indefinitely, or are perceived to use benefits without ever paying into them. the Bad Poor include those that are invisibly disabled and unable to work, people who are mentally ill, those that choose a life of crime over hard work (let's not think too hard of societal factors that may contribute to this), those that are homeless (but only the homeless they feel are choosing to stay homeless, those they feel are sufficiently making an effort to better themselves are at least closer to Good Poor), those that are addicts but making no perceived effort to overcome addiction, those they perceive as choosing not to work so they can remain on state benefits, those who have more than one kid (because to them more kids = more benefits, and the first one was one thing, but if you keep doing it despite not being able to afford the first, well. they really don't like that.) the bad poor are content to scam the system, eating t-bone steaks with their food stamps while the Good Poor suffer in their couponing. the Bad Poor are usually more poverty level, while the Good Poor, the True Poor to them, are usually right above that at the cusp of too rich for benefits, so they're the true strugglers.

and like. obviously, there's no such thing as a good poor or a bad poor. there are simply people. the difference between the pictures is that there is no difference & most of their perceptions who they believe the Bad Poor to be are bogeymans they've made up. real life circumstances are not cut and dry, and those divisions are divisions they themselves created and worsened with their policies. but to them, there are differences within that grouo. and those differences are key. because in their worldview, the Good Poor is soemone who does deserve any help they may have to unfortunately receive (though they don't need help & probably dislike the fact that have to receive it) whereas the Bad Poor does not deserve any of that.

take the following two examples:

a young couple gets married at 21. he works as an automotive technician & she's a CNA. shortly after their marriage, there's layoffs at his work & she is 8 months pregnant pregnant. they cannot currently afford health insurance through her job. they don't have enough money saved up in the bank to pay their rent & utilities as well as groceries. they end up being in a position where they have to apply for benefits like unemployment, food stamps, & medicaid for her in order to stay afloat for the next few months while he is looking for a new job. the benefits float them through their time of need and once he gets a new job a few months later, they no longer need the benefits, and stop them. they continue to live paycheck to paycheck, but can afford life's necessities.

a young, unmarried couple are 19 and have two children. he works as an automotive technician, she works as a beautician. he gets laid off at work. they apply for welfare benefits. while out of work, he gets into an automotive accident & fractures a cervical vertebrae that places him in severe pain that lasts long after the break is healed. due to this pain, he is unable to find a new job with the skillset he has & ends up forming an addiction to painkillers. he eventually needs to apply for disability. no longer able to afford childcare, she has to also quit her job. they are dependent on medicaid & disability, WIC & food stamps, for the forseeable future. they scrape together what they can to give their children as much as they can.

so the first one, to them, is a Good Poor, the second a Bad Poor. because the first one to them in an example of the system working as it's intended. the first to them is two hardworking poor people, who deserve help & are a good example of how good, hardworking people can fall on hard times, need a little help to get back up and then go back to being self sufficient. the second is very easily flandarized by them into two people who didn't want to work because if they did they would have found a way to make it work, but they didn't & they decided to stay within the system, so they're Bad Poors who get what they deserve. this is just how the world works to them.

anyways, this is a fundamentally dissonant viewpoint! it falls apart very easily! but it's so very ingrained that there is no amount of logic that can undo it. because they have their examples where their system works, ergo it works & that's how it should be for everyone & if it doesn't work then you yourself are personally responsible for the fact that it doesn't, not anyone or anything else. that is how they conceptualize the world. and like. yes, on a societal level, they hate both Good Poor and Bad Ooor. they aren't going to ever going to want to expand the help they receive. on a personal level, however, their feelings are actually more complicated than all poor people are terrible. because while they're not jumping at the chance to provide the Good Poor help to get there, necessarily, they are entirely rooting for them to work hard and achieve the american dream. they believe they truly like the Good Poor & they want opportunities available to them. they cheer if the Good Poor achieve stability because that is their worldview at work & there's a sense of satisfaction there. they are at peace. they like the Poor who make them feel at peace. they want the Good Poor to get the opportunities needed to lift themselves up, like the founding fathers intended. or something.

(as an aside, wrt them & benefits. in an ideal world, it's not that benefits wouldn't exist it's that they'd be very sparingly used & only for those who deserve/earned it. the cognitive dissonance around benefits like medicare and social security, for example, is that they fundamentally don't see it as a benefit. they see it as something they've earned on account of years and years of putting their own money into it & they are owed that because it's *their* money. if they are using any sort of benefit, it's because they have done their due diligence and put money into the system & are owed it. they get their welfare because they funded it, others shouldn't if they did not.)

(another aside, this is why they don't necessarily see the benefit in them paying local taxes for schools despite the fact that they attended schools funded by their parent's generation. they may be fine with it when their children are attending, but if they are not personally benefitting from it or are childless, they don't see why they should be forced to use their money to pay for something they're not even utilizing)

as for wealth, there is a veneration of the wealthy there. but there is a full belief that you should not punish the wealthy for being wealthy. they, after all, earned it. not being wealthy is a skill issue, to them. the temporarily embarrassed millionaire mindset does ring a bit true, in that they truly believe that anyone can make it regardless of their start if they're skilled & work hard enough, but it's not entirely the correct way of describing it. because they might wish a big pile of money falls in their lap, but they in no way think they're entitled to be rich or have money. people are owed what they are due & get what they deserve. these kind of people would be aghast at having more personal funds with expanded benefits for themselves if those funds came from millionaires who earned it with their own hard work. to these people, the idea of those benefits...that *is* theft from millionaires to them, no ifs ands or buts about it. after all, it's theft of their own hard earned money when it's done to them (money taken out of their paycheck in taxes to be used by people who aren't them.).

so when you're talking about the 90s comics and his conservativism & classism therein, i think this is a pretty important worldview to keep in mind because it's very often there, embedded in the story. & his classism, this type of classism imo, so very often intersects with his racism and sexism it is hard to completely separate them, but it's important to. because sometimes it *is* an almost completely separate issue that actually is it's own unique thing that has this exact mindset behind it.

because the 90s comics are filled with this mindset of Good Poor vs Bad Poor, not just Rich vs Poor. the rich vs poor is evident in the ways he writes bruce, tim, and even dick to an extent. they're hardworking rich ppl who are generous & benevolent & do all the good things rich people should do & keep the city safe from the Bad Poors with their vigilanteism. but like, while he writes certain poor people like that, as Bad Poors, based on his biases, it's also extremely evident that not all Poor people are equal to him. a lot seem to be treated as if they deserve their lot in life. some are treated as if they deserve better.

so we need to talk about steph. and i've talked at length before about how i feel dixon evolved perceptions of steph's class throughout her appearances, but there's a lot about steph's treatment in comics that just gets attributed to chuck dixon hates poor people & while that is certainly is probably true-ish, it's not the whole story behind it. because i need to assure you guys that he probably doesn't actually care too much that steph isn't rich or that she has a criminal father or that she has an addict mother, or that's she's poorer than tim, or whatever, because she's a Good Poor despite that. in fact, her having less money is what makes her the better story to tell. her being lower class and an underdog is the point. the american dream starts from the bottom, right? it's a feature, not a bug. she is a Good Poor. to dixon, steph deserves anything & everything she needs. does she need to beat her deadbeat dad up in the prison? she gets it. he's the one making her life hard, so she deserves to give him payback. does steph need to prove her worth as a vigilante? he wanted to give her the ultimate gift of being robin. like he would give her the moon if he could. he loves her so much. and don't just take it from me, here's some of his own words on her:

(source)

so while there are things like "steph is okay with getting talked down to by a rich person because she's a Good Poor" that are emblematic of this brand of classism, her being poorer is not why he made steph lesser than anyone. (that would be his sexism). in fact, her being poorer wasn't why she was a failure to him at all. it's actually a big part of why she was destined to be a future success & a big part why she deserved future success to him. there is nothing that someone with that worldview loves more than someone who is an underdog & wins all the rewards they deserve through their hard work and grit. it's the world working as it should. there is no surprise in my mind that the vaunted role of robin was something he was desperate to give her as a reward for her hard work. & that she would have excelled so much and only would have failed because bruce can't work with her because he can't help but need to protect the womenfolk. or something.

her story from an underdog to achieving great things is something that many people relate too & they can sympathize with the world being against her. her story as an underdog but succeeding despite nobody helping her is a conservative wet dream, it's their idyllic world in action.

tim & steph and the conservativeness of their stories

so. we get to his two main characters & mouthpieces, tim & steph. and the conservativeness of tim's story is very overt & in your face. everyone is aware of it. it's in the very special episodes, the way dixon has him talk down to steph & be a little sexist, the nature of his origin as a rich kid who went to boarding schools. he sails through life, is respected by friends and family, & gets all the training and education he needs. it's aspirational to the male comic book readers. he's a benevolent rich kid who thinks of others & is oh so humble at times, as rich people should be. it's clear as day that he was written by a 90s conservative dude that believes in reaganomics. it's in your face.

it's also relatively easy to dissociate him from the more overt conservative mouthpiecing because of this. especially as he had the benefit of being written by plenty of other writers including alan grant & dennis o'neil who didn't have him quite so bad as all that. so it's easy to be like "this is just dixon talking vs this is who tim should be".

the thing with steph, though, is she's also very, very insidiously a conservative story as well. one from the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

because conservatives love. love. the idea of the american dream. the idea that you can start from nothing, receive no help, & succeed based completely on your own merits without any help. and that. that's completely and utterly baked into every facet of steph's character. everything from her humble beginnings to her success based solely on her own skills and determination despite nobody believing in her is the american dream in a nutshell. and while again, the overt stuff like the pregnancy story are best thrown in the trash, her existence being tied to the idea of the american dream is a little harder. her story is just one who succeeds based entirely on her own merits! if you make it an easier journey, or have her get more help, she loses the charm of the underdog or its relatability. and it's not that it's a bad story at its heart, there's a lot of good there that people relate to & find happiness in, it's just. a very conservative, bootstraps one at its core. the conservatives are at peace with it. they are happy to see it. it means that the system & world worked the way it should. success comes from hard work & determination after all.

all in all, i think it's very easy to just put everything under one big umbrella of classim, but imo the big thing is that there's a belief system there (not one i agree with, personally, but one that's there) that can explain the writing choices more fully.

#anyways i do not personally believe any of these beliefs #but this is how they twist and justify their worldview in their head #and it's very apparent in tim #and always lurking under the surface but even more present for steph

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twdmusicboxmystery · 9 months

Note

https://www.ign.com/articles/the-walking-dead-daryl-dixon-season-1-review-norman-reedus

Do you think this makes it sound doubtful that beth will return? This is the first 6 episodes review

Okay, so I've read about 10 of these review articles over the past day or two. I get that it doesn't say we'll see Beth, but I actually think it sounds VERY promising. A lot of what me and my fellow theorists have been saying for a long time now is already being confirmed.

I'm going to combine several Asks into one post so I can gather all my thoughts in one area. I'll also insert some of the articles in case you want to read them yourself. Just keep in mind that they do have a lot of spoilers.

If you read across all the articles out there, some of them clearly are loving the Daryl spinoff, while others are much more negative and hate it. (Most of them seem to harbor negative feelings toward Norman and TWD in general, so I wouldn't take their words too seriously.) But you start to notice similarities between the articles. Most of them talk about the same things in the series, and we start to get a lot of hints toward what we'll see.

It's true that they don't mention Beth and some go out of their way to say that there are no other familiar faces from TWD. But keep in mind a couple of things about that:

1) I think that's aimed toward the Carylers. They're so sure we're going to see Carol at some point, and to me, it doesn't sound like we will. Or, if we do, it will be at such a last possible secondn to kick us into season 2, that her presence will have absolutely no effect on season 1.

2) Several of the reviewers have said that AMC swore them to secrecy when it comes to episodes 5 and 6. So, they've said some general stuff about how amazing episode 5 is gonna be, but overall, they can't say anything about what they saw in those episodes. So even if someone big showed up (Carol, Beth, Rick, Shane, lol) they wouldn't be able to say.

And I think it's SUPER significant that AMC would swear them to secrecy about those episodes. When the show literally leaked Troy's return 15 minutes after the FTWD Coda with the "mysterious" person, why would they demand that those receiving the screeners not reveal anything about the final two episodes of the Daryl Spinoff. Sounds all kinds of promising to me.

But there's plenty more. Let me just mention some things that stick out that seem to confirm we're right about smaller things (i.e. not Beth, per se). If you read across all the articles, there are actually a LOT of spoilers for the first few episodes. You can piece together a lot of the story from what's said. Yet, there's nothing about Carol, as I've already mentioned, and nothing suggesting a Daryl/Isabelle romance.

I did read one that said there are some "romance tropes" they use between the two of them, that are sure to get the Daryl shippers all fired up, but we don't actually hear about a relationship.

To me, that just means we'll see more of the same. Just as with Connie, just as with Carol, or Rosita, or just about anyone else he's had friendships with, he will be close to Isabelle and they'll connect on a deep level. Because of that, we're sure to see some Daryl/Isabelle shippers spring up, and the more angry people who ship Daryl with someone else (we all know who they are) will be on the warpath.

But I think if we were truly going to see a Daryl/Isabelle romance, it would be apparent in some way from these reviews. Even if they didn't come right out and say it, they would be frustrated that something is going to happen to inflame the shipping wars and would say so.

Another thing certain shippers were saying is that the leaked pictures of Daryl near the moose crossing sign were just down the road from the Commonwealth and were a scene where Carol caught up with him before he left the states and they had some kind of interaction.

That's proven to be false. We're now being told by the screeners that he's in Maine, very far from the Commonwealth, and Carol is nowhere in sight. To those of us to *actually* follow the details of the story and the symbolism, this has a lot more ties to Tales of the Walking Dead's Davon episode. If you haven't watched it, I would highly suggest you do. We're hoping to see some obvious ties to it in the show.

Of all the articles I read, this may be my favorite. It just gushes about how good Daryl's spinoff is, and has lots of good clues in it. But yes, the line you mention, Nonny, really stood out to me.

If you read carefully, it says Daryl will be asked about those he loves, and being Daryl, he's fairly closed-mouthed about it. But they specifically entangle that idea with him saying, or almost saying, a name that will break the internet. The Carylers, obviously, assume it will be Carol. But would him saying her name break the internet? I don't think so.

Exactly!

It doesn't make sense that Carol's name would break the internet. He already told Carol he loved her before leaving the CW, so it wouldn't be anything new. The names of any other character (Rick? Judith? Michonne?) wouldn't either because the audience knows they're out there somewhere. To break the internet as the reviewer suggests, it would have to be someone we don't know about (most of the GA doesn't think Beth is alive) or something we haven't heard Daryl say before.

So, here's what I'm guessing/hoping for. What if someone (Isabelle, I'm assuming) asks Daryl if he's ever been in love? Now, it says it's an "almost" name drop, so maybe he doesn't actually say Beth's name, but mentions a girl he once ended up alone on the road with or something.

That would be sublime. 😍

And naturally other shippers think he'll refer to Carol. But here's the thing. Let's say--you know, just for kicks--that he IS talking about romantic love and he DID refer to Carol. I still don't think that would break the internet. Sure, the Caryl shippers would go absolutely ballistic with triumph and joy, but remember that, while they're very loud and vocal, they're just a small part of the internet. Most of the GA doesn't know who they are any more than they know who we are. And I think the after TWD viewer who isn't part of the ship wars would just go, "huh. Okay. So they finally had Daryl say he was in love with someone." And then they would shrug and move on. Because most of the GA wants Daryl to find a happy ending, but they don't care overly much who it's with.

Now, obviously I DON'T think he's going to say Carol's name, in a romantic or any other capacity. My point is just that no matter how you slice it, Daryl saying Carol's name would not break the internet, so that can't be what the reviewer is talking about.

But referring to Beth would be completely different. We've never heard him talk about her before. And if he talks about feelings he had for her, well, even the average viewer remembers his and Beth's storyline (AMC has certainly kept it in the forefront of most people's minds all these years) and would have an emotional reaction to Daryl talking about her, and even more so if he says he loved her.

Now, of course this is all speculation one way or the other. We have no idea what he will actually be talking about in that scene. Again, this is just what I'm guessing/hoping for, because it's the only thing I can think of that would "break the internet" as the article says.

So, I've already addressed most of this. I'm not getting the Daryl/Isabelle romance thing at all when I read the articles. Again, just read them very carefully. It says there are set ups that feel like romance tropes, but it doesn't actually say there's a relationship, and the same thing could have been said of Connie and plenty of others.

As for the happy ending, I really think we'll see something of that by the end of the first season, but remember that the reviewers have admitted they can't talk about that. But even if we don't get a total Daryl/Beth reunion in S1, keep in mind that Judith's line about his happy ending probably spans the entire spinoff series.

And if I'm right about him mentioning Beth, (yes, still a big IF right now) well, there's no reason to do that unless they're foreshadowing her coming back into the story.

So, as always, we'll have to wait and see what the episodes bring us.

Can reviews be misleading? Yes. Definitely. And I don't even think it's always done purposely on the part of the reviewer. Sometimes yes, sometimes, no. But we have someone who has seen the show and is trying to reveal it without spoiling it. Each reviewer has their own thoughts and impressions and biases that naturally leak into their reviews. Some of them don't have English as their first language. Some of them are Caryl shippers, and that will make their reviews sound a certain way.

So, you just have to keep in mind that these reviewers are human beings with their own insights and opinions. And while that might make their review come off as misleading, it's really just that they have their own interpretation of what they're seeing, just as we do. Whose to say who's right or wrong? (Except we're totally right. 😉😁😇)

Overall, I've really enjoyed reading all these articles and harvesting clues and insights from them. I'm more excited for the Daryl spinoff than ever and still think it is leading to Beth. And we'll get episode 1 in just a few days. (Yay! 🎉)

Xoxo! 🍁🍂💓

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #team delusional #team defiance #td theories #td theory #beth is almost here #bethyl #daryl dixon spinoff #dd spinoff

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athynathens · 8 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.

“bet on my amno that Daryl will kiss her.”

PAIRING. Daryl Dixon x You/Reader.

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. This oneshot covers the Walking Dead AU. It will take place during the Prison Era before everything went to shit because of the Governor.

SYNOPSIS. You are considered reliable when it comes to important things such as killing walkers outside, joining a raid party, and others. So why exactly is Daryl suddenly forbidding you to join a mission to act as a bodyguard for Rick?

AUTHOR’S NOTES. Yalls i know walking dead is like years ago, but I am back at my Daryl Dixon era so liek why not make a fanfic to satisfy my heart ukuk? There are mentions of kissing, but not those steamy scenes you guys will expect.

Daryl is many things — he’s rough, skilled, reliable, considerate and many other things. That’s why you would never understand why he would suddenly suggest for you to not go to the place where the Governor and Rick will speak. He was never like this before, well maybe the first time you met the group. The first time you’ve met them was during Winter. You were camping alone in a house when you saw them barging into the house you were camping in.

Let’s just say there was a lot of integration.

But the point is, you never thought Daryl would be this paranoid again for him to not allow you to join the talk between Rick and the Governor. Is he cautious of you again? Just like before? You understand why he would be paranoid before, but why did it happen again now?

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Maggie suddenly appeared on the side, holding her rifle down as she slowly walked towards you.

You looked at her squinting eyes due to the blazing rays of the sun. All you could do is nod at her question. “I just don’t know why he would do something like this….are you guys wary of me again?”

Maggie didn’t want to assume it, but she can’t also believe that you would be this blind. The farmer has seen the way Daryl would follow her like an animal with his gaze. Heck, everyone in the Prison — even Carl, noticed the way Daryl would just stare at you.

Maggie decided to give the poor oblivious girl a hint. “We aren’t wary of you. Rather, your presence alone has made someone extra attentive.”

“You’re saying Daryl hates me, that's why he’s like this?” You concluded, pupils tearing up at the thought.

OPPOSITE OF THAT! Maggie wanted to shout that, but she stopped herself from revealing Daryl’s secret crush.

“Oh good heavens no! He doesn’t! Try to think! C’mon! You can do it!” Maggie was practically begging to use all your smartass braincells to see right through her.

“Maggie, what are you even talking about?” You began to ask her, getting a bit frustrated that she’s giving you some riddles instead of getting an answer.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Daryl l—Maggie!! Please help me with this!” She was interrupted by Carol holding a heavy box.

Maggie was never this annoyed at Carol before. But because she’s older than her, she had to obey which leaves you confused. The farmer jogged towards Carol while holding her rifle properly. “Carol, why did you have to call me? I was about to—tell her that Daryl’s puppy love with her?” Carol smiled, finishing Maggie’s sentence.

Maggie’s annoyed expression diminished a bit with her playful tone. “So why did you stop me then?” She had to ask with a hint of irritation.

Carol playfully grinned. “C’mon now. It’s been a while since something exciting like this happened!! To think it’s even about Daryl’s love life! It’s like those shows I used to watch whenever Ed’s not around!”

“Except this show is happening in real life,” Maggie smirked in astonishment.

Carol smiled. “Now you’re at my level! Now just stay quiet, and just let him…” The latter turned her head to the tower to see Daryl watching you like a hawk. “…do all the talking.”

Maggie chuckled, turning to the direction of where Daryl is currently staying. “You know. From this perspective, he looks like a creep,” She pointed out.

“If there was no zombie apocalypse, Daryl might be mistaken as a pedophile because [name] looks really young to be in her late thirties,” Carol added as she started walking back inside with Maggie.

“I know right?” Maggie smiled, walking with Carol as she turned her head to still see the archer following you with his eyes.

As the two women are laughing at their jokes, Daryl can hear every word they are saying. He couldn’t get annoyed at their jokes because their words spoke facts. The hunter tilted his head a bit, following your movements as you stab the walkers through the fences.

Months ago, Daryl knew something was wrong with him. Deep down his rough personality, he knew that you have some kind of effect on him. The moment he saw you for the first time was something he will never forget. Your entire body glowed under the moonlight passing through the window of the house. He remembered how he lowered down his bow as he noticed a shimmering flame from the camp fire through your eyes.

Therefore ever since you came to the group, his eyes would always find you. Sometimes, he didn’t even notice that he was staring at you — it’s almost him staring at you is a habit for him to do so.

At first, he didn’t know what this feeling was till his buddy, Rick, pointed it out. He remembered how Rick kept giving scenarios he witnessed to prove that Daryl likes you. Rick’s most favorite memory was when Daryl was cleaning his dagger as he walked while staring at you intensely. He looked at you with such eyes that he bumped into the wall, dropping his dagger to the ground.

Everyone in the prison witnessed this so it was hard to hold in their laughter. They almost even let it out when you saw the entire bumping scene.

“Daryl,” Someone from behind him called him. The hunter turned his face around to see Glenn.

The archer can only lift his head in a fast motion as he said, “Sup’ China man.”

Glenn rolled his eyes, feeling offended. “I’m Korean.”

Daryl chuckled, looking down on the ground for a moment. “Mhm. I know. Just bringin’ the good ol’ days, ya know?”

“Yeahhhh,,,being called China man is not exactly in my good old days book,” Glenn pointed out, walking towards him as he leaned his elbows onto the railing — copying Daryl.

“I’m guessing the reason why you are here is because of her, right?” Glenn asked, looking around the prison field as he felt Daryl stop moving.

“Ya knew?” He asked.

“Did I—?!?! Glenn scoffed playfully, “OF COURSE I KNEW!”

Daryl was taken back by his sudden outburst, genuinely not expecting the fact he got angry like this.

“You know, the fact that you’re giving me that confused look is pissing me off even more,” Glenn angrily confessed.

“…what?” He asked in bafflement.

“Oh for fuck’s sake—! You better tell her how you feel! Oh don’t get me started on the I’m afraid she’ll not accept me or the She deserves better than me lines! What gives you the right to assume what she wants, huh?!? That’s why you better man up, and fucking tell her how you feel! We’re already in an apocalypse as it is! So might as well live the best time of your life! That’s why tell her how you feel right now,” Glenn panted heavily, saying all the points he’s been wanting to say this entire time.

Daryl only stared at him with a numb look. The hunter already knew that — it’s just that what scares him right now is he might not be able to give you what you want. Even if you like him back and start a relationship, how can he ensure that he is doing well as a lover? All his life is about abuse from his father; thus, he did not grow with and out of love.

With his brother, Merle, it’s a different type of love — a brotherly bonding is maybe what you call it. But Merle has never given him the love you see in siblings. The douche left him to join the military to get away from their father for fuck’s sake.

In short, he never knew what it’s like to love someone. Therefore, he is scared that he will do something wrong when he’s in a relationship with you.

So before Daryl could reply to Glenn’s opinion, a sudden voice interrupted him. “Hate to break it to yall, but Rick needs us in the cell for some kind of meeting,” Maggie said, arching her brow at the tension between the two.

“Darly. Please don’t mind, Glenn. He’s just sexually frustrated at the moment since you took the only make out spot we’ve got where no one can interrupt us,” Maggie playfully teased, causing Glenn to blush in panic as he began to stutter for a bunch of reasons.

Daryl can only chuckle lightly, leaving the couple alone with their moment. He exited the tower quickly, making his way to the cell to see everyone in their place. Of course, the hunter spotted you first — you were sitting down on the stairs that connects to the second floor of the prison cell.

Minutes later, Glenn and Maggie followed; the two stayed standing with their arms linked together. This sight alone caused Daryl to feel a bit of envy since he also wanted to try doing that with you.

“As you all know, Andrea has called for some kind of meeting, a peace treaty to ensure there will be no fighting. All this to keep our people safe,” Rick reminded the group, crossing his arms as he walked around to build that momentum.

“Daryl, Hershel, [Name], I need you three to come with me to the place where Andrea told us to meet.” Those words alone caused Daryl to ignite in fury.

The hunter walked towards Rick with his frowning eyebrows, getting annoyed by the minute. “Didn’ I said that the girl stays here?” Daryl screamed in anger, walking away from the wall he was leaning at.

“Daryl, you need to cal—don’ tell me to calm down! You fucking promised!” Rick’s collar was grabbed by an angry Daryl.

Now, it was your turn to blaze in anger so you stomped your way to Daryl. You didn’t hesitate to push him, causing him to let go of Rick in shock. “What the damn fuck is your problem, huh? Why are you suddenly so wary of me? The fuck did I ever do to you?”

The hunter realized what he did so he composed himself first before speaking. “If I said yer stayin’, then ya better keep yer ass here,” Daryl spat out harshly, not holding back his emotions right now.

Your eyebrow twitched in anger. Your head tilted to the side as your jaw clenched in rage. “The fuck you said?”

Meanwhile, their audience just watched in amusement, waiting for the moment where one of them will just confess out of the blue. Turns out, the group planned this to happen with the help of Carol’s creative plan. The group knew that they wanted some entertainment before the storm. So they decided to trigger something in the tension between Daryl and you.

“Bet on my canned foods that [name] confesses first,” Carol whispers to Rick, causing him to smile.

“Bet on my amno that Daryl will kiss her,” Rick cockily grins.

“You’re on!” Carol laughed.

“I’m just here for the drama,” Hershel just adds with a chuckle.

“I still can’t believe that you guys find this amusing,” Carl says with a hint of confusion.

“Why can’t ya just listen to a word I just said, girl!” Daryl screamed, getting frustrated at why you can’t just listen to him for once.

“What about you! You don’t even answer my fucking questions! Why are you like this? Can you just tell me where I went wrong so we can fix this?” You spoke back, hoping to hear answers.

“For fuck’s sakes, woman! Why are you so complicated for me?” Daryl snapped, silencing everyone with his tone.

Your pupils widen as they quiver, feeling them getting wet by the second. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Daryl.” You sniffled, fighting yourself to hold back your tears.

“You’re the one that’s complicated! I can’t fucking believe I like you!” You suddenly screamed, not realizing you already confessed. Meanwhile, Carol nudges Rick with her shoulders, signaling him to do his side on the bet they made together.

Daryl couldn’g believe his ears. There’s no way you said that. T-There’s absolutely no way… “W-Whatchu just said?”

After what just happened, your brain finally processed what you did. You mentally cursed at your mouth for slipping the one secret you didn't want him to know. The flames on your cheeks started to increase as the minutes passed by.

Suddenly, Daryl called you. Your body hair just jolted up when you heard how fucking nice yoor name sounds out of his mouth. And fuck, he’s staring at you intensely — just like those other moments you accidentally caught him staring at you. That intense gaze of his is making your legs wobble a bit as you begin to shake for some reason.

It’s like a predator eyeing its prey.

“U-Uhhhh,,,I still stand what I said! I’m going Daryl! And you ain’t stopping m—” You stopped talking when he grabbed your face harshly and crashed his lips into yours.

A series of gasps mimicked in the background as you and Daryl were stuck in their own world, not caring about anything else except each other's warmth through their lips. You were definitely shocked, hence why you stood there like an idiot. However, his lips moved with so much passion so it snapped you back to reality.

The kiss was messy, but the fact that it was coming from your crush makes your legs begin to wobble at the pleasurable sensation. His hands held your face tighter and closer to his face, feeling the warmth of his body even more. Due to the height difference, him pulling you closer to his face is causing you to tip to your toes.

Daryl would continue to go on with this, but his lungs scream of oxygen so he sadly needs to pull back. With a heavy pant, he connected his forehead to yours as he stared down at you. He waited for a moment to catch his breath again then spoke, “Yer staying here, girl. You ain’t comin’ with us. I can’t afford to lose you.”

With his hands still on your head, you brought your hand up to place your hand on top of his. You leaned towards that hand as you rubbed his rough skin in circles, causing his stomach to feel things.

“I ain’t stayin’ here cuz I can’t also afford to lose ya, lover boy.”

“YES! WE GOT OUR MAKE OUT SPOT BACK!”

“Glenn. I swear to bacons. Shut your mouth.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl oneshot #zombies #puppylove #first kiss #intense confession #prisonera

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suzie-shooter · 11 months

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F2 Quali - Austria 2023 - James Blair commentary highlights

Nice view of mine and Clem's kitchen in the background there, I hadn't actually factored that in when I set everything up, but there you go.

Clem up in the top 10 [in practice], honourable mention. See if we can finally get it together, that'd be nice.

I threw my back out this morning [...] oh my back is absolutely giving me grief, holy heck. Fuck [...] fuck I really am struggling with my back here team, but I'll try not to move too much - oh fucking hell - I'll see if I can kind of sit straight that might be better for it [...] feels muscular, or maybe there's some plates there I've put in the wrong place like when a guest empties the dishwasher.

Novalak is at the top of the timing boards as we see it now. Stupendous, long may it continue.

Look good, feel good, go good. Oh, Christ. I need like some kind of heat pad or a theragun or something, or perhaps a healthier lifestyle.

I've taken the day off work by the way, in case anyone was worried the insurance industry was going to collapse.

They're being quite anal for lack of a better word, on the track limits here in Austria as they usually are. Very persnickety.

Alright Novalak's going to put a lap in and he's quicker than Stanek, so that's something. And we're quicker than Benevides. We're just going to count the people we're quicker than. Not Crawford. Jaky Moon, to the top of the sheets. Said that before, weyhey.

And it's Victor Martins up top, the sexy Frenchman.

"Who's your favourite indycar driver?" Marcus. Hate to say it, in some ways, but, you know. *sings love is blind* [...] correct, followed very closely by Scott Dixon. There's really almost literally nothing in it.

Anything you hear on Screaming Meals take it with a pinch of salt or assume it's not true.

I've heard a lot about this Barbie film, a lot of chat yesterday about some of my trousers which are apparently Barbie coloured. I really haven't paid much attention to it, it's unintentional, I do just like wearing pink and upsetting the pseudo-masculine lads in my workplace who are just terrifed of anything but a pair of chinos from Reiss and a Ralph Lauren oxford shirt.

"Any interest in the Ashes James?" Absolutely none.

Almost all of [Ollie Bearman's] points have come from race wins, so he's got to pull a couple of fingers out. I had a drink with him last weekend, caught up, and he showed up to a pub dressed like he was ready for an insurance conference, white polo and black chinos and smart trainers. So somebody's got him on a short leash. And he seemed very calm, very collected, very sort of relaxed. And then he had to shoot off to another do for his mates who had passed their A-levels, so made me feel like a complete paedophile.

I'm just listening to Theo Pourchaire here, who looped it actually, in practice, had a rare moment of, I don't know, dur-brain-ism.

Not to stir the pot but [the ART seat] was an option we weren't not considering, but thought better of it in the end.

Yes, I've had a hair cut this week. Which is now apparently news. Much to the relief of Ally. She was getting continuously more and more pissed off about the hair, which is about 90% of the reason why I kept it so long.

Yes, doing TikTok now. Not enjoying it, it's a bit silly, but Clem says it's really important to uphold a public image so I'm doing them, but I want to make it absolutely clear that it's against my will.

Novalak clinging on in P16, by virtue of probably a few track limits violations. Come on Clem. P10 in praccy, it's all you need again brother. Reverse grid pole, and a massive plug for the empire. That's what we want.

This is a real what I believe scientists refer to as a clusterfuck.

Somebody's run well wide there and it's Daruvala in the MP and he's totally fucked Fittipaldi's lap in doing so as well. Big old moment for Dizzle.

I love Gregoire Saucy. I've actually never met him but I think he's just got a fantastic name. [...] I'd love to get Gregoire Saucy on the pod, but you would need to put up with me calling him Gregoire Saucy every time I addressed him.

I'm not even going to talk about Trident. Not even gonna do it, don't fancy it.

Good on Victor, I love Victor, he's a really great young man [...] super hot, lovely guy.

I'll definitely be doing all of the races this weekend, on my lonesome [...] thanks for tuning in, and please don't be mean to me.

#james harvey blair #clement novalak #screaming meals #f2 #screaming meals recap

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ironmansnips · 2 years

Text

warnings: mentions of you and Daryl fighting

i wanna write about other characters but I have serious Eddie brainrot😭

Daryl Dixon is superstitious!!!

try n sweep under his feet

i dare you

he doesn't like cats in general

he doesn't like when they brush up against his legs but he's extra weary around black cats

he's totally bot scared tho

no definitely not

he's just.....concerned

for your safety of course!

this man would face satan himself if he thought you might want him to

he's already so selfless but for you?

he'd do a n y t h i g

no hesitation no questions

if you argue with someone you're gonna have to physically hold him back

he's gonna cut a bitch

he now has a lifelong grudge against that person

he'd still save them if they were ever in danger but he wouldn't speak to them

they can kick fuckin' rocks

you and Carol are besties

Daryl hates it

jk he loves it

you guys always team up on him but he wouldn't change a thing

you're both temperamental tho so your fights can get pretty explosive

but after you guys calm down it's pretty easy to talk it out

you make redneck jokes and he makes short jokes 😭

n you're like "excuse me sir but theres a height requirement for short jokes 🤨"

he flips you off😗

i just wanna bite him?

not in a walker way but just a light lil chomp

if you ever did chomp him he'd slowly lift his arm to bring your head up to eye level with him

*confused death state*

"what in the holy hell is goin on in that head of yours?"

you tell him you love his accent all the time

and he's just like "accent? what accent?"

if he ever leaves early in morning for anything without waking you you definitely get a chicken scratch note tellin you when to expect him back and that he loves you

he always talks about your smart mouth

he loves it btw

call him old man and he'll just look at you like "🤨"

you're sarcasm makes him smile almost everytime

he does not appreciate it in arguments tho

or your stubbornness

but he can't say shit cause he's the same way🤷🏼‍♀️

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #twd daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines

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boygiwrites · 9 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 7

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. As always, I hope you enjoy reading! :)

Just like everything else, the elevators are all dead.

After we rummage around for the flashlight, we have to climb the emergency stair-well to make it back up to the lobby. As the door creaks open, we find only more darkness and empty space waiting for us, but at least we have the moonlight, now. We step out. It streams in through the gargantuan windows, glittering across the polished tiles. I find it calming to know that despite everything that we people are going through tonight, the night still knows how to be beautiful all the same. I watch the round belly of the moon glow behind a thin cloud.

Beside it, a bright star winks.

I imagine it's my Momma winking down at me.

I use the sight to steady myself.

I have to be brave.

"The doors are all locked, right?" I whisper, thinking of all those dead soldiers outside, standing to attention. "Nothin's gettin' in?"

"Nothin's gettin' in." Shane promises. "Doors are all electric. Couldn't let anythin' in even if they wanted to, ain't that right?"

Dad side-eyes Shane. "Yeah."

"See? Nothin' to worry about."

Shane's doin' that thing again — lying to hide the truth.

As subtle as I can, I scoot a little closer to him, away from my Dad.

We watch as the light crawls over the reception desk, the scattered papers, and the muddy boot-prints we left behind earlier today. I hold my breath, waiting for a type of creature to lunge out, teeth bared. I must shudder, 'cause I feel my Dad give my hand a squeeze, and pull me back into his side. I wish he didn't. The light continues over the tiles, and then it slowly climbs the furthest wall from us. Dad levels it with the entrance to a corridor so dark that it seems to just be a black hole at the end of a long tunnel.

There's just one detail out of place.

"What's—?"

It's so bizarre that my Dad can't even put it into words.

There — Red light, projected from somewhere inside the corridor, flashing on the tiles. The corridor must make a turn, and the light must be around the corner, blinking on and off. On, off. On, off — As if the building isn't completely out of power.

For some reason, this light gets to stay on.

"What is that?" Dad mutters to Shane. "That corridor— What's it lead to?"

On, off. On, off.

The flashlight flickers for a moment.

"The control room."

We've been in the control room before. During the tour, it was one of the stops. It's essentially head-quarters for the CDC, and it was lined with computer engines and monitoring equipment that looked like it belonged in a move about aliens. All around us, after he booted the system up, we saw bobbing green wave-lengths and confusing scientist languages typed in pixelated text. None of us knew what any of it meant. On the main screen, the scientist played us a video of an infected woman's brain. Together, we watched her die. It felt like attending a belated funeral service, and it was everyone's least favorite part of the tour, 'cause we were all forced to re-live our days on the road, watching what we thought was me dying; attending my funeral.

It could have been me on that video.

Glenn was picking at his nails the whole time, and Rick looked like he was hating every frame of the video. Carol was so distressed that Lori started rubbing her back, reminding us kids that it was just a video. When I glanced at Andrea, she was staring at her shoes again, thinking of Amy. My Dad was the one to eventually bully the scientist into turning the video off.

Just before it cut out, a bullet pierced the woman's skull.

I hate the control room.

Everybody hates the control room.

Now, just a few hours later, we're faced with the same room again.

"Makes sense, right?" Shane mutters. "Kill the place; conserve power for the main hub?"

On, off. On, off.

"We should check it out." Dad says.

On, off. On, off.

"Are they in there?" I ask. "Is Glenn in there?"

On, off. On, off.

"I don't know, baby."

On, off. On, off.

On.

The light does not disappear again. It seems to grow brighter by the second, until it looks like the floor's been painted red.

We hear a noise from deeper inside the CDC.

Muffle, muffle.

"What was that?" Shane asks, drawing his pistol, now, as if he can kill a sound.

Geh, Ow, Now.

My Dad draws his gun too, glancing at Shane.

Geh-Ow, Goh.

"That's someone shoutin'." I exclaim.

Shane looks at my Dad. "Jenner?"

Goh-Oh-Oh.

We start jogging toward the corridor as a small unit.

Goh-Goh-Goh.

We start running.

The red light starts to flash. A wailing alarm takes over, pulsing loudly from all directions.

NEH—NEH—NEH.

Now we're sprinting.

The cluster of noise and voices and shouting reaches a concerning volume, and we're all racing down the corridor, tryna reach it; see what it is. It has to be the group. We have to help them, if they're in trouble. When we turn the corner, we see that the light was coming from this area, above a metal door. For a moment, I can see everyone standing on the other side, inside the control room.

I begin to smile.

Wait, something's wrong.

They're all rushing to the exit.

The voice becomes clear to us, at this very last moment; just one moment too late.

I think that's—

It's Rick.

"Get out, now! "

The last thing we see is Rick waving his hands above his head, and then the little red light blinks out once and for all, and the metal door hisses right before it slides shut. There's nothing we can do as it traps the group on one side and us on the other.

My Dad's momentum slams him right into the door, and he uses his shoulder to brace impact, but the door just doesn't budge. Without hesitation, he shoots three bullets — Bang, Bang, Bang — Into the crevice of the doorframe, but even they get absorbed into the metal, like it's just a big silver sponge for violence; like we could beat on it forever and it still wouldn't open. I skid to a stop just behind him.

"Did he just lock us in?" I hear Glenn screeching from inside.

The siren continues.

NEH—NEH—NEH.

It's like being inside an alarm clock.

Wait, did—? Did Glenn just say that someone locked them in there? Why would they do that?

It must have been the scientist, I think. Maybe he's upset with us for wanting to leave so soon after dinner ended, so he decided to try force us all to stay, instead of just asking. I don't want to stay, and I don't wanna be friends with him, neither. He said all those things about suicide — about my Momma — and he speaks like he's a robot with only one battery in him. He gave us soap and potato salad, but he's not actually any good at making friends. He's an evil scientist. He locked my friends, plus Rick, inside.

Shane arrives one second after, and gives the door a big, hard kick, but again, it stands strong.

He was right.

Nothin's getting in.

Nothing's getting out, neither.

It's sealed tight.

How are we gonna help 'em?

"Come on!" My Dad grunts, hitting the door.

My head thrums with the alarm.

Glenn cries again, "He just locked us in!"

Shane crouches; gets his face as close he can to the bullet holes, like it's an intercom. "Rick!" He shouts, over the noise of the voices inside — Open those doors, Jenner, Why'd you lock us in, What's going on, Mom — and crying; that's crying, I think. It sounds like Sophia, and if I were in there with them, I would want to give her a hug. Jenner's not my friend, but I think Sophia might be; maybe Carl, too. I can hear a computer lady's voice, too, but she sounds like she's cool as a cucumber, nonchalantly counting, Twenty Nine Minutes and Forty-three seconds remaining, Forty-two, Forty-one. Shane smacks the door, wanting to know what's happening. "Rick! We're here, man!"

We wait for someone to answer.

"Are we—?" I nibble on the ends of my pyjama sleeves, worried, "We're gonna get 'em out, right?"

I remember the mouse that got stuck in the walls of our old house. It struggled and struggled until eventually, it just died.

"Yes, we are." Shane nods to me, panicked but confident.

We hear approaching foot-steps from inside.

"Shane!"

It's Morales.

I think Rick must be busy talking to Jenner. He's the best with words, after all. If anyone can convince Jenner to let 'em go, he can.

"Man, what's goin' on in there?" Shane demands. "What happened?"

"Generators," Morales pants, "Jenner said they're all on their last legs. After they're gone, CDC's got nothing. No water, no lights. That's why Rick was hollering for us to leave, and why everything 'cept this room's gone kaput. Where were you? Did you notice?"

"Oh, we noticed alright." Shane rubs at his forehead, stressed. "We were in the lower levels with our thumbs up our asses."

That's a weird phrase.

Twenty-Five, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Three.

There's more arguing on the other side of the door — What happens in twenty-eight minutes, Jenner, My children are in here, Please open the doors, Answer me right now — and the sounds of chairs and computers being thrown to the floor. I think there's another fight going on, but at least I'm not in it, this time. Morales tries translating the kerfuffle to us — Somethin' about the timer; somethin' about Jenner. He says that when the timer reaches zero, something called decontamination will begin. Does that mean, like, cleaning? It's impossible to keep up, so I just keep my distance, fiddling with my pyjama shirt. I try to ignore the missing button. My Dad uses the butt of his pistol to smash open a panel by the door, but it's for a keycard. We don't got keycards, or regular keys, or nothin'.

Nothing can open these doors except Jenner.

"Do you know what this place is?"

That's him.

His voice comes booming so loud from inside the control room that even me, Shane, my Dad are startled, and we're behind the door. Everybody goes quiet. It's like when a teacher at school suddenly decides that they've had enough, and explode.

"We protected the public from very nasty stuff!"

Dad glances at me; yanks me closer, looking tense. I guess I was startin' to drift away again.

"Weaponized smallpox!"

I try my best not to flinch.

"Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country!"

I remember hearing about Ebola. It's famous for killin' people.

"Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!"

There's a long, long pause.

It almost seems like the CDC was built to trap things inside it. The smallpox, and the— the Ebola? Those might've been things that they didn't want gettin' out, ever, but we do. We want out. If Jenner doesn't give us our friends back, I'll be very sad. I'll even be sad about officer Rick. He got my Uncle Merle killed, but Shane needs him. They're like brothers. I wouldn't want Shane to lose his brother.

Carol, Jacqui, Andrea. Glenn.

I'll be very sad.

Even if we never get to eat potato salad ever again, I still want everybody to be able to leave the CDC.

Suddenly, the computer lady speaks up again but she's not countin', no more.

"H.I.T.s—" She explains to us, and if she was a person, she'd be smiling pleasantly, "High-impulse thermo-baric fuel-air explosives consisting of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between five thousand degrees and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

Greatest—?

Greatest loss of life?

I freeze.

My Dad freezes.

Shane freezes, too.

He glances back at us; At me. He looks like his heart's stopped.

I think everyone on the other side must look the same way.

"It sets the air on fire." The scientist gives it to us in its simplest terms. "No pain."

Twenty Six minutes and Nineteen secon—

"An end to sorrow; Grief." The scientist continues, and I imagine him smiling pleasantly, too, like he's smelling a sweet flower. "No more regrets."

I realize in this moment, as the weeping on the other side starts up again, that Jenner is like my Momma. He wants to kill himself. He thinks that when the computer lady sets the air on fire, everything is going to be better for him that way. That's why he sounds so happy. I think back to dinner — His wrong-smile, his empty gaze, his dull voice — and I wonder how I didn't realize this sooner. People who are suicidal stop living a while before they actually die. I know that. I didn't notice with my Momma, neither, not until it was too late. It's too late now, too. Uncle Merle would say Jenner's taking the pussy way out, 'cause that's what he used to say my Momma did, but there's nothing easy about it. Nothin' at all.

My Momma wanted to jump off a bridge and Jenner wants to be set on fire.

Six thousand degrees, the computer lady said.

That's a lot of degrees.

I try picturing those windows to the outside again to calm myself; that star, winking.

"Everything."

The fire might kill us, too, if we don't get out.

I hear glass breaking, voices crying out, and thumping from inside.

The men must've broken the fire axes outta their cases, and are trying to chop the other three doors down with 'em.

My Dad shoots the keycard scanner.

Shane shoot, shoot, shoots the door frame.

All I can do is fiddle with my buttons and try not to cry — I've cried far too much tonight. Crying is for pussies. I ain't a pussy.

"Shane and Daryl are out there?" I hear someone shout.

"Yeah! That door, there!"

A few moments later, someone else is talking through the door.

"Harley?"

That's Glenn's voice. He's using the bullet holes as an intercom just like Shane was. I drop to my knees in front of them, pressing my hands on the freezing cold metal on either side. I wish I could peer through and see his face, but bullet holes ain't work like that. Glenn doesn't sound like he's hurt or nothin'. That's good. I smile.

Twenty Four Minutes and Fifty Sev—

"Glenn?"

"Are you okay?" He asks, voice cracking. "Your Dad? Shane?"

Glenn must be tryna peek through the bullet holes to see my face, too.

"Uh-huh." I shout back. "We're okay. We—"

Just as I'm about to say more, my Dad sneers at the door, screaming, "Somebody drag that Einstein-Motherfucker up 'ere so's I can shoot him through the fuckin' door! My kid's out here!" He punches the metal. "Come here, ya coward! You wanna die? Lemme do ya a favor!"

"You drive that axe through his skull, Rick!" Shane shouts into the door. "You do it now!"

"W-We—" I choke on my words.

My Dad is all angry again.

If the main doors weren't sealed, he would've already dragged me outta here.

"What is it?" Glenn asks me.

I try to clear my head. Through all the chaos, me and Glenn are just knelt by the door, having a conversation. Instead of thinking about my Momma, or Jenner, or all the locked doors, or the computer lady, or my angry Dad, I try to pretend that we're on the roof of the RV again, watching the sun rise, munching on old cherries without a care in the world. Bullets and axe heads and fists are banging and cutting and thumping all around us, but I just focus on Glenn, and he just focuses on me. What would I say to him, if everything was normal?

"Glenn, my favorite color's yellow."

It's the strangest thing I could've told him right now, but it's true. I love yellow. What a lovely, simple thing to think about.

"Wh—? What?"

"Y-Yeah, like um— Like the sun." I take a deep breath. "And bananas."

I'm not scared. I'm brave. I'm someone who likes the color yellow, and I'm not going to die today.

"You like bananas?" I ask.

"Wh—?"

Glenn takes a minute to adjust to the sudden change in subject — Bananas are very different from mega-explosions, after all — but then he replies, and his voice is a little calmer, this time, and a little closer, too. "Yeah," He tells me, punctuated by another gunshot. "I like bananas. Every fruit, really. My Mom used to make me and my sisters a bowl of mango and banana every day after school. We—" Somebody swings an axe into the door. I think we both jump. He continues, "We ate it all together, in— in our backyard."

"What were their names?" I ask, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Lisa," Glenn tells me, prolly imagining sunny afternoons and fingers covered in sticky fruit juice. "Naomi, and Jenny."

Lisa, Naomi, and Jenny.

Those are pretty names.

"My Momma's name was Lindsey." I find myself admitting to Glenn. This is worse than admitting my favorite color to him — This is a secret. This is something only me and my Dad know; Something I'm never allowed to talk about. Now that Merle's gone, he won't ever be able to speak my Momma's name again, which means that it died with him. That's what I'm supposed to do. After this, I swear I will. "And she was the best Momma ever."

My Dad wishes my Momma was gone forever, 'cause that's what happens when people die, like with Merle. He doesn't wanna talk about him, and he definitely doesn't wanna talk about her. But she's not gone. I know 'cause half of my cells belong to her — Lindsey Hunt's — which means that inside of me, my Momma's still alive. She made my blood, and she made my heart.

She lives in my memories.

She lives in the stars.

My Dad just don't see it.

"I bet." Glenn says. I wonder if Glenn lost his Momma, too. "What was her favorite color?"

"Blue."

Blue, like the fake sapphire gem that hung from her necklace. Blue, like her skinny jeans. Blue, like my Daddy's eyes.

"And she liked to write." I tell Glenn, 'cause maybe if I pass all these gems of information over to Glenn, my Momma can live on with him, instead, 'cause I know that as soon as we make it out of the CDC, I'm never, ever gonna be allowed to talk about my Momma again — Not to Dad, not to myself, not to anybody. If I do, I'm gonna get belted again. I don't want my Momma to die for a second time. I don't want her to be forgotten.

I think of everything I ever knew about my Momma.

"She used to write on napkins at the diner, while we waited for our pancakes. She wrote all over her hands if she ain't had any paper. She wrote a bed-time story for me too, once, for my— my fifth birthday. It was called My Little Fairy, Here's all my Kisses. 'Cause I got fairy kisses. My moles. That's what she called 'em. It was my favorite book ever. And— She called me her little fairy-girl. She always said if she could do anythin', she'd be an author."

"Open the doors!" Shane shouts. "Open them, now!"

I block it out. I block it all out.

I need Glenn to know about my Momma.

"She loved playing guitar. Daddy taught her how. She liked the Spice Girls. It's all she listened to."

Glenn lets me speak as much as I need to.

"She always kept her hair short, 'cause she hated the feeling of it touching her shoulders."

My Dad shoots the door again.

I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.

"And she wasn't sick in the head." I quickly tell Glenn, 'cause this part is really, really important. "She wasn't. People said she was, but it ain't true. She took her medicine. She weren't sick."

I think Glenn puts his hand on the door, probably right over mine, 'cause I hear a hollow thunk. I wish there was no door.

"Harley—"

"She weren't sick. She was just sad! Okay?"

He needs to get this part.

Twenty Three Minutes and Fifty-nine seconds, Fifty-eight—

My Momma used to write, and sing, and dance, but she used to cry, too. One day she came home, and she just cried all night. After that, she cried all night, every night. I never understood why. Every time I asked, she'd just cry some more. I think my Dad understood, but all he ever told me was, It's not for little girl ears to hear, chicken, so ask me somethin' different. After a while, he stopped tryna make my Momma feel better. He gave up. That's how I know he hated her, 'cause I never gave up, and I loved my Momma. She was a sad woman, but she weren't sick.

Glenn pauses, and he sounds sincere when he says, "Okay, Harley."

The others think Glenn's a bit of an idiot, but he's as every bit caring as any one of 'em.

"She was like Jenner." I say. "She was sad, and then she died, and then she weren't sad no more."

"Harley, I'm sorry." Glenn sounds out of breath. "I'm—"

"Don't be sorry." I shake my head, remembering what I told Sophia. I suck in a deep breath. "Sorry is only for when it's your fault."

Momma dyin'— That was Dad's fault. He ain't never said sorry.

I don't think he ever will.

That's okay, though, 'cause this is the last time I'm ever gonna think about my Momma. After this, never again.

"What about your Momma and Daddy?"

Glenn listened to me, so now I want to do the same for him.

"I don't know." He sighs. "I'm not sure what happened to mine. They could be gone. They could be out there somewhere, still alive."

"I think they're still alive." I say. I'm actually smiling. "If they're anythin' like you, they're alive."

Glenn is fast like a cheetah and strong like a house cat, and he's not as big as my Dad, but I'm just as sure that he's gonna live forever. Sure, he sucks at cooking, but he learnt his lesson. He's friendly. He's determined. He's resourceful. And he's real good at finding old packets of freeze-dried cherries. If they're anything like him, Glenn's Momma and Daddy are alive, and so are his sisters, Lisa, Naomi, and Jenny. All of them.

I hear Glenn laugh.

There are bombs in the walls and everybody's panicking, but me and Glenn are laughing.

"Thank— Thank you." He tells me. "And if they're not, I hope they're with your Mom, and everybody else you've lost."

Maybe everyone who's died so far are all eating fruit together, somewhere.

I hope my Uncle's not bein' too much of an asshole to 'em.

"I hope so, too," I laugh.

What a lovely, simple thing to think about.

It's as I'm sittin' there, smiling and thinking about happy things with Glenn, that the door opens. It slides into the floor, revealing Glenn on the other side, kneeling just a couple inches away from me. We stare at each other, caught off guard.

Not for long, though, 'cause my Dad grabs my shirt and forces me to stand. I stumble after him.

Glenn snaps out of it, too, and scrambles to his feet.

Then, it's just running.

Running, running, running.

Jenner let us out?

Jenner let us out!

Rick! He did it!

We run down the corridor, and then we run through the lobby, and then we run through a side corridor, and then another one, and another one, and another one, and then we're running back into the garage-lookin' space we first arrived in, and these doors are all opening, too. My Dad is running so fast that I almost can't keep up. The roller doors open inch, by inch, by inch, and we run even faster.

The night is revealed.

We run into it.

My bare feet smack against the cement, and then they sink into grass, which is so, so soft, and we hear crickets chirping, and the breeze.

"Go, go, go!" Rick shouts, leading us all through the field the other way, this time, under the moon.

"Get down!" Shane hollers.

The explosion. The explosion is still coming.

"Everybody, behind the sand bags!" Rick cries.

We run, run, run past half-dead soldiers and full-dead soldiers, and the tank, and the barricades. We reach the edge of the field, where big, brown blobs are stacked on top of each other to make a long, lumpy wall. Ahead of us, Rick vaults it, and then he pulls Lori and Carl over. Me and my Dad are next, and he gets me by the armpits and just about throws me to Rick, who just about dumps me on the ground. Dad jumps over; muscles my head down until my nose is grazing the pavement, tucked safely under his chest. There's more rushing; more people throwing themselves behind the wall.

The ground shudder-udder-udders beneath us.

Then the air is set on fire.

Everybody bunkers down as the sky bursts like a balloon. A wave of scorching hot air thrusts over our heads, carrying smoke and debris with it as it sails through the sky. I listen to empty helmets and broken pieces of metal land sporadically all over the street. The CDC crumbles in the background. Windows shatter. Rooves cave in. Walls topple over into the field like broken Legos. It's the loudest thing I've ever heard.

Eventually, it ends.

We slowly untangle, and gaze out over the sand bags together.

The CDC is a pile of rubble and ash. It sits there, smoking gracefully, like somebody's stomped-in sandcastle. It looks like it was never a building at all — just a black husk. I think of Jenner, willingly sat at his computers, burned to a crisp. I wonder if it made him happy. Weirdly enough, I hope it did. I hope he ended up wherever he wanted to be. We watch as the moon rises behind the destroyed utopia, 'cause despite everything that us people have gone through tonight, the night knows how to be beautiful all the same.

Orange burns bright against the black of night.

We admire it like a nice view.

"Is everybody okay?" Rick gulps, hands on his hips.

Everybody murmurs a general yes.

When I glance at my Dad, he's already looking at me. Already, I know that nothing is going to be the same after this. We're not coming out the same way we went in. Next to us, Rick pants beside his family. He wraps them in a hug. Carol holds Sophia's hand to her mouth as they both cry softly. Morales and Miranda hold Louis and Eliza. Glenn takes off his cap; almost drops it. When he meets my eye, I feel a little embarrassed about all the things I told him when we were talking through the door. Shane runs his hands through his hair. Jacqui and T-Dog smile.

Andrea— Wait.

Andrea and Dale. They're not here.

That's when I see Jacqui point to the other side of the field.

"Guys, I think that's them."

I follow her finger with my eyes.

Everybody does.

Like two little dots in the distance, we watch as Dale and Andrea poke their heads up from behind some more sand bags. They dust themselves off, hesitantly look around, and then they spot us, and some of us wave to them.

Only Dale waves back.

I think back to what happened with Glenn, and I pretend that the part of me that was still holdin' onto my Momma died in the CDC. I pretend that it's a little burnt chunk turning to ash, right next to Jenner. I am never going to talk about her again. I'm never even gonna think about her. I forget every memory I ever had of her, and that's it — She's really gone, now. She died with me. I hope she would forgive me. If I could talk to her one last time, I'd tell her that I just don't want Daddy to beat on me, anymore, and that I'm sorry.

One last brick falls from the CDC.

It's time to leave another home again.

When I climb into Dad's truck, I can see Shane standing in the shadow of the RV, sneering.

Dad loads his pistol and places it on the dash, staring him down.

Shane scoffs.

Everything else might be over, but not this.

They are going to kill each other.

I'm sure of it.

As rural Georgia rolls past the windows, I stare at the pistol on the dash, thinking of Shane. I stare at Dad's bouncing leg and his knuckles as he cracks them, and I think about what might be going on in his head. I stare at my feet, thinking about how we have no home again.

When my Dad reaches for the gear stick, my body does that thing again where it flinches all on its own. I regret it immediately.

He gives me the weirdest look.

I go back to staring at the loaded pistol just so I don't have to look at him.

This is how the entire car ride goes.

Everybody is exhausted come morning.

By the time the sky turns pale blue, we're pulled over in the parking lot of a small strip mall. We all climb out, revealing ourselves to each other in the sunlight. Everybody is covered in soot and sweat, still dressed in their sleep clothes. Most of us don't even have any shoes, I realize. Rick's walking around in his socks. Everything we owned got blown up. There are no more water bottles, no more food, no more hair brushes, books, pillows, blankets, tooth brushes, or even any toilet paper. We took everything we owned, down to our very last protein bar, into the CDC.

'Cause thought we were safe.

We were wrong.

We might as well be holding a banner that says, We have lost everything. Don't bother robbing us.

Some of the men break off to search for supplies without really telling anyone. Nobody's really talking. Shane and Rick search the convenience store. Glenn and Morales take the office supply shop and the pet shop. My Dad takes the book shop all on his own, lugging his crossbow over his shoulder, glaring at Shane. Supplies used to mean gas and bullets, but now it means anything.

All I have is my dinosaur pyjama shirt, some purple pants, and a hair lackey, now.

And my Dad. I think.

I watch him disappear through the little blue door.

"Hi, Harley." A sweet voice says.

I look up from my bare feet to see Sophia walking over to me. She's just like me. All she has is a blue shirt with a rainbow on it, some spotty pyjama pants, her shoes, and the headband in her hair. Oh, and her dolly. Still, she smiles. I'm glad she's okay.

When she reaches me, I scoot over.

She sits next to me on the abandoned coffee-table I'm sitting on.

Neither of us say anythin' for a minute, and it's like that day on the picnic blanket again. Neither of us know what to say, so we say nothing. We watch Glenn and Morales go literal dumpster diving outside the office supply shop, and we both laugh when Glenn leans so far over the edge that he sorta just falls in. Morales has to pull him out by the back of his jeans. We hear him complain, Pinche idiota, as he tries very hard not to grab anywhere near Glenn's ass. He fishes Glenn out, who's splattered with dumpster-gunk and random bits of trash.

He holds up an object to Morales, grinning.

"Wonder what he found." Sophia giggles. "He must've really wanted it. I bet it was a new cap."

I find myself giggling, too. "I bet it was a giant bar of chocolate."

"I bet it was a neck pillow."

"I bet it was batteries for his Walkman."

"I bet it was a comic."

"I bet it was headphones to block out the sound of Dale's stories."

Sophia turns to look at me, a glint in her sleepy eyes and a smile between her cheeks. I think this is what friends do. When we hear Dale pulling out that poetry book again from nearby, ready to form another story circle while everybody waits, we burst into laughter.

I cover my mouth. "S'like he heard me."

"He's way too old for that." Sophia claims. "Old people have bad ears."

"Dale's not that old."

"Yeah, he is. He's got grey hair and glasses and everything!"

"Your Momma's got grey hair!" I remind her.

"Oh, yeah." She covers her mouth now, giggling and going pink. "Oopsie."

"Don't worry, I won't tell 'er you said that."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

That's also somethin' friends do. They keep secrets.

"Pinkie promise?" Sophia offers.

I link my pinkie with hers, and we shake 'em.

"Pinkie promise." I say officially. "I won't ever tell your Momma that you called her super, super old."

"Hey!" She grins. "I didn't say that!"

"Okay." I shake our pinkies again. "I promise I won't ever tell your Momma you accidently called her a lil' bit old."

"Better." Sophia smiles. "Thanks."

We go back to watching Glenn and Morales together, 'cause it's a bit like watching an episode of Tom and Jerry. By now, they've cleaned out the office supply store and are checking out the pet shop. The door's all boarded up, but they ain't got tools to pry it open, so they just kinda tug at it for a while. I think Glenn asks Morales to try use a rock, 'cause he picks one up off the ground and pounds it against the nails in the wood, but he ends up dropping it onto his bare toes. He bends to soothe them, frowning. Glenn laughs. Me and Sophia laugh, too.

Glenn and Morales really are stumped, though. The door won't open, and the windows are all boarded up, too.

That's when my Dad emerges from the book shop. He's holding a plastic bag full of stuff, minding his own business. He's about to walk back when he spots Glenn and Morales acting like idiots. We watch as my Dad debates going over to 'em. Eventually, he does. He must actually call them idiots, 'cause the two men roll their eyes, but my Dad just unsheathes his knife and starts whittling the boards off the door.

When it's flimsy enough, he uses his shoulder to force it open. After three crack, crack, cracks, the door bursts open.

Glenn and Morales nod, thanking him.

My Dad walks away.

"Woah. Your Dad's nice?" Sophia whispers to herself. "I always thought he was scary."

A little, I almost tell her.

"Not really." I shrug, instead. "You know, everybody always says that."

"That's 'cause everybody's always gettin' glared at." She snickers. "He's got such a mean face. So did Merle. Not you, though."

I give her a confused look.

"Okay, maybe you do."

I push her lightly. "Whatever."

She snickers some more, which makes me smile.

"Really, though. It's nice he helped them."

I always knew my Dad wasn't a bad person. Someone can't be a bad person when they sing me to sleep every night, and keep my baby photos, and make sure I always eat 'fore they do, and go cold when there's only one blanket. They can't be bad when they make sure animals never suffer when we hunt 'em, and feed birds the bread from their lunches while they're on break, and recommend brands of diapers to other people in the baby aisle. My Dad's done all of those things.

But I never knew 'bout nice. Nice is for Disney princesses.

I think I see it, though. I wonder what changed. The only thing I can think of is Uncle Merle not bein' here no more. 'Cause I know that if he was here, my Dad wouldn't have helped Glenn and Morales get that door open. He also wouldn't be handing out books and magazines to the women, like he is right now. I watch as he gives Jacqui a fashion magazine, and then a small assortment of bookmarks he found to Dale, who's been dog-earing his poetry book up until now. Dale's face lights up. When they all start thanking him for the small gifts, my Dad quickly walks away.

Merle wanted to rob these people. I heard him talking about it one night.

You're not fuckin' serious. My Dad had scoffed to my Uncle, They got kids here. What if that was Harley?

My Uncle Merle used to beat me, too.

He was the first person to ever beat me.

When my Dad came home from his shift and found me shirtless on the sofa, covered in bruises with my hair all knotted, he went straight for the pistol they used to keep under the sink, cocked it, and barged into the spare bedroom, where Uncle Merle was knocked out in his bed. He'd been sniffing powder all day, which always made him crazy right before it made him sleepy. I remember hearing him fall to the floor. My Dad almost shot his brother in the face that night. They argued for a long, long time.

When my Dad came out, he was bruised, too.

He silently sat next to me and held me for so long that we both fell asleep there, watching cartoons on mute.

After that, my Dad started beating me, too.

Maybe like how my Momma used to be a part of me, Merle's still a part of my Dad.

I'm not sure if I miss that side of Merle.

I don't think I miss him.

That's what Sophia said about her dead Dad.

It's what I almost think about my Uncle Merle.

Almost.

But I don't, 'cause Merle's blood.

He's a part of me, too.

Glenn and Morales enter the pet shop, disappearing behind all the boarded windows. Since we can't watch them anymore, which makes Sophia pout, Aw, that was fun, we decide to pass the time by letting her do my hair instead. I bask in the sun while she takes her time weaving a bunch of braids into my hair — Big ones, lil' ones, wonky ones. She even braids my bangs, which we both think is really funny. She tells me I look like one of her old Barbie dolls, 'cause she used to always experiment on their hair. We talk about all the toys we used to have, like Littlest Pet Shop and Nerf guns. My first ever toy was a Nerf gun. When I tell Sophia, she tells me her first ever toy was a pink teddy bear.

It's not long before we notice Glenn walking up to us. He's holding something behind his back.

"Hey, guys." He calls out, grinning. "Nice hair."

"She looks pretty, doesn't she?" Sophia smiles. "You want me to do yours?"

He laughs. "Uh... maybe later. Thanks."

"What's behind your back?" I ask him, trying to take a peek.

"Oh, yeah. You have to close your eyes." He says, and then he realizes that Sophia might feel left out, so he tacks on, "A-And you, too, Sophia."

"No, it's okay." She shrugs. "It's for Harley, right?"

"What? How'd you know?" He frowns. "It could just be something cool I'm showing you guys. You don't know."

"When have you ever shown us something cool?" Sophia teases.

"I found that lizard, that one time."

"It was dead!"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "Glenn, just show it to us!"

"Okay, okay. Close your eyes first."

"Do I have to?"

"Uh, duh." Glenn tells me. "It's what's-behind-my-back protocol. So, close your eyes."

Me and Sophia glance at each other, and then I do as he says.

"They're closed." I promise him.

"Awesome." And just three seconds later, after some rustling, he says, "Now open them again."

I open my eyes. I expect to see an interesting rock, or maybe a leaf with a weird pattern. I would love that. But that's not at all what Glenn's holding out to me. He's holding a small pair of yellow rain boots. My jaw drops open. These boots are more than banana-yellow, or sunshine-yellow. They're offensively yellow. They're possibly the brightest, most shocking, most blinding color yellow, ever. They've got little cartoon lady-bugs printed all over them, and one super big lady-bug on each ankle. This must be what he found in the dumpster.

They must've been easy to spot. You can prolly spot these things from a mile away. It must be like wearing the sun.

"Happy late birthday." Glenn smiles, a little awkward, like he's not sure if I like 'em.

I reach out for the boots, and he lets me take 'em.

Yellow — My favorite color.

"Oh my God," Sophia gasps. "They're so cute."

I can't believe my eyes.

"They're perfect," I gape. "It's the best birthday gift ever, Glenn."

"Sorry I couldn't find any socks," He says. "This place was all pretty much picked clean."

I pull the boots onto my feet, and it turns out that not only are they the perfect color — They're also the perfect fit. They're not too tight, not too loose. I kick my legs up and down, feeling them out. They've got a little dumpster-sludge smeared on them, and there's a hole in the toe, but they're perfect. These are my favorite boots ever.

"Thank you, Glenn." I grin down at my new boots, tapping my toes together. "I love 'em."

He looks proud of himself.

I'm already feeling a little bit better about everything that happened at the CDC.

"You're welcome." He sticks his hands in his pockets, awkward as ever. He says goodbye to each of us and walks off toward everyone else.

"Glenn's nice, too." Sophia smiles.

I think back to the CDC, and that morning on the RV. "Yeah," I smile back, admiring my boots. "He is."

"Harley! Come on, it's time to go!"

When my Dad calls for me from the truck, I feel my smile fade almost all at once. I'm not looking forward to another silent car ride with him. It's like we can almost hear what each other wants to say, but I'm too scared to speak up, and he's too stubborn. He'd rather pretend there's nothing we need to talk about in the first place. I'm not looking forward to watching his every move, worried he'll reach out for me every time he reaches for the gear stick. I'm not looking forward to the weird look he gives me after, neither. It's like drowning without the water.

I'm not looking forward to it at all.

I almost wish I was allowed to ride in the RV, with Glenn, instead. We could talk more about happy things.

Dad calls out for me again, louder this time. "You gonna make me repeat myself?"

Sophia gives me a little smile, but it's way too sad-looking.

"Bye, Harley."

"Bye, Sophia."

At least I have some cool boots, now.

When I climb into the passenger side, my Dad scoffs, frowning. "Fuck happened to your hair?"

"Nothin'."

I spend the whole car ride undoing Sophia's braids.

Author's Note.

We are finally done with the CDC 😭

I decided to keep Jacqui alive because Jim doesn't really die per se, in this fic, which I think is her main reason for wanting to stay at the CDC in the show. Morales' family is still here, too, but we'll get back to canon pretty soon since we're entering season two.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Sending love! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon #daddy issues #daryl dixon fanfiction #angst #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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slcwshow · 2 months

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smoke tricks. eating leftover takeout directly out of the fridge. dancing around in your underpants. making up constellations. giving your clothes the sniff test. the alleged van. never accomplishing anything because you’re too scared to try. socks with holes in the toes. stealing every sweater you’ve ever been lent. art for art’s sake. lazy summer afternoons. a collage of posters and concert tickets. staying up all night talking. saturday morning cartoons. pizza with all the toppings.

statistics.

full name: daniel sundance dixon (seriously) nickname(s): danny name meaning: god is my judge age: twenty-five date of birth: june 29th star sign: cancer place of birth: castle village, galdoran current location: wherever the road takes him (but, like, pelican town) gender: trans-male pronouns: he/him sexual orientation: pansexual occupation: travelling merchant family: david dixon (father), shawna dixon (mother), laura dixon (older sister) education level: high school graduate (barely) living arrangements: lives in his bitchin' van loved gifts: pizza, pepper poppers, battery pack hated gifts: wine, coleslaw, raisins

biography.

Danny was born in Castle Village, a distant town known for its community of adventurers.

His mother and father, Shawna and David, perhaps aren’t the sort of people you’d immediately associate with heroics and monster slaying. They’re both bermuda-shorts-wearing, fanny-pack-owning, glasses-on-a-string-around-the-neck types, aggressively pleasant and unfailingly kind. Their interest is less in killing monsters as it is in researching them, and they established the local tourist trap museum as a means of displaying all they've discovered.

Always an aimless kind of kid, Danny imagined he'd spend most of his life working the desk at his parents' museum, because it was easy and didn't require any major planning on his part. His mom and dad are very supportive of their son, to the point where it might've actually been hindering his ability to grow as adult, so he never felt any great pressure to get his life started.

Ultimately his impetus to leave Castle Village came on the back of the breakup of his first major relationship (they decided to just be friends, which is chill). Danny finally got around to fixing up the old van that'd sat on his parents' drive for the last eight years, and set off on his travels.

He's been bumming around the Ferngill Republic for the better part of a year now, collecting things from all over the continent and selling them to the residents of the small towns he passes through. It's a pretty sweet existence, all things considered, and he wonders if he'll ever feel inclined to settle in one place again.

other things.

Sundance was Danny's middle name even before he transitioned, and his sister had to sit him down and very seriously talk to him about not making it his first name afterwards.

His van is a complete jalopy, but the exterior is painted with a bitchin' mural of a team of adventurers slaying a giant slime.

He’s a pretty good bass player, but he could probably be a great bass player if he actually bothered to practice.

A not-insignificant portion of the van's interior storage is taken up by tapes. Danny keeps telling himself he'll upgrade his music system to a CD player one of these days, but he never quite gets around to it.

Even though he's only in town a couple of days a week, he still has the high score on the Journey to the Prairie King arcade machine at the Stardrop Saloon.

Sincerely believes in all things supernatural, and is very knowledgeable on the topic thanks to his parents.

#danny: about #dew.intro #wow no sad topics in this bio am i feeling okay

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 11 months

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close to home | chapter eleven

plot: this chapter features the first time jump as her and Daryl grow closer on a hunting trip, but find themselves in some trouble

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,289 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading! (also, the timeline between s3 and s4 always confuses me a bit, so just go with it lol) I am still in recovery after surgery, it went well, so updates might be slow for a little while. I can’t even put my laptop on my stomach lol

It had been weeks since your group took in the people from Woodbury. Things were improving every single day after that. The prison expanded its resources, and everyone chipped in. The courtyard had a dining room awning, and flowers and herbs grew. The front meadow held pigs, horses, and crops. A water pump brought water into the prison daily, and with gas coming in from runs, the generators were running from time to time. Hunting parties brought in a circulation of food to feed everyone. While there wasn’t plenty, there was enough.

Newcomers seemed to come in steadily, and a council was formed. You were offered a seat, and while you wanted to decline it, Michonne and Carol talked you into it. They believed you got a voice after all the help you did. And you were family.

Summer was in full bloom. It was nearly a hundred degrees out daily, and even though you hated the heat, you couldn’t find reasons to hate anything. Not with how happy things have been, not with how happy you’ve been.

In the time you’ve been here, you and Michonne have grown exceptionally close. The two of you joined the group around the same time and went through many of the same motions. But she wasn’t the person you were closest to.

“Hey, you comin’ or what?” Daryl yelled over at you.

Your hair was still damp from the shower you had earlier today, and it dripped down on your gray t-shirt. The shower was probably not the best idea since you started sweating when you stepped out into the Georgia heat.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You waved him off, walking up to Carol. She handed you a bag full of the needed supplies, and you thanked her before walking over to Carl, sitting at the table. You finally found Tora there, and she meowed when you rubbed behind her ears. “I should’ve known you would’ve stolen her right from me. Little traitor.” You said, lightly flicking the rim of Carl’s hat.

“It’s not my fault she likes me so much,” Carl laughed, feeding her some meat.

You hummed and leaned down, kissing Tora on her head. “You just watch her while I’m gone.” But you didn’t need to worry about that, as Tora took a very quick liking to the boy and bounced back and forth between you and him. He knew all her whistles and commands, and you knew Carl always closely watched the giant cat. Especially since she was so popular with the children.

“Come on, I don’ got all day,” Darl yelled again.

You rolled your eyes as you finally approached him, adjusting the strap on your bag. “Take a chill pill, Daryl. The sun’s only been up twenty minutes. You have all day with me. You don’t gotta rush me outta here,” You replied.

He scuffed, and you laughed at his reaction as you walked over to your jeep. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late,” You said.

***

It was a bit cooler once you and Daryl got to your usual hunting grounds. The trees provided ample shading, but the breeze was still warm, and it was still early. You were a good few miles away from the prison, where the walkers were more spread out and the noise level was quieter. Still, you’d taken out quite a number of them.

Despite the heat, the ground was still a bit damp from the rain last night, and your jeans soaked through as you knelt on the ground, checking the snare traps. It took you and Daryl about twenty minutes to go through the cycle, and you successfully caught three rabbits, four squirrels, and a groundhog. You reset the snares and would come back tomorrow.

You heard a whistle and turned back to Daryl, who pointed toward the ground. Your eyes narrowed, and you walked over, trying to see what it was. “Walker?” You asked.

“Nah, person,” He said.

“How do you know?” You asked.

“You see here,” He pointed, “The footprints are in a line. Ain’ zig zaggin’ all ‘ver the place.” He knelt down and moved some of the leaves away from the trail. “How many?”

You knelt down beside him and looked, taking a few more seconds than he did to come up with an answer. “Just one. Only one set of boot marks.” Daryl nodded in confirmation, and you smiled at him before standing up. “Soon, I’ll be an expert tracker like you,” You said.

“You only been doin’ it a couple weeks, give it a few more years,”

You laughed and swung your bag around, grabbing your canteen of water and taking a sip. “It’s hot out here today,” You said and handed him the water. After he took a sip you put it away. “I bet it’s the end of July,”

“Maybe,” He muttered, looking at another pair of tracks on the ground, “Come ‘ere, check ‘em out,”

You walked over and looked, not recognizing what they were. “Some type of bird?”

“I think wild turkeys, trail goes this way. Look kinda fresh too,”

“Maybe we should follow them if we can catch some and bring them back, that’s fresh eggs during their breeding season, and we can raise a number of them in the meadow or something,” You said, “Maybe depending on how many we find we can kill a couple. Have Thanksgiving in July,” You laughed.

Daryl shook his head and turned, but you caught him smiling before he did.

***

An hour later, you and Daryl were still tracking the turkey tracks when you came across a lake, It was small but crystal clear, and there were plenty of animal tracks around the muddy bank. It was getting warmer, and you’d thrown your hair up in a ponytail.

The trees were forty feet back and the meadow gave a really nice viewpoint of the area around you. You weren’t exactly sure of where you were, other than north of the prison. You didn’t need to say anything to Daryl, you both knew that this was a good place to take a breather and have your breakfast.

“You wanna know what I miss more than anything?” You asked, biting into a well-expired granola bar. You didn’t need to wait for him to answer. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Or waffles. I loved breakfast food. Lots of syrup and butter. So much better than this shit,” You said.

“I liked the grits we found,” He said.

You groaned, “Ugh, I hate that crap. I hate the texture.”

“It’s filling, though,” He countered.

You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back in the grass. The sun was heavy on you, and a part of you wanted to take a swim through the lake. It’d been so long since you’d been swimming. But you only had another hour or so before heading back. The council decided smaller hunting parties wouldn’t go out for long hours at a time. It was too risky after a couple of newbies never came back.

The little break you and Daryl took was enough to make you curl up and go to sleep. Just like everyone else, your sleeping schedule wasn’t what it should be. Days were long, even though life was easier.

“We should get goin’ in a minute,” Daryl said but went against his words and laid back a few feet away from you.

You sighed but didn’t say anything. It was peaceful out here, despite the danger around every tree. Still, it reminded you of when it was just you and Tora. When your days were spent wandering the forest for food and scaling trees to avoid passing walkers. As much as you like your new life with your family and the prison, sometimes you miss the simplicity of when it was just you.

The sky was mostly clear, with only a few white puffy clouds on the canvas. You laughed as one passed and pointed up at it, “That one looks like a bear,”

“Which one?”

You moved a couple inches closer to him and pointed, trying to angle your finger right. “There,”

“Pft, no it ain’,”

You rolled your eyes and sat up. That was when you saw a few wild turkeys by the other side of the lake. “Daryl, the turkeys,”

He sat up immediately and grabbed his crossbow. “Only four, not enough to bring back.”

Your eyes narrowed briefly, “No babies, I wonder what happened to them.” You said. Neither of you needed to say what happened to them. You both knew.

The two of you grabbed your gear and started toward the other side of the lake. Your stomach grumbled at the sight of them, and you felt terrible, but not bad enough. You grabbed Daryl's arm when you got as close as you could to them. “Let me try?”

“Again?”

“Yes, yes, come on. We can’t shoot them, and I need the practice if I’m going to get good at the bow and arrow we found,” You said.

He sighed loudly and handed you the crossbow. You handed him your gun and adjusted the bow in your hand. He’d only let you try a couple of times, and you never could get used to the weight of it. But that bow and arrow was just sitting in your cell at the prison, and you did want to learn it.

“Gotta take the bow out more,” Daryl said to you, “We can do some target practice. Glenn been teachin’ some of the others to shoot. Maybe we’ll go with ‘em?”

You nodded and lifted the bow, repeating the instructions in your head on how to use it. You set your finger on the trigger and waited for a few heartbeats before aiming, then waited again and then fired. The arrow pierced the leg of the animal, and you cringed when you heard its painful clucks. This was the part you hated most about hunting.

“Dammit,” You muttered.

Daryl looked at you, “You’re leanin’, can’ kill it with just a shot yet, it’s okay,”

You sighed and lowered the crossbow while Daryl went to kill the injured bird. The other three scattered off but didn’t go too far. You were entirely disappointed in yourself, and the sound of the turkey in distress only made it worse.

You were just around to tell Daryl he could get the rest when an arm around your throat pulled you backward, and you felt the sharp tip of a knife touch the base of your throat.

“Don’t move,” A deep voice said in your ear.

Daryl turned around with the gun raised at the sound of a new voice. “Let ‘er go,” He said.

A different man came into view with a gun too, and you closed your eyes for a second. You were fucked.

“Nobody’s gotta get hurt,” The man said, “We’re just gonna take your shit, and we’ll be on our way,” The man holding you hostage said. “Drop your weapon, and I won’t slit her throat,”

Your eyes met Daryl’s, and you could see the anger and worry on his face. He was breathing heavily. Slowly he put the gun on the ground.

“Adam, get the bags and the bird,” The man said.

Adam moved to grab the bags, and you quickly pulled his arm away from your throat in the opportunity of your attacker's lack of attention. That quick second of reaction gave you enough time to duck under the arm, pull out your own knife, and slam it into the side of his body. He screamed in pain, and you pulled it out, dropping to the ground to swing your legs. His head hit the ground at the same time as you heard a gunshot, but you didn’t stop.

You drove the knife down into your attacker's arm, and he screamed again, dropping the knife he did have. With his weapon removed, you turned back, ready to throw a knife at Adam, but he was already on the ground.

You barely had time to react before Daryl was on the man, and you grimaced when you heard the sickening crunch of bone as Daryl assaulted the man.

“Daryl!” You yelled, grabbing his arm mid-punch and using all your strength to keep him from beating the man to death.

“He woulda killed ya!” Daryl yelled, pulling his arm free.

“Doesn’t mean we gotta kill him!” You yelled.

“Nah, this asshole is dead,”

“No!” You yelled, trying to shove Daryl off of the unconscious man. “He’s as good as dead as it is. We don’t know if it was just the two of them. We need to go, Daryl, now. Please.” You stressed. You weren’t sure what exactly caused Daryl to stop, but thankfully he did, and he cursed loudly as he stood up.

When he looked at you, his eyes dropped to your arm. “You’re bleedin’,”

You looked down and saw a two-inch gash on your bicep. You hadn’t even felt it. “Crap,” You muttered, immediately putting pressure on the wound. You hadn’t noticed the blood dripping down your arm either.

“We got stuff in the bag,” Daryl grunted and went to get the supplies.

You followed him and watched silently as he quickly cleaned up the cut and put a gauze pad over it. It would have to do until you got home.

“Let’s get out of ‘ere, don’ wanna be ‘ere when he wakes up. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em,” Daryl cursed.

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl

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dreamerspic3girl · 2 months

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The Walking Dead (TWD). Rick Grimes's daughter; Jessie Rae Grimes.

*If you would like to send me feedback after reading, that would help me decide to continue*

*Warning this is a very long piece of writing...*

*Warning this is all in the context of Jessie Rae Grimes characteristics, and her backstory before the outbreak*

☝Informational headlines☝

...

*Jessie Rae Grimes's family, and their connections/ slash relationship statuses*

Dad: Rick Grimes

*Jessie's relationship with Rick: Jessie & Rick have a very deep bond. Jessie is a daddies girl through and through. Rick sees this, and cherishes it, and holds onto it. Rick Understands Jessie on a deep level, because he sees so much of himself in Jessie. This helps the two, to have a very loving, sweet, calm, funny, and sarcastic relationship.*

Mom: Lori Grimes

*Jessie's relationship with Lori: This one is complicated... Jessie loves her mom deeply... Although, her mother does pisses her off... She feels that she can never be herself, because she is so different from her mother. Lori never actually understood Jessie, at least not the way you would hope for a mother to understand her daughter... And since Jessie has already been a little broke with her mother, she can't help but have a shield up, or have a certain tone, or attitude Lori. Which usually happens when shes had a shitty day, if not she's still respectful, because her mother and father raised her right. And Jessie is a very obedient girl when it comes to her being with her parents.*

Brother: Carl Grimes

*Jessie's relationship with Carl: Jessie being the oldest, feels that she has a responsibility to be more responsible, or strong for her parents, and Carl. So she often is playfully rough with Carl, while caring for him, and giving him a helping hand when he needs it*

Half sister *Not until further into the TV show*: Judith Grimes

*Jessie's relationship with Judith: Jessie absolutely adores, and loves Judith. She's much older than Judith, so she feels a feeling of protectiveness over Judith, so she takes part in watching over Judith dearly.*

Present uncle: Shane Walsh

*Jessie's relationship with Shane: Another complicated one... She likes Shane, being that he is basically her uncle considering how long she has known him through her dad. He's nice, and protective, so she didn't see the harm in him... Although... After the outbreak, she ended up hating him... Mainly because he thought he had the dare to have sex, or be with Lori, just because they thought Rick was dead... Jessie did not even come close to being okay, or accepting anyone else in the space of a father figure, that her dad was in, not Shane.*

Future uncle: *Not until later into the TV show*: Daryl Dixon

*Jessie's relationship with Daryl: They have a sarcastic and chill relationship. Jessie begins to like him more as time goes on. He begins to be a very good person in the group, and he is always there for her dad's plans or ideas, and that makes Jessie feel like she could trust Daryl more. Also he's very chill, and he does care, even if he tries to hide it...*

Future stepmom: *Not until later into the TV show*: Michonne (Hawthorn, then Grimes)

*Jessie's relationship with Michonne: Jessie loves Michonne. She loves the protective side of Michonne, and how independent she is. So she knows Michonne will understand her, unlike her bio mother, Lori.*

Half brother: *Not until later into the TV show: Rick Jr Grimes

*Jessie's relationship with Rick Jr: Their relationship is fine, she cares about him because, Jessie just loves her family deeply, and will do anything for them. So she feels a pull to protect him, especially since he is much younger than her*

*Jessie Rae Grimes's main credentials, and physical appearance*

Jessie is 13 years old

She is 5’6 (in height)

And is born on: 10/21/1990

Jessie Rae Grimes, looks a lot like her father, tall for her age, and her facial figures are almost exactly like Rick Grimes her father. She has her mothers figure (Lori Grimes), only Jessie Rae Grimes is stronger. Jessie Rae Grimes is a long haired brunette girl with bright blue eyes. She has a strong jawline, like her dad. Then also, Jessie has a lot of clothes, with different colors, but most of them blend with the same style; which is more of a comfortable grunge, soft girl vibe. She likes to feel comfortable, and be okay with how she looks. You know? But she's always wearing her brown jean jacket.

*Jessie Rae Grimes's Personality traits, and how she is, and how she acts.*

Jessie can be explained with these personality traits.

*Warning it's a lot...*

Jessie is empathetic, strong willed, intelligent, fearsome, quick, focused, ambivert, humorous, creative, honest, curious, loyal, confident, Adventurous, determined, and an ambitious person. That's a lot of things I know, but that's Jessie.

Jessie loves reading, going outside, and staying tidy. She also loves archery, but mom doesn't like that she does. Then she also loves woodwork, which by the way you know who hates that… And hiking, Crocheting and Knitting. She also knows how to light fires, make/ Knit clothes, and have a backup plan on the spot whenever it's needed.

...

She wears a belt that carries a blade, knife and light blue colored gun.

*The whole belt situation will be explained, hold on...*

She always has her light blue colored gun with her at all times, well except when she's at school.

*Context on the gun: Her dad got it legally, it's (NOT ILLEGAL.) Her dad told her to keep it in his room, but when he goes to work (you know he's a sheriff,) so he's gone all day, she takes it, and I keeps it secure within herself. And her mom she just navigates around her. Now I know It sounds crazy but still… But if her dad ever found out… And her mom OMG… She would be so screwed… *

THEN anyways on a positive note… She always has her brown bag that has a big with a flap on the top for the bag, she uses to her advantage since... Since she keeps everything in this bag: First aid kit, chap-stick, tissues, gloves, plastic gloves, hats, paper, stuff for planning, her phone, hair ties, a knife, flashlight, a walkie-talkie for her and her dad, sun glasses, water bottle, tape, blade and etc.

Then her belt, when she is outside walking by herself, she can hold her knife, blade, and light blue colored gun.

*Context she does her own laundry, so her dad, and mom don't touch her laundry basket. So she hides her belt in her laundry basket, knowing for a fact that it will never be found. Then she takes it out, and places it in her bag after she gets out of school, sneaks out, and puts her belt on, but far away from her house to not be seen with it on, by creeps, or even possibly her mom. Not ever her dad, he's a sheriff, he's at work when she's at school, and until a couple hours even after she gets out of school.*

...

Jessie is an extremely fast runner, and could and have run a marathon, especially with her dad.

Shooting is something Jessie has caught up on, her dad has taught her to do this, due to the fact that they hunt sometimes for fun, behind her mom's back of course because we all know she would never agree to that. They have never made it seem suspicious or got caught.

People often think that Jessie is this little nobody that wouldn't hurt a fly, but just think, she is Rick Grimes's daughter. Also she usually isn't at home doing nothing, probably doing something productive at home or sneaking out, this is only unless she gets caught and grounded, which has only happened twice, both times were because she lost track of time, and you know she takes her gun with her so that; well let's just say that was a rough 2 days for her. She got yelled at and her dad got yelled at, and she got yelled at for getting him yelled at, it was a bad situation, this actually happened not that long ago. The first time she was caught with the gun the next time she was smarter about it. But now she is very focused on time management. She was upset at herself for not thinking, usually she overthinks everything, but she wasn't thinking apparently….

*Jessie Rae Grimes's backstory/life before the outbreak*

So basically I kinda gave a lot of things away already, but I will explain things a little more clearly. So, her family, Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes and her all live in a small town called Cynthia Kentucky. Her dad, like I said, is a sheriff of King County in her hometown. He's mostly working all day.

After school she usually sits in her room hoping her dad is fine. Her mom usually checks in, we'll really; she never really does, but she hears her talking to Carl all afternoon so lucky for him she guesses… She doesn't care; she annoys her anyway... *Sigh*

Then she usually sneaks out with her bag, and her gun, which she grabs after school. But when she gets out, she goes on little walks to get her blood pumping, and to feel better in general. She knows exactly when her mom will make an appearance and when her father will come home, so don't worry she never gets caught, it's only happened twice, in her whole life, of sneaking out. So after she feels better she sneaks back inside just in time for me to sit down comfortably without her mom noticing she even did such a thing. Her dad gets home right around this time, and he is usually okay, there have only ever been little scratches and such but it's not a problem. And don't be worried her gun is in her dad's room already by this time.

...

Rick Grimes checks in on his daughter (Jessie Rae Grimes), and she does the same. They talked about her mental health, her grades, if she had gotten in trouble at all at school. She always says (All A's, you know my mental health, and no I have never gotten into trouble.) They usually hug, and then they eat dinner and then she falls asleep.

*Just Letting you know; the worst thing she ever does consists of holding onto a gun, which she has really never used without her dad there, and sneaking out. She may be young, but it doesn't exactly appeal to her, and she does feel that no one except her dad cares about her, so she tries to find ways to brush off her feeling, and to help herself feel better*

...

On the weekends it's paradise though, she basically does the same thing if her dad is working. But if not, she usually begs him to do something exciting, and they really never have Lori with them because she never likes the things they do or she doesn't want Jessie to participate in the activity, so she won't go so; so she can't watch.

*So that is mainly everything*

*I know that was a lot of information... But on a positive note, would you like me to start writing a whole story or script on Jessie being a part of "The Walking Dead" show? It would be my personal script or story so, it wouldn't go anywhere, but it would be fun, untimely.*

#rick grimes #lori grimes #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #daryl dixon #shane walsh #michonne grimes #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes's daughter #New #Grimes #judith grimes

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