#paramilitary rick is A+++++

[andy-clutterbuck]

Rick Grimes in The Ones Who Live 1x01 - Years

"…𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯…𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴."

[karasawa-lll]

Desolation. //

[yourreddancer]

Today in Politics, Bulletin 130. 5/13/25

Today in Politics, Bulletin 130. 5/13/25 Ron Filipkowski May 13 ∙ … One day after Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa offered to build a Trump Tower Damascus as a sweetener to persuade Trump to meet with him during his Middle East trip to discuss the US lifting sanctions on his country, Trump announced he was lifting sanctions. He said it will “give them a chance at greatness” and claimed he was only doing it as a favor to Saudi Arabia���s MBS: "Oh, the things I do for the Crown Prince."

… While we don’t know whether Trump’s motives involved bribery and self-interest (it usually does), many still believe it was the right decision. Former CIA agent Marc Polymeropoulos: “There must be a hell of a backstory on this, as I assumed his national security team, particularly those in the NSC, was against such moves. Also - the Israelis are not gonna be very happy. My take as someone who worked on Syria for many years, this the right move.”

… Noah Rothman of conservative National Review says that Trump’s decision here probably goes against the wishes of his Assad-fan DNI Tulsi Gabbard: “In case you need a primer on the dispute within the admin over how to approach post-Assad Syria - looks like the Tulsi faction is on the outs.”

… Oz Katerji, Director of The Battle for Kyiv: “If a proscribed paramilitary organization wins a civil war, disarms, renounces terrorism, and bans terrorist activity on the territory it now governs, it becomes perfectly possible to become deproscribed.”

… In his speech, Trump praised MBS: “I want to thank his royal highness the Crown Prince. He's an incredible man. I've known him a long time now. There's nobody like him. Appreciate it very much, my friend. We have great partners in the world, but we have none stronger and nobody like the gentleman right before me. He's your greatest representative. And if I didn't like him, I'd get out of here so fast. He knows me well. I like him a lot. I like him too much."

… He then praised himself to his mostly-Saudi audience, claiming that he just saved the American health care system with his executive order on prescription drugs: "You saw what we did yesterday in healthcare. We've cut our healthcare by 50-90%."

… Then he saluted Saudi Arabian generals.

… WH Correspondent’s Assn: “For the first time since the WH press corps started traveling with American presidents abroad, no wire service reporter is aboard Air Force One today. As the president travels across the ocean for high-stakes meetings in the Middle East, the White House has decided not in include any wire reporter. The WHCA is disturbed by this new restriction on who can cover this WH and continued retaliation for independent editorial decisions.”

… WH Communications Director Steve Cheung responded: “Oh no! Not a strongly worded email!”

… Sen. Thom Tillis (R-NC) was critical of Trump’s executive order on pharmaceuticals in a committee hearing today: “The ‘most favored nation’ approach coming out of the admin - all of these other things, are short-sighted, unsustainable measures that are not going to produce the result I believe all of us want to achieve.”

… Sen. Maj. Leader John Thune to HuffPost: “My guess is that it'll be the subject of probably multiple lawsuits, and I think the courts will probably have something to say about it.”

… Lots of Republicans were asked about Trump’s ‘Palace in the Sky’ Qatari plane grift today with very different takes. Rep. Rich McCormick (R-GA) on CNN: “This is just an offer of friendship, but I’m sure this has to be legal if we are going to accept it. If it’s unethical, that will be up to the president to decide.”

Rep. Rich McCormick (R-GA) on CNN: “This is just an offer of friendship, but I’m sure this has to be legal if we are going to accept it. If it’s unethical, that will be up to the president to decide.”

… Sen. Markwayne Mullin (R-OK) to CNN: “I have zero issue with it.”

… Sen. Steve Daines (R-MT): “You can’t beat free!”

… Sen. Rick Scott (R-FL): “I worry about the president of the United States flying on any plane owned by a foreign government, especially a foreign government that supports Hamas."

… Rep. Ryan Zinke (R-MT): "It must be one heck of a jet. I understand it went through AG Pam Bondi. So it's legal. It's ethical."

… Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK): “How many of us have actually been offered the promise of a jet? When you get something of that value from a country, one typically thinks that there's something in it for the country that is offering it.”

… Sen. Rand Paul (R-KY) on Fox: “The constitution in Article 2 says the president cannot take gifts from foreign leaders. There is a provision in the Constitution that says you cannot do this. I think it’s not worth the appearance of impropriety.”

… Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX) on CNBC: "I think the plane poses significant espionage and surveillance problems. I certainly have concerns."

…. Rep. Mike Lawler (R-NY) on CNBC: "We don't want to be straight up accepting any type of gift from any foreign government, certainly not one that can be viewed in a way that obviously has been presented here."

… Rep. Dusty Johnson (R-SD) on CNN: "I don't like it. There's a reason that people can't even buy me a steak dinner. It's not necessarily that you can prove I have an ethical problem, it's that the appearance of it doesn't look great."

… Sen. Chris Coons (D-DE) on Fox: “Would we let another country decorate the Oval Office? Would we let another country build the Situation Room? Would we let another country wire the press office? Oh, wait. Air Force One is all three. Air Force One is the Oval Office. It's the press room. It's the situation room all in the air. Why on Earth is it a good idea from a national security perspective to let another country, let alone the Emir of another country, give President Trump his next Air Force One?”

… Nikki Haley: “Accepting gifts from foreign nations is never a good practice. It threatens intelligence and national security. Especially when that nation supports a terrorist organization and allows those terrorist regimes to live on its soil. Regardless of how beautiful the plane may be, it opens a door and implies the President and US can be bought. If this were Biden, we would be furious.”

 Sen. Chris Murphy (D-CT): “This isn’t a good idea even if the plane was being donated to the US govt. But Trump GETS TO KEEP THE PLANE??? It’s simply a cash payment to Trump in exchange for favors. Just wildly illegal.”

… Rep. Greg Casar (D-TX): “While ordinary Americans’ flights are grounded because of problems at the FAA, Trump is taking a $400 million bribe in the form of a ‘palace in the sky’ from a foreign government. Over and over: He gets paid. Everyone else gets screwed.”

… Even Laura Loomer: “I love President Trump. I would take a bullet for him. But, I have to call a spade a spade. We cannot accept a $400 million “gift” from jihadists in suits. The Qataris fund the same Iranian proxies in Hamas and Hezbollah who have murdered US Service Members. The same proxies that have worked with the Mexican cartels to get jihadists across our border. This is really going to be such a stain on the admin if this is true. And I say that as someone who would take a bullet for Trump. I’m so disappointed.”

… Reuters reported that the Trump admin ordered the FBI to devote a third of it’s time to help ICE with immigration enforcement, and to deprioritize white collar crime investigations to free up the time.

… RFK Jr. posted of video of his family swimming in DC’s Rock Creek. The National Park Service bans swimming and wading in the creek because there is “high levels of bacteria and other infectious pathogens, including fecal coliform, Giardia, and other potential waterborne illnesses. Chemicals flow into streams and into the creek from surrounding communities through storm drains and rainfall. These contaminants, among others, can make your family members, your furry four-legged friends, and you sick.”

… Indy journalist Jim Stewartson: “I lived outside DC for 20 years. Swimming in Rock Creek is like swimming in a toilet bowl. It’s fucking insane and everyone knows it. RFK JR TOOK HIS GRANDKIDS TO SWIM IN SEWER WATER. That’s why he’s so dangerous. He’s homicidally ignorant. He really believes his bullshit.”

… Mr. Brainworms is in charge of public health for the United States.

… Sen. Tommy Tuberville (R-AL) says govt spending needs big cuts: “People that are sitting around at home, watching ‘The View’ on television, getting SNAP cards, food stamps, and on Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid—that’s got to be over with. Our country is not gonna make it. We cannot afford for that to happen, and President Trump is all about that. That’s what the House is pushing very hard.”

… Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) was asked how he can assure the American people that Medicaid won’t be cut. Burchett: “How can you assure your nana that you still support her after she told you that chocolate milk doesn’t come from brown cows?”

[final-girl96]

Broken World Chapter Fifty-Three

Yn

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with the katana now lying on the table. I leaned against the wall, trying to process what I’d just heard. Maggie and Glenn were taken. Not lost, not hurt—taken. My heart pounded in my chest, the edges of my vision blurring as anger and fear threatened to overwhelm me.

The woman sat on the floor, her leg outstretched, blood seeping through her makeshift bandage. Her expression was guarded, but her eyes darted between all of us, weighing her options. Daryl stood beside me, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap.

Rick paced in front of her like a caged animal. “How’d you know how to get here?” he demanded again, his tone sharp.

The woman sighed, clearly irritated. “Like I said, they mentioned a prison. Said which direction it was in. I followed the trail.”

Rick wasn’t satisfied. “You just stumbled onto us? Just like that?”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “Look, I came here because I figured you’d want to know about your people. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t be sitting here bleeding out, would I?”

Hershel cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Rick, we can ask more questions after we take care of her wound.”

Rick hesitated, then nodded toward the woman. “This is Hershel. He’ll patch you up.”

The woman didn’t respond, just gave a curt nod as Hershel moved closer, his medical bag in hand.

I pushed off the wall, my fists clenched at my sides. “A town?” I repeated, my voice sharper than I intended. “A whole town with paramilitary wannabes running the place? And they took Maggie and Glenn? What the hell for?”

The woman glanced at me, her expression softening just a fraction. “Because that’s what they do,” she said. “They take what they want—supplies, weapons, people.”

“People?” My voice cracked on the word.

She nodded grimly. “Women, mostly. The Governor keeps them close. He’s got his favorites.”

I felt like I might be sick. My mind raced with images of Maggie and Glenn—together, scared, hurt. “We have to go after them,” I said, looking at Rick. “Now.”

Rick held up a hand, his expression unreadable. “We’re not rushing in blind. We don’t know enough yet.”

I rounded on him, the fear and frustration boiling over. “We don’t need to know everything, Rick! They’re out there, right now, with God knows what happening to them. Every second we waste—”

“Enough!” Rick snapped, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “I get it, YN. I do. But if we don’t do this right, more people are gonna get hurt. You want that?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Daryl’s hand on my arm stopped me. I looked up at him, his blue eyes steady and calm in a way that made my anger falter.

“We’ll get ‘em back,” he said quietly. “Promise.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Rick turned back to the woman. “You’re gonna help us,” he said. “You know the place, you know the people. We need a way in, and you’re gonna give it to us.”

She studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t think for a second this is gonna be easy. You go in half-cocked, you’re all gonna die.”

Rick’s jaw tightened. “Then you’d better make sure we don’t.”

The woman smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Guess I better.”

Hershel began working on her leg, and the rest of us dispersed slightly, the air still crackling with tension.

Daryl stayed close, his presence grounding me even as my mind raced with questions. What kind of place was this Woodbury? Who the hell was this Governor? And how the hell were we supposed to get Maggie and Glenn out of there alive?

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure we could.

The streets of Woodbury were eerily quiet, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The warm air pressed against my skin, heavy with the scent of grass and something faintly metallic. The others moved silently beside me, our breaths synchronized in tense anticipation.

Michonne led the way, her katana gleaming faintly in the dim light. Rick was right behind her, his rifle at the ready. I stayed close to Daryl, my fingers brushing the butt of my gun. Glenn and Maggie were here somewhere, and we weren’t leaving without them.

We ducked into the nearest building, its windows dark and dusty. The interior smelled like mildew and something faintly sweet—supplies, maybe food.

Rick motioned for us to spread out. “Keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The building was mostly empty, shelves lined with cans and boxes. It looked like a storeroom, a place where Woodbury kept some of its supplies. As we crept forward, the faint sound of footsteps from the back room made my pulse quicken.

A man stepped into the main room, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. He froze when he saw us, his hand reaching for the weapon on his hip.

“Don’t!” Rick hissed, but the man’s fingers closed around the gun.

Daryl moved first, lunging forward and knocking the man out with the butt of his crossbow. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Rick exhaled sharply. “Tie him up,” he ordered, glancing at Oscar, who nodded and set to work.

Michonne peered out a side window. “We don’t have much time.”

“Let’s go,” Rick said, his voice tense.

We slipped out the back, staying low and close to the shadows. The town was unsettlingly organized, the streets clean and orderly, as if they weren’t living through the end of the world.

Michonne led us to a small building on the edge of the main square. “They’re in here,” she whispered.

Rick pushed the door open carefully, his rifle leading the way. The room was dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I spotted two familiar figures huddled in the corner.

“Maggie,” I breathed.

She turned, her face pale and drawn. She was wearing Glenn’s shirt, and her eyes were glassy but alert. Glenn’s face was swollen and bruised, his lip split, but his hands were free.

Rick rushed to them. “Are you okay?”

“We got out,” Maggie said, her voice shaking. “But—”

“It was Merle,” Glenn cut in, his voice hoarse. “He brought us here. He’s the one who—” He gestured to his face, his hand trembling slightly.

“Merle?” Daryl’s voice was sharp, disbelieving. “My brother?”

Glenn nodded grimly. “He’s working with the Governor.”

Daryl’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he just stared at Glenn, his expression unreadable. “You sure?”

Maggie spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “It was him, Daryl. I’m sorry.”

Rick put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, grounding him. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

We moved quickly but carefully, sticking to the shadows as we made our way back through town. The warm night air felt heavier now, each step weighed down by the tension radiating from Daryl.

When we reached the supply building again, we ducked inside, waiting for the streets to clear.

Glenn leaned against the wall, his head tilted back. “They… they wanted information about the prison. About you guys.”

Rick crouched beside him. “Did you tell them anything?”

Glenn’s jaw tightened. “No. Not a word.”

Maggie’s voice broke as she added, “They—they threatened us. And then Merle—”

“Stop,” Glenn interrupted, his hand on hers. “It’s over.”

I looked at Daryl, his face a storm of emotions. He didn’t speak, just stared at the floor, his fingers twitching against the strap of his crossbow.

“You didn’t know,” I said softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, his voice low. “Thought he was dead. Didn’t think he’d… didn’t think he’d be with people like this.”

Rick glanced between us. “We can’t think about that now. We’ve got to get back to the prison.”

Michonne peered out the window. “The streets are clearing. We can make a run for it.”

Rick nodded, his expression hard. “Then we move.”

And we did. No one spoke as we slipped back into the night, the weight of what we’d learned hanging heavy in the warm Georgia air.

The air was thick with smoke and chaos. The sound of gunfire was deafening, and the acrid stench of the smoke bombs stung my nose. I coughed, squinting through the haze, my heart pounding as I tried to keep up with the others.

But when we reached the edge of the wall—rusted buses stacked high and fortified to keep walkers out—I realized someone was missing.

“Where’s Daryl?!” I yelled, panic lacing my voice as I scanned the smoky streets.

Rick whipped around, his eyes wide. “He was right behind us!”

“Daryl!” I screamed, my voice cracking as I turned in circles.

Oscar’s voice called out, but it was cut short by the sharp crack of gunfire. I turned just in time to see him fall, clutching his chest as blood pooled beneath him.

“No!” Maggie screamed, but there was no time to mourn. Rick grabbed her arm and pulled her toward cover.

“We’ve gotta go back,” I insisted, looking at Rick desperately. “We can’t leave him!”

Rick hesitated, his face etched with conflict, but then he nodded. “Maggie, stay here and cover us. We’ll find him.”

The two of us pushed back into the smoky streets, moving cautiously but quickly. The air was clearer now, the smoke beginning to dissipate as sunlight filtered through.

And that’s when I saw it.

A makeshift ring in the center of the square, surrounded by a jeering crowd. Walkers, chained to posts, snarled and snapped as they strained toward the middle. And there, circling each other like predators, were Daryl and Merle.

My heart sank.

“Daryl,” I whispered, my chest tightening as I watched him. He looked tense, his crossbow nowhere in sight, his eyes locked on his brother.

Rick swore under his breath. “We don’t have time for this.”

The crowd roared, their excitement palpable as the brothers circled one another. I didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. I reached into my bag and pulled out one of the remaining smoke bombs, lighting it and hurling it into the center of the ring.

The smoke erupted, thick and choking, and the crowd scattered in confusion. I darted forward, grabbing Daryl’s arm. “Come on!”

Merle followed without hesitation, coughing as he stumbled after us. We ran, the sound of shouting and gunfire fading behind us as we sprinted toward the edge of town. The sun was high now, the warm Georgia air heavy with humidity as we finally reached the car.

We all stopped, panting and exhausted.

Rick turned on Merle immediately. “He’s not coming with us.”

Merle snorted, crossing his arms. “Ain’t your call, Officer Friendly.”

“It is my call,” Rick snapped. “We don’t trust you. You’ve already done enough damage.”

Daryl stepped between them. “He’s my brother.”

“And he’s a danger to all of us!” Glenn shouted, his voice raw with anger.

Maggie shook her head, her expression fierce. “He’s the reason we were taken in the first place.”

The argument escalated quickly, voices overlapping in frustration and anger. I stood to the side, watching it unfold, my chest aching.

Then Glenn turned to me. “You wanna try talking some sense into him?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as the words I’d been dreading formed in my mind. I knew how this would end. I’d known from the moment I saw Merle in that ring.

“No,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the tremble in my hands. “No, Glenn, I’m not going to talk any kind of sense into him. It’d be a waste of my time and breath.”

Everyone fell silent, their eyes on me as I stepped forward.

“The Dixon stick by each other, no matter what. Daryl will always pick his brother over anyone. Even me.”

I turned my eyes to Daryl, waiting for him to deny it, to say something—anything. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at the ground, refusing to meet my gaze.

My heart clenched, but I forced a small, sad smile. “Just let him go. It’s not worth it. If we don’t agree to let Merle come with us… no Merle, no Daryl.”

The silence was heavy, suffocating. Finally, I turned away, my steps slow and deliberate as I walked toward the car. My voice cracked as I added, “Let him make his choice.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know what Daryl would do. I already knew.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 34

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group seemingly puts an end to their dealings with the governor, taking in strays from Woodbury. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; murder; paramilitary warfare; condemnation; breaking and entering; betrayal; sabotage; psychotic break; illness from turning into a walker; suicide (to prevent turning); canonical character death

Chapter 34 - Tombstones

Iris and the others spent their morning packing their things. No one else needed to get hurt. But the Governor just might. The prison was a tomb they didn’t need to die in. Carl was particularly moody, upset that he wouldn’t be involved in any sort of fighting. He’d never been so angry. But any gunfight with the Governor was not a place for him to be a kid. 

Iris sat on the ground beside Daryl as he packed the bags on the side of Merle’s bike. He didn’t say what happened. He didn’t need to. No one commented or offered condolences. No one was sorry for his death. Iris certainly wasn’t. But she sat with him regardless, handing Daryl a few things slightly out of his reach when he needed.

“He never did something like that in his whole life.” Daryl murmured.

“He gave us a chance.” Iris replied quietly. Merle had taken out quite a few of the Governor’s men. It left them a window, one they were taking hold of with both hands and throwing themselves through. She pushed herself to her feet, offering her hand. He took it, standing up and moving to gather his things. He paused when she didn’t let go of his hand, turning back to her. She smiled softly, saying nothing before letting go, grabbing her own bags to put in the back of the truck.

-

The Governor’s men spared no expense nor bullet. They let loose on the entire compound. Martinez satisfied himself with a rocket launcher, laying waste to their guard towers. But Rick’s plan was sound, and with a few diabolical tweaks from Iris, they would have these poor saps from Woodbury pissing themselves on their way out. 

They let them all the way deep into the prison, past the courtyard, the cell block into the deep hallways of solitary confinement, custodial closets and the boiler rooms. Plus, they left the back door open so there were plenty of walkers wandering around down there too.

Using the few flash bangs they had left, they set off smoke and alarms in the lower levels of the prison, the blaring siren drawing in walkers from all around. The Woodbury goons shrieked and screamed, running for the hills and right back into the courtyard where Maggie and Glenn loomed over in full riot gear. They stood in the caged catwalk and unloaded clip after clip on them, raining bullets. 

With many dead and a good amount injured, a truckload of them gave up, diving into their vehicles and high-tailing it out of there.

They reconvened in the courtyard, the field almost completely empty of walkers after they shot up the place. Iris was eyeing the mounted gun on the back of the truck they ran over the spike strip with. 

“We did it. We drove them out.” Rick stated, surveying the land. 

“We should go after them.” Michonne replied.

“We should finish it.” Daryl added.

“It is finished.” Maggie said, shaking her head. “Didn’t you see them run out of here?”

“They could regroup.”

“We can’t take the chance. He’s not gonna stop.” Glenn replied.

“Agreed.” Iris stated, folding her arms. “I need that son of a bitch’s head on a platter.”

“They’re right.” Carol agreed. “We can’t keep living like this.”

��So we take the fight back to Woodbury? We barely made it back last time.” Maggie protested.

“I don’t care.” Daryl stated pointedly.

“Yeah…” Rick murmured. “Let’s check on the others.” They moved back into the cell block, Beth, Judith, Hershel and Carl coming in from the woods. 

After regrouping and gathering their things, they loaded up for another siege on Woodbury. Carl was having a hard time of it. Iris sat on the back of Daryl’s bike, waiting rather impatiently. She was all adrenaline, and she wanted to ride the high until she had the Governor’s head on a pike. Glenn and Maggie said they were staying to defend the prison with everyone else, leaving only Rick, Michonne, Iris and Daryl to attack Woodbury. A small group, but a bloodthirsty one.

They made it about halfway before they saw the Governor’s trucks parked in the road. Except for one. Daryl pulled to a stop, letting Iris hop off before putting the stand down and investigating. There was a few walkers, but the road was littered with bodies. Michonne made quick work of the nearly-alive ones. 

The Governor. He had massacred his own people for running. All of them. Daryl jumped as a woman slammed on the door from the inside of the biggest truck, Iris instinctively cocking her gun at the window. But she was still alive. 

Daryl opened the door, hauling her out and checking the truck before slamming the door shut. They took her with them to Woodbury, right up to the gate. They had two guards on the wall, shooting down before they took cover behind a dead car. Their little band of rebels returned fire, but the guards had a fairly decent vantage point from behind the wall of tires. 

“Tyreese!” Karen, the woman from the truck yelled, standing up with her hands out. “It’s me! Don’t—“

“Get down!” Rick yelled, yanking her to the ground.

“Karen!” Tyreese yelled back. “Karen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” She yelled, standing back up and moving away from Rick. 

“Where’s the Governor?”

“He fired on everyone!” She explained. “He killed them all.”

“Why are you with them?” He asked.

“They saved me!” She answered honestly.

“We’re coming out!” Rick announced. Daryl shook his head but Rick held firm. “We’re coming out.” He put his hands up, the rest of them following suit as they approached the gate. Tyreese and Sasha opened the gate, facing them.

“What are you doing here?” Tyreese asked.

“We were coming to finish this until we saw what the Governor did.” Rick replied.

“He… he killed them?”

“Yeah. Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall going for the prison. She never made it.” Rick explained. “She might be here.”

Tyreese and Sasha let them back inside and Rick led them to where Glenn and Maggie were being held before. The hallways were even more eerie than they had been before.

“This is where he held Glenn and Maggie.” Rick explained softly.

“The Governor held people here?” Tyreese asked, blanching.

“He did more than hold ‘em.” Daryl replied darkly, leading the way with his crossbow. They moved to the end of the hallway, finding a steel door locked from the outside. A small puddle of blood poured from the corner, relatively fresh by the looks of it.

“Will you open it?” Michonne asked. Rick nodded. He counted softly before shoving the door open, revealing Milton’s dead body in the centre of the room, along with an ominous dentist’s chair with restraints on the arms. “Andrea!” Michonne whispered. She ran into the room, crouching down beside the door at Andrea’s side. She looked rather worse for wear, bloodied and delirious.

“I tried to stop them.” She murmured, looking around at all of them, head lolling.

“You’re burning up.” Michonne hissed. Andrea sighed, pulling back her shirt collar to reveal the nastiest walker bite Iris had ever seen. It was gory and disgusting, her flesh squelching with the smallest of movements. It was genuinely a wonder she was still alive.

“Judith… Carl… the rest of them…” Andrea stuttered.

“Us.” Rick corrected, sighing. “The rest of us.”

“Are they alive?”

“Yeah, they’re alive.” Rick assured. She breathed a sigh of relief, smiling up at Michonne. 

“It’s good you found them.” She huffed. Michonne nodded, holding back tears as she clutched at her friend’s hand. “No one could make it alone now.”

“I never could.” Daryl agreed softly.

“I just didn’t want anyone to die.” She muttered, shaking her head. She paused, looking up at them. “I can do it myself.”

“No.” Michonne protested.

“Oh, I have to.” Andrea replied, smiling softly. “While I still can.” Michonne nodded, her face falling. “Please? I know how the safety works.” Rick sighed, nodding as he handed over his revolver. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Michonne said firmly.

“I tried.” Andrea whispered.

“Yeah. You did. You did.” Rick assured, nodding. Daryl and Iris backed out of the room, Rick closing the door behind him. Michonne gripped Andrea’s hand tightly, smiling at her until she pulled the trigger. 

-

They returned to the prison with a bus in tow, Karen, Tyreese, Sasha and any others from Woodbury that had the desire to come. Rick explained the situation to everyone, particularly Carl. Tyreese showed them into the prison, allowing them a space where they could be safe. There were plenty of cell blocks, after all. 

Iris held her breath as she looked out over the field. They’d have to put up new gates if they wanted to take it back. New gates, a farm like Hershel planned. A garden, at the very least. 

Andrea’s death hit her harder than she would have liked to admit. Maybe she was listening to Hershel too much, but it felt symbolic. Whatever it meant, they were opening a new door. New lives, new people, new expectations. Iris’ next inhale was shaky. 

She felt soft, callused fingers brush her own, intertwining before tightening around her hand. She looked up, meeting Daryl’s gaze. He didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth pulled upward in an expression of acceptance, understanding. Iris returned it, tightening her hand around his. They both turned back out over the field, taking a deep breath together.

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

[countlessrealities]

I’m curious what Rick thinks about Morty’s attempts to befriend Shinji considering the other teen is technically a member of a high tech paramilitary unit who are most likely ideologically opposed to his own goals

Unprompted asks || Always accepting !

It has to be said that Rick tends not to like the idea of Morty befriending anyone, no matter who they are and what they believe in. He has interfered with Morty hanging out with friends / dating more than once in canon, because he doesn't want the poor guy to have something time-consuming in his life that's not Rick-related.

It's one of the characteristics of their relationship that shows just how co-dependent those two are, together with the fact that, at the end of the day, Morty lets Rick have it his way, even when he catches up with what his grandfather is doing.

So, Shinji's social status gives Rick a "reasonable" excuse to disapprove of Morty trying to make friends with him. And, of course, it's a reason for him to personally not like Shinji, and everyone he's connected to. After, he's pretty much robbing them not just because of the angel blood, but also out of spite. He didn't need to make a mess of that lab he broke in, but he did anyway because "fuck the government".

Poor Shinji has better prepare himself, because he'll probably get harassed by Rick in the future. The more Morty tries to bond with him, the worse it will get. Though, there's also to be said that, if Summer hangs out with them too, Rick might back off a little, because Summer, unlike her brother, has zero qualms when it comes to calling Rick out on his bullshit in front of everyone.

I'm looking forward to see what shenanigans out muses will get caught into, because I'm pretty sure that they'll be fun xD for us, at least!

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 33: Interview

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 4.1k

❧ In This Chapter: The leader of Alexandria interviews everyone in your group for admission into the seemingly pristine community. Daryl already has a hard time adjusting to the new setting.

❧ A/N: You guys have no idea how long I've been wanting to write for Alexandria era. I just love the idea of Reader and Daryl actually being able to settle down and have their own little house... So sweet. I think they deserve it, too, after everything they've been through. I mean, we know they go through a whole lot more, but let's just relish in this moment, okay? Okay.

When the motor home stopped, you were asleep with your head on Daryl’s lap. You felt his hand gently shake you awake.

“We’re here,” he said quietly.

Approaching the gate, you and Daryl stood on the edge of your group. You had your gun out just in case, but it was mostly to keep up appearances. Everyone else was ready to fire, so you didn’t want to stick out.

Daryl had his crossbow at the ready as he looked around suspiciously. Beyond the walls, you could hear the sound of children playing, yelling and laughing with each other. It was a welcome sound, certainly more comforting than the snarls and moans of hungry walkers.

“Stay close,” he said to you.

You nodded to satiate his protective instincts, though you knew no one was going to hurt your group. Maybe you should have been more cautious like the others, but you wanted to believe this was a good thing. It was always one thing you couldn’t shake, one of your weaknesses—you were too quick to trust, some would even say gullible.

When the gates opened with a clang, Aaron, with Eric limping beside him, went in first. Just as he did so, you heard a rustling from one of the trash cans behind Daryl. Not hesitating, Daryl immediately shot at the possum that scurried out from it.

You looked at Aaron and saw another man you hadn’t seen yet opened the rest of the gate for you all. He looked suspiciously at Daryl as he held the possum by its tail.

There was an awkward silence.

“We brought dinner,” he said.

You tried not to laugh. The man still looked at you all confused. “It’s okay,” assured Aaron. He ushered you forward. “Come on in, guys.”

Glenn was the first to cross through the gate, with you and Daryl following closely behind, and the other trickling in slowly.

The gates closed with a series of squeaks and creaks. You looked back out between the rusty bars, hopeful that this was the right choice. “Before we take this any further,” the new man said, “I need you all to turn over your weapons.”

The red flags shot up like geysers. You all were armed to the teeth, though. You must have looked like some kind of paramilitary organization. You had to admit, it wasn’t the best look. Neither was Daryl’s possum, but he wasn’t giving that up, either.

One thing you soon found out about Daryl after getting to know him was that he was never one to pass up an opportunity to eat or to provide your group with food, and no wild animal was safe when it came to the practically carnivorous man.

You just wished he would’ve passed on the possum in front of the Alexandrians, but another thing you quickly found out about Daryl was that he simply didn’t care what other people thought about him. Well, everyone except you, and maybe a few other people in your group.

“You stay,” the man continued, “you hand ‘em over.”

“We don’t know if we want to stay,” replied Rick.

“It’s—it’s fine, Nicholas,” assured Aaron.

“If we were gonna use ‘em,” Rick continued, “we would have started already.”

Aaron nodded. “Let them talk to Deanna first.”

“Who’s Deanna?” Abraham boomed.

“She knows everything you’d want to know about this place.” Aaron looked at Rick. “Rick, why don’t you start?”

Rick went to see Deanna first. When he came back, he agreed to let them take your weapons and put them in storage. Then, it was Daryl’s turn.

“You’re welcome to sit, Daryl,” Deanna told him as he stood fiddling with the trinkets on the coffee table. “I won’t bite.”

He looked around the room, its myriad of books overwhelming him. “Yeah, I’m all right,” he muttered. He began to pace, swinging the possum absentmindedly from his grasp as he did.

He was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat from living outside for weeks now. His long, dark hair was greasier than you’d ever seen it from lack of washing. You had tried to make him look a little more presentable before he went in, but he grunted and groaned so much that you were only able to push his hair back behind his ears a bit.

“Try to be friendly,” you said to him as you dusted off his shoulders and watched a cloud of dirt fly off of him. “Turn on that southern charm of yours. Make her fall in love with you if you have to. We need to make a good impression.”

He scoffed, then half-heartedly swatted your hand away. “Ain’t tryin’ to impress some goddamn rich uppity—”

You shot him a tight-lipped glare that immediately silenced him, as if he was trained to read that very expression. “Daryl,” you said sternly, “this is not just for you, but for our group. Judith, Carl…” You began absentmindedly fixing his hair, to which he scrunched up his face in disturbance.

You removed your hands and shook your head at his expression. “All right,” you said, “get in there.”

You only noticed he was still carrying the possum when he disappeared through the door. Oh, Daryl.

“Daryl,” Deanna began, “do you want to be here?”

That was a fair question. He certainly didn’t look like he did. He didn’t even look like he should be in such a fancy room given the state of him.

He shrugged. “The boy and the baby, they deserve a roof.” He looked up at the elaborate crown molding. “I guess.”

“What about (Y/N)?” Deanna asked.

Daryl froze. “Aaron told me you two are together,” she added. “Surely you want her to be safe.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

She nodded back. “She’ll be safe here. All of you. You can have a real life.”

Daryl scoffed, but he didn’t say much after that.

He saw the houses, the lawns, the fences, the flowers, the children, the pets. There was no death, no decay, no dystopia. It was the kind of place he never felt he fit into, but it was certainly the world you deserved to live in.

It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust the people or their intentions. He couldn’t see any red flags so far, and he knew now that Aaron wouldn’t hurt you or the people you loved. Still, he wondered if it was too good to be true, and if he could ever feel settled here.

When he came out to meet you, he told you it was your turn.

Entering Deanna’s living room slowly, you took the opportunity to observe your surroundings.

It was bright and airy, with walls of books and plenty of large, well-crafted furniture. On either side of the fireplace were two sets of French doors leading to the back porch. “Wow,” you said under your breath.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

You were startled by her sudden appearance from the hallway. You supposed you were still a little jumpy from being outside so long. “Sorry,” you said. “Didn’t see you there.”

She nodded. “Sit down.”

You sat yourself in the olive green brocade patterned living chair, and Deanna sat across from you on the bulky leather couch. The chair was stiff, but it was the comfiest chair you sat in in a while.

Deanna was an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties, you guessed. She was incredibly short, too—much shorter than you. Still, she had a powerful presence about her. She had to if she was their leader.

“Do you mind if I record this chat, for our records?”

You looked up at her, then to the camcorder on a tripod behind her, not sure what to say. You shook your head a little as you gathered your thoughts. “Um, sure. That’s fine, I guess.”

It had been you with the same general group of people for almost two years, with a few new ones sprinkled through here and there. When you talk to the same people for so long, you forget that other people exist and have their own ways of speaking. You were still getting used to it again.

She leaned back in her seat. “So,” she began, “you’re Aaron’s sister?”

You nodded. “Y-yes.”

“He told me a lot about you. Well, enough to know you’re a lot like him.”

You smiled awkwardly. “I get that a lot. I mean, I did… we’re a lot alike. We were, um, separated in the beginning.”

“He mentioned that,” she said. “It’s always hard to not know if your family’s alive or not.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “It was very difficult.”

“But you found your people, in Rick and the others?”

It was like she could read your mind. That was exactly what you were thinking.

“I did. I was with the group before Rick came along, though. We were at a quarry outside of Atlanta. It was me and a lot of people who aren’t with us anymore…” You thought of their faces again. “And some who are still here.”

“Who?”

You counted each one in your head. Your group had gone through so many people now that it could be difficult to keep track of who was still alive and who wasn’t.

“Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Carl…” You trailed off. “Rick came to us later. He was reunited with Carl and his wife. She didn’t make it.”

“The baby’s mother?”

“Yes, Judith. The baby’s called Judith.”

Deanna nodded in understanding. “And the others came along for the ride?”

You nodded. “That’s correct. We’ve all been through a lot together, ran into some… unagreeable people. That’s why Rick was so hesitant to let us come with Aaron. We’d been deceived and threatened by so many people that he didn’t want to take another chance.”

“It’s understandable,” she said. “I admire his devotion to keeping you all safe. He seems like a good leader.”

“He is,” you said. “They’re all good, every one of them. Some I know more than others, but we’re all family.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Well, far be it from me to separate a family. We are going to take in all of you, and each of you is going to have a job of sorts. That’s why I want to meet with each of you individually.”

You furrowed your brow. “Job?”

“That’s right. Not so much in the old sense, though. We don’t have any money or anything like that, but we have rules. One of them is that everyone helps out in any way they can.”

You nodded. “Well, I’m willing to lend a hand with anything you need.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but I am going to assign you to one specific position within the community. One where I believe you will be most useful considering your strengths. So, what are your strengths?”

You swallowed hard. “Um…” It was like a job interview all over again. “Well, I can fight, I guess. I’ve learned quite a bit. I can take on walkers… or people.”

She studied your face. “No, (Y/N). Those aren’t the kind of skills I’m talking about. Aaron told me you were a librarian before all this. Why don’t you tell me about that.”

You were puzzled. No one cared about your librarian skills. They hadn’t ever been particularly useful. Even back at the prison when you spent a great deal of your free time tending to the library, it was more of a hobby than anything. You weren’t doing it to be useful in the practical sense of keeping the prison safe. Most of the time, you felt guilty for even doing it and not being out there on the fence (although you did that, too).

“Um, well… I was the head of special collections at a university library in Georgia. We worked with rare books, documents, archives, photographs… things like that. Old things, mostly. One of my responsibilities was preserving these objects and ensuring their longevity. Other than that, I did a lot of administrative work, communicating with other libraries and institutions, figuring out what we would put in our collection and how to get it. Um… I also worked on displays. We changed them out every quarter to display a new collection relating to one subject or piece of history. I know a lot about library and information systems, how to access information and research, and preservation techniques.” You took a deep breath after such a long explanation of your job. “I—I think that’s pretty much it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, it seems like you were a real professional in your field.”

You shrugged. “I guess. I had a lot of responsibilities. For things that don’t matter much anymore.”

“That’s not entirely true,” she corrected you. “History, information, records… it’s all important. More now than ever. We need someone like you, someone to organize everything that’s happened, to tell their stories.”

You were silent, dumbfounded by her insistence that your job was important still. You used to think it was, too, but lately you were starting to think you weren’t going to live long enough to even begin telling your stories.

Still, you always wished you still had your notebook. You lost it with the prison, and in it you were keeping record of everything that happened to your group and the world as you knew it. It was your way of keeping track of time, and making your experiences material.

You looked down and smiled at the thought.

“What is it?” Deanna asked.

You looked back up at her. “Oh, um… it’s just, I used to keep this journal. I wrote about everything that happened. The things we went through, the people. I thought it was so important to write it all down, so that one day people would read it to their children when it all passed, if it could ever pass. I never gave up on that idea, but I guess I forgot it when I lost that notebook and things started getting bad again.”

“You could always find another notebook,” she said.

You laughed. “I suppose so.”

You looked at each other in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a library here. We do, however, have a school. Well, a classroom… a garage, really.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Someone so passionate about learning and passing on your story to the next generation would be a good teacher for the kids.”

Your eyes widened. Kids?

You had no teaching experience. Sure, you often read to the kids at the prison, but that was easy. You were never the best around kids. You liked them enough, but some people were so much better with them. Most of the time, you just talked to them like they were adults. You never worked with kids, and you weren’t sure if you could do it well.

“Um, I don’t have any teaching experience.”

Deanna shrugged. “Most of our teachers don’t. We have one who was in education, but the others come from all walks of life. I think you would make a great teacher. We have textbooks and things of that sort to guide you. I will have one of our teachers bring them to you so you can get an idea what you’re working with. We need someone to help with the younger kids, between five and twelve, so we’ll have you work with them.”

How many are there? you wondered.

“Does that all sound good to you?”

You thought for a moment. You supposed it wasn’t the worst “job” you could be assigned to. You had no idea what the other jobs were, but teaching couldn’t be as bad as mowing the lawns or something.

“Yes,” you said. “Thank you.”

She rose from her seat and outstretched a hand. You rose, too, and took it. “I’m glad Aaron brought you here. I think you will like it. I’m going to assign your group two houses for now. We have other smaller ones so you and Daryl can have one when they’re all ready to move in, which should be soon.”

Daryl and me? Our own house? You were sure your jaw was on the floor. You spent the better part of your relationship secretly dreaming about finding some little house somewhere and fixing it up so you two could live there. You even hinted at it to him on more than one occasion, but you didn’t think it could ever happen.

“You mean, you’re going to just… give us a house?”

She laughed. “Well, yes. We’ve got plenty. We’ll give one to Glenn and Maggie, too. It’s a pretty big community, and we’re planning on growing it. Maybe we’ll even have a library someday.”

You shook your head in bewilderment. “This is… incredible.”

“You deserve it, after all you’ve been through.”

Coming out of Deanna’s house, Aaron met you on the front porch and guided you to the two side-by-side houses Deanna was giving to your people. Michonne walked past you into Deanna’s house as her “interview” was next.

“Where’s Daryl?” you asked Aaron, walking down the street together.

He didn’t have to answer you, just pointed ahead to where you saw Daryl sitting on the steps to what you presumed to be your new home gutting his possum.

“Of course that’s what he’s doing,” you sighed.

Aaron hugged you and kissed your cheek before he left you alone to talk to him. You sat yourself down on the steps with the possum in between you two. You watched him pull the organs out for a while in silence, your elbows on your knees propping up your chin like a fascinated child.

“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?”

He didn’t look up at you, only grunted in what you knew in Daryl’s non-verbal language was a “yes,” his messy hair hanging over his face as he worked.

You hummed in acknowledgement, your way of saying “okay, honey.”

“Did Deanna give you a job?” you asked.

He looked up at you. His face was so filthy, but his blue-grey eyes still shone out from his deep set eye sockets like they always did. “Job?”

“Yeah, she said she’s giving one to all of us. Something to do around here, to help out.”

He went back to pulling out the possum’s small intestines and plopping them on the wooden porch. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout a job to me.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s odd. I wonder why.”

He scoffed. “Don’t trust me.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you said, trying to keep his negative thoughts at bay. “Maybe she’s still trying to figure something out for you. You’ve got a lot of talents, you know.” He looked at you like you were messing with him. “I’m serious. You could do anything around here.”

“She give you a job?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah, teacher. Not sure how I feel about it.”

He was silent for a moment. “You’d be good at it.”

You smiled, a heat forming in your cheeks. “You think so?”

He looked up at you. “Know so.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. As long as you’d been with Daryl, he still managed to get you acting like a schoolgirl.

When Daryl didn’t say anything again for a while, you blurted out what was really on your mind. “She said we can have our own house, when they get one ready for us.”

Daryl looked back up at you again, his face smattered in blood as had just rubbed his hand against his forehead. “Already got a house, two of ‘em.” He gestured to the house behind him.

You shook your head. “No, she said we could have our own, you and me. Away from the others. Just us.”

He had an unreadable expression on his face. If you had to guess, it was somewhere between suspicion and elation. It became lost in a sea of dark, ashy brown hair as he quietly returned to his possum.

“Any thoughts on that?” You leaned forward to try to get a look at his face from underneath all that hair.

He shrugged. “Just… seems like it ain’t real s’all. Like it’s gonna just disappear.”

You sighed. “I know, it does. It’s what I always wanted though, a place we can be safe… happy. I’ve been looking for it since the beginning. Sometimes I didn’t think we’d ever actually find it, but I think we just did.”

Daryl pulled his red rag from his pocket and began wiping his face and hands as he looked at you. “Be nice to have a roof, place to be alone… not have to run around so much.”

You smiled. You would have scooted closer to hug him, but the disemboweled possum was still separating the two of you. “That’s the spirit.” Unsatisfied with his lackluster clean, you took the rag from his hands and leaned forward to wipe off the rest of the blood. “Someone needs a hot shower.”

Two days had passed, and Daryl, unsurprisingly, did not take a shower.

You had, and everyone else had, but not Daryl.

As much as you liked to think you understood him, Daryl often reacted to things in a way not even you could comprehend. You knew he wasn’t really afraid of Deanna and her people being psychos, he was mostly just unable to accept this place as home.

He told you he was scared it would be taken away if he settled in, but you knew, too, that he just wasn’t used to a place like Alexandria. Even before the outbreak, Daryl didn’t live in a home for very long. He had his childhood home, but he spent as much time as he could away from it, opting to sleep in the woods when things got too bad with his father.

He was always vague about the details, probably because he wanted to forget them, but he did tell you about his life before. Usually, it was in small tidbits, and you were left to put the pieces together yourself. What you got from his backstory was that he was always an outsider, and that he never let people in.

In Alexandria, it was clear to you that it was a community based on letting people in. You couldn’t really be an outsider, and if you were, people were suspicious of you.

All things considered, Daryl was not going to acclimate easily to this strange new world. He didn’t have to tell you that for you to understand that.

What you didn’t understand, however, was his unwillingness to even enjoy in the comforts of Alexandria. He hardly slept, he didn’t change his clothes or clean himself, and he still went out hunting for his own food, always saving a helping for you, too.

You supposed it was just his way of saying “I don’t need these things, I’m tough,” or something like that. For all his sensitivity and compassion, Daryl still tried desperately to appear as if he wasn’t afraid of anything. Of course, he knew that he was, but he hated to admit it. It was the influence of his brother and the way they were both raised. That kind of thing was hard to shake.

On the second night in Alexandria, your group was still sleeping together in the living room of one of the houses you had been given. Rick thought it would be best for you all to stay together until you knew it was safe.

When you settled in for bed in yours and Daryl’s corner of the room, you noticed that he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Usually, he’d be on watch, so you figured that was what he was doing. Rising from your sleeping bag, you tiptoed between the others scattered about the room and went out to the porch. Sure enough, Daryl was there, leaning against the pole and smoking a cigarette.

You wrapped your robe tightly against the cool breeze. As you did, you forgot how much you had missed pajamas. Real, warm, soft pajamas.

You stepped closer to him. “What are you doing out here?”

He took a drag of his cigarette. “Nothin’.”

You sighed, noticing his bare arms, still darkened with dirt, carelessly exposed to the elements. “Do you want a jacket? I think I saw one upstairs in one of the closets.”

“Nah,” he grunted.

“Daryl.” You stepped closer to him until you could rub his arms up and down. They were strangely warm. He was always warm. It was one of the things you loved about his body. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

He blew a puff of cigarette smoke away from your face. “I’ll be fine, woman.”

You sighed, resting your hands on his chest and watching it rise and fall steadily. “You don’t like it here, do you?”

He huffed. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You barely even come inside the house, and you won’t look around with me and the others. You can tell me the truth.”

“I am tellin’ ya the truth.” His voice raised a little, becoming harsh and more gruff than usual. “Why don’t ya just leave me alone?”

“Because I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re making things harder for yourself. If the others see that you’re not interested in making friends, they’re going to treat you like an outsider. I know it’s stupid, but we have to get these people to like us.”

Daryl shook his head, then squashed his cigarette against the railing. “Don’t care what they think about me.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to… pretend like you do, you know?”

He scoffed. “My only priority right now is keepin’ ya safe.”

You tilted your head and looked at him with loving eyes. “You’re keeping me safe just by being here. Now your job is to figure out how you’re going to make this work, because this is our home now. We’ve all decided, and I’m not going to stop bugging you until you embrace it.” You poked him in the bellybutton, causing him to flinch.

“Jesus!”

You laughed. “There’s more where that came from if you don’t get your ass into bed with me.”

He couldn’t help but smirk a bit. “Still can’t sleep without me?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

~

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[dean-samw67]

This is Hell

Chapter 22: Season 3 Episode 6

Warnings: Torture

Words: 2832

Daryl had found Carol and a woman came to the prison with the basket of formula that Harper had dropped. Daryl and Hershel follow Rick out of the cell block, into the room they were keeping the woman.

“We can tend to that wound. Give you some food and water. Send you on your way.” Rick explains, walking up to the woman. “But we need to know how you found us.” The woman just glares up at Rick as she holds a towel on her upper thigh. “And why were you carrying formula?”

“The supplies were dropped by a woman with a young asian man and a woman younger than her.” She answers.

“What happened?”

“They were taken.” She explains.

“By who?” Rick asks.

“By the same son of a bitch who shot me.” She growls.

“These are our people, if you know where they are, tell us now!” Rick gets in her face and then smacks his hand on her gunshot wound. Daryl aims his crossbow at her.

“Don’t you ever touch me again!” She shouts.

“Better start talkin’. Ya gonna have a lot more than a gunshot wound to worry about.” Daryl grunts.

“Find ‘em yourself.” She glares at Daryl. Rick pushes Daryl’s crossbow down.

“You came here for some reason.” He walks around the woman.

“There’s a town. Woodbury. About 75 people. Run by this guy who calls himself the governor.”

“He got muscle?” Daryl questions.

“Paramilitary wannabe’s.” She answers.

“You know a way to get in?” Rick crosses his arms.

“Place is secure from walkers. But I can find us a way in.” She nods.

“How did you know how to get here?”

“They mentioned a prison. Said it was a straight shot from there.” She shrugs. Rick sighs with a nod. He points to Hershel.

“This is Hershel. The father of that younger woman. He’ll fix you up.” He introduces before walking off with Daryl.

“We gotta go get ‘em. Harper-”

“I know.” Rick cuts off Daryl.

“What do I tell Alexis? She’s gonna start worryin’.” Daryl sighs.

“The truth. And tell her we will bring her back.” Rick nods before walking away. Daryl looks over at Lexi who was with Beth, helping with the baby.

“Hey, Lex.” He calls, bringing her attention to him. He motions for her to come over. He leads her into an empty cell and sits on the bottom bunk. She sits next to him.

“Is everything alright?” She asks, worriedly.

“Um… it’s your mother…” He starts.

“Is she okay?” Harper panics.

“She will be.” Daryl nods. “She was taken, but we are going to get her back.” He promises.

“I want to help.” She jumps up. Daryl places a hand on her arm as he stands.

“No. It’s too dangerous. Ya have to stay here. Help with the baby.”

“I want to help find her.” She insists.

“Lexi-”

“I am helping!”

“No, Alexis!” Daryl’s shout stops her immediately. “No. Ya need to stay here. Stay safe.” His voice, more calm now. Alexis huffs as she crosses her arms.

“You aren’t my dad.” She scoffs. Daryl had to admit, hearing that out loud from her hurt, considering he has been here for her. “You’ve even said it to mom. You have told her you aren’t my dad. So why do you act like it?”

“I’m not doing this right now, Alexis.” He walks past her.

“No, I’m curious.” She follows him. “You are so mean to mom about how you aren’t my dad. So why do you continue to act like it?” Daryl doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking away. “Mom could do so much better than you. I don’t know why she even likes you.” This stops Daryl in his tracks, biting at his lower lip to keep himself from losing his cool. “You act like you care about her, just to always treat her badly.” Daryl turns to her.

“Listen, you’re twelve years old, ya know nothing about adult relationships. So keep your nose out of mine and your mothers business.” He growls, pointing at her. She glares at him as he stands up straight and walks out of the cell block. Beth was standing back, watching what just happened. Alexis turns and looks at her.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t treat him like that. He cares about you and Harper.” Beth answers as she rocks the baby.

“Whatever.” Alexis scoffs and walks away.

***

Harper was in a room by herself, duct taped to a chair, in front of a table. She was looking around for a way to get loose after just hearing Glenn get the shit beat out of him in the other room. She looks up when she hears the door open up. She sits up straight, staring Merle in the eyes. His eyes were familiar, due to the fact that they resembled Daryl’s, but chillingly unfamiliar at the same time. He walks closer towards her and then behind her. He runs his knife, attached to him, across the back of her shirt, sending chills down her spine.

“Now if I know better, this ain’t belong to you. It looks a lot like something Daryl would wear.” He chuckles as he sits on the table in front of her. She keeps a glare fixated on him, not speaking. He leans forward, resting his hand on his thigh. “So what’s been going on between you and my baby brother, huh?” She stays quiet.

“Nothin’?” He smirks. “I didn’t want to do this.” He shrugs before standing up and sinking his knife into her left hand, it gripping the chair as she lets out a pained scream.

“Fuck you!” She shouts. She breathes heavily as she glares at him. “You won’t get shit from me.”

“I’m sure I will at some point.” He shrugs before punching her in the nose, her head snapping back as he does so. She leans her head forward, returning her glare on him. He lands another punch on her face, right in her mouth. The taste of blood fills her mouth as she gasps in pain. He grabs her by the face, making her look at him. “Ready to speak?” She spits the blood in his face and he pushes her face back before wiping his face. “You bitch!”

“Guess you have to kill me.” She growls. He narrows his eyes down at her. He runs the tip of his knife from her jaw to her shoulder and then digs it in deeper as he starts to cut down her arm. She lets out cries of pain as she closes her eyes. He stops at her elbow and then punches her in the gut, causing her to hunch over as much as she could. She coughs and spits up more blood onto her lap. He moves his hand to her hair, stroking it.

“You know, I always knew my little brother took a likin’ to ya. Never thought he would have the balls to admit it.” He chuckles.

“Go to hell.” Harper groans, completely ignoring his comment.

“You’ll see me there anyway.” He laughs.

“Daryl is better off without you.” She returns her glare up to him. Merle stands up straight, the smile fading off his face. “He’s happier. More himself. He doesn’t need you.”

“You’re gonna regret that one, toots.” He raises his hand with the knife before the door opens.

“Merle!” A man behind him shouts. “We aren’t killing them.” Merle drops his hand and turns to the man. “Leave her. Let's go.” He follows the man out with a huff. Harper lets out a gasp and looks at her hand, which is bleeding out. She returns to looking around, trying to figure a way out.

***

“Come on you bitch.” A man who worked with the governor walks into the room Harper was in, setting rope on the table and cutting the tape from her wrists. He roughly ties her hands behind her back after standing her, causing her to wince from the wound on her hand. He grabs the rope he had set on the table and ties it around her neck. Her eyes widen as the thought that she may be executed runs through her head.

“Just a precaution.” He chuckles as he wraps the rope around his hand, before putting a bag over her head. He leads her out and she can only follow him. She struggled against his arm a few times but failed due to her weak state. Cheers begin to fill her ears, making her feel on edge. Were they going to kill her in front of all the people?

“Brother against brother!” The governors voice rings in her head as she comes to a stop. “And Merle’s little brother’s girlfriend is even here to monitor.” The bag is yanked off of Harper’s face and she squints her eyes to adjust to what is around her.

“Daryl!” She tries to run to him as soon as her eyes land on him, the restraint around her neck pulling her back. She lets out a cough as the man holding the rope yanks her backwards.

“Ah, ah, ah. You are going to watch as Merle kills his brother in front of you.” The governor walks in front of Harper. Merle puts his hands up.

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes to prove…” He turns around and punches Daryl in the gut, Daryl falling to the ground, coughing.

“No!” Harper screams.

“...That my loyalty is to this town!” Merle begins kicking Daryl. Harper cries as she watches. He lands blow after blow on Daryl, beating on him. Harper tries to run in but is only pulled back again. She looks away, tears running down her blood stained cheeks. Walkers are now brought into the mix. She shakes her head in hopes that this is all a really bad nightmare.

Daryl turns over and reaches up, swinging at Merle. He gets up for a moment before Merle pushes him back down. Merle stands over top of him, Daryl placing his hands around his brother's throat. They begin talking low enough that no one can hear over the cheering. Merle pulls Daryl up and they now are back to back, facing the walkers.

Harper looks back over at them. Daryl looks over at her, seeing face blood covered and arm dripping blood. He couldn’t see her hand but the blood dripping behind her gave away that she was wounded. It pained Daryl to see her like this. He is pulled back from his thoughts as a walker is pushed at him. He punches it and pushes it back towards the people who had it on the lead.

The brothers continue punching the walkers until gunshots echo through the air and each zombie is shot. A smoke bomb is thrown in the crowd, filling the air. Harper works up all her energy left and lifts her leg and rears it back into the man’s, who was holding her, crotch. He lets the rope go and grips his dick as he groans. She turns around and head butts him before running while still trying to regain balance from the head butt.

She heads over to where the gunshots came from. She slams into Rick, who grabs her to keep her from falling. He pulls the rope off of her neck and cuts the restraints from her hands.

“Are you okay?” He cups her face and she nods quickly in response. He shines a light for Daryl to see. Daryl rips his crossbow from one of the men's hands and runs toward us, Merle following in tow. Rick hands Harper a gun as they begin running to leave.

“They’re all at the arena. This way.” Merle starts to lead, running to the metal fence.

“You aren’t going anywhere with us.” Rick snaps.

“You really wanna do this now?” Merle begins to break the fence. The rest of the group keeps watch. He gets it open and Daryl follows him out. The rest of them follow after Daryl. Merle starts to lead them into the woods. Harper, Rick and Maggie look at each other.

“Let’s go!” Daryl shouts. Harper huffs as they follow. Once they are far enough away Rick leads, taking everyone back to where Glenn and Michonne were. Harper grunts as she begins to tear off the leftover duck tape on her wrists. Daryl reaches over and tries to take her hands to look at it. She rips it away from him, glaring at him.

“Let me just look.” He huffs.

“No. Don’t touch me.” She growls.

“What’s your issue?” He scoffs.

“This is your brothers doing.” She spat before walking further up, next to Rick. They get back to the road.

“Glenn!” Rick calls. Glenn and Michonne walk to us, Glenn sighing in relief. “Now we have a problem.” Rick holds up his hand. As soon as they see Merle, Michonne pulls out her katana and Glenn aims his gun. Harper steps next to Glenn, holding her gun as she faces Rick, Merle and Daryl.

“Put those down!” Rick shouts. Harper ignores him and holds up her gun.

“Harper!” Daryl shouts. “He helped us get out of there!”

“After he beat the shit out of you!” She shouts right back.

“We both took our licks.” Merle shrugs.

“Jackass.” Daryl looks back at him.

“Shut up!” Merle grunts.

“You shut up! You see what the hell you did to me!?” Harper yells holding her hand up, blood dripping down her arm.

“Enough!” Rick yells. Michonne holds up her katana trying to swing it at Merle. “Put that down!”

“Get that thing out of my face!” Daryl shouts at Harper who had her gun aimed at both brothers. Merle starts laughing.

“Man, look like you’ve gone native, brother.” He chuckles.

“No more than you, hanging with that psycho back there!” Daryl turns to him.

“He is a charmer. Been puttin’ the wood to your girlfriend Andrea.” He looks at Michonne as he moans.

“Pig.” Harper spat.

“You know Andrea?” Rick looks at her.

“Yep. Her and blondie spent all winter together. Cuddling in the forest. Mmmm.” Merle smirks.

“Shut up, bro!” Daryl shouts at him.

“Shut up, yourself! Bunch of pussies-” Rick smacks him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out.

“Finally.” Harper grumbles before she walks toward the cars. The others follow. “We aren’t taking him back.” Harper shakes her head as they all gather, aside from Michonne.

“We’ll make it work.” Daryl huffs.

“It’ll just stir things up.” Rick jumps in.

“The governor is probably on his way to the prison right now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle.” Daryl shrugs.

“I am not having him at the prison.” Maggie sighs, shaking her head.

“Yeah, no. Have you seen me and Glenn? That is Merle’s doing.” Harper pulls the bandana from Daryl’s pocket, wrapping it around her hand.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth? Or Alexis?” Glenn adds.

“He ain’t a rapist.” Daryl scoffs.

“His buddy is.”

“Well, he ain’t his buddy no more.” Daryl growls.

“He isn’t staying there.” Harper sighs.

“It’ll put everyone at each other's throats. She's right.” Rick nods.

“But you’ll bring the last samurai with you?” Daryl motions to Michonne.

“She’s not coming with us-”

“She is in no condition to be on her own.” Harper cuts Rick off.

“At least let my dad stitch her up.” Maggie shrugs.

“She’s unpredictable.” Rick shakes his head.

“We don’t know who she is. Now, Merle. Merle’s blood-”

“No, Merle’s your blood. My blood, my family is back at that prison and standing here.” Glenn interrupts.

“And you are a part of that family, Daryl.” Harper takes his hand in hers.

“But he’s not.” Rick adds.

“Fine.” He yanks his hand out of Harpers. “No him, no me.” He walks toward the car.

“Daryl.” Harper follows after him. “Don’t do this.” He opens the trunk. Rick follows the two over.

“There’s got to be another way.”

“Don’t ask me to leave him. Did that once already.” Daryl shakes his head as he gathers his bag. “Take care of yourself. Take care of lil’ ass kicker. Carl.” He slings the bag over his shoulder. “He’s one tough kid.”

“Daryl, please.” Harper shakes her head as she looks at him, tears brimming her eyes. He looks at her, biting on his lip. He steps closer to her, cupping the back of her head and kissing her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. A small sob escapes Harper’s lips. “Take care of Lex.” He whispers before he turns away from her before walking to Merle.

“Daryl!” Rick calls but Daryl keeps walking, Merle leading him away. Rick puts all the guns in the back with a sigh. Harper grabs the trunk door, slamming it shut. She walks around, throwing the car door open and climbing inside, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 23~

This is Hell Masterlist

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Fifteen

Title: Woodbury

Words: 2119

Warnings: Strong language, assault

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be an easy run. In and out. Get the stuff the baby, and you, needed along with whatever else you could find and get back to the prison. But no. Some jackass had to make things hard.

 Glenn had gotten inside the store first and right when you were about to join him, you heard something. Looking around, you saw nothing and turned back to Glenn.

 “Hey, Glenn, grab that toy,” you said.

 “Which one?”

 “The duck. And any other ones you can find. If these kids are going to be growing up in a prison they could use some toys.” Glenn laughed but did as you asked. After he grabbed some formula and some other stuff, he came back outside.

 “We just hit the powdered formula jackpot.”

 “Good. What else did you find?”

 “Some batteries, beans, cocktail wieners, and a lot of mustards.”

 “Great, more beans,” you muttered. “Seems like that’s all that left.”

 “What’s wrong with beans?” Glenn asked you.

 “They sound gross right now. Did when I was preg—.” You stopped yourself but the damage had already been done.

 “Holy shit, you’re pregnant?” Glenn said. You nodded and he gave you a giant hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

 “I know.” You closed your eyes and felt him kiss your forehead softly.

 “Come on. We should get back. Thankfully it’s a straight shot back to the prison from here,” he said.

 “Hopefully we’ll make it back in time for dinner. And you can get back to Maggie.” Your voice was teasing and you giggled at how red Glenn’s face was turning.

 “And you can get back to your baby daddy.”

 “He doesn’t know, Glenn,” you said.

 “What? Why not?”

 “I found out yesterday. A few hours before—“ You swallowed then sighed. “The quiet’s nice. You can hear the walkers everywhere back home.”

 “And where is it y’all call home?” A voice rang out. Turning sharply, you saw a man pointing a gun at you. You dropped the basket full of formula to the ground and quickly drew your weapon.

 “Merle?” Glenn said. You shot him a glance before turning your eyes back to the stranger. So this was the infamous Merle? Huh, you thought he’d be taller.

 “Wo-ow!” He said with a laugh. Merle put his gun down and his hands up before walking towards you.

 “Back the hell up,” you said, raising your gun higher.

 “Okay, okay. Jesus, honey.”

 “Don’t call me that.”

 “You made it,” Glenn said.

 “Is my brother alive? Can ya tell me that?”

 “Yeah. He’s alive.” Merle seemed relieved that his brother was alive and he reached a hand towards Glenn slightly.

 “Hey, ya take me ta him and I’ll call it even for everythin’ that happened on that roof,” Merle said. “No hard feelin’s whatsoever.”

 Glenn said nothing and his eyes flickered over to the man’s hand. Or lack of one. A long blade was strapped to his arm and it looked deadly.

 “Ya like it? I found myself a medical supply warehouse. Fixed it up myself.”

 “We’ll tell Daryl you’re here and he’ll come out to meet you,” Glenn said.

 You knew that Merle had some problems with the group from before and that alone didn’t want to bring him back. Merle didn’t like that idea and got defensive.

 “Just hold on a second.” He started walking closer and Glenn held his hand out.

 “Stop walking,” he said. Merle did and you shifted nervously.

 “Tha fact that we found each other is a god damn miracle. Ya can trust me, come on now.”

 The way he said that was enough for you to not trust him and you eyed him warily.

 “You trust us. Stay here. We’ll bring Daryl to you.”

 “No!” Merle pulled out a gun from his waistband and shot the rear window of your car out.

 Ducking, you spun around and fell to the floor. You weren’t quick enough and you felt a piece of glass cut your cheek. Then, a body crashed into yours and you found yourself being held by Merle. His knife arm was around your neck and his gun was pointed at your head. When Glenn came around the car and saw you, you could see the fury in his eyes.

 “Hold up, buddy. Hold up,” Merle said.

 “Let go of her. Right now!”

 “Put that gun in tha car. Put it in tha car, son!”

 Glenn did as he was told, eyes never leaving you. Taking a deep breath, you gave Glenn a smile. Then you rammed the back of your head into Merle’s face. Scrambling to get free while he was disorientated, you almost got out of his grip but he collected himself before you could. Merle hit you with the butt of his pistol and you saw black spots swim before your eyes. Blinking them away, you felt Merle’s grip on you tighten.

 “I wish ya didn’t do that, sweetheart,” Merle spat. Looking at Glenn he said, “We’re goin’ for a little drive.”

 “We’re not going back to our camp.”

 “No, we’re not. Now get in tha car Glenn. You’re drivin’.” Glenn looked like he wanted to protest more, but Merle dug the barrel of his gun deeper into your temple. You whimpered, still a bit out of it.

 “Move!”

 “Okay. I’m going.” Glenn got into the driver’s seat and you were shoved into the passengers. Merle got in behind you and continued holding the gun to your head.

 The drive was completely silent and you were pretty sure that you had passed out for a couple minutes. Then you got to the place Merle was taking you. It looked like a town. There were walls made up of vehicles and metal and there were armored guards everywhere too. But you only saw a glimpse of it before Merle instructed Glenn to turn right. He led you to the back of a building before telling Glenn to cut the engine.

 “Ya stay right where ya are, Glenn,” Merle said. “I’ll help out sweetheart here.”

 He climbed out of the car and opened your door before grabbing you and hauling you out.

 “C’mon now. Let’s getcha inside.”

 With his gun still pointed at your head, Glenn had no choice but to do what he was told. When you got inside, Merle shoved you into the first room and locked the door. You heard him take Glenn into the room right next door and after a minute, he came back to you. You didn’t fight it as he made you sit down in a chair and tied your hands behind your back. He left shortly after and you heard the lock click in place.

 ---

 Sam and Dean

Dean was outside with Beth when Rick and Carl saw a woman standing there. He stood by Beth, watching with worried eyes as they brought her into the prison. Carl got a towel while Beth got water. Dean was holding the baby, keeping her calm.

 “Rick?” Daryl said. “Who the hell’s this?”

 “You wanna tell us your name?” Rick asked the woman. She didn’t answer and Rick repeated the question. When she still said nothing, Daryl spoke again.

 “Y’all come in here,” he said.

 “Everything alright?”

 “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

 Rick gave the go ahead so Dean followed Beth in to the cell block, Hershel and Carl behind them. Rick talked to the woman for a few seconds before following, the woman’s sword in hand. Daryl locked the door and led everyone to one of the cells. In the cell sat an exhausted looking Carol. Sophia was right next to her, hugging her mother tightly. Sam and Maggie were sitting with her and when Carol saw everyone, she stood up shakily and went to hug Rick.

 “Thank god,” Rick said, holding Carol close. Dean couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

 “How?” Hershel asked.

 “Solitary,” Carol said with a small laugh.

 “Poor thing must’ve fought her way inta a cell. Passed out from dehydration.”

 Carol let go of Hershel and saw Dean next. He was still holding onto his sister and when Carol saw the baby, she turned to Rick with a smile on her face. Rick’s face fell and Carol immediately started to comfort him.

 “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She turned to Carl and put her hand on his cheek before taking the baby from Dean’s arms. Dean watched the interactions with a sad smile on his face, his hand on Carl’s shoulder.

 After Carol was all settled, Rick walked back into the common area. Dean, Sam, Hershel, and Daryl with him.

 “We can stitch up that wound for you. Give you some food and water then send you on your way. But you have to tell us how you found us and why you were carrying formula,” Rick said.

 “The supplies were dropped by a young Asian man and a pretty girl,” the woman said. Dean stood up straighter and looked at Sam, a worried look on his face.

 “What happened?” Rick asked.

 “Were they attacked?” Sam asked.

 “They were taken.”

 “Taken? What the fuck do you mean, taken?” Dean said, hands clenching in anger.

 “Taken? Taken by who?”

 “Taken by the same douchebag that shot me.”

 “These are our people. Our family. You’re gonna tell us what happened now!” Rick went and put pressure on her wound. The woman hissed in pain and swatted his hand away.

 “You’d best start talkin’,” Daryl said, crossbow raised. “Or ya problems are gonna be bigger than a gunshot wound.”

 “Find ‘em yourself,” she said, eyes narrowed. Rick told Daryl to put the crossbow down and put himself in between the two of them.

 “There was a reason you came here,” Rick said. The woman looked at the floor before looking at Rick.

 “There’s a town. It’s called Woodbury and has around seventy-five survivors. I think they were taken there,” she said.

 “A whole town?”

 “It’s run by a guy who calls himself the Governor.”

 “He got muscle?” Daryl asked.

 “Paramilitary wannabes. There’s armed sentries on every wall.”

 “You know a way in?” Sam asked.

 “The place is secure from walkers but we should be able to slip our way through.”

 “How’d you know how to get here?”

 “The girl said something about a prison. Mentioned it was a straight-shot in this direction.”

 Rick was silent for a second before pointing to Hershel. “This is Hershel. He’s gonna be the one stitching you up. And they’re Sam and Dean. They’re the brothers of the girl who was taken.”

 With that, Rick walked away. Daryl followed immediately but it took a second for Sam and Dean to follow. They both gave the woman a hard look before walking back into the cell block.

 ---

 “How do we know we can trust her?” Oscar asked.

 “Does it matter? This is Glenn and [y/n] we’re talking about. Why are we even debating?” Beth said.

 “We ain’t. I’ll go after ‘em,” Daryl said.

 “You can’t go alone. This place sounds secure,” Rick said, tapping his foot.

 “I’ll go,” Beth said. Axel and Oscar said the same and Rick shook his head.

 “Dean, Daryl, the woman, and I will go.”

 “I’m going too,” Sam said. “Like hell you’re gonna stop me from going to get my sister.”

 “You need to stay here just in case they manage to escape before we get there. And Adeline is going to need you,” Rick said to Sam. Sam wanted to argue, but he knew that Rick’s point was a valid one.

 “Fine. But if you guys don’t come back within twenty-four hours, I’m going out there to get you.”

 “Deal.”

 With that, the meeting dispersed. Daryl packed a bag full of the flash bangs and tear gas. Dean walked out to the Impala with Sam and gathered a few shotguns and about half of the non-salt ammo along with a few knives.

 “She’s gonna be fine, Sammy. She’s tough and can handle herself,” Dean said. Sam gave a grunt as a response and hauled the duffle over his shoulder before bringing it to the car they were taking.

 Before they left, Dean walked over to Carol and Maggie, kissing their cheeks, kissing the baby and both toddlers foreheads after.

 “Keep an eye on her. She’s a handful,” Dean said.

 “I think I got it covered. Now you go on and get them back safe and sound, okay?” Carol said. She rubbed Adeline’s back, the toddler clinging to Sam.

 “Bring [y/n] back,” Sophia said softly.

 “I will, sweetheart.” Dean gave them a smile and walked over to the car. He got in the backseat next to Daryl. It was time to get his sister back.

[azspot]

The paramilitary wing of the party mobbed the Capitol seeking traitors to lynch. Meanwhile, the parliamentary wing, represented by the majority of the Republican members of the House and Senate who voted not to certify Biden’s electoral votes, raised a clenched fist. Together, these two wings compose the right-wing model of governance — and at this model’s heart lies the citizen as bearer of violent threat.

Rick Perlstein

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 26

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: In the wake of Carol's return, the group is met with another survivor-- one with valuable information, a warning, and a katana. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; kidnapping; murder; killing walkers; breaking and entering (x2); unsuccessful torture for information; Rick is going bananas, what else is new

Chapter 26 - Found

Iris glanced up from Carol’s beside as voices echoed from the entrance. Daryl turned back and she nodded, staying with Carol as he jogged out to see what was going on. Iris kept the damp cloth on Carol’s forehead, gently pressing to keep her cool while she rested. Hershel and Beth soon came through, accompanied by Rick. Carol smiled at the sight of them, and Iris helped her sit up, gently cooing to go slow.

“Oh, God.” She whispered, reaching up to hug Rick. He gladly accepted, echoing the sentiment. 

“How?” Hershel asked, eagerly pulling her in for his own hug.

“Solitary.” She replied softly.

“Poor thing fought her way into a cell. Must have passed out. Dehydrated.” Daryl explained. Carol gasped at the sight of little ass-kicker, pressing a hand to her mouth as she doted over the baby. She turned back to Rick, an unspoken question in her eyes, to which he nodded sadly. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, tears lining her eyes as she brought Rick into her arms once more. Beth passed the baby over to her and Carol reacquainted with the others. Iris and Hershel followed Rick and Daryl back to the entryway, where a young woman covered in blood and gore was sitting, pressing a towel to her thigh.

“Is she—“

“Shot.” Rick replied to Iris. She nodded and they walked over. “We can tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water and then send you on your way, but you’re gonna have to tell us how you found us and why you were carrying formula.”

“The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl.” She replied, her voice hoarse.

“What happened?” Rick asked.

“Were they attacked?” Hershel asked, suddenly worried.

“They were taken.”

“Taken? By who?”

“By the same son of a bitch who shot me.” She hissed.

“Hey, these are our people.” Rick said, bending down to meet her eye line. “You tell us what happened, now!” He jammed his thumb into the wound in her thigh and she grunted, shoving him away from her. Daryl propped his crossbow up in preparation.

“Don’t you ever touch me again!” She spat, pointing a finger to his face.

“You’d better start talking.” Daryl warned. “Or you're gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound.”

“Find ‘em yourself.” She replied shortly. Rick motioned for Daryl to put the crossbow down.

“You came here for a reason.” Rick inferred. 

“There’s a town. Woodbury. About seventy-five survivors, I think they were taken there.” She explained.

“A whole town?” Rick asked.

“It’s run by this guy who calls himself the Governor— pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type.” She nodded, saying his name with disdain. 

“He got muscle?” Daryl asked.

“Paramilitary wannabes.” She replied. “They have armed sentries on every wall.”

“You know a way in?” Rick asked.

“The place is secure from walkers, but we could slip our way through.” She replied thoughtfully.

“How’d you know how to get here?” Rick asked.

“They mentioned a prison,” She shrugged, “said which direction it was in, said it was a straight shot.” Rick nodded briefly before he motioned to Hershel.

“This is Hershel. The father of the girl who was taken. He’ll take care of that.” He explained, gesturing to her wound. He turned away, Daryl dutifully following him back into the cell block. Iris sighed, pinching her nose.

“I’m sorry about them.” She murmured, Hershel sitting down at one of the tables. “Poor bedside manner.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The woman reminded her, lowly.

“Will you accept it?” Hershel asked. The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“I’m Iris.” Iris introduced, extending her hand. The woman looked at it warily, looking up at her before shaking it.

“Michonne.” She said quietly. She sat mostly still while Hershel stitched her up, and Carl took it upon himself to watch over the both of them. Iris walked back into the cell block where the group was crowded against the far wall.

“How do we know if we can trust her?” Oscar asked.

“This is Maggie and Glenn! Why are we even debating?” Beth hissed.

“We ain’t. I’ll go after ‘em.” Daryl offered.

“Well, this place sounds pretty secure. You can’t go alone.” Rick protested.

“I’ll go.” Beth offered, receiving a quick shake of the head from her father.

“Me too.” Axel volunteered.

“I’m in.” Oscar shrugged.

“I’m always in.” Iris said, stepping forward with a smirk.

-

“I got the flash bangs and I got the tear gas.” Daryl said, loading everything into the back of the SUV in a big duffel bag. He stretched his arms over his head before pulling on his leather vest. “You never know what you’re gonna need.”

“Thanks, Carl.” Iris said, taking the bags from him as he brought them more gear. “Hey, don’t worry about Rick, okay? We’re looking after him.” Carl nodded, taking a deep breath before walking back to the prison. Iris grabbed a few more things and a bag of medical supplies Hershel had packed them just in case. Who knows what they would need? She stretched, adjusting her clothing. She’d switched the coveralls out for some cargo pants and a comfy black henley shirt. They’d be easier to move around in, especially when they needed to be stealthier.

“You certainly got a lot of weaponry.” Axel murmured as she strapped her knives around her thighs. 

“Pays to be prepared.” Iris replied, raising an eyebrow as she buckled the last strap. They loaded into the car, Axel closing the gate behind them as they drove away. Michonne directed them down back and side streets to keep out of sight, and told them exactly where to park and how far away.

“They have patrols. We’re better off on foot.” She stated.

“How far? Night’s coming.” Rick murmured.

“A mile, maybe two.” She replied with a half shrug. They began to unload what they needed from the truck before heading off into the forest.

“I know what you did for me, for my baby, while I was… figuring things out. Thank you.” Rick murmured softly to Daryl.

“It’s what we do.” Daryl replied simply. Rick reached forward, nudging the back of Iris’ shoulder.

“You too.” He stated, offering a small smile. Iris smiled back, nodding. They kept walking until a walker snarled somewhere between the trees, and Daryl caught sight of something.

“Rick.” He whispered.

“Down.” Rick hissed to all of them. There was a few handfuls of walkers coming toward them and Iris pulled out her knives. “Stay in formation. No gunfire.” They killed a few, but they were quickly becoming surrounded, and Iris was growing nervous.

“There’s too many of them.” She stated, grunting as she brought down a particularly large one.

"This way.” Rick directed, leading them through the trees. Iris hung back a bit, making sure that Michonne stayed with the group, even as she limped after them. There was a small shack ahead, windows and door barred, but it seemed safe-ish. “In there, come on!” They ran for it, and Michonne shut the door quickly behind them. “Keep it down.”

“That smell. It’s loud.” Daryl grumbled, recoiling as he began to search for the source of the putrid scent surrounding them. Iris held a hand over her mouth, trying not to gag.

“The hell is that?” Oscar asked.

“Gotta be a fox, or what’s left of one…” He shifted the light, the beam illuminating the face of a dead dog, laying in its bed. “Guess Lassie went home.” They all jumped as a walker slammed on the door, the whole swarm of them banging on the walls outside. Rick turned back to the house, flicking on his flashlight to survey their surroundings better. 

In the far corner of the house was a bedroom sectioned off with bookshelves and a folding screen. The king-sized bed was comprised of a metal frame an old mattress and what looked like handmade quilts. The blankets were laid haphazardly across the bed in a strange lumpy heap. Rick whistled a soft noise to get their attention and he took cautious steps toward the bed. Iris crept around the other side with her knife at the ready, nodding to Rick. He ripped the blanket off, revealing a man, a living man, who sat up abruptly and levelled a shotgun at them, frantically switching between targets.

“Ah! Who the hell are you?” He asked, shouting.

“We don’t mean any harm.” Rick said slowly, attempting to make peace.

“Get out of my house!”

“Okay! Okay, okay. We will. But we can’t right now.” Rick replied.

“Now!” He practically screamed.

“Shut him up.” Michonne hissed, glancing back at the shaking door.

“Get out right now!”

“There are walkers outside!” Rick hissed, crouching slightly as he put his gun down and put his hands out. Everyone was shifting on their feet nervously, wondering which way they might have to fight their way out. The man swallowed thickly, glancing between them.

“I’ll call the cops!” He warned. Iris blinked, glancing at Daryl and Michonne.

“I am a cop.” Rick replied. “Now, I need you to lower the gun.” He carefully placed his revolver and crowbar on the ground, looking down the barrel of the shotgun. “Don’t do anything rash. Everything’s fine, alright? Let’s just take this nice and slow. Look at me.”

“Show me your badge.” The man demanded, cocking the shotgun as he stepped closer. He happened to step further into the light, and Iris got a better look at him. He was old, wearing a threadbare red beanie, his face gaunt, pupils wide. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was on something.

“Alright. It’s in my pocket. It’s in my pocket.” Rick repeated. “Now I’m just gonna reach down, nice and slow.” He began to reach, and in one swift movement, grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and wrenched it aside. 

Daryl moved faster than Iris had ever seen, ducking down as the bullet shot right where his head used to be, blowing a large hole through the wooden door of what was presumably the bathroom. The man was small and weak, and Rick easily wrestled the gun from him, tossing it aside as he pinned his arms down.

“Let go of me! Let go! I’ll kill you, let go of me!” He cried. 

“Shut up! Shut up!” Rick yelled in reply. Iris felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as the pounding on the door got louder and more frequent. Rick cried out as the man sunk his teeth into his wrist, drawing blood. “Shit!”

“Ah! Help! They found me! Help me!” The man screamed, making a break for the door. Iris paled. Of course he was out of his damn mind. 

“Don’t open that door!” Rick urged. He had a single hand on the door knob before Michonne inserted her katana through his sternum. He dropped to the floor loudly, and she flicked his blood off her blade before sheathing it once more. The group said nothing for a moment, pausing while Daryl rushed to the door, peering out between the wooden boards. The walkers were starting to pull them down.

“Remember the Alamo?” He asked, turning back to the others. Iris grimaced.

“Easy, Tex. I’m not dying here.” She muttered.

“Here, help me with the door.” Rick directed. Michonne stationed herself at the door, ready to open it at a moment’s notice. Rick and Daryl knelt at the dead man’s side, hauling him up between them.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Oscar murmured.

“He’s dead. Check the back.” Rick replied. Iris spun around, jogging to the back of the house at the other door. She opened it a sliver, peering through.

“It’s clear.” She replied. Rick and Daryl counted to three before Michonne quickly opened the door and they threw the man’s body to the wolves. Er— walkers. They pounced on him, eager for fresh meat. Iris opened the back door and they all slipped out hurriedly, leaving the bloody pulp of meat on his own doorstep. 

Michonne led them along the path in the forest until nightfall, when they finally approached the settlement. Woodbury. They had heavy walls built up with corrugated steel and piles of large tires, an abandoned cargo train adding an extra layer of protection and an extra hiding spot for them. They crept along between the train and the tree line to observe the gate.

It was two large doors, maybe ten feet high, manned by two guards on either side, standing on what seemed to be a platform behind the tire wall. They were both armed with guns, one standing at one of two spotlights they’d set up on the platform, the other walking up and down and looking out.

Iris steeled herself, remembering why they were there. These people took Glenn. They took Maggie. They clearly hurt Michonne. And if she was right about their leader, this Governor, then they needed to put a stop to whatever Jonestown bullshit was going on inside. They watched as the guards did a shift change, the tall man at the spotlight swapping out for another patrol.

Michonne huffed before turning around, limping off into the darkness. Rick hissed after her, but any louder and they’d draw the attention of the guards. Rick shuffled back to regroup, assessing the situation.

“Alright. We need to downsize.” He whispered, and they handed off the larger guns to Oscar, who put them all in the duffle bag across his shoulder.

“Ain’t no way we’re gonna check in all them buildings, not with all them guards there.” Daryl murmured, peering around the edge of an old, tire-less pickup truck that currently hid them from view. A twig snapped behind them and they spun around, weapons raised, only for Michonne to mouth something at them, gesturing vaguely in another direction. She beckoned, and they followed.

Somewhere along the outskirts and the backside of the long line of buildings and townhouses of Woodbury was a hatch, a pair of cellar doors leading into a basement that had conveniently been unchained. Recently, it seems. Michonne led them through, up the stairs of the basement and into a building.

“This is where you were held?” Rick asked as they moved into the main room of the house.

“Questioned.” She replied, surveying the room. It was small, but filled with what looked like operating tables and medical supplies. Their infirmary, naturally. But they were smart enough to keep all their supplies in one place. The other side of the room held plastic shelves of canned goods and other non-perishable food products.

“Any idea where else they could be?” Rick asked after Maggie and Glenn.

“I thought you said there was a curfew.” Daryl muttered, peering around the curtains to see a pair of people walking down the main street.

“The streets are packed during the day. Those are just stragglers.” She replied.

“We are sitting ducks in here.” Iris hissed. “We need to move.”

“They could be in his apartment.” Michonne suggested.

“Yeah? What if they ain’t?” Daryl replied.

“Then we’ll look somewhere else.” She snapped.

“You said you could help us.” Rick hissed.

“I’m doing what I can.” Michonne replied, huffing. 

“Then where the hell are they?” Oscar whispered. Rick jerked his chin at them, the group pulling away from Michonne to speak privately.

“If this goes south, we’re cutting her loose.” Rick grunted.

“She’s trying to help us. She led us all the way here on a wounded leg.” Iris replied.

“Right now it’s the blind leading the blind.” Daryl grumbled. Iris sucked on a tooth. He was right. 

“Only an idiot would sleep with their prisoners in the next room. Especially some as smart as Glenn and Maggie. There’s no way they’d be in his apartment.” Iris pointed out. “And depending on how fucked this place is, it’ll likely be somewhere any civilians wouldn’t stumble across by mistake. Potentially guarded.”

“Iris is right.” Rick agreed.

“Let’s split up.” Daryl suggested. Rick opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by a soft knocking and the jangling of a set of keys. 

“Oh, shit.”

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

[kevrocksicehouse]

Jim Henson made his Muppets in to household names. Here are some other puppets that captured our hearts and imagination: 

Pinocchio. D: Ben Sharpsteen, Hamilton Luske (1940). The story of the puppet who wanted to be a real boy and went through all manner of nightmare-inducing hell to make it happen. One of Disney’s darkest, and best animated movies.

Yoda in Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back. D: Irvin Kershner (1980). Jim Henson’s compatriot Frank Oz voiced and co-created the Jedi Master who train’s Luke Skywalker. Wise and strong is he but somehow adorable he is, hmmmmm?

E.T. in E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. D: Steven Spielberg (1982). A puppet was operated by two dwarves at a cost of over a million dollars and animated by a crack special effects team, but all audiences saw was a frightened and lost alien forging a friendship with a lonely young boy. Hearts melted.

Team America: World Police. D: Trey Parker (2004). This hilarious action-movie parody features a crack paramilitary anti-terrorist squad who are also crudely-designed marionettes. Best touches: Probably the best (and most scatological) puppet sex scene ever filmed, and the team’s signature montage song, America “(F--- Yeah).”

Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors. D: Frank Oz (1986). A poor salesman in a struggling flower shop (Rick Moranis) finds a cute animatronic flower and names it after a girl he loves. All fine and good but when he finds it’s carnivorous things get complex. And when it grows to be a giant Mephistophelian “Mean Green Mother from Outer Space” voiced by Levi Stubbs, things get weird in this rock and roll musical version of a film Roger Corman did in three days to win a bet.

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire, Episode 1

March 1939 – September 1939

World on Fire begins with a blackshirt rally in Manchester.  Blackshirts (not to be confused with the Italian group of the same name) were paramilitary supporters of the British Union of Fascists political party, led by Sir Oswald Mosley.  

In the middle of this rally, where a mustached man levels all too familiar accusations, a singer named Lois and her interpreter (boy)friend Harry break out in a derisive contrafactum of “Bye, Bye Blackbird.”  The two are thrown from the rally and arrested while the fascists remain free to incite violence, an irony that is not lost on Lois or her father, Douglas.  

After their parents pay their bail, Lois and Harry part ways, not only because they come from different classes, but also because Harry is leaving for a translator position in Warsaw.

The next thing we know, it’s five months later, and we are introduced to a completely different character, an American journalist named Nancy Campbell.  Shades on and swigging from a flash, Nancy swerves down a road along the German-Polish border until she notices something and stops to investigate.  Lying at the edge of the woods is a pile of bodies.  She attempts to look for identification in the uniforms the dead men are wearing but is startled by the sound of nearby gunfire.  German soldiers are executing people in civilian garb, and if that’s not enough of a sign that war is imminent, Nancy finds an entire field littered with (illegal) tanks.  As she escapes back to the car, a German soldier fires through the rear window.

“Nazi Germany is a master of illusions, and the greatest illusion of all is that they are seriously negotiation for peace.”

Nancy arrives in Warsaw unscathed and determined.  Harry is there too.  In the months since he left England, Harry has fallen in love with Kasia, and her family has welcomed him with open arms .  But the massacre at the border is not enough to convince his new girlfriend, Kasia, to leave Poland.  In the months since he left England, Harry has fallen in love with Kasia, and her family has welcomed him with open arms.  Poland isn’t entirely defenseless, either.  Her father, Stefan, and brother, Grzegorz, are going to fight for the Free City of Danzig, a key barrier between Poland and Germany.  (FINALLY, something that talks about Danzig!)

“What sort of camera is that?”  “A Leiker.”  “Ah, German-made.  Perhaps when Harry clicks the shutter we should all duck.”

Stefan is hopeful that Poland (with the help of the long-promised British support) will successfully push back the German army.  Harry can’t bring himself to say that his homeland will likely not honor its promises in the way Stefan envisions.  Later that night, he begs with his boss to do something to help the Tomaszeski family, but his boss waves him off.  

Nancy is encountering the same reaction with her nephew, Webster, who is currently working as a doctor in Paris and enjoying every minute of its jazz scene.  While Harry’s love for Kasia makes him want to flee Warsaw with her, Webster’s budding relationship with saxophone player Albert makes him want to remain in Paris with him.

Ultimately, this first episode places its characters between the delicately balanced familiar and the incoming unfamiliar.  Despite the bodies at the border, invasion still feels so abstract as Kasia goes to work as a waitress and Douglas sips his tea at home.  

At no point is this more apparent than Stefan and Grzegorz’s arrival in Danzig.  Far from a confrontation on a literal battlefield, the father and son prepare to fend off the German arrival from a post office, and it is post office on a little peninsula in Danzig that the first shots of war are fired.  (At one point in the first attack, you can see a stack of envelopes go flying over the end of Grzegorz’s carbine.)

Outnumbered and outmanned, the Polish fighters keep fighting for hour after hour, defending the building floor by floor, and finally, room by room.  After nearly a day of combat, Grzegorz, Stefan, and Konrad are pinned in the basement with other survivors.  Realizing that reinforcements are not coming, Stefan considers surrender, but the others agree to fight on.  

As is sometimes done in period pieces, the fictional Stefan is placed in a leadership position instead of the people who actually rallied the fighters and, ultimately, raised the flag of surrender.  

The basement in which the survivors are recovering is set ablaze in the final push against the Polish.  Grzegorz watches in horror as men are burned alive in the underground inferno.  In the chaos, Stefan steps out of the gouged frame of the post office with a make-shift flag of truce.  As was, unfortunately, true to life, German soldiers open fire on the surrendering man.

Grzegorz and Konrad escape through the sewers and climb to safety in a bombed-out building.  A band of German soldiers enters close behind them, and the two hide behind a door.  But Grzegorz, whose congenital cough is exacerbated by the grime of the explosions, coughs, revealing their hiding place.  The two are led out into the town and backed against a wall for execution by a very young and frightened German soldier.  Seeing his fear, Grzegorz offers the soldier two packets of British cigarettes that Harry gave him earlier.  The soldier does not accept the cigarettes, but he does turn away at the sound of another execution.  Grzegorz and Konrad use this moment to escape once more.

The young German soldier, it turns out, is the son of Nancy’s neighbors in Berlin.  Having returned to her normal assignment in Berlin, Nancy continues to broadcast the progression of the newly-declared war, but with a more conscientious word choice than her typical bluntness.  This is Nazi Germany, and her every word is closely monitored.

The Luftwaffe fly over Warsaw in the morning.  Harry tries to find Kasia in the chaos and is thrown through the glass doors of the restaurant in the shockwave of a blast.  He proposes.  Once more, she starts to turn him down out of concern for her family, but she loves him and can’t say goodbye yet.  While the city around them recovers from the aerial bombardment, Harry and Kasia elope.  

(Only the young and in love can smile as their country is officially being invaded, I guess).

Life is much calmer in Paris, but it is not without danger.  Albert the saxophonist arrives at the American hospital where Webster works after being attacked by Action Francaise, a French extremist group that espoused many of the same beliefs as the British Union of Fascists, the Nazi party, etc.  As Webster tends to Albert’s wounds, Albert cautiously tries to determine if Webster’s interest stems from music or love.

In England, life seems even safer.  Lois has work at a factory and moonlights as a singer, her true passion, to provide for her brother, a happy-go-lucky petty thief, and her father, who turned to pacifism after his experiences in the First World War, experiences which still haunt him with shell shock, though he is embarrassed to admit it.  With the declaration of war, there seems less and less of a place for peace in the world, and Douglas is starting to fear that his children, already at odds with his pacifism, will be swept up in war like he was.

Still in school, Kasia’s little brother Jan is already on the verge of growing up too fast.  With his father and brother gone, he is technically “Man of the House,” a title swiftly refused by Kasia.  She holds Jan tightly and tells him that from now on, he will have to be very brave.  Within the course of one episode, Kasia has changed from carefree to heavy-hearted.  One way or another, she will have to leave her family behind.

Harry calls his mother, Roberta, and tells her that he will take the next train out of Warsaw.  Far removed from any danger (and partial to the very fascism that brought it!), Roberta is too busy planning a party with her wealthy friends to be terribly concerned.  

Before he can tell her that he is bringing his new wife home with him, Harry chickens out.  There isn’t really a good way to say you’ve moved on from your British kind-of girlfriend that your mother hated to marry your Polish girlfriend that your mother will definitely hate.

But no matter.  There’ll be time enough when he gets home.  

The train station is packed with people fleeing the city and saying goodbye, perhaps forever, to their loved ones.  Harry, dressed in wide-brimmed hat and trench coat like a British Rick Blaine, anxiously waits for Kasia to arrive.  But Casablanca, this is not.  Kasia emerges from the sea of people, Jan in tow.  He’s come to see them off, Kasia explains with a kiss. Harry loads her light suitcase onto the train as Kasia says her goodbyes to her little brother.  

And this is where the show convinced me to follow it to the end.  As the train begins to leave, Harry holding her suspiciously light suitcase, Kasia lifts Jan onto the train and slams the door behind him.  “If you love me,” she shouts to Harry over the shriek of the train whistle, “You’ll watch over Jan.”  

As the train carries a stunned Jan and Harry away, Kasia cranes for a final look at the family she will have to live without, for she has made up her mind not to flee as a refugee, but to fight on like her father and her brother and the thousands of other Polish volunteers against the oncoming storm.

Closing Thoughts

At first, I thought it was a strange choice to start the series with Harry and Lois’s arrest, especially since the relationship between the two characters could easily have been communicated through the editing like the Rossler family.  

But after rewatching the first episode, I began to realize the bigger themes of this series.  The threat of fascism is not simply Germany and Italy versus the World, but a possibility in England and France, too.  The inclusion of the BUF and Action Francais brings out the movements that could have risen higher in their countries, blending the simple lines of this country is good, this country is bad often drawn in period pieces.

World on Fire shakes up the typical portrayal of war by basing it on the ground with civilians from perspectives not traditionally seen in media.  Sure, there are the strapping young British guys of Harry and Tom who will inevitably be involved in the more familiar portraits of heroics, but the use of a translator and petty criminal as your average war heroes is a twist on the clichés.

More refreshingly, the show spotlights the people often left on the fringes of war portraits, if included at all.  The most obvious example of this is Albert Fallou, a gay black French musician (when was the last time you heard those four words together when describing a TV character?).  War correspondents, too, are given their due through Nancy, our psuedo-narrator and historical guide who reminds the viewers of how many journalists on the front lines or the heart of enemy territory continued to witness the war at risk of censorship or a more dangerous punishment.  The Tomaszeski family especially ascends to the heroes of the episode from the delightful, but doomed Stefan to his resilient children.

Ultimately, this show provokes its viewers to sympathize with the characters and their situations because of how similar the people are regardless of their unimaginable experiences.

Historical Notes

Nancy Campbell is an amalgamation of multiple historic people.  Like Claire Hollingworth, the British journalist for The Daily Telegraph, she discovers German forces amassing along the Polish border (while driving a borrowed car).  Hollingworth was also responsible for the first report of the war’s outbreak and, in earlier that year, had arranged for the visas of thousands of refugees.  Like William L. Shirer and Howard K. Smith, Nancy broadcasts the early days of the war from Berlin.

Professional and uniformed soldier Stefan waving a make-shift white flag is likely a reference to Dr. Jan Michon, the director of the Polish Post Office central to this episode.  

There are fleeting moments with other people who were historically involved in the event, too, such as the ten-year old Erwina Barzychowska who was hiding with her family during the onslaught

and Konrad Guderski, who held off the incoming Germans during the first attack with a grenade.  

(However, the show makes a confusing choice of including another character named Konrad who escapes with Grzegorz.)

While the war began officially on September 1st, 1939, the Siege of Warsaw did not become a ground fight until a week later (which is why Warsaw is still in relatively good shape by the end of this episode) Polish soldiers and volunteers managed to defend the city for nearly a month until capitulation.  The city was officially occupied starting October 1st until January 1945.

Observations

I love the detail that Harry uses a dishrag to change the lightbulb in the camera.  

Dan Jones’s score is fantastic, especially during the train station scene when the whistle of the train and the hiss of the wheels are incorporated into the orchestration.

Sources

Danzig:

http://brushesandbayonets.blogspot.com/2016/09/01ix1939-defence-of-polish-post-office.html

http://www.stampnewsnow.com/PDF_Pages/1-Poland.pdf

Clare Hollingworth:

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-37606306

https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-38573643

More on American Reporters:

https://www.loc.gov/exhibits/wcf/

[fanficslutforsmut]

The Walking Blind: Chapter 5

*************Monet's POV********** I could hear people yelling, it was frantic outside, it wasn't so close so I knew it wasn't the cells. I could still hear Daryl's voice talking to Rick, eavesdropping was like second nature now, needing to know everything going on around me. I sat up a little in the bed, moving my legs over the ledge. Bear whined as I stood up, immediately grabbing onto the cell door for stability. I squeezed my eyes shut, the dizziness was bearable but still, the room spun around me.

I was determined to see what the commotion was about. I walked further, out of the cell, Bear walking close to my side, nudging me every once in a while. My breath was labored and I was so tired.

"Carl?" I asked, hoping he was close.

"Right here," He said quietly, tapping his foot, I turned to my left.

"What's going on?"

"Some women showed up, with the stuff Glenn and Maggie were supposed to be getting." He told me, grabbing my hand and leading me closer to the voices.

"We can tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water and then send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us and why you were carrying formula." Ricks's voice was dominant and strong. Even without being able to see him, his voice alone could shake anyone to their core.

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl." The women's voice was quiet but she was holding her own.

"What happened?"

"Were they attacked?" I heard Hershal's voice now, he was fearing the worst.

My stomach dropped and I held onto Carl's shoulder. I was also fearing the worst, that my stupidity had cost them their life. That my need for medicine and other unnecessary things had gotten them eaten alive. I let silent tears fall from my eyes as I continued to listen.

"They were taken." She answered. I furrowed my brows, taken?

"Taken? By who?" Rick asked her.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me." She was cut off in the end by Rick, his footsteps advancing a bit.

"Hey, these are our people. You tell us what happened now!" He growled. I tensed as I heard the woman groan in pain before moving.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" She hissed, and suddenly I was back in a world filled with Carter. I didn't want to believe Rick was hurting her but the evidence was clear, and this time I could reason with why he was doing it, we were missing out people.

"You'd better start talking. You're gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound." I heard Daryl tell her. I closed my eyes. Hoping the women would just give up the information so we could let her go. Alive.

"Find 'em yourself." She told them, and suddenly god was laughing in my face, telling me my hopes were useless in this world.

"Hey, sh sh sh" His footsteps were loud as he walked around, trying to get her back on track.  "You came here for a reason," "There's a town, wood bury, about seventy-five survivors, I think they were taken there." "A whole town?" Rick questioned her.

"It's run by this guy who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type." She sneered. By the sounds of it, this meant trouble. A whole town, kidnapping our two people, I'm not sure if we can win this one but I know that Rick wouldn't let this stop them from trying, especially Hershal, Maggie was his daughter for crying out loud.

"He got muscle?" Daryl asked. My heart jumped a little every time I heard his voice. I don't know if it's the fact that he saved me not only once but now twice that was making me act this way but I didn't want it to stop either way.

"Paramilitary wannabes. They have armed entries on every wall." "You know a way in?" Rick asked. "The place is secure from walers, but we could slip our way through." The mystery woman replied. "How'd you know how to get here?" Rick sniffed. "They mentioned a prison, said which direction it was in, this it was a straight shot."  She told him a matter of factly.

"This is Hershal, the father of the girl who was taken," Rick told her. I learned a little on Carl, my head getting lighter, I kept shifting my weight from side to side, trying to keep my breath quiet as we lurked. "He'll take care of that."

"Come on they're coming out now," Carl told me, helping me wobble back to some tables. We sat down just in time for the footsteps to be in the same room as us now.

"What're you doin out of bed, you need to rest," Daryl asked, touching my back. I flinched for a second, relaxing into his touch, thinking of a lie quick.

"I wanted to make friends?" It was more of a question than an answer but he still huffed, obviously not believing me.  "Can I have some water please, I'm really thirsty," I told Daryl, hoping I could ask Carl about what he saw. Daryl just hummed, walking away, I turned back to Carl.

"Alright tell me what you saw, what was she like?" I asked him lowly. "She's black, with long hair, it looks weird." "Weird how? Poofy or like ropes?" I cut him off, I needed a good description. "Ropes." "They're called dreadlocks," I told him. He hummed and kept on with his description.

"She was shot in the leg, and she has a really cool sword." He told me. I bit my lip not being able to make a good picture in my head from the lack of detail but I took what I could get before Daryl came back, touching my arm and holding the bottle out for me, which I took gratefully.

"Thank you," I told him quietly. "Go on," Daryl told Carl, who scrambled away from the table. "Hey, he's my friend." I scowled. "Be nice," I told him, he huffed, grabbing my hand and lifting me slightly.

"You need to lay down." He told me, leading Bear and me up the stairs back to our cell. "Will you stay with me?" I asked him once we reached the room. "Can't gotta help Rick out, Glenn and Maggie were taken, gotta get 'em back." He told me. I frowned now remembering why they were in that mess.

"I'm so sorry this happened," I told him, choking back the cries. From the sound of it, the people at this town aren't like the close-knit family I was brought into by Daryl.

Daryl hummed,  giving me the lightest squeeze before letting go and leaving me. After a few moments, I heard footsteps coming back.

"Daryl?" I questioned the unknown person I could sense standing in the doorway.

"It's us, Carl and Beth." The girly voice called out quietly.

"Come in." I smiled, patting the mattress I was now sitting on. The weight dipped on it a bit but it was heavier than I thought Carl would be, so I assumed it was Beth.

"Got anything for me? Who's all going?" I asked, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Well, right now my daddy's fixin that lady up," Beth told me. "But then my dad, Daryl, Oscar, and I think Axel is going too," Carl emphasized the word describing Rick. I nodded humming, picking at my fingers, worrying about Daryl. I mean how would these odds look to anyone? Four against a town?

"I gotta go, I know my daddy's probably looking for me, talk to you later, Monet," Beth said, hurriedly walking out of the cell just as Hershal called for her. I waved. "I'm gonna go too, say bye to my dad," Carl said, following Beth, I just stayed silent and sat on the bed for a few minutes.

"God this is boring, huh bubby?" I asked Bear, patting his head. I stood up, Bear instantly standing flush against my leg. I put my arms in front of me, talking small and slow steps around the cell. I walked to the door, then turned to face the inside of it.

The bunks were on the right side, then about three steps to the left there was an empty table against the wall. Walking further into the cell there was a small toilet and an equally small sink next to that, there was a mirror above the sink, very useless in my case. The walls were baren cement blocks, paint slightly chipping away in some places.

"I brought you some sheets and blankets and pillows, and a curtain for your door." I recognized Carol's voice. I turned around.

"Oh thank you, you didn't have to but I appreciate it," I told her, giving her my best smile. She helped me with the tiny fitted sheet.

"Can you tell me anything about the group, at least the more grown-up details?" I asked her as I put the blankets on the bed, putting the pillows on the end closer to the back of the cell. I sat down on the comfortable bed, waiting for her response.

"Like what?" "I don't know, how did everyone find each other, is this everyone, was there more?" I was a broken damn, flooding her with questions.

"Well, when this all started we were all stuck on a highway, there was way more than now." She paused. "Then when people started meeting one another we set up a little camp sort of thing a little way out of Atlanta, Glenn would get supplies from the city, the girls did the woman's work, Daryl and his brother hunted for us."

"Daryl has a brother?" I cut her off, scooting forward at the interesting thought.

"Mhmm," She hummed. "His name was Merle. The last time Glenn went out to the city he took Merle, and a few others and when he came back Merle was gone and Rick was there." She tells me.

"What happened?"

"Merle was being Merle. Racist and an asshole, Rick handcuffed him to the roof and they left him there, T-Dog dropped the key or something and when they came back for him he was gone, just his hand left." She told me. I nodded, eyes scrunched. She continues.

"Rick found his wife and Carl at the camp with us and his old partner. He used to be a Sherrif deputy. I had my husband, son of a bitch, and my daughter Sophie. We had a lot of other people, but one night, walkers came and got so many of them, nearly half." I nodded.

"They got my husband, other families, they got Andrea's sister. So we moved out of there, got to the CDC, it was ok at first. Big dinner, lots of drinking, then the guy there told us there was no cure, there was no hope. He tried to blow us up and almost succeeded. We lost more there.  Then we were back on the highway and while we were looking for supplies there was just this huge hoard of them, probably a hundred or so, and my baby got scared, and some walkers chased her into the woods." Carol paused, taking a deep breath, taking a moment to reminisce in her loss, to remember her sweet baby like how she used to be.

"We separated and looked for days, and then one day this lady on a horse came running to us screaming for Laurie, Carl's mother, saying he's been shot, she tells us to meet them at a farm and we do. That's where we met Hershal and his family. We stayed there for a while but then there were just some problems and we lost even more people and another hoard shows up and drove us out." She sighed.

"We were jumping from house to house, anywhere we could hide for a bit until we found this place, cleared it out and made it ours. Lost some people doing that too." I decided not to question her about her daughter, I already assumed her untimely demise. I nodded, feeling for her hand.

"I can't imagine your losses, and I can only hope your journey in this world become lighter," I told her, squeezing her hand.

"Thank you, sweetheart, it's our journey now. I don't think you're leaving us anytime soon, you're part of the family now." She laughed, kissing m forehead. I flinched back a bit but accepter her embrace. I missed my mother, her soft hugs.

"I don't know about that, Rick doesn't seem so fond of me." I laughed warily.

"Don't worry, Daryl won't let anything happen to you." She told me. I nodded, smiling at the ground. "Plus I think Carl's got a crush on ya." She nudged my shoulder, I laughed a little.

##############

Tagged:

@nikki082489 @theunofficialduke @lonewolf471

Masterlist

[rivaltimes]

Pro-Russian militias in Lugansk report the arrest of a Belarusian paramilitary battalion

Pro-Russian militias in Lugansk report the arrest of a Belarusian paramilitary battalion

File – Soldier in Lisichansk, Ukraine – Rick Mave/SOPA Images via ZUMA P / DPA – File The militias of the self-proclaimed Lugansk People’s Republic (PLR) have reported this Monday the arrest of a regiment of the Volat Battalion, a paramilitary organization of Belarusian nationalist ideology. As reported to the Russian news agency TASS by the assistant minister of the Interior of the RPL, Vitali…

[mugsywrites]

Love your idea about Denise doing psych assessments of new recruits. And I’m so excited to hear that the homesteading au is going well. Do you think you’ll be posting anything soon? For it or Ripples?

Like many things on TWD, it’s such a wasted opportunity for some character development. I mean, they did a little of it with Deanna’s interviews of them all but it would have been interesting for a shrink to question them.

As for Homesteading AU: Maybe? Let me just explain my writing process: 1)I do a basic outline, 2)start writing somewhere in the middle, work my way toward the end and 3) go back and figure out how things got there/fill in the gaps. But doing that means I usually rewrite huge swaths of the ending.

For example: the skeletal outline of “Fables” was “Daryl is injured and stays at Hilltop after the war, while there he falls in love with Jesus, they sleep together, Daryl has a gay panic moment and runs away to the ASZ, Jesus goes after him and something happens which makes Daryl and the group have to look for him, they have an angry confrontation and admit their feelings for each other” . From that the earliest scenes I wrote were the night they slept together for the first time and Daryl left, also scene where Paul confronts Daryl about it and the final scene where Daryl tells him he loves him back. The only thing that remains of those last two scenes are some of the dialog since once I started working toward that the plot changed significantly: Originally the Whisperers were going to be the baddies, and Daryl was going to get bitten and wouldn’t find out until the last chapter that it wasn’t from a zombie and he was going to live. The Whisperers were abandoned because I realized it would take too much time and attention to set them up as baddies, especially when I worked out the best way of telling the story was alternating chapters of “Now” and “Then”. I wanted the “Now” chapters to be shorter and take place over a day or two in contrast to the months covered in the “Then” chapters and that just wasn’t enough for the Whisperers. I changed it to Paul getting injured because the story began with them not sure if Daryl would live and ends with them not sure Paul will, which was a nice little bookend instead of just repetitive.

So that long ramble is just to explain that I’m sort of on step 2 right now, but since it’s an AU of my AU and I’m jumping around a bit I have most of the first couple of chapters roughed out, but I’ve been mostly working on some middle-to-end bits. As small reward for anyone’s patience in reading that ramble, here’s an out-of-context, likely to be deleted/altered significantly, and unedited bit of a scene I’ve been working on (apologies that it’s more TF focused than Desus focused:

“I don’t know where my husband is,” Michonne says quietly, “We were separated a few days ago, and when we went looking…he wasn’t where he said he’d be.”

“What happened?” Paul asks. He wishes Daryl were already home, if Michonne and Carl’s people are out here on the mountain then Daryl would find them. But he’ll be out on his hunt for another two days at least.

“Group of us are on our way to Washington,” she says. She glances to the living room behind her, where Carl has fallen asleep. “It’s a long story.”

“Well. I’ve got time. But you should probably sleep. So should I.”

She gives a weak smile, “I can’t sleep.”

“Not alone?” Paul says with sympathy.

“I can sleep alone,” she answers, “I just can’t sleep when I’m the one doing the waiting.”

Paul nods; he understands this too well. When he’s the one out on a supply run with Daryl and Clementine holding down the fort here at 19 Chicopee Paul sleeps wherever he can find shelter and is out as soon as he lays down. When Daryl’s the one out on one of his hunts even in a warm and comfortable bed in their almost-safe home then Paul is wide awake. “How long have you been married?” Paul asks.

Michonne pauses, “I-we didn’t really have a ceremony, you know? He wasn’t my husband from before.”

Paul has already guessed this; Carl obviously isn’t her biological child anymore than Clem is his.“How’d you meet?”

Michonne’s face changes, goes blank. “It was…maybe a year ago. I was alone,” Michonne says, “for a long time. Lost everything, everyone. It was just me and…” she swallows and looks away, and Paul doesn’t press. He can guess the gist of it, and he thinks if Daryl were gone he would probably cut himself off from everyone as well. “I wasn’t crazy…I was just…gone,” Michonne continues, “One day I found a woman in the woods. Carol. Surrounded by walkers. And for some reason I decided to stop and help. Saved her life. Then it was the two of us.” A faint smile, “Carol…she was pretty much gone too. But we helped each other find our way back. At least part of the way. It was the first winter after everything happened. In the spring…that’s when we found Woodbury.” Her voice grows dark. “It was a big group, an entire town. Was run by this guy who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy, charming,” she grimaces, “in a Jim Jones type of way.”

Paul knows exactly the type of guy she’s talking about. He nods for her to continue.

“Or more like they found us. Carol’d gotten sick, and the Governor and his men found us. Brought us to Woodbury. We both knew something wasn’t right from the start. Sentries on every wall. Paramilitary wannabes. I wanted to get out of there right away, but Carol was still too sick. By the time she got better she told me we should stay put for a bit. Watch these people,” she snorts. Paul can read her face well enough to know that whatever relationship she had with this woman, it was complicated. Michonne shakes her head, “Carol’s…you’d never notice Carol, not before. Susie Homemaker. Soccer mom. Looks like she’d jump six feet if a mouse farted. No one notices a woman like that now either. She could bake you cookies with a smile then slit your throat without changing her expression. Within a day or two she’s part of a ladies’ social and making dinner for old folks and everybody’s talking to her.” She shrugs, lost in the memory, “Not like me. Carol said I was about as subtle as knife to the crotch.”

Paul can believe it. The woman at his dinner table is soft-spoken, genteel, and nothing like the ferocious mama bear defending her cub he’d met in the woods earlier that day. Even so, “subtle” is the last thing she is. She’s the sort of woman who walks in a room and draws attention without effort. “What’d the two of you find out?”

“That this Governor was a fucking psychopath,” Michonne replies, eyes dark. “Him and his goons raided other settlements for supplies. I think the only reason he didn’t kill the two of us right away was because we had nothing he wanted to take. At Woodbury he had a makeshift arena with weekly ‘gladiator matches’ where you fought in a pit with walkers chained to either side. Had a room full of fishtanks with decapitated walker heads. Kept his dead daughter—Penny—in chains in his house. Thought she could be cured.”

Paul can feel the blood draining from his face, “Holy fuck,” he whispers softly. “And people at Woodbury…they just went along with it?”

She shrugs, “Most people there didn’t want to know. He was keeping them safe, and fed, and together. His soldiers knew, but they didn’t care either. Some of them liked it, like his number two. Merle,” she spits the name out.

Paul’s stomach plummets, and he must look like he’s seen a ghost because Michonne asks him what’s wrong. “Nothing,” he starts to say, but she looks like the sort of woman who can see through lies, so he admits, “My brother-in-law was called Merle. Merle Dixon. And he was a son-of-a-bitch. Ran around with white supremacist militias and dealt meth. Reacted how you’d expect when he found out his little brother was gay.”

Her face goes still, “I never found out his last name, but that sounds like our Merle. Fifties, beefy, blue eyes, gotta mouth on him.”

Paul’s heart races, “He was in jail when everything happened, I’m sure there are a lot of redneck assholes in the state of Georgia called Merle.”

“Well, the world gets smaller at the end. Something Merle said himself. See, he knew Carol. They were in the same group at the beginning, before they kicked him out. The rest of Carol’s group…she thought the world of them. One of them died saving her life, right before I found her. Carl’s mother.” She gives a small smile at Paul’s look of confusion, “Me and Carol were getting ready to escape  when the Governor brought in a new group, one Carol recognized.”

“The one she was with before, with Merle,” Paul says, amazed.

Michonne nods, “World keeps getting smaller. So maybe it is your brother-in-law out there in the woods after us. The night I found her, Carol’s group was overrun by a herd and she got separated. Must’ve thought she died with Lori. They were glad to see her, even…” She trails off, eyes seeing something else, “That’s when I met Rick.” Her voice is unsteady when she says her husband’s name.