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emily-strange · 5 years

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Growing Pains...

Chapter 5! Just a short one before some fun…

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: None I don’t think!

Chapter 5

Sean held me as I cried and hiccupped my way through a jumbled explanation of why Micah doesn’t like me. Couldn’t like me. And Lord, why I couldn’t like him! He’s Micah! I told him that the only thing I can do is forget about the whole thing.

“Wat we need ta do is get you laid” he whispered to me as we walked back to camp. For the rest of the day I hung out with my best friend and tried to forget my silly little crush. We drank and sang. And now I’m lying on my cot, staring up at the ceiling of my tent, wondering why the heck I spent all day drinking and singing. Thankfully the headache has gone and now I just feel sluggish.

I throw myself off my cot and put on my boots. I’ve never been an early riser but lunchtime is a bit ridiculous. Susan’s been shouting outside for hours and I’m pretty sure I heard her slap Mary-Beth. Susan’s only slapped me once, a long time ago. I can’t even remember why but when I ran off, John came to find me. He talked me down from my hiding tree and walked me back to the camp on his shoulders. I saw Bessie take Susan inside, we had a nice little shack back then, and since then she’s never laid a finger on me. Bessie was taken far too soon.

I leave my tent and see the girls sitting by the water eating their lunch. Damn I feel guilty for sleeping in so long. I’ll make it up to them. Before Sean was brought back, I was up till the early hours doing chores, since I wasn’t allowed to help find him and had to keep myself busy. So, I’m sure they don’t mind too much. I just hate looking like a slacker.

I decide to see if Arthur’s back but when I turn to his tent, I can see that he’s either not been back or he’s already up and gone again. I don’t hear Sean so I can only assume he’s off somewhere as well.

I sigh “Well hi and bye then. I guess.”

A voice hits my ears from behind me and as I turn, I realise how close I am to Micah. Damn he really is sneaky. And smells like soap. Does Micah actually wash?

“Aww what’s wrong sweetheart? No one to play with?” he laughs. But his laughter fades off as I simply stand and look at him in silence. Dutch always told me that to get someone to quieten down, you should whisper and they’ll follow suit. So, I figure if I want someone to shut up, I should try saying nothing. I do however grace him with my sweetest smile.

After a moment he stops laughing and clears his throat. “You uh, you lookin’ for Morgan?”. I nod and he scoffs, “He’s gone off wiiiiith the young kid. Lenny. Plus Dutch and Hosea. Summit about fishin’ or…well I weren’t really listenin’”

I can’t help it. I throw my head back and growl. I’m not even allowed to go fishing!?

“Ooh don’t worry miss, you know what they say. When the cats away, them mice can play” he says starting to wander off, but stops and looks completely perplexed when I breakout into a wide, toothy grin.

“Thank you, Micah. That was surprisingly helpful.” I say before dashing back to my tent and grabbing my satchel and revolver, before running over to saddle Jett.

“Woah woah there, whatta you doing?” Micah asks while following me. I carry on saddling Jett while I fill him in quickly, “Well, like you said, when the cats away.”

I look at Micah the moment it seems to dawn on him what I mean, “So you thinking ol’ Bill’s gonna let you just ride on outta here eh?” he asks while walking over to Baylock.

I mount Jett and trot her over to him, “To be honest Micah, Bill couldn’t catch me on my worst day. Let alone when I’ve been stuck in camp for weeks on end”. I think the fact that I’ll actually be leaving camp has made me giddy, because before I can even question whether it’s a good idea or not, I wink at Micah and ride off.

I winked. At Micah.

The reality of that doesn’t dawn on me until I’m speeding passed Bill. I can hear him shout something but I don’t stop to find out what. I’m just gone! Galloping and galloping, feeling the wind on my face. It’s been far too long.

I don’t know how long I ride for but I slow when I feel Jett begin to falter. Poor girl needs to get her stamina back up. Maybe I’ll ask someone to ride her when I can’t. It’s not her fault I’m in prison.

As I slow, I hear steps come up quickly behind me. I’d taken quite a few twists and turns on my way to wherever here is so I doubt anyone would be so close unless they were in fact, following me. I wait until I hear the horse behind me slow before I whip myself around and point my gun at the face of my stalker.

“MICAH!” I shout “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’!? I could’ve shot you!”.

Micah gives that awful chuckle and sidles up next to me before speaking, “Awh now why would you wanna do that!” he smirks and I can only take a deep, calming breath before speaking again. Something he definitely notices.

“Why are you here Micah?” I sigh. I can’t believe he followed me, “I don’t need protectin’”.

“Oh I didn’t think ya did. But me ridin’ out here after ya is the only thing keepin’ Mr Williamson from tattling to the boss man once ya back” Micah explains.

“Goddamn Bill. Always the brownnoser” I growl and at that, Micah does smirk. I glance over to him. He’s leaning forward on Baylock with his arms resting on the saddle horn. I can’t help laugh with him. “I know Bill means well..” I continue but Micah interrupts me.

“Ah Bill’s a drunk idiot most’a the time” he says and straightens up “You’re allowed to not like everyone all the time ya know”. I take a second before responding.

“But if I thought like that Micah, we’d never get along.” I say mockingly. I hope my smile makes it clear that I’m joking and by his reply, I think it does the job.

“Get along do we?” he says before leaning over and whispering to me “Well ain’t that nice”.

How does he keep doing this to me?

“So, what’s the plan.” He asks, changing the subject.

“To be honest I don’t know. Just wanted some fresh air.” I shrug.

“Ooh well, looks like you got that” he gestures towards me and lets out a loud, Micah laugh. It takes me a moment but I move my hands to my hair and realise that it’s an absolute mess. Why didn’t I plait it before I came out!? How mortifying.

I run my fingers through the matted strands for a few seconds before deciding to just put it up with the piece of string I wear around my wrist. Those fancy bands snap too easily and Arthur said he didn’t have the time to fish around “ladies cupboards for them” when robbin’.

Micah’s laughter dies down and he sits back up properly on Baylock.

“There’s a little town not far from here, come on’” he kicks Baylock forward and I do the same with Jett. “Where’re we goin’?” I shout to him over the sound of galloping hooves.

“I’ll treat the lady to a drink” is all he shouts back and I slow Jett momentarily before getting her to catch up.

“Oh” I say, only to myself, and can’t help the smile that breaches my face.

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wellhellofuture · 6 years

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Ask Away (Steve/Peggy, 1/36 Shorts)

So I’m a little late to the Steggy Week 2018 celebrations but this has been rattling around my head for a while. Based on the 36 Questions to Fall in Love, which you can read about here: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html

Basically I wrote a short for each question with Steve & Pegs. Some are very loosely based (like this one). Enjoy! (Hopefully will be on AO3 soon)

Question 1: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest? (I took this more as “Where in the world would you want to be right now?”)

Steve Rogers was euphoric.

Actually, he was completely and utterly exhausted, but his running theory involved his body’s exhaustion being so thorough that he could no longer catalogue each ache and pain. Thus he had passed on to sheer, numbing contentment. In all fairness, he had as many reasons to appreciate his good fortune as well as his fatigue. He had all but given up on ever making it to Camp Lehigh, not after five consecutive enlistment rejections. Yet here he was, training to be a super soldier, no less!

Well, maybe he wasn’t at super soldier level quite yet. Steve winced as he settled himself on the unyielding metal bench of the mess hall tables. His rear end ached with every shift of his weight, his head pounded from lack of water throughout the hot summer day, and he was pretty sure he could taste blood. Even the simple act of lifting his fork to his mouth sent an uncomfortable twinge through his bicep. He wasn’t delusional; he knew there was next to no chance of the SSR selecting him as the Project Rebirth candidate. He’d seen his health record shoved into his face far too many times: he was not super solider material. Even on this, their first day, Private Hodges had stood out as the prime physical specimen. The only thing stopping the SSR from shooting Hodges up with the serum right this instant was their worry that the world wouldn’t be big enough to contain his super-soldier ego.

Nevertheless, Steve’s presence in the mess hall, and at the camp in general, gave him hope that he might be allowed to serve one day if he could just survive the training. He’d never be the leader galvanizing troops at the frontlines, but maybe he could be part of the charge into battle. After all, he’d finished his first mile run of his life today. Nevermind the fact that all the other recruits had kept running for nine more miles; Steve’s vision had gone black at lack of oxygen a tenth of the way into the run and he’d collapsed on the side of the road for the medic to find. But he’d given it his all, darn it. His lungs simply weren’t on the same level as his enthusiasm. (To Steve’s utter embarrassment, Agent Carter and General Phillips, along with the other recruits, had managed to lap back around the path before the medic could get him up off the ground. He could take the teasing from the guys, he’d had that all his life, but the concern and disappointment in his superiors’ eyes was almost more than he could bear.)

Around him, the walls of the mess hall reflected back general din of military men at mealtimes. The most creative curses he’d ever heard colored most sentences. Spoons and forks added a background clattering as recruits scraped every morsel of Slop #4 off of their cheap tin trays. Laughter and shouts of mirth added punches of color to the rowdy atmosphere. The general mood was upbeat, though to Steve it seemed that a sense of desperation colored the unrealistically chipper conversations. These men had known what they were signing on to, after all. In all likelihood, many would soon ship out to the front and not all would return. Steve supposed it was only natural to feel a sense of bravado, a protection from the stark vulnerability of war. He’d just never been one to hide his feelings behind crude humor or hyperbolic tales. He guessed that was probably because he wasn’t all that funny.

To Steve’s left, a larger guy with glasses—he’d been next to Steve in marshal. Russell? Romero?—made a lewd joke about the two women he’d been with the night before he’d enlisted as his captive audience howled with laughter. To Steve’s right, Hodges and his admirers were engaged in a rousing game of Have You Ever.

“Yeah, but hav’ya eva’ taken one gal out f’lunch and anotha’one out f’dinna?” This came from a big, beefy guy by the name of Miller, clearly proud of his accomplishment. His neighbor, a tall, wiry string bean of a guy from Georgia, looked him up and down before saying, “Didja eat ‘em both for dessert after, Mills?” He clapped Miller on the gut as the entire end of the table dissolved into snorts. Miller, on his part, looked offended.

“‘Course not, I boughta slice of cream pie!” he protested, which did not help the giggling all that much. Steve shared Miller’s confusion but supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if he didn’t get the joke.

Steve turned his attention back to his tray and tried to muster up the enthusiasm to eat what passed as a meal in the army. Due to his health, he’d never been very active, and consequently rarely had much of an appetite. Despite his excruciating day of physical training, the mound on his tray looked about as appetizing as the mucus he’d coughed up when he had that particularly bad case of pneumonia back in January, but if he didn’t eat he’d certainly pass out again tomorrow. He huffed a sigh of resignation, grimacing at the stiffness as his chest expanded, and set to the task at hand. He was two swallows into his meal when the seats across from him, empty thus far, were suddenly filled by the bodies of Agent Carter and General Phillips.

“Hello, boys,” Phillips barked. “Sorry to break up the party, but Carter and I are your dinner dates for the evening.” Evidently not sorry, and not particularly bothered by the opinions of the recruits, Phillips plunked himself down next to Hodges. Agent Carter settled in a bit more primly, directly across from Steve. He blushed a pale red for no reason other than the presence of a member of the fairer sex and ducked his head to avoid her gaze.

As Agent Carter settled in, a whispered comment came from the far end of the table followed by poorly-disguised guffaws. Phillips turned and raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Got somethin’ to say down there?” he ground out. “I’m sure Agent Carter and I would love to hear your words of wisdom.” Miller and company, from whom the comment and laugher had originated, at least had the decency to look guilty.

The conversation, stalled by the arrival of the higher-ups, slowly regained momentum, this time a bit more suitable for public ears. Soon, the whole table joined in.

“I’m plannin’ on goin’ out west after the war, fellas. I hear California’s real nice. And all the dames out there wear nothin’ but swimsuits all the damn day. Some of ‘em even wear those flashy two pieces,” Hodges said with a sleazy smirk. It might’ve just been Steve’s imagination, but he thought he saw the slightest tick of a muscle in Agent Carter’s jaw as she delicately scooped a bite of her dinner onto her fork.

“Y’know where I’d go if I could go anywhere? Florida. Get on a boat, grab some lady friends, couple beers. Spend a whole month just fishin’,” Russell said with a slight smile. “They got real good fishin’ companies down there. Could probably make myself a decent livin’, and have some pretty damn good eatin’ too,” he mused, his eyes misty with thoughts of a future far from walls to scale and barbed wire to crawl under. Then his neighbor elbowed the arm that propped up his chin and the moment was lost, traded for the reality of wartime.

From then, the question went around the table clockwise, each man sharing where he wished he could be right then. A short, stocky fellow from Texas wanted to go to Colorado to go skiing; Bulgarelli, from Jersey, wanted to get fondue in Switzerland; MacGregor wanted to see the belly dancers in Latin America. One by one, the recruits offered a tiny sliver of the dream that kept them focused, motivated them through the endless tortures of training. Some spoke briefly; others waxed poetic on the specific dinner or event they wished to experience after it was all over. By the time the question rolled around to the man on Agent Carter’s right, they’d been talking for the better part of half an hour. The mess hall was nearly empty and the clock on the wall revealed that it was well past time to report to their barracks. Steve got the distinct impression that Agent Carter and Phillips were taking everyone’s answer quite seriously, and it dawned on him that eating with them at dinner yet another way of screening the Project Rebirth candidates.

Kowalski wrapped up his tale of diving off the coast of the Bermudas and turned to Agent Carter. “Well, Agent, y’got someplace you’d rather be?” he asked boldly. Agent Carter raised a perfect eyebrow and leveled him with a cool stare.

“Why yes, in fact I do. You boys are not the only ones allowed to think of a time after this war. I think I would quite like to head straight to New York. There’s a club all my American friends can’t stop talking about, some bird name or something. I think I’d spend my first free evening there,” she finished. “General, I do believe it’s your turn.”

Agent Carter turned away from Kowalski to fiddle with her wristwatch. Her gaze caught Steve’s and he managed to hold it for 3 whole seconds before he felt warmth creeping up his neck. He hurriedly glanced down at his long-congealed leftovers, but couldn’t get the image of prim, proper, stunning Agent Carter walking into a club like she owned the place. Perhaps in a dress to match her lipstick, always that perfect crisp crimson, even after hours of surveying recruits in the sun. He completely missed General Phillips’s quiet, gruff answer of “Home to my wife” as well as several descriptions of a beach with women and no one else in sight. Steve couldn’t miss the continued tightening of Agent Carter’s jawline with each continued answer along that vein. It was finally Miller who broke her facade, not that Steve was surprised.

“I’d go t’France right this moment if I could. Them dames out there don’t wear tops at th’beach, fellas, whatcha think ‘bout that? Spread out, wine ‘em and dine ‘em,” Miller said, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. His face clearly betrayed what exactly he planned to do after the wine ‘em and dine ‘em part of his fantasy.

Agent Carter let out a huff, clearly exasperated. “You are aware of the war happening in France right now, aren’t you, Private Miller? Or are you just here for the ambiance and fine cuisine?” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Miller, stuck on the tri-syllabic ‘ambiance’, opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shut it again. Steve grinned into his plate.

As the question continued to circle the table, Steve stole glances at Agent Carter out of the corner of his eye. A spot of color had appeared on the tops of her cheeks, likely a result of her little outburst. She was, quite literally, the most gorgeous woman Steve had ever seen in his life. She was --

“Rogers? Private Rogers!” It took General Phillips snapping in his face for Steve to break from his reverie. He belatedly realized the whole table was staring at him, waiting for his answer. Hodges was in the middle of an eye roll so intense Steve wondered idly if his eyes might not come back from that far into his skull.

“Oh, I, uh,” he began. “Er…”

He glanced around, mind helpfully blank of the list of places he and Bucky had made when Bucky had gotten his first job and they’d dreamed of traveling the world together with those thirty cents per hour he'd made. As Steve scanned the mess hall, desperately hoping for something to pop into his head, he caught a glimpse of the flag whipping around the flagpole through the window. Lit up by a lone bulb in the dusk, the white stars and stripes seemed to glow against the royal blue and scarlet background. Memories of each of his five enlistment rejections flipped through his head, accompanied by feelings of unimportance and uselessness. He’d pushed for so long to serve under that flag, refusing to give up while there were still people out there suffering. A whisper of a smile dancing on his lips, Steve had his answer.

“I think…I would stay right here. Y’know, get used to the whole slop stuff. Maybe if I eat enough of it I’ll sink right to the bottom of the mud and swim right under the barbs by next week,” he joked. There was a moment of silence, then the whole table erupted in hoots and laughter. Even General Phillips looked heavenward as if for patience.

But Agent Carter simply gave him a good long look, tilting her head ever so slightly to the left. He shivered under her gaze but held it, encouraged by the hunch that he’d impressed her. A second ticked by, then another, then ever so slowly, a smile drew up one corner of her mouth. With the briefest of nods, she turned to Phillips.

“Seeing as the only place these boys are headed in the near future is back on the training course, I’d say it’s high time for lights out. Shall we?” she said, slipping off the bench smoothly. “If no one besides Rogers reports to supper tomorrow we shall know where you all have gone. Though Miller, I’d advise against France. Wine and topless women aren’t worth having your brain blown off. Not that you seem to have much of one.”

#sw2k18 #steve rogers #peggy carter #agent carter #captain america #steggy #shorts

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calling-gull · 6 years

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Hope

(From an RP in Discord) ( @tirasiansails @atc-wra (And I don’t know if Nallaen has a tumblr XD)

A conversation of sensitive topics had gone on weeks before, and Daniel was excited with the idea that it just might be possible.

A long stretch of silence passed from the arcanist until late one evening, a letter would find its way to Captain Conaroy. The method of delivery, a medium sized, dour looking Raven fluttered to the window of the man's residence, pecking insistently at whatever window or method of entry there was to Daniel's quarters until it's presence was acknowledged and it's missive delivered. Upon delivery, the black corvid would tarry, almost ensuring that the man read the letter right then and there before taking wing again and disappearing into the Stormwind streets.

The letter itself was a small, rolled piece of parchment that read thus: "Captain Conaroy, I believe suitable enough progress has been made for me to reveal the fruits of my labor. Please join me in a small warehouse at the end of the docks. #185. Knock Thrice. -N" A 30 minute walk away, in the above mentioned warehouse, a disheveled looking warlock mumbles to himself as he scratches out a series of runes onto the stone floor in charcoal, often looking over to a journal of notes seated some ways away to his right. His clothes are stained with soot, some sort of weird ichor, and Light knows what else. Apparently, Nallaen had been through the ringer on this one. Not far from him on a table, sat a mess of supplies, an empty pot that once held a steaming pool of Koda Bean Brew and a half consumed bottle of bourbon.

Daniel rolled over with a groan at the sound of the incessant tapping on his window. Brushing hair out of his face, and rubbing the sand from his eyes, he manages to open one of them to see what's causing the ruckus. "Huh. That's new." Opening the window, he looked the bird over, a bit taken aback when he saw the small paper rolled and tied to one leg. Interesting. he'd seen plenty of pigeons carrying missives, but a raven? Tentatively, but with calm ease, he reached for, and retrieved the note, reading it immediately. If someone had sent him a message with this unconventional courier, then it must be important. Ah, his meeting with that one. Good, he was eager to see what the man had devised.

It didn't take him long to throw on some clothes, grab up a few things, and head out with a skip in his step, and a whistle on his lips. The walk wasn't onerous, and he enjoyed it. Arriving at the warehouse, he did knock the three times, and waited. In his hand, a string-bag of various fruits for Nallaen. He knew how the magicky folk got when they were working on something, and thought the man could probably use something to help refresh and restore energy.

The door creaks open just enough for someone to peek out of it to see who was there for a moment before opening fully and greeting Daniel with a full look at Nallaen Ravenstone. It was a quite a different look from when he last saw him, and his suspicions were in fact correct. To say that the warlock was a fucking mess was, in fact, a kindness. His hair, normally pulled back into a that tight ponytail, was completely untied and hung messily down to his shoulders, adding more depth to an already gaunt face. "Good. You made it." Nall says, stepping back to let Daniel in before hastily shutting the door behind him and locking it. "This way." Leading Daniel back to the workspace, Nallaen picks up a piece of charcoal that he had set down on the table (along with the bottle of bourbon) and turns to face the captain. "How much do you know about magical theory?" He asks, pulling the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and spitting it out before taking a pull from the bourbon.

Daniel followed the man with a shake of the head. Yep. One of those obsessed types. He'd seemed that way when they'd met, even as stoic as he'd been. It was just a feeling you got once in a while. "Not a damn bit of it." He reaches out with the bag of fruit, "Here, eat somethin' while ya talk." That's it, Danny, be eloquent. "Tell me what you've discovered. Somethin' new?"

Nallaen eyes the bag of fruit suspiciously, seemingly weighing the decision between eating and paranoia. Obviously, Daniel really wasn't ever really going to profit off of Nallaen's death but that didn't mean the warlock was going to worry about it. Reluctantly, Nallaen takes the bag of fruit and mumbles a 'Thanks' before tossing it onto his workspace and digging out a piece of it, taking a bite and swallowing before speaking again, wiping away some juice from his chin with a dirty sleeve. "Without getting too deep into the specifics, what you originally asked for is an incredibly complex task for a number of various reasons, the least of all being the fact that these will probably be used in active combat." Nall takes another bite, speaking through a mouthful of mulch. "Nowuh. When you're moving somthink through a poortal, it's kinda lyke a dour." Swallow. "Problem is we don't need a door. We need a hook."

"Like fishin'. Ya need somethin' ta grab, an' pull through the other side? Somethin' like that?" He watched the Warlock munch the fruit with satisfaction. Sabine would be a little miffed at him if he let this man die of neglect while working on this project. He hummed and had a beard-strokey moment before nodding. "Alright. Makes sense." He gestured for the man to continue, and eagerly awaited the rest. It didn't show, however. Only the calm, quiet demeanor was shown. For now.

"Precisely. Just like fishing." Nallaen replies taking another bite and leaning back against his work station. "What are some things you need to consider when casting that hook? Speed? Distance? Wind? Other hooks, aye? " He asks. "To continue with that analogy, these are things to consider when moving items or people through temporal space. Not to mention the fact that we are on a giant moving target itself. Once you start factoring variable, the magic required becomes mindbogglingly intricate. However..." Nallaen turns and picks up a small stone before moving towards Daniel and pressing it into his hands. "A week’s worth of sleepless nights have produced what I believe to be a viable solution to our little fishing problem." The stone itself is a small, round orb hewn from obsidian, perfectly smooth save for various etchings that have carved into it's surface. On those etchings, a faint, glimmering substance can be seen when it catches the light at just the right angle. "You're going to help me test it."

Danny holds up the stone, inspecting it with interest for a few moments. He'd been growing ever more intent on the explanation as it went on, and felt a small surge of excitement, though it never showed. "How'm I gonna help ya test it? And are ya gonna tell Sabine what's happened if ya send me ta the other side'v the world? Or worse, if ya turn me inside out?"

Nallaen shakes his head. "I mean, yes, if for some reason my calculations are off, there are any infinite number of possible outcomes that could occur, including wearing your organs on the outside, but if you consider that as one out come out of well...infinite...the odds are extremely low." Nallaen replies, taking another bite from his fruit. "My tests thus far have been successful on inanimate objects, no harm done." Nallaen says, very slowly sliding a bit to the right to block a pile of charred looking rocks from sight. "I need a living breathing thing the size of what we will be moving to know that I am successful. This is for all the marbles, Daniel."

Danny sighs, and shakes his head. "We needa find another livin' thing ta try it on first. Then I gotta let Sabine know. If I were ta vanish again without a word..." He shrugs, shaking his head. "I can't do it to the gal again." He paces back and forth for a moment or two, and then stops. "Let me find a bunny or somethin'. Somethin' living that we can say came out alright in the end." He knew, though, she'd likely explode at him and demand he not put himself in danger. After all, he had airships to build. and, maybe, a life with her like they'd wanted so long ago.

"I need something of similar size and shape, my friend. A bunny isn't going to do the trick." Nallaen replies, taking another bite from his piece of fruit, which has been an apple this entire time. "Listen, I wouldn't even be asking if this wasn't ready for this phase of testing. If this works, the only question becomes range extension and then mass production."

A frown crosses Daniel's lips, and he says, "Hold up a moment. I do need ta let her know. After all, she is in charge after the Duchess and admiral, and I report ta them." He touches the comm in his pocket, and thinks of Sabine. "Gal, are ya there?"

Nallaen sighs and waves a hand, indicating is his acquiescence for permission. As he waits he finishes what’s left of the apple and tosses the core aside, moving to his desk and sitting down with a soft grunt, picking up his bourbon bottle again and tipping it back.

There was a heavy grogginess to her voice, laced with a near whine on complaint as she mumbled sleepily," It's latteee and I just got to sleep for fucksake. This better be important."

"Sorry, gal, but I gotta do somethin', and the outcome's uncertain. I didn't want ta do it without tellin' ya. Here with mister Ravenstone. He thinks he's got a solution ta the problem'v brinelings an' others takin' folk off our ships."

There was a long moment of deathly silence as her sleep hazed mind took its sweet time absorbing this information. When she finally spoke again there was a hint of venom in her voice. 'Whatever it is you are doing, you best come back to in the same shape you left me. Otherwise, inform Mr. Ravenstone I will make him wish he were dead."

Hiding a chuckle, Daniel resoponds. "I'll tell 'im, love. Don't worry. I've faith in the man. I'm not leavin' ya again. Not for anythin'." He turns back to Nallaen, and repeats Sabine's threat word for word. "Alright, man. I'm at yer disposal. Jus' try not ta dispose of me, eh?"

Nallaen rolls his eyes and mumbles something about granting wishes and then he stands, moving over to Daniel and patting him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Captain. If that was my intent this is not the way I would do it. If you would be so kind as to move to end of the warehouse and stand on the 'x' I've marked there. Once you've done that, simply crush the stone in your hand."

Without a word, Daniel nods, and does just that. With the ground-eating pace that came naturally to him, he moved to the X, and stood there. With a bit of a prayer to keep him in one piece, he crushes the stone in one large hand.

Nallaen's obsidian stone, while seeming quiet solid is actually crushed quiet easily in Daniel's hand and the moment it turns to dust, there's a brilliant purple glow from the clenched fist. From there, there is a massive surge of energy and the captain is enveloped by a cloud of that brilliant purple glow. Next thing he knows, Daniel suddenly feels himself lurched forward as if suddenly the whole of Azeroth took off, the strange sensation of being pulled apart molecule by molecule and then hastily recombobulated all at once but yet taking an eternity. Needless to say, it wasn't an entirely pleasant sensation. A few moments later, the strange dilation of time and space would suddenly come to a harsh halt, Daniel being dumped right above the strange circle Nallaen had been drawing on the ground before the captain had arrived, the runes glowing bright and hot as he's unceremoniously spat out of the ether and back onto the floor.

"Okay. Might be just a tad off coordinate wise, but none worse for the wear I think." Nallaen says, striding back over to the man and holding out the bottle of booze for him.

The sensation was not the least pleasant thing he'd ever felt, but it came close to the top. Inside the 'portal', his body tried to react to the feeling, but couldn't, as he was held still. Probably a good thing when one was being ripped from one place, and spat out at another. As he was deposited in the circle, he staggered a bit, catching himself on something soft. When he looked, he realized it was Nallaen's arm. Oops. He took the bottle, and then handed it back, several gulps later. "Well. I seem ta be in one piece..."

"And there are certainly worse fates." Nallaen replies, taking the bottle back and moving to his workspace, scribbling something down on his notes as he takes another pull from it. Nothing like drunken rune work.

"So the only things to do now is re-write the runes to account for larger distances and then figure out a way how we're going to -pay- for all of this to be made."

"We'll figure a way. If this can save even a few who're dragged off ship. or cast overboard in a storm, then it'll be worth it." He offers his hand with a rarely-seen grin. "Well done, sir. No matter the success of this in the future, well done."

Nallaen takes his hand and gives it a squeeze and three pumps. The appropriate amount for any handshake, yes. "Aye, you're right. Can't put a price on life I suppose." He says with a small, and somewhat relieved sigh. The warlock plucks out another piece of fruit, a peace this time and bites into it, his first real sustenance in a few hours. "That's all I had for you, Captain. Unless you had some questions of your own."

"Na, not yet, though I'm sure the Duchess an Harbormistress will. Enjoy the fruit. Send ta me again if ya need anythin'. And uh..." he gestures to the fruit bag. "Want me ta send up summor food?"

Nallaen shakes his head, sending his tangle of grey hair swishing from side to side. "No, this should fine, thanks." He says, flipping open his notebook again and marking something down. "If you do inform them of the progress, please make them aware that they will have a demonstration sometime later in the week. After a few days worth of sleep."

"Aye. I'll do that. Enjoy yer sleep." With those few words, Daniel simply turns and walks out, planning on crawling back into bed with Sabine and sleep some more.

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 7 years

Text

The New World - Part 14 The Final Chapter

A/N: This is it! The final part of this series. Thank you to everyone who has gone along this journey. It’s honestly the biggest project I’ve ever tried and while it wasn’t perfect, I loved writing it and I am genuinely sad to see it end.

Daryl Dixon x Reader, Maggie Rhee x reader, Rick Grimes x Reader

Warnings: Language, Canon-divergence, Fluff

Words: 4570

“Deep breaths, ok?” Maggie smiled and smoothed the back of your dress while you turned your hips trying to see it from all angles.

“Are you sure, Mags? I feel like this is too much,” you whined, running your hands down the lacy bodice of the dress. The generous v-neck bust line offered enough view of your ample cleavage that you knew Daryl would like it just fine. But as your fingers ran down towards the flowing silk of the skirt, you felt self-conscious at the thought of wearing something so formal.

“No! It’s perfect. I am the damn maid-of-honor so shut it and listen to me now,” she reprimanded as she knelt down to fidget with the hem.

Standing with a groan as her knees cracked, she rested her hands on her swollen belly and sighed. “A large maid-of-honor, but still… I’m in charge of this here weddin’ and you’re going to look beautiful, in this dress.”

“Alright, alright, I give! I am not going to argue with my very pregnant best friend. I will wear this dress tomorrow and everything will be perfect,” you laughed, backing away from Maggie in feigned fear.

“Good girl, now turn around so I can get it off before one of the little monsters run in and spills somethin’ on it. Or worse, before he gets home and sees you in it.” Maggie motion for you to spin around and you did as commanded.

“Mags, Glenn is going to make sure he—”

“He’s got it under control hun, I promise. Glenn’s gonna make sure he’s got somethin’ nice to wear and that he shows up without any squirrel guts splattered on his shirt.”

“Shut up,” you laughed but were secretly grateful for Glenn’s handling of Daryl throughout the entire planning process for the wedding. “Where are the kids anyway? It’s far too quiet….”

“Carol took ‘em over to the lake, Shel and Hershel wanted to go fishin’,” Maggie said as she slipped the cream-colored dress from your shoulders and helped you shimmy out of it.

“Oh good, so I have time to run a quick errand,” you mumbled to yourself. Lost in thought you didn’t see the look Maggie was giving you at first. When you finally caught her gaze, you felt your cheeks tinge pink and suddenly felt self-conscious. “What?”

“What errand?” she asked with a raised brow. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna go see her.”

“Maggie, I have too.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t,” she said gently taking your hand in hers. “For the last six months, anytime you’ve seen her you haven’t handled it well. Just let it be. She’s gonna be—”

Squeezing her hand lightly before taking yours from hers, you smiled. “I know, that’s why I need to see her.”

“I think you’re crazy,” she said shaking her head while carefully putting the dress back in the garment bag. “But, I guess I get it. Just be careful, okay? Daryl would kill me if I let any drama unfold the day before you guys finally get married.”

“I promise, in and out. I just have to see her before I can finally and completely move on.”

“Alright, well, go do what you gotta. Carol’s got the kids for another hour or so,” Maggie smiled, but you could see the worry behind it.

After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, you headed for the door with a spring in your step.

Approaching the cell gate, a mixed feeling of nerves and excitement began to swirl in your stomach. With each passing week since it happened, the knowledge that Rosita sat in the cell, while slowly growing the spawn of Negan continued to unsettle you. Even though he was dead, you and several others, couldn’t shake the feeling that she would be the one to cause more trouble.

The debate on what to do with Rosita had been a frequent topic of discussion over the past six months, with everyone having a different idea of what to do with her and the baby. Finally, a conclusion was reached between the community leaders and their councils. Today was the day you were going to tell her.

Just as you were about to unlock the door, the presence of someone behind you caused you to jump. Rick was standing behind you, hands on his hips, head slightly tilted to the side.

“And what do you think you’re doin’?” he asked, his eyes narrowed at you, yet a smile played on his lips.

“Just paying the prisoner a little visit,” you said and returned his smile.

“Y/N, we talked about this. Given the circumstances and all, I don’t think you goin’ to see her is a great idea.”

Taking a step closer to Rick, you gave a cursory glance around to see if you were alone. “It’s been six months Rick, and we’ve never talked about it. Tomorrow, we start the next phase of our lives here, right? If you think I am going to do that without some sort of resolution to this…”

“Look, I get it, alright? I just don’t think laying it out for her right now—”

“Rick. Please. I’m going in there.”

“What are you going to tell her?” he asked not without a bit of concern.

You just shrugged and gave him a knowing look. Rick snorted a nervous laugh and sighed.

“Do what you gotta,” the Sheriff said before starting to turn away. “Just… be careful.”

“Always,” you smiled and left him standing alone outside while you ventured in to deal with Rosita.

Despite the bright sunny skies outside, the one lone cell window only offered enough natural light to be able to see the immediate surroundings. It was cool and dark beyond the cell bars, and a very solemn Rosita was stood in the same corner that Negan used to favor.

Her dark eyes flickered up to your face and an audible groan escaped her lips.

“Fuck,” she whispered upon seeing the smile that was spread across your lips. “What do you want?”

“I am here to deliver the news of your fate,” you said, feeling the smile grow bigger on your lips.

“Oh, really? And where do you idiots think I am going with him? He’s barely a week old,” she said motioning towards the bassinet in the corner.

“You? Oh, you are getting exiled from the communities. There’s no way you can live here with us and we certainly don’t want to waste resources on you. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to be here anyway, right? Isn’t that why you took his side? As for the baby, he can stay here for now. I’d never send an innocent child into the world the way it is. He won’t live here mind you, but both Hilltop or the Kingdom has plenty of childless families willing to raise him,” you replied as your hands began to wrap around the bars.

“However, if you think we are going to let you stay here and raise him, you are sadly mistaken. If you think I could continue to raise my family here with you around, knowing what you are capable of…”

“Fuck you! You aren’t taking my baby away,” she hissed, storming the bars and coming within an inch of your face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

A burning desire to knock the bitch on her ass swelled, but you knew you couldn’t do that if you expected everything to work on the way you wanted. Licking your lips, you allowed yourself a moment to find some willpower and take a small step back from the bars.

“Me? Oh, I’m no one, Rosita. I’m just the messenger. Did I push for this? Sure, I did… but ultimately this wasn’t my decision…”

“It was all of ours,” Rick’s voice spoke up behind you. “Rosita, you’ll be taken out tomorrow morning, given supplies and released. If you fight us, we will just execute you.”

“What happened to you? To you both?” she asked, a look of horror written on her face.

“Just following your lead darlin’,” you said with a sigh. “You, Spencer, Negan… you all started this. Me, Rick and the others… we’re just finishing it.”

With a slight shrug, you turned to leave and caught Rick’s gaze. You knew he was silently warning you to stay the course, and not take it any further, but the urge to turn and tell her the rest of it was overwhelming.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, “we finish it tomorrow.” The slight nod of his head stamped down the desire to further wreck Rosita’s day.

“Fine,” you sighed and turned back to her. “Enjoy your last night here, Rosita.”

You were finally ready to leave, but the woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut. A string of expletives in Spanish poured from her mouth making you pause in the entryway. You could hear a groan from Rick when you spun back around to face her, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose knowing you weren’t going to be able to hold back now.

“Call me all the names you want you little bitch. In fact, let me add one more on there, alright? Murderer…”

Her eyes grew wide and a confused expression screwed up her face. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means, the night that Daryl beat Negan nearly to death? It wasn’t the blows that killed him. In fact, when I went to see Denise that night, Negan was coming around. Now that I think about it, I believe he was nearly fully conscious when I told him to enjoy Hell and slipped the blade into his temple, isn’t that right Rick?”

You could hear the Sheriff sigh behind you and mumble in agreement.

“You… you did it? You killed him?!” Rosita’s face contorted into something you’d never seen before, giving you an immense feeling of satisfaction.

“I did. It was so easy too. That knife just slid right in… like cutting a piece of warm butter,” you purred, your eyes scanning over the devastation written on her face. “Did you really think Daryl did it? C’mon, I mean, he could have beat him to death, sure. But he didn’t. Unconscious, sure, but to death… for all he’s capable of, he’s not capable of that. Me, however, I am definitely capable.”

“Y/N, I think maybe that’s enough,” Rick said, laying a handle gently on your shoulder.

“Just a minute, Rick,” you said and offered him a kind smile. Turning back to Rosita, you saw that she’d taken a few steps back from the bar, her eyes still fixed on you.

“Remember back at Hilltop, when you accused me of not having lost anything? Hmmm? You were angry with me because you said I’d not suffered like you? You couldn't have been more wrong. I killed my first husband, Rosita. After I watched both of my little boys die in front of me. I had to put them both down while he was passed out drunk in the chair. I took a shotgun and I killed him while he slept. If you think for a second that I felt one bit of remorse for what I did to Negan, I sorta feel sorry for you. And, if you think I will feel one ounce of it for knowing you’re out there without your child, well, once again, that’s just fucking sad.”

Finally deciding you were done with her, you turned to leave the cell. Without looking back, you left her with a few more parting words, while flipping her off over your shoulder.

“Welcome to the new world, sweetheart.”

The next day dawned without a cloud in the sky. Your eyes opened, and you rolled over to feel the empty space where Daryl should have been. Disappointed, you sat up in bed only to see a bouquet of daisies and a note on the table beside you.

“took the kids fishing… see you at the thing

xo – D”

“Fishing, today? Really?” you snorted a laugh and grabbed the bouquet of flowers he left you, lightly brushing your fingers along the white silky petals.

In just a few hours, you would be standing out at the gazebo with Daryl as Gabriel officially made you husband and wife. Even though you had lived for so many years thinking of yourself as his wife, the ceremony and party planned caused a wave of excitement to rush through you.

Once you were up and showered, you went downstairs to see your very pregnant best friend moving around the kitchen, along with Carol, Tara, and Michonne.

“What are you all doing here so early?” you asked, stopping to hug each one of them.

“You’re getting married today, did you think we wouldn’t come and spoil you with baked goods?” Carol answered, giving your cheek a pinch.

“It’s not that early hun, as a matter of fact, it is almost time to get you ready!” Maggie chimed in, brushing the crumbs from her hands and from shirt covering her belly, as she placed the freshly baked muffins Carol had brought over on the counter.

“But the kids are with Daryl out fishing. I need to get them cleaned up and I am sure Shelby’s hair is a tangled mess!”

“Sweetheart, do you really believe I’d let him take them fishing the morning of your wedding?” Carol laughed and patted your shoulder, “You have such little faith in me!”

Laughing, and a bit relieved, you sat down at the counter and grabbed a muffin. “Where are they then?”

“Working on a surprise for you,” Tara said cryptically and winked before taking a muffin of her own. “However, they should be about done, and I am going to go home and get ready. Hopefully, Denise left me some hot water.”

“I should go too. I have to make sure Judith is dressed and not covered in whatever art project she deemed necessary to start this morning. I’m so happy for you both, and excited to be able to celebrate something good today,” Michonne smiled as she lightly grabbed both your shoulders and leaving a kiss on your cheek. “It’s going to be perfect.”

“See you guys there?” Tara asked as she and Michonne headed towards the door.

“Absolutely,” you smiled and suddenly felt your stomach twist with nerves.

Turning to Maggie and Carol, you bit down on your lip and considered asking the question you wanted to ask. Not wanting to ruin the day, but unable to hide your growing curiosity, you decided to chance it.

“Is it done?”

They both froze at your question and shared a knowing look.

“Yes,” Carol finally answered, “she’s gone.”

“And the baby?”

Maggie sighed and swallowed hard. “Aaron took him to The Kingdom. There’s a couple there that recently lost a child and were more than happy to take him in.”

“Good… That’s good…” you felt a nervous breath escape your lips and suddenly had the urge to sit.

With that last piece of business taken care of, you felt as though you could finally move on from all that had happened in the past six months. It was a new day that dawned bright with hope and one that would end with you and your husband ready to start the next chapter of your lives.

“Alright Shel, I think it’s ready,” Daryl said, picking Abe up and holding out his hand for his daughter.

She jumped up and giggled at the efforts of their work. “It’s so pretty daddy!” she squealed as her little hand was engulfed by his. “Mama is gonna love it!”

“I think so too munchkin,” he cooed looking down at her angelic face as his heart filled with love for both of them.

Walking away from the gazebo towards Carol’s house, Daryl was suddenly hit by the weight of all that was happening. His entire life, all the traumas, and heartaches, had led him to meet her and creating the kind of family he’d always dreamed of having. Overwhelmed by it, he tried to focus on getting through the afternoon without being consumed by how it all made him feel.

He wanted to be strong for her, always. He needed to be the best version of himself for her and for the kids. But he couldn’t do that if he let himself be swarmed by the depth of love that lived in him now. All the past hurt and anger had slowly been evaporating, leaving him lighter, and more like the version of himself he always imagined lived inside.

“Daddy, this party is gonna be fun!” Shelby sang as she skipped alongside him.

“Mhm, it is. You ‘n Abe, Hershel too, y’all are gonna have a great time,” Daryl smiled down at her as they reached Carol’s porch. “But first we gotta have the ceremony part, ‘lright? Remember I told ya about that?”

“Yes, daddy. That’s the part we gotta be real quiet ‘cause you and momma are gonna say stuff.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, “Right, somethin’ like that. But Aunt Maggie will be with ya, ‘n it shouldn’t take too long.”

“What are you gonna say?” Shelby asked taking the last few steps up onto Carol’s porch.

“That’s a good question munch, guess I should figure that out, huh?”

“Um, yeah,” she giggled and ran up to Carol’s door where she was greeted with open arms.

“Good timing!” Carol said sweeping the little girl up in the air, “I just got home and am ready to get you guys all cleaned up for mommy and daddy’s special day!” Carol looked up and saw Daryl still wearing his usual ripped pants and sleeveless black shirt.

Raising a brow at him, he placed Abe down on the porch. “I’m goin’ now, stop naggin’ me.”

“I said nothing,” she quipped, a smirk on her lips. “However, if I was going to say something, it would be to get your unkempt ass to Glenn’s and get ready. It’s time to go make an honest woman out of Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he bounded down the porch, an unmistakable spring in his step.

Smiling to herself, Carol ushered the kids into the house and got them ready for the wedding.

“Ready?” Maggie asked before she pulled the door open.

“Yes,” you replied, your stomach twisting into a bundle of nerves.

Before Maggie could open it, there was a soft knock at the door. Passing you a curious look, she pulled it open and smiled at Rick as he stood before you both.

“Mind if I have a word with the bride before this shindig gets started?” he asked Maggie before stepping in.

“Sure, just don’t make her late. I’ll wait for you on the porch,” she said and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

“Wow,” Rick said, giving you a once over. “You look beautiful. Daryl is a very lucky man.”

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks tinging pink, “what brings you by?”

“Well, two things actually. One. I wanted you to know that she’s gone. Rosita left quietly at the release point. I honestly don’t think she’ll be back.”

You nodded and released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“What we did…” Rick started and paused, drawing in a deep breath before exhaling slowly, “to him—”

“What I did to him, Rick. You didn’t do anything.”

“I saw you do it and I didn’t try to stop you.”

“Maybe. But you knew it had to happen. You, me and Denise… no one else ever has to know.”

You tried to sound firm in your assertion, but Rick couldn’t help but notice the hesitancy in your voice.

“Besides,” you continued, “it’s over now. Negan is dead. Rosita is gone, and that poor child will never have to live in a world where those two had any influence over him. It’s what was best.”

“You sure about that?” Rick asked.

“Yes. I am. If I’m wrong, then I’ll have to live with that. But I’ll be damned if I will let the people in this community or any of the others, continue on living in fear that she’ll betray us again.”

A silence passed briefly between you and when you caught Rick’s gaze again, he seemed ready to move past the ugly business of Negan and Rosita.

“So what was the second thing?” you asked.

“Well, Maggie said you might need someone to walk ya down the aisle,” Rick smiled and pushed out his elbow so you could link your arm with his. “If I’ll do, that is.”

Tears stabbed at the corner of your eyes at his offer. “That would be amazing, Rick… thank you.”

“Then, let’s get you hitched before Maggie comes in here and yells at me for makin’ ya late,” the Sheriff chuckled and opened the door to escort you towards the groom waiting in the gazebo.

Approaching the gazebo on Rick’s arm, you heard the music playing from the speakers before you saw the actual adornments that Daryl and the kids had spent the morning adding to the structure. A variety of pink and purple flowers were woven through the lattice while streams of lace and burlap tied together bouquets of wildflowers attached to the entryway.

Gabriel stood in the middle of the gazebo, with Daryl on his right. Maggie was standing right on the steps with Abe and Shelby on either side of her. The rest of your friends and family were standing on the grass to either side of the narrow path leading to the makeshift altar.

On both sides of the gravel walkway, were narrow lengths of ivory satin, held down with two dozen candles that were lightly flickering in the summer breeze. You felt Rick squeeze your arm just as you approached the beautifully lit trail that would lead you to your husband.

“You alright?” Rick whispered.

“Mhm,” you said, swallowing hard and trying your best not to cry.

“Alright then, here we go,” the Sheriff said and started walking you to the rest of your life.

Stepping into the shade of the gazebo which was also flickering with a dozen candles, Daryl’s eyes were transfixed on you. A goofy smile spread out across his face as he his tongue inadvertently ran across his lips.

“You look beautiful,” he said loud enough for only you and Gabriel able to hear his compliment. He reached out and gently took your hand, lightly brushing his thumb across the back of it.

“You clean up pretty good yourself, Dixon,” you winked, causing him to shift uncomfortably.

“Friends,” Gabriel started, looking at you and Daryl, “we are gathered today to bless the union of Daryl and Y/N. It is a rare and glorious sight in today’s new age, to see a joining of souls such as these two. When one finds their other half, it is important to take that and foster it into a coupling built with a foundation of love and respect, loyalty, and communication.

“Daryl and Y/N have asked you all here today to witness their promise and to help bind them to it, should dark skies every plague their family. As a participant in this ceremony, I ask that you all take the hand of your own loved one or family member closest, and spread the promise of what these two special people share. They asked this of you to not only bond you individually but us, together, as a community and a larger family unit.”

A small murmur of excitement ran through the small crowd as they did as asked, then turning their attention back to Gabriel.

“Daryl and Y/N have elected to forgo the traditional vows for something more akin to their special bond. Daryl,” Gabriel said and motioned for him to go ahead.

Clearing his throat, Daryl gave a small nod to Gabriel.

“Shelby asked me what I was gonna say before. Made me realize I hadn’t figured that out yet. Honestly, I still don’t really know what to say, ’cept that when I was a kid, the idea of havin’ my own family wasn’t realistic. Never thought anyone would put up with the likes of me. Hell, still sorta shocked you do. But, when I saw ya at the prison, way back when, I knew that if there was ever a chance to be happy, it’d be with you.”

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver band that matched the sapphire ring he gave you months before. Gently, he slipped in on your finger and laced his hand into yours.

“I love you,” he said quietly, “there is nothing I want more than to keep doin’ this with ya.”

“Y/N,” Gabriel prodded when Daryl was done, letting you know it was your turn.

Suddenly you couldn’t find your voice. You opened your mouth but the words you had so carefully been planning for the last two months wouldn’t cooperate. Swallowing hard again, you tried to force something, but nothing came to mind.

Daryl’s lips twitched into a smile, and you knew he was sort of delighting in the fact that you were speechless. You’d been pestering him for weeks to write something for the ceremony, always flaunting the fact that you’d done your vows. Every time he blew you off and you would feign annoyance. But now that it was time, you were at a complete loss for words and was loving it.

It took Daryl’s smirk turning into a full-fledged chuckle for you to think of something to say.

“You know something Dixon, you’re an ass,” you said louder than you’d planned, eliciting a laugh from the people outside the gazebo.

“Nice,” he said shaking his head.

“You are… but you’re mine,” you laughed and took both his hands in yours. “You have changed everything about me and what I thought life should be. You took what should have been a life of darkness and despair and filled it with love and laughter. Despite the trying times we’ve had since that very first hunting trip, I wouldn’t change a damn thing…”

Daryl blushed at the reference and you could tell he was holding back his own emotions as not to well up in front of everyone they knew.

“I love you, Daryl. I love our life, our kids, our friends. Nothing could or will ever change that.” You turned to Maggie who placed a thick silver banded ring in your hand and gave you a wink.

Turning back to your husband, you took his left hand and effortlessly slipped the ring on his finger. Catching his gaze, you knew that everything leading you both to that place was a necessary part of your story.

You waved the kids up into the gazebo, Abe going for you right away, while Shelby latched onto Daryl. Looking at them all you, you were firm in the knowledge that everything, from meeting at the prison up until the ugliness of the Negan, was meant to lead you right to where you stood, making these promises with Daryl and the kids, in front of all the people you loved.

“Well then,” Gabriel started, his hands thrown wide in celebration, “Shelby, Abraham, beloved friends, and family… please welcome me in officially proclaiming Daryl and Y/N Dixon, as husband and wife. Please, kiss that beautiful bride of yours!”

Daryl didn’t hesitate and pulled you into his arms. His kiss was soft, yet wanting. It was full of everything he wanted and everything he planned on giving. Wrapping your arms around his neck, a feeling of blissful relief washed over you. Everything you could have ever hoped for was right there, just waiting for you to grab it and despite the current state of things beyond the walls, make it the best life worth living.

Tags: @kazosa @soythedemonqueen @jodiereedus22 @his-paradox @rhyatt-deauxtreve @zombeeemomeee @tiquismiquis @sorenmarie87 @redm81 @kingdixonreedus @reedusteinrambles @aquivercactus @buckyscrystalqueen @see-you-then-winchester @hyphymanatee @adixon13 @rawr-bitchess @kgbrenner @fictionaldemon @thewalkingbucky @bikerdaryldixon @lefthologramdeer @youandyourstupidrope @addiction-survivor25

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd fan fiction #fan fiction #fanfic #daryl dixon fan fiction

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dylanradio · 4 years

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Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Talking Fish Blues by Bob Dylan from The Minnesota Tapes

Written by Woody Guthrie (original lyrics:) I went down to the fishing hole, And I set down with my fishing pole; Somethin' grabb'd my hook and it got my bait And Jerked me out in the middle of the lake. Huh it was some jump boy, I got sunk, kinda baptized on credit. Fishin' down on th' muddy bank, Felt a pull an' give a big yank, I drug out three old rubber boots, A Ford radiator an' a Chevrolet coop (Nothin' but Junk, so I handed it in For National Defence). Settin' in a boat with a bucket of beer, Hadn't caught nuthin' but didn't much care, I guess I was pretty well satisfied, Had my little woman right by my side (Takin' it easy, just waitin' Worm been gone off-a that hook for a couple of hours. I was busy). When you go fishin', tell y' what to do, Go set down by the grassy dew, Take a piece of string, tie it on yo' pole, Throw it way out in th' middle of th' hole. Find you a good shady tree and then just set down. (Go to sleep, forget all about it Can't catch nuthin' here anyways.) Well I walked out to a sandy bar, And I caught myself a big alligator gar, Drug him home across my back, Tail was dragging a mile and a half, Flippin' an' floppin'. I sold him for a quarter. (Shot craps, got in Jall.) Jumped in the river and went down deep, There was a hundred pound cat-fish lying there asleep, Well I jumped on his back and rode him all aroun' Saddled him up and I came into town. People came runnin', lookin', dogs a-barkin' (Kids a-squallin'). Early one mornin' I took me a notion, To go out fishin' in the middle of the ocean, Well, throwed me a line, I got me a shark, I didn't get him home till way past dark. (Was he a man-eater, tough customer. But he wasn't quite tough enough.) Late last night I had me a dream, I was out fishin' in a whiskey stream, Baited my hook with apple-jack, Threw out a drink, drug a gallon back. (Done pretty good till the creek run dry. I give the fish back to the finance company.)

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vacationsoup · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/a-fishermans-tale-fishing-at-gone-fishin-for-carp-and-black-bass/

A Fishermans Tale - Fishing At Gone Fishin For Carp and Black Bass

Fishing For Carp, Black Bass just 1hr from Bordeaux

“Not for the fish do I go fishing”.

My view ( Tony Farrar) on fishing can be summed up by the grandfather in “Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China” (by Jung Chang) when he says “Not for the fish do I go fishing”. The sense of that is that you don’t need to catch fish to enjoy the experience, because there is always a lot going on around you.

Gone Fishin carp lake Ih to Bordeaux

The lake at Gone Fishin’ is one of those places – but with the added bonus that you WILL catch fish be it carp, black bass and more. You’ll see kingfishers, pond skaters by the thousand, dragonflies in all colours, shapes and sizes, ducks, coots, a pair of hares and even – on my last morning – a coypu nonchalantly swimming past, not 6 feet away. And all that before I get to the fishing!

Take a walk round the lake in early morning, or at dusk, and you will appreciate just how many fish there are. From the dimples of small fish on the surface through to large carp leaping out and belly flopping back in to the water, and in between those two extremes the starbursts of small fish leaping away as predators (probably black bass) attack them. Probably my favourite sight, though, was when several carp poked their heads more or less vertically out of the water, choreographed as if to make a picture of a Cornish stargazey pie (Google it to see what I mean!). And if you tread carefully you’ll see a few carp rooting around in the margins, slurping up morsels of food. Magical!

Relax at holiday Aiguillon Gone Fishin

So, how did my fishing go at Gone Fishin in the sunny Lot et Garonne?

Well, I only fished short sessions, mainly early and late, and managed to catch 19.5 carp (I will explain shortly).

The only time I didn’t hook a fish was when I tried lure fishing for black bass. I’d never caught one before – and I still haven’t! My research told me that fishing an imitation floating frog was a good summer bait for bass so I bought one to bring along. It really did a fine impression of the live amphibian as I jerked it back across the surface, its legs flexing gracefully like the real McCoy. I really thought it demanded, nay shouted for, attention, but sadly the black bass thought otherwise.

Other guests having a good catch of the day

In 5 other sessions I caught 5, 6, 3, 1 and 4 carp by both straight legering and waggler fishing. The best weighed 5.1kg (11lb 4oz) and they were all in fine condition – fit enough to pull my string! I only fished 3 spots – both picnic table spots and where the steps and red sign are along the roadside bank. Hemp and corn on the waggler produced fish, but mainly the smaller ones (2 to 5lb). The bigger fish fell to hair rigged boilies and carp pellets. If I were to fish again I think I would concentrate on the red sign swim – there were plenty of carp about, because of the tree cover, I think. So there you have it – 19 carp.

But what about the half a carp, you may ask?

When we first arrived Alan and Jen said the carp were very lively and a few people had had their rods pulled in. Cockily, and supremely full of confidence, I proclaimed that that had never happened to me and that I had a fool proof system attached to my fishing chair – never let me down, I said. And that was how it was during the week – the rod end would whack round before I casually picked up the rod to play and land my fish.

Not a fishing holiday just a bonus its free.

Then on Friday morning …………

The front part of my system broke. No problem, I thought, as I went for my final two hours fishing in the afternoon. I was waggler fishing and just held the rod all the time – for an hour and quarter without any indication of interest from a fish. Inevitably, I decided to make a change to my set-up and put the rod down just for a second while I sorted out the stuff to change. Whoosh! The rod was pulled straight in to the water. I was about to jump in after it, but realised I had my phone in my pocket. My most serious concern was how to explain the situation to Alan and Jen! That carp took the mickey out of me mercilessly. It zoomed to all three corners of the lake, before deciding to cruise slowly past in front of me, rod in tow, from right to left and back again – and several times!

Your lake all but in the garden

Eventually it seemed to settle near the left corner and only 20 yards from the bank. So I started to change in to my swimming shorts and, just at the most revealing moment, my wife walked up and demanded to know why I was in flagrante delicto!! Nevertheless, I slid serpent-like into the water near the rod, skilfully putting my right leg through a loop of tree root. Once extricated, I slowly – stealthily – swam towards the static rod. Six inches away and the carp knew I was there – the rod butt moved about a foot before shooting off at high speed across the lake. That was enough for the night – or at least it was when I finally got back up the bank!

All’s well that ends well, though. https://france4two.uk/carp-fishing-lake-exclusive/

#1HrNorth #1HrSouth #BlackBassFishing #CarpFishing #Gone-Fishin #Holiday-for-2 #HolidayBordeaux1HrSouth #LotEtGaronne #VacationBordeaux1HrSouth #VacationSoup

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