#farm fencing companies near me

[bellevuefencing]

How To Find The Right FENCE.

Do you need a fence? If so, then you're in the right place! Below is an overview of what to look for to find the right Fence company near me. It doesn't matter if your interest is privacy, security, or aesthetics. Companies that provide fences will be able to handle your needs and provide what you are looking for with professionalism and expertise.

[st4rfckerz]

Farmboy | Farmhand!Anakin Skywalker x Farmers!daughter

word count: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI 18+, oral (male receiving), face fucking (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, slow(ish) buildup, not proofread

summary: Anakin is your family's farmhand and after inviting him to dinner, you can't keep your hands to yourself

Your family owned a farm out West, not far from the outskirts of town. It was quiet, as farms often are. The land was hilly, rolling out as far as you could see. The sun was shining, and the blue sky was bright with few clouds in it. The sound of horses and the wind rustling through the trees was all you heard. The air was crisp, and there was a slight tang of wildflowers.

Anakin was one of the farmhands that your family had hired a few months ago, a man who was quiet but skilled. As one of their hired hands, he was responsible for helping with the maintenance of the farm's livestock and machinery. His primary role was to ensure everything ran smoothly, which meant keeping the animals fed and watered while fixing broken machinery when needed.

It was midday when you approached him in the garden shed with a worried expression on your face. "Ani, I need your help. The sheep pen collapsed, and I can't find any tools nearby." Panic was evident in your voice, hinting at the potential consequences of leaving the sheep unattended for too long. Anakin followed you back to the dimly lit barn and you found the sheep wandering around their stalls, bleeting softly.

"I see," he muttered looking at the pen, he glanced over where the sheep were grazing. "I hope nothing else broke." he says under his breath, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of damage. He walked forward, whistling for the sheep that were scattered, and they came to him. He began leading them towards their pen, some were very fussy about it and didn’t want to go, yet he remained calm and gentle.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," Anakin assured you, stepping over the fence and rummaging through the debris left by the fallen wood.

"You need me to help with anything?" you stand near him awkwardly, not sure what to do.

“Nope. I got it under control,” He said calmly, continuing to lead the sheep. You admired his patience and his ability to stay so level headed. "You can just sit there and look pretty while I get this done." Anakin shoots you a slick smile that makes your insides turn a little.

"I won't be bothering you?" you ask as you sit down on a bale of hay.

"You won't be bothering me at all sweetheart," He says, his eyes traveled over your body and he smirked at you. "You can be my moral support." He leans against the aged wall of the barn. His stance was relaxed, very casual as he was being nonchalant, but with you he was a little different. Something about you made him like this.

Anakin couldn't help but notice how good you looked in their simple dress, its hemline brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough skin to drive him wild. The sunset cast a warm, golden light over your body, creating a delicate glowy outline around your figure. It was almost like the sun was wrapping itself around you.

"You know you could stay for supper if you'd like," you suggest, breaking the silence of the barn. "I'm sure my folks won't mind." He watched as you leaned back on the bale of hay, and he couldn't help but notice your dress riding up a little. It was a small thing to notice, but he saw it.

Your dress wasn't that short, by any means, but the way it rode up on your legs was enough to make Anakin notice you. His gaze drifted down to your legs, and back up to your face.

"Oh I don't know, I don't wanna intrude or anything-" You smiled and cut him off, stopping him in his tracks.

"Please Ani? Just this once?" You walked over to him, and with that sweet tone in your voice, you were playing him like a fiddle. It was clear that your invitation was genuine, you wanted him to stay so you could keep his company. He smiled at you and looked away from your eyes for a moment. When he looked back at you, he was slightly speechless. The words were caught in his throat, and he couldn't speak, he wasn't used to someone that could make him flustered.

"Well, alright I s'pose I could join you." Anakin smiles. "What's mama bear fixin' up tonight?"

he smirked at you, his expression was playful, but you could tell he was serious. You laughed lightly at the silly nickname he often uses for you mother.

“She’s making beef stew, with biscuits. All from scratch, too.” you explain. "And there's fresh apple pie for dessert." His smile showed he was interested, and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. You looked like a little doll, with sweet doe eyes that could disarm any man.

"Then I'll be there." His voice had a masculine yet flirty quality to it, and it sent shivers down your spine. It was like music to your ears.

"Good, I'll see you later farmboy." You tease, knocking his hip with your own as you walked past him. You felt his eyes devouring you whole, looking at your sweet face and the sway of your hips.

As he continues to fix the pen, he can't help but think about the upcoming dinner. He's never had dinner with you and your family before, so he wondered how it would go. He didn't know if he'd be welcome, but you said they wouldn't mind, and you're pretty much like a little princess in their eyes so it shouldn't go wrong at all.

The evening rolled around, you were sitting at the table waiting for him, ready for the dinner to begin. Your family was already seated around the table, discussing various things. They all seemed pretty jovial, and you could hear the occasional laughter, as well as bits of conversation.

You looked around and expected to see Anakin walking through the door at any second, yet he was a bit late which was out of character for him.

Just as you thought he might've bailed last minute, Anakin's voice draws your attention towards the door, where he was finally walking in. His expression had a hint of embarrassment, since he was later than he thought he'd be. He had a shy yet sheepish look on his face, as if he expected you or your family to reprimand him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking at you, "I'm a bit late."

"Ani! I was afraid you flaked out on us." you joke as you abruptly got up from your seat to greet him. When Anakin saw you get up and come closer to him, he was initially confused as to why. But then you envelope him in a tight hug, catching him completely off guard. He didn't know how to respond, as he was taken aback by your show of affection.

"No, I'd never do a thing like that." he responds.

He hugged you back, his hands squeezing you tightly as you felt his body pressing against yours. He was caught by surprise, and he didn't expect you to show any affection. His body stiffened up as you hugged him, as he remained still.

However, he felt a wave of warmth rush through him and it caused him to relax into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling a new feeling of closeness between you both.

"Come eat, there's plenty of food." You let go of the embrace, but you still keep your hands on him, dragging him to the seat right next to you. He didn't hesitate to follow you, nor did he show any opposition. You both sit down, with you being right next to Anakin. You pull yourself slightly close to him, close enough that he could feel it.

Anakin's eyes look up at your father, his expression showing a bit of anxiety. Your father smiles warmly at him, and welcomes him to the table. Anakin smiles back in response, looking down at the table a bit. Your father proceeds to sit down, as does the rest of your family. The dinner proceeds like normal, everyone engaging in conversation with one another.

"So Anakin, how's everything been?" your father asks, his aged, gravelly voice booming throughout the room.

"I've been quite fine sir, same old news." Anakin says, smiling a bit as he takes a bite from his biscuit.

"Anakin fixed the sheep pen today." The conversation shifts as you interject, causing Anakin's attention to look up. Your words get everyone's attention, as they all look at Anakin, who is sitting to the side.

"Oh, did he?" your father says, looking at him. Anakin's ears pick up, and he looks over towards you. Your father continues, "I'm sure the sheep are happy." He blushes slightly, nodding his head humbly as he looks at your dad.

Your mother pipes up with her own question, pointing the discussion in another direction.

"So Anakin, what do you do in your free time?"

Anakin answers, keeping his tone relaxed and level.

"Nothin' too special really," he says, taking a few moments to respond, "Just hang around, or fix things. Y'know how it is." He's cordial, polite, and has a soft attitude.

He treats you with respect, yet his attention keeps flicking back towards you again and again, as if he was drawn to your charms. You felt as if you were a magnet to him, as he always looked over at you after he said anything.

As you lean forward to grab the salt, your fingers brush against Anakin's thigh under the table, a subtle gesture that sends a thrill through both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what you're doing. You quickly return to your seat, trying to hide your flushed cheeks under the low light.

"The food is really good mom." you smile sweetly at her. While you speak, your fingers graze along Anakin's growing bulge under the table, a subtle hint of your growing attraction.

Anakin's eyes meet yours for a brief moment, he swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure as he continues the conversation. The tension between you two is palpable, yet unnoticed by the rest of the family.

Dinner comes to an end, and your mother presents a homemade apple pie for dessert. The family cheers in appreciation, and you can't help but smile at the delicious aroma wafting through the room. The scent of apple pie creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Anakin compliments your mother on the meal, his eyes never straying far from yours.

As everyone digs into the apple pie, you feel Anakin's hand gently slide in between your thighs under the table. You try your hardest to suppress the smile creeping onto your face, the connection between you two growing stronger with each passing moment. The dessert is sweet, but it's nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside.

When you finish eating your piece of pie, you stand up and gather your plate and utensils, turning to head towards the kitchen sink. Anakin follows closely behind. You work side by side, the clinking of dishes echoing through the kitchen.

Anakin's hands are large and rough from farm work, but they move gracefully as he washes the dishes. He looks at you, his expression calm but also full of appreciation.

"It was nice having dinner with your family." he tells you, "thanks for inviting me over."

You give him a smile and use a nearby towel to wipe your hands. "It was no problem, they enjoyed your company." He smiles back, his jaw firm but his eyes showing that he was genuinely pleased.

Just as your family enters the kitchen with their now empty plates,  you lean in close to Anakin, your voice barely above a whisper. "Meet me in the barn in five minutes." you say, your eyes filled with anticipation. Anakin's gaze locks onto yours for a moment before he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your father approaches, engaging Anakin in conversation about the farm and the upcoming town festival. You turn to your mother, your cheeks flushed but your voice steady. "I'll be right back, I just need to check on the chicken coop."

Your mother doesn't seem to suspect anything unusual since this was usually the time you'd check on the chickens anyway. "Take your time, dear. We'll be in here for a bit longer." She waves you off, her smile warm and understanding.

You wait for everyone to settle down before slipping out of the house, making sure to lock the door behind you. The moonlit night casts a pearlescent glow over the yard, illuminating the path leading to the barn. You hurry inside, your heart racing with exhilaration.

Anakin watches you leave, his eyes never leaving yours as you exit the house. He knows what's coming next, and he can't help but feel a whirlwind of trepidation. The anticipation killing him, but he forces himself to continue the conversation with your father, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

Finally, your father finishes his glass of sweet tea and stands up, nodding goodbye to Anakin after he explains that he should be heading home.

The sound of crickets and distant frogs filled the air as Anakin walks towards the barn, his boots rustling against the grass beneath him. He approaches the old barn slowly, his heart racing faster than a stallion at the starting gate. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the night. He called out your name softly, his voice tinged with anticipation. The barn is dimly lit, with the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

As he stepped inside, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. You were there, your eyes locked onto his.

"Hi." you say softly, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. The barn feels smaller now, the air thick with tension. Your eyes lock onto each other, and the crickets chirping outside seem to grow louder. Anakin takes a step towards you, his confidence wavering only slightly.

"Hey," his tone is softer than normally, you could tell just from his voice he was nervous. His eyes are locked on you, scanning every inch of your body. "Your folks know you're in here?" he asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile. "I told them I'm checking on the chickens." His eyebrow raises, a hint of amusement playing on his face.

Anakin clicks his tongue while shaking his head teasingly. "You shouldn't be lyin' to your parents sweetheart." He looks at you with a certain sparkle in his eyes, as if you made him feel special with a simple remark.

"Technically, I glanced over there when i was walking over here." you state matter-of-factly. Anakin steps closer to you, his fingers brushing the little strands of hair out of your face. His eyes never leaving yours. His touch is gentle, yet electric, making your heart race even faster. You step closer to him and you can't help but feel the pull between you two. The barn feels comforting and inviting, a secret haven away from the world.

"You look real pretty tonight." Anakin compliments sincerely, his hand still resting on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. You nuzzle your cheek against Anakin's big palm. "Thanks," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the silence of the barn.

Anakin's thumb traces a line along your lower lip, teasingly brushing against the corner of your mouth. His hand moves to your waist, his fingertips grazing the hem of your dress, sending electric currents through your body. Anakin leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle peck. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching for your reaction. Seeing your approval, he leans in again, this time with more intensity. His kiss is soft yet passionate, filled with a sense of longing.

The kiss intensifies, your lips pressing harder against each other, tongues dancing in a rhythm only you two understand. Anakin's hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, his breath hitching in your mouth. You break the kiss, trailing your lips against the rough stubble along his jaw. He groans softly, his hand tightening on your hair.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," Anakin panted between breaths. He grips your waist to pull you impossibly closer as you continue to explore his neck with your lips. "You and that damn dress." His hands moved up to cup your breasts, massaging them roughly through the thin fabric of your dress.

You giggle softly, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck. "You're that worked up over a dress, Ani?" Anakin whines quietly in response, his hips desperately bucking in your direction. You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on Anakin's. His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly dropped to your knees, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. He groaned, his hips rocking forward, his cock straining against his pants.

Your hands reach for the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down, revealing his muscular thighs. You reach down further, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his underwear. With a quick tug, they fall to the ground revealing his thick cock, hard and ready just for you.

"You're killing me kid." He managed to croak out as you slowly wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it gently. You lean forward and kiss his angry red tip. It twitches in anticipation, leaking a small amount of precum onto your lip. Your tongue darts out, tentatively exploring the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste. You moan softly, your hands reaching down to cup his balls, massaging them gently.

Anakin's hands grip your hair tightly, his moans turning into groans of pleasure as you continue to tease him. "F-fuckin' hell," he growls, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing his cock further into your mouth. You stroke the part of him that doesn't fit into your mouth, your fingers gliding up and down his length. You can feel him twitching, his body trembling under your touch.

His cock pulses in your hand and his breaths come in ragged gasps. You gag slightly, your eyes watering, but you don't pull away. Instead, you take as much of him as you possibly can.

" 'M close- hold on, I'm- ah!" His cock twitches violently in your mouth, shooting a hot stream of cum down your throat. You swallow it unhesitatingly, eager to please him. Gazing up at Anakin, your eyes is fixed on his. He's panting heavily, his hands shaking slightly. His eyes are filled with admiration and desire. You can feel the heat of his gaze, and it makes you blush slightly.

"Come 'ere," he says, his voice hoarse. He pulls you to your feet, his lips crashing into yours. His tongue dances with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands wandering over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. As you kiss Anakin, you can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh. He slowly walks forward, guiding you towards the small tractor in the back of the barn. His lips never leave yours, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch. He moans into the kiss, slapping his big hand against the fat of your ass. "Turn around for me baby." he commands.

Anakin bends you over the tractor, and flips your dress up, exposing your pink cotton panties to him. He strokes the growing wet spot gently, his fingers grazing your bare skin.

"Jesus, she's practically dripping for me." he whispers, his voice filled with lust. His hands move to your panties, tugging them to the side, revealing your swollen, hot flesh. He licks his lips, his eyes locked onto your slobbering cunt. His cock pulses, ready to be inside you.

Anakin lines up his cock with your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasp, your body adjusting to his girth. He holds onto your hips, guiding himself inside you. He thrusts deeper, his cock filling you completely. You moan softly, your body quickly getting used to his size. "Thaaat's it, angel." he praises, his voice low and alluring. "Let me in."

His hips move slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body responds, your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper. Anakin's breaths come in ragged gasps as he starts to move faster, his hips slamming into you, each thrust sending you further onto the tractor.

You cry out as he sweetly rolls his abdomen, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each movement. The tractor creaks under your weight, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the barn.

"Takin' me so good baby." he growls, you can feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

"M-more Ani," you beg, your voice hoarse. "Need more-"

"Yeah? You want more?" he rasps, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. Anakin pulls you up by your neck and your back is now pressed against his chest. He thrusts harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every movement. You yelp in surprise, your nails digging into the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders to keep your body flush against his. "There you go, you can take it, I know you can."

"Needy little girl," he teases, his voice thick with desire. "Just couldn't keep your hands off me at dinner, shit, could've bent you over that damn table and fucked you raw in front of your folks if I wanted to."

You moan, your head thrown back, your body moving with his. Your walls flutter around him when you hear his vulgar words.

He chuckles, his hands gripping your neck tighter. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Oh, you're dirty." He turns your head roughly, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you messily.

His tongue duels with yours, his hands gripping your neck tighter, holding you in place. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling. "Ani- cumming, c-cumming!" You can't form any coherent words, your breath coming in gasps as you neared your climax.

"Let go sweetheart, I got you," Anakin's breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. You cry out as your orgasm quickly wracks over your body, your cunt contracting tightly around his cock. "That's my girl, c'mon." His breath comes in ragged gasps, and sweat trickles down his forehead, his chest heaving. It takes a few more powerful thrusts for him to fully unload inside you, his cum filling you up completely.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and carefully withdraws from you, his cock glistening with your wetness. He hastily pulls up his pants and adjusts himself.

"You did so good for me." he whispers, his voice filled with awe. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You look even prettier now," he says, his eyes filled with admiration.

He reaches up, fixing your hair, his fingers grazing your face. "You best get back to the house," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You know I'll be here tomorrow."

You nod, your cheeks flushed, your heart still racing from your encounter with him. "Mhm," you hum quietly. He smirks, his eyes filled with mischief.

You smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks when he leans in and brings his lips to yours one last time.

Anakin leads you towards the barn door, his hand still wrapped around yours. "I'll see you tomorrow sweetheart." he coos, his voice filled with promise.

You nod, your cheeks still flushed, your heart racing. "See you, farmboy." you say, your voice shaky. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you step out of the barn, your body still buzzing from the encounter. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, watching you every step of the way. You glance back, catching him standing by his truck, his hands on his hips, watching you walk away.

You enter the house, trying to compose yourself. Your parents were still awake, sitting in the living room, sipping on their drinks. They didn't notice anything amiss about you, thankfully. You made your way upstairs to your room, still feeling the evidence of your encounter between your legs.

You feel a thrill of excitement, knowing that Anakin will be waiting for you at that old barn, ready to have you whenever he wants.

[starlessnightsblog]

daryl x reader

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MDNI 18+ | wordcount: 2.8k | smutt ⭑ fluff

first night alone after being on the road for months.

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While everyone claimed cell blocks, Maggie and Glenn claimed one of the guard towers, so it only felt right Daryl and I claimed the other. We haven't had much privacy since the farm, I had my own room there and only shared it with Daryl for a few days up until we fled after a herd came through.

I hated being on the road, always running, starving, and freezing. Always moving, never truly safe. With no walls or fences, it made me feel so vulnerable out there. I was so thankful for Rick's group, finding my family's farm and Hershel taking them in. We could not have survived without them. Rick brought me Daryl. We didn't like each other at first, but after I found him in the woods with an arrow in his side and catching him when Andrea grazed his skull with a bullet, I haven't left his side since.

Being near Daryl made me feel safe, I think he knew that too and even took pride in it. He was quiet but I knew him this well now and I could just tell.

I was growing frustrated out on the road. I hadn't been able to touch Daryl in months, the way I wanted to touch him. We slept on each other's shoulders most nights, resting our heads, fighting sleep. Daryl liked taking watch and that meant I would take it with him. If I took watch, he insisted he would be right there with me. We talked about everything and anything while out there. I simply enjoyed this man's company, and I liked looking at him, I thought he was gorgeous. He made killing walkers look so.. appealing, might I say it turned me on. God, I needed him, I needed his touch, his rough hands on my bare skin, my fingers in his hair, his lips colliding with my own.

This was going to be our first night sleeping alone in months. I was anxious for the sun to start going down, for dinner to be over with, all so I could have Daryl to myself.

We spent most of the day clearing again; in the evening, we decided to haul two mattresses out of one of the untouched cells and bring them up to our tower. After, Daryl went with Rick to run the fence perimeter one more time. He left me to 'decorate' and so I did.

I had a few blankets I'd been totting around these past months, and I made a makeshift bed in the middle of the tiny, yet surprisingly cozy box. I looked out the window and noticed the sun was setting in the distance. I saw Rick walking back inside. Then the next thing I heard was the door swing open and then closed.

"What a view,' A husky voice engulfed the room. It was Daryl, I turned my head and greeted him with a smile. My eyes following his every move, he set his bow against the wall and lingered over to me, "and I'm not talking bout the sunset." A breath of laughter escaped my lips, "hm, what, too corny?" He murmured.

"Maybe a little."

His hand met the small of my back and I leaned into him, my arms finding their way around his neck, and I melted into his heated embrace, his arms wrapped around me, I buried my head into his neck. He smelled like Daryl. He squeezed me softly; I gained a new sense of ease. We stayed glued together for a few seconds until he broke the embrace,

"Lift your arms."

I did as was told, His hands skimmed over my skin, checking for bites. I felt his fingers reach for the hems of my shirt and the then fabric came over my head. My hair fell over my shoulders and my bra was exposed. He stole a glance, trying not to get distracted. I felt the warmth of the air against my skin but somehow, I still got goosebumps.

Daryl tossed the shirt on the cot I laid out, his hands gliding over my back. 

"..Any scratches?" He hesitated. As if scared, I was going to reveal some mystery cut; a 1 way ticket to walkerville.

"I'm good. I promise." I reassured him.

I turned back to face him, I looked down towards his waist band, then at his vest, "Your turn."

He started at the top button and worked his way threw the first few,I joined in, starting at the bottom. Our fingers met at the middle button, I took my finger and pushed it through, his torso now exposed. I scanned his chest, no bites. Before I reached for his back, he spoke, "Im good. I promise."

I nodded and believed him. He stepped forward, getting close, resting his hand on my hip, His other hand came up to move a loose piece of my hair behind my ear. I could feel his breath on my nose, I felt the warmth in my stomach growing. I could hear his breathing.

He hummed again. A devilish smirk growing on his face, "Is it wrong that I like the blood in your hair?"

Taken back, I raised my brow whilst his eyes stayed steady on mine.

"I mean-" I paused and went to touch my hair but stopped halfway when my eyes shifted up to his shoulders, I glanced at them for a split second.

his dirty, golden, scuffed up shoulders and then like word vomit-

"I like your scuffed shoulders Dixon." My tone, seductive. My fingers started a trail from his ear down to the tip on his shoulder blade, my nails gliding effortlessly.

"I like all of you." he mumbled. My gaze shifted once more, back to his.

Our eyes locked, the corners of my mouth started to stab my cheeks at his words. I couldn't help but blush. The distance between us, if there was any left, closed. My boobs rested on his chest, our lips too close to turn back now.

"I love you." He whispered against my cheek.

My heart skipped a beat, this wasn't our first exchange of the 3 words, yet still, I felt like a teenager all over again, palms sweaty, heart rate never slowing.

"I love you too." my hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him to kiss me. Our foreheads rested against one another. I felt his breath pass my ear lobe, then he started placing soft kisses behind my ear. His soft lips were light on my skin, they reached my collarbone, I gave in, tilting my head, a breathy moan escaped my lips.

He smiled against my collarbone before looking back down at me, staring into my soul with his oceans for eyes. His hand moved under my chin, and he rested his index finger under, tilting my head up slightly. "You have no idea what I'm about to do to you, do you?" His other hand was still on the small of my back.

"I might have some ideas." I teased, biting my lip.

He licked his own. "Hm, knowing you, they might be worse than mine."

"Come find out." I whispered. I pulled at his waist band, bumping my hips into his, he grunted as his hands cupped my face.

I wanted Daryl to show me how much he wanted me. Needed me. I wanted him to throw himself onto me, attack me like the hunter he was and I'm just the prey that got too close. I wanted him so bad now it ached.

Our lips brushed together, I parted them, eagerly waiting and I fluttered my eyes closed. He closed the distance as his lips met mine gracefully, my whole world stopped spinning. He sucked on my top lip as I pushed back. Our lip movements synchronizing. I felt his tongue slide by, and like instinct, I allowed his tongue to enter my mouth. He acted starved, he was, touch starved at least, so was I.

He was being almost modest up until now, the kiss grew hot, heavy and the grip he had on me tightened. He moved my face with his as our tongues danced together. I fidgeted with his pants, fighting the zipper. He really needed some new ones after all this time. Our lips never disconnected. I managed to unzip the stubborn trousers, finding his hard-on that only grew more at my touch.

He groaned in my mouth, and then moved his hands down to the buttons of my shorts. He took no time ripping them free. His hands moved pass my hips and onto my ass, he grabbed at me viciously. Another soft moan escaped my lips.

"Come here." He breathed, while lifting my thighs up, I knew what he wanted, I jumped up to straddle him, his hands catching the back of my thighs. In the middle of our heavy kiss, his lips found my neck again, he sucked at my skin, more eager breaths of mine broke free. I could feel Daryl leaning down, he placed me on the mattress. I was able to catch my breath as I watched him remove his vest and jeans. Next his hands pulled my shorts off. I picked my head up and rested on my elbows, he stood at the edge of the cot and paused. Daryl rubbed his thumb under his lip, wiping away leftover spit. He admired my body and with that same thumb, he trailed it down my inner thigh. That smirk he wore so well appeared on his face.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?"

Before I could respond, he spoke, "I just can't help it, you're fucking perfect. This is perfect." His eyes flickered around the concrete box. "I missed you like this."

The heat in my cheeks rose, he leaned back down, our faces edging closer once again. "I missed this too, so fucking much." I muttered. His hand still in-between my thighs, getting closer and closer to my warmth; his other hand. holding himself up above me, "Be a good girl and spread your legs."

I did and he kissed me again, the hand that was still caressing my thigh, moved lower and I felt his thumb rub against my clit, his fingers resting between my folds. It was only just a tease, before he moved his whole body down, his hands rested on either side of my waist, he began leaving kisses and bites down my stomach till he reached my underwear, his eyes stared up at me, I could feel his timed breathing on my skin. He left a kiss above my underwear, right on my clit. The hunger in his eyes flicked. I was growing hot with anticipation.

My lips parted as I waited for him to remove my underwear. He nudged them down my legs with elegance and then threw them across the room.

His mouth met my wetness and left kisses right on my clit, while his thumb circled around it, he glanced up at me, "Holy shit." He mumbled, "You sure did miss me princess, fuck." He began sucking on my clit, I fell back, my nails finding the blankets. His hands held my hips in place, they rose with his every move. He buried his face into my cunt and focused on my clit, his tongue lapping around it. I leaned back, taking it all in. Daryl just knew what to do and that made him all the more hot.

As he licked and sucked, I could feel my peak rising. He didn't slow down once he realized I was giving into my climax. "That's it princess, let me get a taste." He breathed in-between my folds.

I let out a cry of pleasure. Every stoke of his tongue was breaking me, his hands clinging to me as I grinded my hips to mimic his movements. My back now arching for Daryl and his hard work, he cursed under his breath as my moans began to frequent, his mouth and fingers working together, my fingernails digging into the fabric beneath me. I never wanted this to end, selfishly, whines of pleading, (please, don't stop, & yes's) filled the room as I dissolved into immaculate pleasure.

Daryl lifted his head, and with the look of angst in his eyes, lifting himself off the bed, as I laid there anxious. He removed his boxers swiftly and jumped back on me, nuzzling his hips right in-between my thighs, I could feel his hard-on tapping my opening with every motion he made, He never broke eye contact w me and left kisses on my boobs while removing my bra. He got it off on the first try, I don't know how but thank god because as soon as the fabric was out from under me, his lips pressed against one of my nipples, as his hand grasped for the other. My head fell back, a moan echoed from my throat.

He hummed against my bare skin, my wet nipple getting hard as he breathed, his mouth hovering over it. He looked up at me, grinning. He liked seeing me like this, my quivering motivating him and the sounds coming from my lips, sounds he was responsible for. It got him off, He loved it, loved the way I moaned, the way I moved against his touch. If heaven ever existed this, was it, right here underneath my person; that meant hell was wherever Daryl was not.

He brought his face up to mine, he rested on his hands and knees above me, leaving a few separated, pecks on my lips. I feel his tip pressing against me. He brought his opened palm to my mouth, "Spit." He breathed.

I returned his grin and did as was told. Leaving my eyes stuck on his whilst doing so. He coated his cock with my spit, I bit my lip, this was the first time I snuck a peak of his manhood, my mouth watered at the sight, I bucked my hips, and spread my legs, he caught one and rested it over his shoulder. His breathing heightening as he pushed against my cunt, I was wet, we both knew that. The heartbeat in-between my legs pulsed as hard as ever, the ache growing the closer he got. His lips connected with mine once again, I bit his lip when he tried to break away, I held his neck as he pressed harder, then more and more, till finally he was all the way in. His head fell back, I sharp moan left my lips. He lowered himself, letting his body rest on mine, he thrusted into me; not even letting me get use to the feeling. No, Daryl was as eager as I was and that made it all the better. he thrusted into my cervix several more times, making room for himself inside me,

"Jesus fucking christ, (y/n), " He whimpered, scanning my face and my body, "you look so fucking good. You feel.. so.. fucking good."

He sped up, pounding my insides out, I couldn't contain myself any longer, I almost forgot I didn't need too. We were high up, no way anyone could hear me. Louder moans began leaving my body, I begged for him to never stop, to make me cum, to go harder. I wanted every inch. Hushed moans were escaping Daryl's lips, he smashed his lips against mine, trying to conceal them. But we were fucking like animals now, bodies sprinkled with sweat, shaking, he groaned against ear, as I cried and whimpered in his. My hands were getting tangled in his hair, we were both close now. A few more rushed thrusts and I cried out, my body going weak as he kept thrusting into me. I gripped Daryl's back, sinking my nails into his burning skin, his husky breathing heavy in my ears. I came again, my legs began to shake, Daryl was still grinding into me, he cursed over his breath and his body tightened and in one swift motion he leaped out of me, and grabbed his cock, aiming it at my abdomen. He released his load onto my shaky stomach. I took a deep breath, gaining consciousness again after my climax.

I sat up, my nose leveled with his hard-on, I gazed up at him seductively, I grabbed him at the base and wrapped my mouth around it, sucking him completely dry, he caressed my cheek. I let go and let him walk away to grab a loose rag he had handy. He whipped the cum from my stomach and chest and threw the rag on the ground next to his pile of clothes.

We both laid back down, he kissed my forehead and his finger drawing lines on my cheek and neck. Daryl hummed, "You know, we're never leaving this guard tower now." I started tracing lines on his arm, admiring his physique. I let out a breath and smiled. "Sounds perfect to me."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

wp: thewriterdoll

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumptober 2023

No. 4 Shock | No. 7 “Can You Hear Me?”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Platonic/Early Relationship)

Setting: Post farm / Pre prison

Warnings: Electric shock, blood, CPR

“M’gonna check the fence.”

“I’ll get the generator.”

It was a safe enough place to make camp. It was freezing, snow coming down in large flakes to stick to the couple of inches already on the ground. Being inside a building was already a blessing but with a fence around it? You couldn’t ask for more! 

The few vehicles left to your group were unloaded, everyone else was inside getting set up. You opted to stay close to Daryl, as you often did. Sometimes, he seemed annoyed. Other times, indifferent. But since the fall of the farm, you found that he didn’t seem to mind your company. Hell, he had even sought you out the nights you had watch. Conversation was always light, but the silence in between became comfortable. The man didn’t sleep much, but when he did, he opted to sleep close to the group so that he was near you. 

It wasn’t until he started putting his arm around you on cold nights, pulling you back against his chest, that you began to question exactly where you stood with him. Friendship was one thing. That was an entirely different animal. Not that you were opposed. Simply confused. Even more so, when it became a common occurrence. 

There wasn’t much you could do right now to help. Staying out of the way, hovering somewhere between Rick and the archer, was probably the best option. You began to check out the treeline, eyes peeled for any signs of danger, living or dead. Thankfully, it was quiet. You felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Glancing down at Daryl, he was pulling on sections of the fence, checking their integrity. It seemed like a kind of heavy wire, not chainlink. If it kept out walkers and unsavory characters for the night, it could have been made of playdough for all you cared. 

A glance back to where Rick worked found him studying the generator. There was barely enough light of day left for him to see without a flashlight. Maybe you should offer yours. You let the idea move about uselessly in your head while your eyes curiously followed some of the cables from behind the generator. Strange. What was out here that needed power? 

The generator was sputtering when you found the metal clips at the end, your brow furrowed. They were attached to the fence. That didn’t make— ‘Oh, shit!’

Y/N, meet other shoe. 

“Daryl, let go!” You cried as the noise from the generator spurred to life, your eyes filled with horror just as the archer turned his head toward your call, both hands on the wire. There was a loud sound, like one of those lights meant to fry mosquitos but amplified. Your feet were already moving before Daryl had hit the ground, tendrils of smoke rising from his clothes. 

“Oh my god, Daryl! Daryl, can you hear me?” His eyes were closed. Small streams of red filtered from his nose and— oh, god — his ears. His palms were burned, charred and smoking from his grip on the fence, while smaller burns were scattered across parts of his skin that you could see. You didn’t know if you should touch him. Your knowledge of anything medical was limited to smacking someone on the back if they were choking. What help could you be now? “Rick!”

The ex-sheriff was already stumbling onto his knees beside you, nervously assessing the situation. You heard the door open, the others obviously hearing your cries. “What’s going on?” Hershel. Yes! Yes, you needed Hershel!

“Fence. Daryl. Shocked.” You stammered, not making much sense but the old man was jogging over anyway. 

“He’s not breathing.” Rick muttered, mostly to himself, with a haunted, panicked glaze over his eyes that you were slowly coming to know very well. He lifted Daryl to remove the crossbow from his back. It’s a wonder the thing wasn’t broken from the impact. Maybe it was. Hershel and Rick moved as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The veterinarian began chest compressions, halting only long enough for Rick to force air into the archer’s lungs with a trembling hand pinching his nose shut. 

Everyone had moved closer but kept distance to let the men do what was needed. Except Carol. Through her own tears, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to your feet. 

“No.” You mumbled quietly at first, shaking your head before pulling against her to get back to Daryl’s side. “No! Daryl! Daryl!”

“They’re trying to help him!” The older woman reasoned, spinning you so that your cheek was pressed against the front of her shoulder. You could barely see through your tears but Rick was shouting in frustration, and Hershel kept shaking his head. “It’s okay.” Carol whispered. Her fingers carded through your hair but offered little comfort. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. 

A loud, wheezing inhale came from the ground, followed by a series of coughs. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 

“Glad you’re back,” you heard Rick practically gasp the words, his tense posture relaxing a little. Hershel slumped in exhaustion but it gave you a glimpse of Daryl. He was pale, drawing in quick breaths, and had yet to move. 

“Think… fence s’good.”

In all your time with your little apocalypse family, you had never seen Daryl sleep as deeply as he was now. It had only been a few hours since the incident, but the image of him, unmoving, was trapped at the forefront of your mind. Everyone was asleep, aside from T-Dog being on watch by the door. The room was warm, the small fireplace enough to keep a little heat going even as the flames burned lower. 

You sat next to where they had placed the archer, giving him the only bed in the building. He protested that Lori should have it, of course, being pregnant and all, but even she had insisted. Exhausted from the trauma, he had fallen asleep soon after Hershel had done his initial checks for early signs of nerve damage or any heart abnormalities. His palms were wrapped heavily, having received the worst of the burns. Dried blood was still beneath his nose and ears, but that could be dealt with later. Gauze covered the other burns on his arms and neck. You were instructed on how to check his pulse and what to watch for while he rested. 

“Ya ain’t tired?”

Your eyes had been glued to the rise and fall of his chest, so engrossed that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes. 

“No, I’m, uh…I’m good.” You sniffled and moved forward to the edge of the chair, reaching for his wrist. He flinched but didn’t pull back as he would have only a few months before. “Just checking your pulse.” He gave an almost imperceptible nod, eyes slipping closed. Satisfied, you sat back and rubbed a hand over your face. You really were exhausted but letting someone else watch over him wasn’t an option.

“Y’alrigh’?” His eyes were still closed. He must’ve picked up on your uneven breaths or the tap of your foot. Clever jerk. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“Like a human Pop-tart.” He turned his head toward you, eyelids heavy and expression pinched. He was in pain, though he’d never admit it. Hershel had left some Tylenol but you’d have to wrestle him to get him to take it. 

Still…

“Hershel left—”

“Don’ need it.”

“Of course you don’t.” You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. “Go back to sleep.”

“Ya need ta sleep too, y’know.” 

“I have to keep an eye on your heartrate.” 

He hummed, eyes opening a little wider. Without warning he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince and moved to the opposite side of the bed, collapsing back onto the pillow. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” You whisper yelled. You hoped he could see your irritation in the glare you were giving him since you couldn’t verbally express it at the moment. 

“Shuddup an’ get in.” Daryl gave a jerk of his chin toward the now empty space in front of you. 

“Daryl, I need to—”

“I gotcha covered. Jus’ get in, damnit.” With an annoyed huff, you toed off your boots and climbed under the blanket, flopping onto your side to face him. “Now c’mere.” The archer stretched out the arm closest to you in invitation. You hesitated. Sure, you’d slept next to him before but he was behind you, keeping you warm. This was…not that. “C’mon, ain’t got all night.” Gulping audibly, you scooted closer, gently laying your head against the front of his shoulder. His arm came around from behind you to rest against your side. 

“Won’t this irritate those burns?” 

“Nah, s’fine. Gimme yer hand.” You lifted your hand from where you had it sheltered in front of you and allowed him to gently grab your wrist with his fingertips. He was carefully avoiding his wrapped palm coming into contact. Your hand was placed, palm down, against his chest, his fingers pressing it flat. “There. Monitor away an’ get some sleep.” His heart thudded strongly at a regular pace, the feel of it soothing. You found yourself smiling at this sweet gesture, only to look up and be met with his raised brow. 

“You’re such an ass. Go to sleep.”

“You firs’.”

“Fine.” A beat of silence. “Think I’ll dream about Rick kissing you again? That was kinda hot.”

“Stop.”

[konigbabe]

the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary:  The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

 02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

[vixen525noms]

Release- Extended Version

Warning- safe vore (main), fatal vore (others), characters in distress

Inspired by a pic by @verefex

Enara lost count of how much she had paced the metal walkway over the enclosure, but she hadn’t lost track of time. Ten minutes past the end of her break. But she wouldn’t get in trouble. The other security workers seemed to expect her to stay beyond the end of her break when they told her she should take a look at what they were guarding. It was extremely unexpected, but probably not for the reason they thought.

She was pretty confident most thought monsters like this are myths… but it wasn’t her first time seeing one. She had just been a child, but she knew she hadn’t imagined it. The first time had been extremely brief. She had been stunned silent in awe at the massive being. She remembered storybooks speaking of such things as dangerous, often eating people. She hadn’t known what to do. There was no way she could out run it. But she watched as the giant simply reached over the fence of her grandpa’s farm and set down the lamb that had gone missing earlier in the day. It… no, he stared at her as the lamb ran past her to go to its mother, then simply went back the way he came.

Even as a child it was enough for her to understand that despite what the storybooks said, this titanic person wasn’t an evil monster. Just very scary. And very, very big.

The second, and last encounter had been more significant. It was a couple years after the incident with the lost lamb. But she had gone to collect berries for making pie.. she had fallen down, tumbled into the river. She thought she was doomed. She remembered waking on dry land, coughing up water with pressure on her chest. The pressure gone followed by her being lifted up. Enara remembered when she opened her eyes seeing the same enormous ‘monster’ carrying her. Same as he had carried the lamb. Except this time he went further past the fences, instead setting her much closer to the house before once again leaving.

She paced the walk again, talking to herself as she considered her options. Seeing what they had locked up here… others may see a giant as a dangerous monster… she knew different. Sure the muscular, dark haired giant was enormous and intimidating… but from what she saw back on the farm, she knew they weren’t monsters. She ignored the blue eyes tracking her movement as she talked aloud to herself as she processed the information, “If I do this, I won’t just lose my job. I’ll lose my credentials and never work in security again. Might even be arrested for theft of company property or worse. They may even kill me. I am going to be in so much trouble…”

She went further down the walk this time, over to a panel. Other guards had given her the key ring so she could come in here and see… they wouldn’t expect this. It took some tries to find the right key for the access panel. She hoped she was right about these beings. She would be in easy reach when the restraints were dropped. She opened the panel. Hesitates… hit the first of the buttons. She heard the whirring of gears and the electronics click as the massive restraints on the so-called monster released, allowing free movement. She watched the giant stand, staring at her as she stood near the panel. She was fairly certain he was smart enough to understand she had freed the restraints. Alarms were going off. Usually only one restraint would ever be loosened, but definitely not released, so they could feed the being, so not surprising there were alarms for this. She could feel those blue eyes staring at her, watching what she did. She took a deep breath to build her nerve… and she hit the button to open the passage to the surface. The way they no doubt brought this giant in… and the only escape.

She had expected to immediately hear the heavy foot prints of the being, feel the floor shake during an escape. She saw the guards at the door to the walkway. “They got here fast… time to face conseque…'' her talking to herself was interrupted as the other guards started onto the walk, and instead of fleeing the giant smacked the walkway, sending guards flying…   Disabling the walkway made sense. Prevent the other guards from closing the door. But it would be her end... she was falling… but didn’t hit the ground. She landed in a soft palm as the giant caught her, preventing her from falling to her death like the other guards. Although she supposed he could have caught them too, but probably had no reason to. She was now being held by the giant she freed… and he was now heading towards the exit.

She had no idea what he would do to her, but she hoped she wouldn’t regret her actions as the titanic being held her tight to his chest as he used his other hand to go.. Something. She couldn’t see what, but she could feel muscles flexing as he was doing something.

“Too tight!” Enara tried to yell as best she could, hoping he spoke or at least understood the language. The pressure on her from his hand pinning her was a lot. Made it hard to breathe. She understood why; it was an extremely stressful situation. He probably wasn’t focused on how he was holding her. She felt the hand move, now instead cupped open so she could see where he was running instead of pinned against him. She figured that meant he understood, even if she hadn’t heard him speak. It was a relief to not be pinned like that, and she caught a glance of the open doors ahead… and she could see the other guards had gathered and the turrets were active.

The massive giant ignored the hail of bullets being fired. The small weapons did nothing. She yelled and ducked in fear and pain when she felt intense heat and bits of metal shower her when a rocket hit the giant in the chest above where he had her cupped. Even if the giant had kept her from falling to her death earlier, she was far more vulnerable to the weapons they were using than him. “I’m going to die…” She said, more thinking aloud like she had on the walkway than actually expecting anything to come of the statement. Fortunately the giant had heard, and had a solution to the issue at hand of keeping her safe while he made his escape.

Unfortunately she had no way to understand his plan or intentions, and the urgency of the situation did not offer much time for proper communication.

What she did know was that the giant had turned so his back was to the weapons, blocking her from the next rocket blast. He was looking down at her again. Enara looked up to meet those intense blue eyes. She could see a trickle of blood from his mouth, although she was pretty sure that was an injury from before she triggered the release, one of the reasons she had made up her mind so quickly. He was lifting her up to his face and she tensed a bit. He was so large and intimidating, she couldn’t help but be nervous being handled by him, even if she had childhood memories of encountering a helpful giant.

She cried out and cringed down when she was up to his face and witnessed his mouth opening as his hand came near it. She thought she heard him say something, but was too panicked to process. Were the stories about giants eating humans right? Had the one she saw as a child been an exception? She hesitantly snuck a glance. Those teeth were huge. The tongue a vibrant blue color, as was the rest of his mouth… So there were differences beyond just size… Enara covered her face to avoid looking anymore as the tongue came into contact with her. In an instant she could feel she was no longer in contact with the giant's hand. She could feel his body around her moving. She didn’t know what he was doing, but… even if she was wet with drool now, the tongue wasn’t moving. No licking… and no swallowing. Was her terrified assumption wrong?

Enara was very hesitant, but lowered her hands, peeking her eyes open. A bit of light peeked past the lips, letting her see the blue surroundings. She could hear commotion outside, hear things being smashed or blowing up. The sounds of guns and rocket launchers. It slowly sank into her mind that he wasn’t eating her… He needed his hands free to deal with the other guards, and she had been too exposed. He had been reacting to her statement, the very real risk of her getting killed by the weapons meant for him. She was hesitant, but rested a hand on the tongue beneath her. There was some reaction to the touch, a bit of movement, but as best she could guess he was intentionally trying not to move her around and scare her more. He clearly understood her… So maybe if she talked out making sense of this situation, she would get a reaction?

“I… thought the worst… the stories I’ve heard…” She said, a bit hesitant and unsure if he’d be too preoccupied with those trying to kill or recapture him to listen. “I mean, I have no idea if they’ve even given you decent food, or how desperate you may be. When you caught me after knocking down the walkway, I hoped I had been right about you… that you were like the one I’d seen as a child… But when you… did this…” Enara paused, thinking about her words, “I thought it’d be the end of me.” She saw a brief flash through the very slight part in the lips before he grit his teeth and the light vanished. They must have hit him in the face with something, and letting her have a bit of light was no longer an option. “But… you didn’t… swallow. I… hope I’m right in thinking you put me here because I was too exposed to the weapons they were using on you…” 

She heard a grunt from the giant. She had no idea if it was to acknowledge her words or if he had been hit with something stronger, but it encouraged her to keep talking to work through her thoughts, and perhaps have him understand her own reactions. “If I’m right… I appreciate you… keeping me from getting killed in this conflict.” She touched her shoulder, which she was starting to notice was hurting quite a bit now that the initial adrenaline was dying down a bit. The cloth of the uniform was gone there; she could feel a different texture to the moist, hot skin and it was very tender to the touch. She must have been burned when the rocket hit so close to her. “I hope they aren’t hurting you too bad… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you escape… it was… impulsive, not planned. I didn’t know if I could get the keys a second time… I wish I could have done something to stop them from attacking as you left…” This time when she paused, he gave a sort of hum. So she was more confident he was responding to what she said. He was trying to listen to her, to pay attention to how she was handling this.

She sighed in relief. “You… you are listening to what I say… trying to respond when you can. That’s… reassuring. Very reassuring. Makes me think you really do mean well by this, and I’m not just some snack being savored.” The response was another hum, slightly higher pitched, almost happier. Like he was pleased she understood he hadn’t done this to hurt her. A moment later the giant jerked to one side, and she wondered if he’d been hit with something stronger. He was trying to keep her calm… at least she was pretty sure that was his intention… She wished she could kind of return the favor. She was hesitant, but she pat his tongue beneath her. “Hang in there… you are tough enough I’m sure you can get past whatever they throw at you… I hope they aren’t hurting you too much.” 

The giant jerked again, and lips parted to allow light through the teeth, illuminating the blue space around her and a deep growl reverberated through her bones. Teeth parted slightly as he let out an even louder growl, and she could briefly glance at what had him so angry. They had gotten out vehicle mounted weapons, and those could hit a lot harder than the rocket launchers. Enara barely managed to see his hand coming down towards one of them before the teeth and lips closed again. They were definitely making his escape hard. But despite the tension and anger at being attacked, he had seemed to remain relatively cautious of her in here.

Then there was a sudden, much harsher jerk and she felt herself tumbling back…”No!” She cried out as she knew she was heading towards his throat. She was terrified. Even if he was trying to be careful, all the harsh movement was going to send her to his stomach! She was going to die despite his best efforts! The tongue beneath her she rolled across suddenly went up, pressing her against the roof of the mouth. Thank goodness… Even as he fought and focused on the battle around him, he was doing his best to keep her safe. It was uncomfortable as the tongue moved, pushing her around to get her back to the middle front, but a relief. She sighed as she felt space around her again, “Thank you… I thought… Thank you.” 

She felt more movement again, a slight bounce almost. She could only guess he was running to get distance so they couldn’t keep hounding him with weapons. A brief flash of light from the front of his mouth again as it opened and he took deeper breaths, but she remained undisturbed. She could hear the motor of a helicopter… They were following him as he ran, but she got a flash of movement and heard an impact, soon followed by a crash. She could only guess he threw something at the helicopter to keep it from tracking him as he finally got away from that awful place.

She hoped this meant he would get her out soon. Even if he had seemed to be trying to reassure her, it was still really scary to be in the mouth of a giant. She also couldn’t help but wonder what he did intend to do with her as he took her with him… and she found herself thinking aloud again, “Suppose doing this kinda blew up my life as I knew it. Even with everything you probably wrecked, the cameras would have picked up what I did and uploaded to remote back up. Guess I can’t really go home anymore.”

She suddenly found herself tumbling out onto the giant's hand. He was keeping a quick pace still, but no longer running. He did take a moment to glance down at her, and she finally heard him speak for the first time, two simple words; “Thank you.” She smiled, but her smile dropped when she saw his other hand go to his mouth and some of the guards pursuing them vanished down his gullet. He saw her expression, and gave a sheepish smile, “Don’t worry. You aren’t on the menu. But the refused me food and I needed something to hold me over… probably should get what I can from the helicopter too…” She frowned, “So… the stories aren’t wrong. Giants do eat people…” He sighed, “It’s… complicated. Usually when we do so it’s safe, just a bit of fun. We can… protect humans from being harmed in there if we choose. But in desperate situations? Where they have abused and starved us? Yeah, most of us will retaliate that way… You have a name, little rescuer?” She was a bit nervous of the massive giant, but nodded, “Uh… yeah. Enara. Enara Jaskolski” He smiled, “Interesting that a girl with a name that means the swallow bird… both your first and last name… would rescue a giant named Caelus… a name meaning god of the sky.”

He turned and started to where she saw smoke rising. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was desperate for food after being starved by these same people… but it was still unnerving, especially after he had her in his mouth for so long and came awfully close to swallowing her once. She looked away when he reached for the crashed helicopter and she could hear groans from barely alive people in the crash. She really didn’t want to think about it. But at least the sounds were brief before he turned to start moving again. She glanced up at him and saw an amused grin on his face, almost like he wanted to laugh. She cocked her head, “Is something funny?” He glanced down again, the light of the sun filtering through his dark hair, “Yeah, just that your name means swallow… but that you were one guard I didn’t want to swallow!” He seemed to think for a moment, “At least, not when I’m this hungry. Maybe safely some time just for fun.” Enara shuttered, “That’s not a reassuring thought.” “Not like you can go back to the life you had… although… The last name sounds familiar.”

She stared at the giant, “It… does?” “Yeah. I think I remember a sign on a farm with that name on it…” Caelus mused, “A while back. Pretty area near a river.” Enara was stunned silent. Her memory wasn’t the best from so long ago… but could this be the same giant that had saved her when she fell in the river? It seemed impossible… but… There couldn’t be that many giants or their existence would be more than just a fairytale to most.

He noticed her quiet and looked down at her, but decided not to press the matter. Poor girl was overwhelmed as it was. Gave up everything she knew to save his life. He’d give her time to think and process everything she just experienced. Maybe while he continued he could spot something large to catch and eat, like a bear or even better, a herd of buffalo. But for now he needed to keep moving, he didn’t want the bastards that caught him to have time to organize and catch up to him before he could hide from them.

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 26

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule. 

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid. 

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the masses of feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going to save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG. 

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out. 

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's truck and bike, and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no. 

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

[homelyhuntsville]

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[muskokafarm]

Muskoka Farm Pre Training

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy, with stallion fees and sales profits supporting thousands of jobs. Horse breaking is an essential part of this process, helping the race horses become comfortable in their bridles and saddles and preventing behavioural problems later on.

Located near Wisemans Ferry, New South Wales, Muskoka Farm is a world class pre training facility. The 280-acre property offers breaking, spelling, and agistment services. Its facilities include five stable barns, 27 day yards, 10 large fully fenced paddocks and a two-bedroom guest house. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call (02)45663106.

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy and supports thousands of jobs. Horse breaking is an important part of this industry, preparing racehorses to become comfortable in the bridle and saddle and helping to prevent behavioural issues later on.

Mars owns an estimated one-third of Mars Inc, the candy, food and pet care company founded by her grandfather and best known for its Milky Way and Snickers bars. She is a longtime supporter of the USEA and serves on several committees and task forces.

Mars’s Stonehall Farm in The Plains, Virginia is home to her small breeding program. Her eventers Winter’s Tale, The Native and Prince Panache have put in brilliant performances as members of the U.S. eventing team. Nicholson and Landmark’s Monte Carlo (Formula One x Glamour) competed at the five-star level in 2023. Clarke helps select stallions to pair with Mars’ mares, and they breed three to four foals per year.

A horse that is being prepared for a race will be exercised in various ways. This can include walking, hacking on varied terrain and sprinting. The horse will also learn how to respond to rider aids and follow barrier procedures. It is important to prepare the horse for the race by training it early.

Bob Lapointe owns and operates Muskoka Farm, a world class spelling and pre-training complex located near Wisemans Ferry in New South Wales. This 280 acre property features five stable barns, 58 spelling paddocks, and a two kilometer track for pace work. It also has a two bedroom guest house and facility manager’s cottage.

The farm’s name is a reference to the renowned Canadian lake district. It has been in operation since 1969. Currently, it houses over 180 horses. The facility is home to a number of top notch trainers and has an excellent reputation. The horses are carefully cared for and treated with the utmost respect.

The 280 acre world class facility is located in Gunderman on the Hawkesbury River and is surrounded by national parks and natural bushland. It offers breaking/pre training, spelling and agistment services, along with being a registered AQIS quarantine operation. The farm also has a four-bedroom period homestead, two-bedroom guest house, private jetty/pontoon, in-ground pool, helipad and facility manager’s cottage.

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy and supports thousands of jobs. One of the most important aspects of the industry is horse breaking, which prepares racehorses to be comfortable in the bridle and saddle.

The farm has produced many stars of the turf including November Rain, Emancipation, Handy Proverb, Bint Marscay, Dance Hero, Theseo, Sir Dapper and Grand Armee, as well as local and international Group 1 winners such as Dance Zero, Inspiration, Trust Me Bet and Squamosa. This is a highly successful commercial operation and a must see for anyone serious about buying a top quality spelling and pre-training complex.

Located at Wisemans Ferry on the Hawkesbury River, Muskoka Farm is a world class spelling and pre-training facility that also offers yearling education. Its 280 acre property is surrounded by national parks and natural bushland and has state-of-the-art facilities. These include a 2400m crusher dust track, a 2000m grass track for pace work, an equine pool and high speed treadmill. The facility is also staffed by an experienced track work rider and a barn foreman.

The farm uses violence-free methods to break racehorses, allowing them to get comfortable with their bridles and saddles before entering the racing industry. This approach helps prevent behavioural problems down the track. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call (02)45663106.

The farm is owned by Toby Pracey, a world-class horse breaker who has a long list of clients that includes Golden Slipper winners. He has over 30 years of experience in the thoroughbred industry and is dedicated to improving the health of horses. He is also a founder of several businesses, including O’Reilly Media and Safari Books Online.

[ladyscroogeblr]

More on the traitor

Trump started the January 6/2021 insurrection. There is a lot to say about it but I'll brief. Trump wanted to stay in power. He wanted to be a dictator. His followers did his biddening and a lot of them are paying for it which they should! Hope Trump gets the book thrown at him when and if he ever goes to trial for it! Truly the worst thing he did as president. Some of his lawyers and followesr still call him President! He isn't and should not be! I don't even want to refer to him as A former president! He cheated on all his wives. Melonia, I believe, married him for money. She hated being the First Lady and purposly did a horrible job at it! Doesn't live in the same house as Trump. She is rarely seen with him! Melonia hates him! Loves their son Barron and she will do everything she can to make sure Baron is not screwed over by Trump! Trump is a cult leader of his followers and supporters! I have family members who adore Trump! It makes me sick! Trump tried to flush documents down White House toilets! He says he is 6 ' 3 and weighs only 215! He's more like 315! He is a slob! Cheats at gokf, every time he p!ays! Tried to cheat as golf the time he played Tiger Woods! Tiger caught him! Created space force and I have no idea what they do or if this is a real thing ! Rarely wire A mask during the pandemic. Hated wearing be mask because bit messed up his orange make up! Said he would get rid of Obama care! It never happened and he said his plan would be bigger and better! I'm still waiting! Wears adult diapers. Can't control his bowels because if his drug use in the 1980s! There is videos of the stinky guy farting and you can see people like Mike Pence, have that face of someone smelling A fart! With the border, Trump said he built A whole wall and nobody could get through or over it in truth Trump built only 50 miles of the wall and most of it was replacing old parts of the wall. Trump had used cheap martial. Less then a year the wall was falling apart ! In some parts the walk was rotting away! Some spots were cut through, multiple tines, even after being fixed! The material was cheap and a person could buy cheap tools to get through the fence! Oh brother! Trumpnhad more illegal immigrants cross the border then any modern president in history! Same with drugs! Trump has no idea that drugs come from all over the world! Not all gets in the country! Thanks to border patrol and drug agents at airports. For example! Not all drugs come from Mexico! Same with illegal immigrants! There are some who try to get in the States, by trying to use illegal papers! Those people are sent back to their country, right away! Agents go through so much stuff and do find lots of illegal drugs! Don't forget, there are a lot of people who make illegal drugs in drug houses! Trump banned Muslims from entering the United States! He doesn't believe in global warming! He told California people to rake their forests, after he refused to send money to California after terrible fires! Went to Puerto Rico after a hurricane and threw people paper towels! Puerto Rico suffered badly after a hurricane and suffered more because Trump refuse to send them aid money! He took a sharper to a map directing a hurricane towards Alabama when it wasn't going that way! Scaring the crap out of Alabama residents! Trump loved to say when a hurricane was going to happen, he would be the wetest Hurricane we'd ever seen! Said he never heard the word caravan until one was heading to the States from Central and Southern America! Then he said their was criminals and terrorists in the middle of the caravan! Totaly untrue! Said he would never have a company leave the USA to go to another country! Bull! Said that companies were coming back to the USA after he did the Chinese tariff deal! Not! Hates wind bines because a wind farm was built near one of his golf courses and lowered the property value! Unbelievable! It makes me sick knowing, there are people can't take off the blinders to see the truth will vote for Trump for President! For me it's Biden all the way!

[dutchiedirtmoving]

Make The Right Choice: Select A Concrete Company With Comprehensive Services!

When it comes to new concrete projects, finding the right gravel companies near me is an essential part of the process. With the right company, you can trust that your project is completed correctly and efficiently. But what services can a qualified concrete contractor offer?

Concrete crushing

Concrete crushing is a service offered by many gravel companies. This process involves crushing existing concrete into smaller pieces which can then be reused in a variety of ways. By crushing the concrete, any contamination is removed and the material can be recycled or reused for any future projects.

Excavation

Excavation is another service offered by qualified contractors. This service involves the removal of materials from the ground to build or repair foundations, walls, and other features. It is important to hire a professional to ensure that the excavation is done safely and correctly.

Dugouts or lagoons

Dugouts or lagoons are services offered by many gravel companies that involve digging out areas of land for various purposes. This service is often used for water storage, erosion prevention, and other uses. The excavation of land requires specialized equipment and knowledge, so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can do this job correctly.

Feedlot renovation

Feedlot renovation is another service offered by qualified contractors. This involves renovating old feedlots to make them more efficient and cost-effective for use in modern farming operations. This service involves installing new fencing, drainage systems, and other features that can make the feedlot more efficient and easier to manage.

Commercial services

Commercial services are also offered by many gravel companies. These services involve building or repairing commercial structures such as bridges, roads, and buildings. Commercial services require specialized equipment and knowledge so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can handle these types of projects correctly and efficiently.

In addition to these five services, there are many other services that a qualified concrete contractor can offer. These include concrete crushing near me, demolition, masonry work, custom concrete designs, and more. All of these services require specialized equipment and knowledge, so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can handle your project correctly and efficiently.

About Dutchie Dirt Moving Ltd.:

Dutchie Dirt Moving Ltd. is one of the leading concrete contractors Lethbridge. They have fully equipped equipment that is needed in feedlot renovations, excavation, trucking, and more.

For more information, visit https://dutchiedirtmoving.com/.

Original source: https://bit.ly/47PhB4o

[mcveighparker]

Prominent features of Onduline roofing and its advantages

Roofing is one of the most crucial areas to be concerned about when it comes to building a house. This is the reason why people are highly bothered about the materials and the procedures employed while carrying out roofing services in houses. However, with Onduline roofing no such worries have any place because they believe in making use of the best quality materials that ensure longevity and durability. Besides, the procedures involved in order to roof a house or an office are hassle-free and cost-effective as well. The professionals who carry out the roofing tasks are highly skilled in their tasks and sincere and dedicated towards their duties. 

Along with roofing products offered by the associated companies, agricultural supplies too, form a crucial part. While checking out the Agricultural supplies near me, it is visible that there is a huge range of products that are offered, keeping in mind, both basic and advanced requirements of agriculture. Tools involved in water drainage procedures, landscaping or farming are widely available with the associated companies that majorly attempt to satisfy their clients with skill and quality. Products like feeders, sleepers and even fencing tools are available too at affordable prices. 

As it is known to all that gates play quite a vital role in providing security to the areas concerned, the strength and durability of the same is a matter of concern. It is here that a Metal gate does it all. It is usually made up of galvanised metals that stand strong and high in almost every situation. Available in a range of sizes and styles, these metal gates will suit your requirements with ease.

[triangleltd]

Materials Used to Produce Cattle Grids

A cattle grid is a smart & cost-effective solution to keeping livestock in your property and out of hazardous areas they shouldn’t be commuting through. They are generally used so your cattle are kept off or away from railway lines, rivers, or other places that could potentially put them in danger. Usually, there’s a gap between the grid’s bars that’s meant to allow small animals like rabbits to pass under but not for larger ones like cows. Also, cattle grids require pretty less maintenance than gates do, which means you won’t have to constantly shut down traffic during times of increased pedestrian traffic. It is because you know that the steel cattle grids you have installed are enough durable to last longer.

What Makes Cattle Grids So Durable As earlier discussed, a cattle grid, sometimes referred to as a cowcatcher or cow grid is a structure that sits atop the ground and prevents cattle from straying into other areas. They are often used in personal farms, ranches, and locations where farmers tend to keep their livestock so they can prevent them from crossing over into other properties as well as dangerous areas. However, they are not made of only one kind of material. So, their durability utterly depends on the material that has been used to produce them. So, this is the metal that you should be concerned about. Well, the design of the cattle grid and who manufactures it may also play a significant role in determining its quality. However, steel cattle grids are usually considered a good option because they are decently durable. Nonetheless, the following materials are used for cattle grid production. Steel While extremely strong steel cattle grids have a high maintenance cost as they are prone to rust and need frequent painting. Therefore, we highly recommend buying galvanized steel in order to get the best use out of them if you choose this option! Concrete Concrete cattle guards are some of the most commonly used cattle guards in areas where landowners need to control vehicular traffic across the pathways leading to their property. This is because of their durability and relatively lower cost when compared to other alternatives such as metal fencing, which is much weaker and more expensive. Concrete fences are often reinforced with metal rods that significantly increase their strength while making them less susceptible to cracking or breaking over time. Additionally, they are not as expensive as steel grids. However, if you prefer steel cattle guards, you can search on the internet for steel fabricators near me! Electricity Using electricity in a cattle grid is an excellent way to discourage livestock from crossing over. Not many people choose this option because it is pretty risky as well as costly. However, you may think about it if you want an extreme level of security! Final Words Installing cattle grids unquestionably adds an extra layer of security for cattle. However, many cattle owners find it difficult to reach out to the right professionals, but you don’t need to get in a fluster. You can get in touch with Triangle Ltd. It is one of the best steel railing fabrication companies in Hampshire. To know more visit our official website: triangleltd.co.uk.

[swldx]

RNZ Pacific 1236 13 Jul 2022

7245Khz 1153 13 JUL 2022 - RNZ PACIFIC (NEW ZEALAND) in ENGLISH from RANGITAIKI. SINPO = 55445. English, music until pips and news @1200z anchored by Peter McIlwaine. The government has announced a number of changes to tackle gang gun violence, including closing a loophole on firearm intimidation charges, and giving police more powers to seize guns, vehicles, and assets. Former Kiribati president Anote Tong suspects a major agreement is "cooking" between Beijing and Tarawa after the country's decision to quit the Pacific Islands Forum. A mother and daughter who bred German shepherds have been sentenced today after one of the SPCA's largest prosecutions. The duo kept more than 60 dogs and puppies tied up by short leashes and choker chains without access to water or shelter. The Human Rights Commission is urging police to address their treatment of transgender people after an officer broke a woman's ankle and misgendered her in reports. They said the incident, which was yesterday ruled as excessive force, was far from the first of its kind. The Tokyo district court on Wednesday ordered four former executives of Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCo) to pay 13 trillion yen ($95 billion) in damages to the operator of the wrecked Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear power plant, the plaintiff's lawyers said. The ruling, in a civil case brought by Tepco shareholders, marks the first time a court has found former executives responsible for the nuclear disaster, local media reports said. Around 50,000 cubic metres of material created by slips needs a permanent home across the areas of Waipaoa, Uawa, and Hikurangi.

Gisborne District Council needs sites near these areas to take material that has been removed during recovery efforts after the March 2022 weather event. “If you have an area on your farm you think would be suitable, please let me know so a time can be arranged for a site visit,” says Journeys Infrastructure manager Dave Hadfield. Sports. @1204z trailer for RNZ "Our Changing World". @1205z Weather Forecast: scattered showers to rain clearing by afternoon. Snow at 600m. @1206z "All Night Programme" music DJ'd by Peter McIlwaine. Backyard fence antenna, Etón e1XM. 100kW, beamAz 325°, bearing 240°. Received at Plymouth, United States, 12912KM from transmitter at Rangitaiki. Local time: 0653.

[allprofencebuffalo]

Benefits to get from best fence installation near me

Apart from the privacy concerns and obvious facilities, a fence can offer a lot more. Let’s explore those benefits.

More enjoyable and comforting family gatherings or friends get together can take place with a perfect fence installation. Children can run around and play without disturbing the neighbors.

Buffer the bad weather this winter with a nice and decorative fence that’s sturdy and stands strong against the winds. Intense storms can whirl up your backyard structures and features, especially the greens very badly. Our fence installation near me is a service that protects the backyard from these dangers. Also, it protects your back garden from all sorts of things that may accidentally slam against your windows or other expensive structures on the patio. Fences are great shields for your property.

With the nicest fence installation near me, as we provide it the finest possible way, you get to keep your back garden as snug & comfy as you want. An enclosed yard is always a great place to enjoy a quality me-time. And when we make your fences, you are sure to be delighted with all the comfort and coziness.

[sunsinourhands]

Vulcan vs. Earth Cultural Difference Thoughts

Taken from the wiki: "First and foremost, Vulcan is a hot planet. Daytime temperatures routinely range from 43.3ºC (110ºF) to 51.6ºC (125ºF), and in the peak of summer can reach or exceed 65.5ºC (150ºF). The rays of Vulcan's orange sun, 40 Eridani A, usually shine down through the red sky unbroken by clouds from dawn to dusk, as rainfall throughout the planet typically averages less than 635mm (25in) per year and is heavily concentrated in the six-week period immediately following summer's end.

In addition, winds tend to be mild except along the coasts, providing little relief. (The exceptions, the continent-spanning sandstorms, provide no relief at all.) Only nightfall brings a break to the incessant heat, dropping the thermometer to 7ºC (45ºF) or below. In Vulcan's winter months, the mid-latitude deserts often experience freezing temperatures at night...

...The planet Vulcan has no axial tilt, so that there is no natural progression of the seasons from north to south and back again as on Earth. Instead, seasonal changes occur planet wide as the result of Vulcan's elliptical orbit around its sun."

It is a desert planet with wild temperature ranges of scorching hot in the day, and frigid in the night. It also...doesn't rain much there. And I think that's really important to remember when it comes to cultural differences. For example: the area I live in has an average yearly rainfall of 42-43 inches a year--with an additional average of 21-22 inches of snow on top of that. That is roughly 2.5 times MORE annual precipitation than Vulcan. I also live in an area where temperature changes often...but not to the degree of a desert. I looked up average desert temperature at night...and it's around 25F or -4C. No fuckin' thanks. My area is (aside from a few large cities spread pretty far apart) also a pretty heavy agricultural area. It's near Bloomington, Indiana--the hometown of Captain Janeway. The area is known for producing Corn, Soybeans, Poultry, Swine, Mint (for candy companies) and Watermelons. Note, it isn't uncommon to see big sales of 25 lbs watermelons for $3 in my area. My Japanese friends hate me for it. We're also no slouch when it comes to producing wood for furniture.

My point is, it's a green fuckin' area. I can only imagine someone from Vulcan getting lost and (ten minutes after leaving campus) finding themselves in front of a corn field that stretches hundreds and hundreds of acres. It would be a mind-boggling scene of agricultural plenty. Or, perhaps, they'd come across one of the fish farms the Bald Eagles like to chill at. Just THOUSANDS of gallons of water, just sitting there. Enough to raise FISH. Enough for WILD WATERFOWL to just CHILL THERE.

Meat requires a TON of water. A quick google tells me your average pound of beef costs 1847 GALLONS of water to produce. That's so much fucking water. That's why humans can AFFORD to eat meat all the damn time. The vast herds of cattle would seem ABSURD to a Vulcan. (Note, one time my neighbor's cows broke through their fence and the roads were FUQUED until he rounded all 300+ of them up).

The Vulcan Science Academy has an agricultural department. You don't see agricultural departments that often in the United States. It's considered kind of...a sign that you're a 'hick school' in some circles. But the ILLUSTRIOUS VULCAN SCIENCE ACADEMY has a whole-ass department for it. They greatly respect the agricultural sciences. In comparison, on Earth we are SPOILED with an overabundance of water (when our governments don't fuck it up.) Humans often learn how to swim. Hell, my area has flooding problems in the early spring. Drownings are a very real and not uncommon threat over here.

I can only imagine Vulcan visitors just staring at Earth Food and internally counting out how much water was required to make that. And the planet's surface is covered 70% by water. 70 PERCENT. No wonder humans can afford to eat meat, dairy, and sweetened products. They have water to SPARE--so much that their cultures developed cuisines entirely based on the ENJOYMENT of food. My friends and I often go hunting for Morels and foraging for other wild goodies. The planet is so FULL OF LIFE that you can just FIND STUFF TO EAT wandering around. Farmers in my area are worried about the aging hunter population because there are so many god damn deer out here they are an agricultural menace. I have gotten calls at 9pm asking my partner and I to come over for some Surprise Venison. It would seem so...decadent.

I've read a number of fanfics where Vulcans comment on how much humans seem to love useless, decorative plants. When you get as much rain as we do, you can go WILD with plants that only exist for aesthetic purposes. They wouldn't be used to the concept. Someone might have a breakdown at the concept of Flower Farming--because that space should be used for FOOD except we HAVE ENOUGH ALREADY.

I just imagine some Vulcan wandering (because you CAN accidentally end up in a farm field 10 minutes from Bloomington's campus) into a famer's market and BALKING at how cheap everything is. In this part of the country, people like to grow their own veg. So it isn't a surprise when someone throws a party/bbq and 3 people EACH show up with a watermelon and corn from their own garden and another 2 show up with 4 dozen eggs each because they got too many chickens and the eggs DO NOT STOP. I myself discovered a few years ago that Chinese Eggplants do EXCELLENT here, and I have more than once ding-dong-ditched my neighbors with bags of eggplants--only for them to leave a dozen zucchini on my porch when I'm doing errands and cannot defend myself from this vegetable violence.

And this is where the cultural differences come in. As mentioned in Plomeek Soup for the Soul, giving an unmarried man water or food directly can be interpreted as a MARRIAGE REQUEST. Y'all out here that is just being polite. Hospitality is Serious Business. I keep water and gatorade bottles in a chest on my porch for USPS employees and anyone who wants one.

It would be SO EASY for someone who did the idiotic move (a friend did this) of planting a DOZEN ZUCCHINI PLANTS accidentally ending up Vulcan Married because they had to End the Torment of the Plague of Zucchinis in their home before it expands and destroys the house from the inside from the sheer volume of vegetables within.