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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

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Bad things happen*

When - the day the group gets stuck on the car-packed highway and Sophia goes missing. That’s the first episode of the second season titled ‘What lies ahead,’ and as usual, there is word-for-word dialogue. It’s maybe a week after What’s worth going postal.

Relationships - being part of the Slowpoke Series means it’s (you and the gang! #foundfamily) a Daryl x Reader end goal. Daryl goes full brothers-in-arms for T-Dog in this episode, so that’s reflected in this story.

Perspective - 2nd person

Pronouns - you

Genre - starts off fluffy, gets stressful, finishes with hope that will unfortunately be doused by plot in the next story. It’s canon, people, we gotta.

TWs - language, discussion of blood and injuries, and a child goes missing

Word Count - 5,700, with pictures for your trouble

Stories/plot points referenced - your strong protective streak, How’s your head? Pt 2, Jacqui’s fondness for crossword puzzles, Ain’t nothing..., Hell of a day, Two idiots, What’s worth going postal, and your EMT training. Here’s the Masterlist is here if y’all want to take the plunge.

Oops, you drained your water bottle again. You’d meant to ration it a little better. The potable water supply is kinda low right now, so the group will have to stop soon by a river or stream to boil some more.

Fort Benning is maybe...three or so days away? Maybe longer. It depends on the conditions of the roads and streets, and they aren’t the best by any means. There have been so many detours and necessary stops, that a ~150 mile trip which would’ve taken a day back in the before-times has taken three-ish weeks (or however long it’s been).

Thank God you’ve got a car charger for your music player.

Today, you and T-Dog even had the stomach to crack open Jacqui’s book of crossword puzzles while you shared the earbuds. Bless both your hearts, neither of you are the best at crosswords. How was Jacqui so good at these? The clues are so vague! Anyway, he’s busy picking the next song while you’re still trying to figure out a particularly hard clue.

“Ugh, stupid.” You have to look up at the ceiling again. “Got motion sick again.”

“You keep forgettin’ to take breaks,” he chuckles. “Here, this next song I’m picking is gonna make you forget all about that, you ready?”

Leaning your head back against the wall, you giggle and nod. James Brown’s signature “Wow!” then blares through the earbuds as you’re both treated to ‘I Feel Good.’ T-Dog begins to sway along to the music while he considers what the hell the answer is to #42 down. “What does ‘leaning column’ even mean?” he mumbles under his breath to the tune of the song.

You absently start to peel away the wrapper from your water bottle (it’s the refilled generic Gatorade bottle Daryl gave you. Hey, it makes a great bottle) while you wait for the nausea to cede. Bored and not wanting to think about any more crossword clues, your gaze falls onto your brother and Andrea seated at the table. Shane’s cleaning the guns again, and it looks like he’s showing Andrea how.

He catches your eyes briefly as you watch him begin to instruct her. Dale is still hesitant about Andrea handling firearms after what happened at the CDC, but she’s seemed very improved since then. Besides, gun safety and handling is wise for anyone to know, especially these days.

“Oh jeez,” Dale groans, and you feel the RV slow to a stop. “Aw, no.”

You quickly remove your earbud and stand to walk to the front despite the vehicle still being in motion. But even from the back, you can see what’s wrong. A massive tractor trailer is flipped and laying across the roadway, while scattered passenger vehicles block most of the routes forward. What a horrible accident, the poor souls.

Oh good, Daryl’s driving back. That motorcycle is coming in handy; it’s great on gas and can weave between all the smaller places that cars (and big lugging RVs) cannot. If only that SS symbol on it was spray painted away.

“Y/N? Dad wants to know what’s going on,” Carl says through his walkie.

“Highway’s blocked, kiddo. Daryl’s on his way back, though, he might could’ve found us a path around,” you answer.

As Daryl pulls up to the driver’s side, Dale asks “See a way through?”

With a nod and a toss of his head indicating that they should follow him, Daryl makes a u-turn and slowly begins to lead the way.

You lean against the passenger seat and look over Glenn’s shoulder as he frowns at the map. “You okay?” you whisper to your friend.

Unsure, he points to the route you’re on, then to another one. “Uh...maybe we should just go back,” he tentatively suggests. “There’s an interstate bypass –”

“–We can’t spare the fuel.” Dale’s response is resolute.

Shane doesn’t argue, so he’s in agreement. Personally, you don’t see why you can’t siphon from the cars here and follow Glenn’s gut and turn around. There are so many abandoned cars, it’s – it feels almost like a graveyard. Then you see an SUV with decaying bodies in the seats and realize that’s because it is one.

“Carl, I’m gonna ask you to not look towards the left and I hope that you’ll trust me,” you quietly speak into the walkie. Sophia you have confidence will avert her gaze, but Carl would be too curious.

It’s unnaturally quiet as the caravan carefully makes its way through, the thudding of the motorcycle the only real sound. “Can we get through here?” is the only thing spoken, and Glenn does it softly as if noise were forbidden.

Which is why you unintentionally gasp when there’s a sudden clash and a high-pitched squealing coming from the front of the RV. Oh Moses, and a fuck ton of either steam or smoke.

Shit.

And Dale is mad, but is trying his best to not act upon it as he brings the RV to a stop. The closest he gets is when he rips his seatbelt off and throws the door open. “I said it. Didn’t I say it? A thousand times: dead in the water.”

Your brother dryly states “Problem, Dale?” He was either trying to imply that it was nothing that Dale couldn’t fix, or trying to make light of a very unpleasant situation.

“Oh, just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of–” but Dale cuts off upon seeing Glenn. “Okay, that was dumb,” he seems to narrate out loud, perhaps in wishing that they’d turned around like Glenn suggested.

Meanwhile, Daryl, ever efficient, is rummaging through the nearest car for supplies. “If you can’t find a radiator hose here,” he drawls, “there’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find.”

“I can siphon more fuel from these cars, for a start,” T-Dog offers, already ready with the hose and container.

Carol seems nervous but on-board when she wonders “Maybe some water?”

“Or food,” Glenn echoes.

Rick, Shane, Andrea, and yourself remain quiet, but it’s Lori who’s the most hesitant. “This is a graveyard,” she states plainly, visibly conflicted. Hand tightly grasping Carl’s, her voice is very small when she says, almost as if to herself, “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Thank them while you search,” you hush gently in her ear. “That’s what I do on runs or on a hunt.”

T-Dog appears to be psyching himself up as he repeats “Alright, alright, here we go,” as he heads into the mess of cars.

As you quickly duck into the RV to grab your (Jacqui’s) messenger bag to fill with supplies, you hear your brother announce “Come on y’all, just look around. Gather what you can.”

Dale looks at Glenn and to the RV, requesting “Son, help me with this?”

You first look around and make sure the kids are within sight, then head straight for the first car. Daryl had been pilfering around the trunk, but only casually. That car is packed with stuff, hopefully with some first aid supplies or medicine somewhere. Stepping next to Andrea, you wonder what she’s staring at – oh. Oh, no.

Baby stuff. It’s strewn around as if there was...as if there were a struggle. There’s even a bottle on the ground.

Your stomach drops and your throat grows tight. Just thank them and find supplies for your people, you remind yourself.

Andrea shares a vacant look with you, her hand on her stomach before she mutters that she’s heading back to the RV. You clasp her arm briefly before she walks away, then resume your search.

Anything you can find, you’ll be grateful for. You have no more surgical tape left, just a roll of electrical tape courtesy of Dale’s toolbox. More clean gauze and bandages are needed. You’d run out of magnesium supplements (forgot them at the CDC, actually), the iron supplements were almost gone, and having any kind of oral antibiotics would be a godsend. Inhalers, statins, anti-allergy treatment, pain relievers, disinfectants, even just some more sunscreen or bug spray would be something.

Allowing yourself to spill some tears, you pull out the diaper bag and a tote bag from the open hatch of the car. As if in answer to a prayer, it contains a half-full bottle of pediatric amoxicillin, SPF 150, and vitamin D drops. You take the packet of wipes, and yes, some diapers; they absorb a lot.

In the tote bag, there are some menstrual pads along with one pink disposable razor, an analgesic/antibacterial spray, three mini packs of tissues, a travel-size bandage pack, and some ibuprofen, all of which you stuff into the messenger bag. And you aren’t sure why, but you also grab the little pair of baby socks.

From two cars down, you hear Daryl grunt “Hey, I’ll get the caps off,” before prying the gas cap open of the car T-Dog wants to siphon. They work well together. It’s such a happy surprise; just a few weeks ago Daryl was making rude-ass (racist) comments to him. Now he’s helping him out and becoming friends. It makes sense, though. T-Dog is a saint and it’s rubbing off on him.

As you peer around and determine the next promising vehicle, you note Carol admiring an expensive-looking red shirt. Having been in one once herself, your mama mentioned that women from domestic situations, with the exception of appliances on occasion, often aren’t allowed nice things for themselves. If Carol doesn’t take that shirt for herself, you’ll grab it for her as a present.

Okay, this car looks nice, you’ll check it next. It’s got unopened luggage and a blanket over what looks like a cooler, awesome – shoot, the door is locked. So you try another. Then a third...yup, the fourth too, and the hatchback. You suppose you could break a window, but that’s too noisy and would also risk needing stitches. You’d never yet given stitches to a person, actually, just to clothes.

Maybe if you fiddled with the keyhole enough with your pocketknife? Gotta be some quiet way in there. Your people need more potable beverages and more food, that cooler is bound to have one of those things. After feeling around the tires for any spare keys, you take out your knife and try to wiggle it around like you’ve seen in movies and TV shows. Eesh, the handle on your poor knife is gonna break any day now. It’s been jiggly for almost a week at this point.

A laugh masquerading as a cough sounds from beside you. “That ain’t gonna work.”

Only half-serious, you huff in response. But when you turn to look him in the eyes, you can’t keep a straight face. “Take over any time, Daryl.”

“Just gimme a sec,” he murmurs, and pries it open with one, two, three wrenches using his little tool there. “Voila.”

“Thank you!” First thing you reach for is that blanket, and sure enough, there’s a cooler under it.

“Aw shit, there anythin’ in that?”

“Let’s see if they got some root beer for you.”

“Or some orange Gatorade for you,” he recalls, grunting as he bends forward to pull the cooler sideways.

“Sportsman’s Signature Flavored Electrolyte Re-Hydration Beverage,” you remind him, voice strained as you two lift and pull it from the backseat. Dang, this cooler is heavy. What’ve they got in there?

“Hey, don’t lift it too much, you don’t wanna mess that shoulder up again.” His eyes flit up to yours for a moment before he cocks his head after setting the cooler upon the ground with a heavy thunk. “Wait. You remember the name of the Gatorade stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m reusin’ the bottle for water,” you begin. Hands on the lid, you pull it up in tandem with Daryl while you further explain “The wrapper start–” but choke upon smelling one of the worst things your nose has ever encountered. What the fuck is in this thing?

You’re gagging so hard that you’re coughing and tears are blurring your vision. He’s in a similar boat, just with added swearing under his breath.

Yanking your shirt up by the neckline to cover your nose, you shudder as you look inside to find rotten eggs, meat, a quarter gallon of rancid milk, a massive container that once contained ‘roasted garlic hummus’, now mold, likewise a jumbo bag of ‘baby carrots,’ now rotten and liquidy (*gag*) along with what was possibly once a cucumber.

Small favors that when you push aside the hazelnut coffee creamer, you also unearth some water bottles peeking out from under the egg carton. Once those are rescued from the cooler along with some cans of seltzer, Daryl slams the lid shut and spits.

Right now, you’re thirsty enough to ignore your guilt at immediately cracking open a water bottle when the supply was so scarce. You chug, then offer some to Daryl, who enthusiastically grabs it and follows suit. “Damn, that was nasty,” he rasps, wiping his mouth with his arm.

“Awful,” you pant, still trying to hold back your gag reflex. Gesturing toward the seltzer, you say “L-least we got some bubble water out of it, huh?”

“Next time there’s a cooler, cover your nose ahead of time.”

“Hell, I’ll grab my N95 from the med bag first.” After another long drink of water, you cap the bottle.

“Lemme know if you need me to break into another car for ya.” And with that, he’s off to help T-Dog with another gas cap.

There’s a Swiss Army knife in the glove compartment of the next car you sift through, along with a multi-tool and some napkins. Nothing else. In the next car, a child’s sports duffel carries a pair of sneakers one size bigger than Carl is wearing now, so you grab them, along with the anti-fungal cream and clean socks.

There’s also a tied mesh bag with several mini water guns in the trunk...might as well snag those for Sophia and Carl (...and you and Glenn, let’s be real). You quickly click on your walkie to ask “Kids, you stayin’ close to your mamas?” You know that they’re with their mothers and that Dale’s on watch, so they’re fine. You’re just paranoid, this place is unsettling.

Okay, and you’re carrying too much right now. Trotting back to the RV, you head inside and plunk the water guns down and the bottles and cans on the chair next to Andrea, who’s trying to reassemble her pistol at the table. “Hey, here.” You place a can of seltzer on the table. “You look thirsty.”

Back outside, you press your baseball cap further down to block the sunshine. Where’s your brother...ah, there’s Shane. As you jog over, you swing by the car with the red shirt and grab it for Carol and tuck it away in your satchel.

Then you read the sign on the van Shane’s eyeing.

“‘Lipsey Mountain Spring Water?’ Do you think...”

“Oh, I do,” he affirms, expression brightening as he leans his shotgun against the side of the van and stands at the rear door. He opens it, and...aw shit, it’s full! Yes!

Glenn, who appears to be trying to strip the truck directly behind it for parts, is oblivious.

“Hey Glenn,” you sing.

“Hey, Glenn. Were we short on water?” Shane finishes, and within an instant, he flat-out cracks open one of the giant water cooler bottles and drenches himself.

“Just promise to keep your shirt buttoned, loser,” you tease him, shaking your head.

Glenn is laughing as he calls out “Hey, save me some!”

“It’s like bein’ baptized man,” Shane sighs. Looking at you, he waves you over. “C’mere, weirdo, I know you want to.”

“I’ll get my hat soaked, how’s that?” you giggle back, fully expecting to be playfully shoved under the deluge entirely, which, of course, happens next. You manage to rein in your squeal, and splash him in revenge.

“You gonna call them kids over or what?”

“Oh wait, let me fill up the water guns first!”

As Shane repeats “Water guns?”, you dash back into the RV and make an impish look at Andrea when you grab the mesh bag of mini water pistols before running back to the truck.

“Yo, check it out, Glenn,” you tell him, holding up the bag.

“Aw, heck yeah. Water guns?”

“Those’ll cheer ’em up,” your brother states, still happily letting the water flow down his back.

After you’ve filled two of them, you see Rick running bent low and waving to – what?

What’s happening?

“Get under the cars!”

“Y/N, go. Now. I’ll get Glenn,” Shane directs as he gently pushes you to get down.

Does this mean there’s something bad happening? Is there a hoard?

“Glenn!” you whisper.

Wait, the kids.

Oh shit. Oh shit, you need to see if they’re hiding with an adult who can keep them sa–

“ –C’mon! Under!” Shane hisses in your ear, grabbing you with one hand while he drags Glenn along with the other. You don’t realize that you’d frozen and tensed up until you’re being tugged along.

Before you know it, you’re crawling under the car and become sandwiched between them. As Glenn asks in fear “What?” and your brother shushes him, you fumble around for your walkie to radio the kids.

“Carl, Sophia? Do not make a sound, don’t even – don’t even answer me,” you stammer as clearly but softly as you can. “Stay under the car, stay with your mamas, do not make any noise or move until an adult you trust comes to help you! If you use your walkies, remember: only light blowing, taps, or scrapes until somebody replies.”

Shane reaches his right arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer when you’re finished speaking. Hands shaking, you turn the volume down all the way but keep an eye on the indicator light so you’ll know if they’re speaking into them – just in case something awful happens and they need to make noise and use the walkies. In your other hand, you clutch your wobbly pocket knife.

“Shh, try to slow your breathin’,” Shane hushes into your ear.

The smell reaches you all before the telltale noises. Shuffling. Moaning. Gurgling. Raspy growls. That’s when you start to pray please, please, please, please in your head and Shane’s grip around you tightens. With his left arm, he’s trying to maneuver his shotgun as slowly and undetectably as possible.

How many are there?

A few minutes later

You thought you heard a ripping noise from the direction of the RV and could’ve sworn there was a cry, but you hear nothing now.

Those things are everywhere, but they’re still moving. They will pass. This will pass. It’s okay. It’s okay.

A few minutes later

Most of them are gone, the hoard is almost through.

The red light on the walkie starts flickering. Clicking onto the lowest volume setting, you listen. To whichever child is making the blowing sound, you start to scrape back so they know that you heard them, but need them to stay quiet.

Then they start to tap after a little while, and you feel safe enough to whisper back “Sit tight.” There is only one walker at the moment to the left side, but more are behind it, a few yards away.

“They’re gone down here,” gets whispered back.

“Wait,” you repeat.

As you say this, the walker to your left stops moving for a moment. Its feet turn towards you. Shane’s muscles tense even further, and you and he stop breathing.

Lightly, Glenn taps on your arm as he tilts his body and carefully re-positions himself so that if you three need to bolt, you can bolt. You do likewise, inch by inch, as does Shane. Please, please, please please, please.

A few minutes later? One minute?

Okay. Okay. The little final cluster is almost passed. Not many more behind them, just a straggler or two by the looks of it (that you can tell under this truck, at least). Thank God.

The tension in your body eases as the cluster of shuffling feet pass without pausing or tripping. Shane’s still clutching the shotgun, but you can see that his breathing has slowed to a normal rate.

Turning your head, you mouth to Glenn “You okay?”

“Alive,” he mouths back.

But then your ears prick as you hear...what’s that little noise? Is that – who’s crying? It’s so soft, it almost sounds like–

Every muscle in your body goes rigid.

That’s Sophia.

Oh fuck, that’s Sophia, shit, shit, shit–

“–No, don’t!” Shane breathes into your ear, right arm back around you and slowing you from crawling out. Glenn is looking at you in horror and shakes his head, neither helping you nor letting you pass.

And you’re trying to wriggle your way out of your brother’s grasp, but he’s too strong. What the fuck, why can’t you pry him off?

Sophia is still crying out, as little as you can hear from this distance. They sound like frightened screams, not pained ones. What if something happened to Carol – oh God, or to Carl?

As low as you can, you growl “Shane, you let go of me,” which only serves to urge him to grip you tighter. Glenn is still trying to catch your eyes and mouth something to you, but you ignore him – you need to get free and get to that little girl! Why isn’t everybody running to her? God damn you, Shane, fuckin’ let me loose! you want to shriek!

From the side, Shane next wraps his legs around you next in a full restraint maneuver as if you were some dangerous criminal hopped up on meth. “Rotten pig bastard,” you hiss at him, barely making a sound but meaning every damned word that you cursed him with.

“You could bring them all down on all of us, don’t you risk our necks like that!” he hisses back, somehow remaining quiet as he does, but also while clapping a hand over your mouth, which in your rage, you automatically try to bite. Glenn is now helping him hold you back.

Angry, helpless tears fall despite your best efforts. You know that you’re seeing red and that it’s risking the others – hell, you’re going full fucking postal right now – but you don’t know if you can stop, as much as you want to. It’s as if you aren’t in control.

Thankfully, it’s also when you notice that a few stragglers have slowed near the truck that you're struck another jolt of fear that shakes you out of it, rendering you able to stop resisting. For now.

Shane removes his hand from your mouth, and you try to catch your breath and stay as silent as possible.

The whole thing can’t have taken more than 15 seconds but it felt like an hour.

And when you gauge that the walkers moved on far enough...you pray for forgiveness before elbowing your brother in the ribs, knocking your head into his, and scurrying backwards, crawling down the center of the truck to weave around Glenn as fast as you can.

Sophia’s screams sounded as if they’d moved away, as though she was running. Your clothes get snagged twice on your way out, but then you find yourself out into the sunlight and you try to get your bearings.

There’s one asshole shuffling towards you, and before you can coordinate what to do in your head, you realize you’ve already driven your knife into its skull. Oh, your knife broke. There goes that.

A flash of movement catches your eye from the left, far down where Lori and Carol had been with the kids. Was that Rick?

Either way, you’re already running towards that direction. Clicking on your walkie, you blow into it and tap and scrape and pray and beg for a reply.

Wait, fuck it, if she'd been screaming, that’s already a louder noise than a walkie. “Sophia, baby, answer back, it’s okay,” you speak into it.

Lori and Carol are over by that car...alright, Carl is with them. But then rapid footfalls come from your rear right, and you spin around, ready to kick–

“–Whoa, whoa, it’s me, s’just me. T-Dog’s bleedin’ out, we need you, c’mon,” Daryl pants. You barely notice that Shane and Glenn barrel past you as you digest what he just told you.

What?

T-Dog’s what?

“H-how bad? Was he bit?”

He starts to tug you back towards the others. “Ain’t bit, but he ripped his arm open on somethin’ sharp. His damned shirt’s soaked already.”

“Sophia,” falls out of your mouth.

Daryl looks at you confused, but continues to lead the way. “You’re wipin’ your hand again.”

Snap out of it, Y/N. “Daryl, was the bleed bright or darker red? And were you able to slow it any?”

“Shit, I dunno, um,” he curses under his breath. “Regular red, I guess, but he ain’t lookin’ good.”

“The med bag is on the hook in the RV bathroom, please get it for me,” you request. “Some waters and something sugary, too, please.”

“Y/N!” comes from your right.

“Go away, Shane, I’m sorry I elbowed your stomach,” you utter softly, continuing to jog with Daryl. You don’t even sound mad when you say that, you’re simply in shock.

Daryl points. “Keep headin’ over there: see that truck with the construction shit, by the overturned car? T-Dog’s there.” And with that, he runs to the RV.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Your brother asks, now jogging with you.

“Teddy’s bleedin’ out and somethin’ happened with Sophia,” is the only response you can muster. “Bad things, b-bad things happen in threes, something else is gonna happen.”

“No, bad things happen all the time. Now are you hurt?”

“Ain’t bitten, Shaney, please go help Sophia.” There’s T-Dog, laying on the ground and surrounded by dead bodies. Your breath hitches.

Oh shit, he’d bled a lot. That might could very well be a pint already, his shirt is soaked. But his eyes are open and he’s blinking at both of you, so in the least, he’s moderately alert.

As you reach into the messenger bag to grab one of the menstrual pads and kneel beside T-Dog, Shane stresses, “Rick was over there when it happened, Carol and Lori told me he ran after her, so she ain’t alone. She’ll be just fine. Let me help you.”

With a dazed nod at your brother, you focus your attention to T-Dog’s right arm. “Teddy, were you bit?”

His voice is weak and slightly slurred as he responds “Nah, Daryl…Daryl saved my ass.”

“Spell your last name,” you request, unwrapping the plastic packaging off the pad. The flow was still streaming, but beginning to clot. Both the clotting and the darker color indicated that it was venous rather than arterial, thank God.

“D-O-U...G-L...A-S.”

“Tell me the name of your old church,” you ask next.

After you rip the sticky backing off the pad so that it can be folded for more absorption, you do so carefully as not to contaminate it, then press and firmly hold the makeshift dressing to the gash. Stopping the bleed was of the utmost, even moreso at this point than disinfecting.

At first he winces in pain, but then mumbles back “Um, it’s...Holy Cross. It was Holy Cross Lutheran.” Good, that means he’s still coherent, at least for now.

“Dog, look at your arm, man, I mean, we talked about not runnin’ with scissors,” Shane jokes lightly with him. He’d grabbed two traffic cones from the construction van and is laying them down by T-Dog’s feet. “Alright, bud, lift your legs for me, put your feet on these things. We want ’em elevated.”

After T-Dog does as instructed, Shane nods and comments to you, “He’s still a 14 on the GCS as of now, that’s a good sign.” True, he was almost a perfect score.

“Got the bag,” Daryl pants, having arrived back with the bag in his left hand as he kneels down beside you. A screwdriver clatters out of his pocket, which he ignores.

“Inside the front pocket, you’ll find a baggie with gloves. Please put on a pair,” you direct to Daryl, then look to your brother. “Shane, go. Please.”

After pausing and relaxing his jaw, he inclines his head, then alters his expression to a grin as he tells T-Dog “Don’t let this one baby you too much, alright? You’re gonna be fine, man,” before heading off.

Once Daryl has his gloves on, you instruct him to “Keep the pressure on this like I am,” referring to T-Dog’s arm.

Once he does, you slip on a pair of your own, then start on the basic vital signs check, doing your best to chat with T-Dog to keep him distracted and keep yourself from falling apart.

Several minutes later

“I didn’t ask before, but why’d you want Shane to go?” T-Dog asks, wincing as you slowly bend his injured arm up, positioning it with a sling so he doesn’t move it too much.

Daryl’s helping him sit up and is bugging him to finish his juice box and packet of saltines while you redid the bandage.

T-Dog’s been cleaned up and is fine for now, he just needs to eat and drink and rest. As for whether or not infection is gonna set, ugh, you don’t know. All you know is that you cleaned it as thoroughly as you could and that all you have by way of oral antibiotics is pediatric amoxicillin.

“I’ll tell you later,” you respond quietly. You attempted to sound casual, as if it were that you and your brother had simply argued again.

Neither T-Dog nor Daryl seem to have been aware of what was happening with Sophia before, so they don’t need to be burdened with that yet. Maybe she’s already back and the others haven’t returned from down the road, you remind yourself.

Or, you don’t want to be the one to tell T-Dog and Daryl that she ran off screaming.

What you do want is to get him safe as possible, as fast as possible, so you can run down there and see what’s going on. If she’s still out there, you can’t waste any more time not out there getting her back.

“Let’s get you into the RV, Teddy, you need to lay down somewhere safe and have somebody you're comfortable with help you change into clean clothes,” you announce, crouching beside his uninjured left arm so you can help him up by lifting from his underarm.

“I’m a’ight, I can get up on my own.”

“You can also fall and smack your head ’cause your blood pressure is so low,” you gently put to him. He’d lost about two pints altogether. Any more and things would have started to go south.

Daryl quickly ducks under T-Dog’s left arm, lightly pushing you back, and wraps his own around the man’s shoulder to actively help him stand. “I got him. I meant it about not messin’ your shoulder up more.”

That man has been so damned helpful this whole time. He cleaned off T-Dog’s torso with baby wipes after you’d cut his shirt off, for one. Reaching a hand out to touch his arm, you wholeheartedly tell Daryl “Thank you.” Oh great, but now your eyes are welling up. Nothing a little immediate distraction won’t hide...there, you can pick up that dirty screwdriver that had fallen from his pocket. “You use this to kill a walker?”

“Andrea. Think it was her first time doin’ it.” He groans slightly as he helps T-Dog stand. “When I grabbed the med bag, she gave it to me. Didn’t want to look at it.”

“She okay, brother? Wasn’t bit?” T-Dog asks with concern even while wavering on his feet from the dizziness.

“Nah, just spooked.”

“A screwdriver’s genius,” you have to admit. “The straightness of it means it won’t get stuck as easily.” A few times, your now-recently deceased, wobbly knife had gotten stuck, namely that first time you’d manually put one down a couple of weeks ago. “Hey now, Teddy, you seein’ stars or you good?”

“M’good, ain’t gonna collapse just yet. Daryl’s got me.”

You turn and look back at where Sophia last was. “I, um, I need to go check on something else. Daryl, please make sure Dale or Andrea or whoever is stayin’ in the RV checks his fingers every so often for sensation, okay? Teddy, you hear that? Any change in sensation to your fingers, have somebody carefully undo the sling. I’ll have the green walkie turned on if you need to reach me, otherwise drink plenty and stay reclined.”

“Where you going?”

“I j-just gotta go check on somethin’,” you repeat as you switch on your walkie again and begin to sprint down the packed highway. You even leave the med bag and bag of trash right there by the truck, fuck it, you’ll take care of it when that little girl’s back safe. You see Glenn in the distance and shout “Rick back with her yet?”

“No. We’ve been trying to reach her with the yellow walkie, but no word back yet. How’s T-Dog?”

“T-Dog’s gonna be fine if no infection sets. You said Sophia ain’t answered – sh-she ain’t answered at all yet?” you pant as you reach him. Lori and Shane are comforting Carol and Carl while they look down the embankment and into the woods.

Glenn shakes his head and adjusts his baseball hat in response.

“Was she bit? Do we know, um –”

“Two walkers chased her, then Rick chased them,” he explains. “That’s all we know. They haven’t even been gone 15 minutes yet.”

“Why ain’t we – come on, let’s go, we’re the two fastest.” You wave him along and start to get a move on.

“Hold up, we’re waiting for Rick to come back first just in case we make problems worse by separating,” he hesitates, albeit while following you. "You know how they say bad things happen in threes, dude.”

“We’ll stick together, I got a walkie, and tracking them should be easy since they was moving clumsy.”

Carl sees you and you stop briefly to squeeze him tight before turning around to head down the hill.

“Whoa, Y/N, where you goin’?”

“The more of us out there, the more efficient, Shane.”

“The more of us out there, the more risk to all of us,” he stresses. “Rick was right behind her, I trust him, so should you – Y/N, stop, come back!”

“What if they need us?” you call back, careful to not slip down the steep incline (as Rick did, by the looks of the disturbances in the dirt going down there).

Again, you start to repeat in your head please, please, please, please as you reach the bottom and start racing into the woods.

But you and Glenn almost trip over each other when you hear her small little voice come through the walkie. Holding it up to your ear, you get “–cave by the creek.”

“What did she say?” you both shout up the hill.

“That Rick hid her in a cave by the creek!” Carol sobs back in relief.

That gave you a concrete destination more or less, so you speed off like a shot. You feel like you could float there! Bad things happen in threes your ass; Sophia is fine.

Your brother is now almost down the hill, and calls back to her, “We’re gonna go get her, Carol, sit tight!”

And Daryl’s voice, to your surprise, rings out next. “Y/N, you got the trail?”

“So far, but we’ll need you to lead the way! Let’s roll!”

78 notes · View notes

musingsofvenus · 3 years

Text

Twilight x Kill Bill AU cast

There’s more info in my writing masterpost linked in my bio!

Deadly Lupine Assassination Squad (as the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad)

Leah Clearwater (as Beatrix Kiddo) - Julia Jones

Sam Uley (as Bill) - Martin Sensmeier

Emily Young (as Elle Driver) - Ashley Callingbull

Bella Swan (as O-Ren Ishii) - Emmy Rossum

Quil Ateara V (as Vernita Green) - Michael Spears

Paul Lahote (as Budd) - Alex Meraz

The Volturi (as the Yakuza) and Holy Crows (as the Crazy 88)

Rosalie Hale (as Karen Kim) - Lisa Haydon

James (as Boss Matsumoto) - Cam Gigandet

Bree Tanner (as Unnamed Crazy 88 member) - Lana Condor

Victoria (as Pretty Riki) - Deborah Ann Woll

Caius (as Boss Tanaka) - River Phoenix

Edward Cullen (as Johnny Mo) - Allan Hyde

Angela Weber (as Sophie Fatale) - Christian Serratos

Aro (as Boss Honda) - Kim Sung-oh

Jane (as Gogo Yubari) - Sophia Lillis

Other werewolves

Jacob Black (as himself) - Eddie Spears

Jared Cameron (as Ernie) - Bronson Pelletier

Seth Clearwater (as B. B. Kiddo) - Booboo Stewart

Taha Aki (as Pai Mei) - Rick Mora

Claire Young (as Nikkia Bell) - Sienna Joseph

Embry Call (as Bald Guy) - Krystopher Hyatt

Rebecca Black (as Hattori Hanzo) - Q'orianka Kilcher

Humans

Waylon Forge AKA Buttcrack Santa (as Edgar McGraw) - Ned Bellamy

Charlie Swan (as Earl McGraw) - Sam Trammell

Mike Newton (as Charlie Brown) - Michael Welch

Jessica Stanley (as the Proprietor) - Anna Kendrick

Laurent (as Tommy Plympton) - John David Washington

Other vampires

Jasper Whitlock (as Hooker #1) - Alex Pettyfer

Maria (as Esteban Vihaio) - Yalitza Aparicio

#twilight au #twilight imagine #leah clearwater imagine #leah clearwater headcanon #leah clearwater #i still need to write chapter 5 tho #and idk when the fic will drop #this post is long as hell i'm so sorry lmao #kill bill au face cast #kill bill au

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twd-111 · 2 years

Text

Sophia Pelletier

#sophia peletier #original art #twd family

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lesbianladyblackhawk · 7 years

Photo

Remembering how much I love Magical Warrior Diamond Heart 💗👌

#magical warrior diamond heart #I haven't drawn in so... long.....#Zacharie Pelletier #Sophia Anderson #Valerie Amaranth #Diana #my art

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lenniharrisonsims · 3 years

Text

Debutante Ball Arrives!

The night has come, and the debutante ball has arrived. The evening began with the young Ladies being presented by their parents, and then escorted to the throne by the gentlemen.

Her Imperial Highness, Princess Ophelia Nadia Ivanov, daughter of HIH Prince Matthew Norton and HIM Tsarina Ekaterina Ivanov, was presented by her father and escorted by HRH Prince Jonas Lofton of Windenburg.

Her Imperial Highness, Princess Rosalind Sophia Ivanov, daughter of HIH Prince Matthew Norton and HIM Tsarina Ekaterina Ivanov, was presented by her father and escorted by HRH Prince Ramses Montero of Selvadorada.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth Katherine De La Cru, daughter of TRM King Ivan and Queen Anastasia De La Cru, was presented by her father and escorted by HRH Crown Prince Duncan Norton of Willow Creek.

Her Ladyship, Lady Victoria Simone Ivanov, daughter of TIH Prince Nickolai and Baylee Ivanov, Duke and Duchess of Arnsey, was presented by her father and escorted by HRH Prince Hunter Norton of Willow Creek.

The Honourable Miss Yue Anabelle Dias, daughter of TIH Princess Maria and Encarna Dias, Duchesses of Hartwards, was presented by her mother, Princess Maria, and escorted by Master Antonio Landgraab of Oasis Springs.

The Honourable Miss Feng Mian Inga Dias, daughter of TIH Princess Maria and Encarna Dias, Duchesses of Hartwards, was presented by her mother, Duchess Encarna, and escorted by Lord Giovanni Castellano of Windenburg.

Her Ladyship, Lady Clementine Marie Hunphrey, daughter of Eduard and Charlotte Humphrey, Earl and Countess of Sawborne, was presented by her father, and escorted by Lord Lucian Castellano of Windenburg.

The young Ladies were presented before TIM Tsarina Ekaterina and the Dowager Tsarina Nadia (with a seat saved for HIH Prince Matthew after he presented his daughters). Reigning monarchs in attendance were also given seats to the side of the ballroom for the ceremony: HM Queen Anaid and HRH Prince Rauli Montero of Selvadorada, TM Queen Agatha and King Victor Lofton of Windenburg, HM Queen Anastasia De La Cru of Oasis Springs (with a seat saved for HM King Ivan after he presents his daughter), TM Queen Claire and King Caleb Norton of Willow Creek, TM Queen Genevieve and King Jacques Pelletier of Brindleton Bay, and TM Queen Misha and King Cesare Colona of Newcrest.

The rest of the attendees stood for the ceremony: Baylee Ivanov, Duchess of Arnsey, Albert Strauss and Crown Princess Martha Lofton-Strauss, Duke and Duchess of Windslar, Charlotte Humphrey, Countess of Sawborne, Lord Malcolm and Lady Lana Landgraab, and Hadrian and Livia Castellano, Marquess and Marchioness of Lykke.

Once the presentations were finished, a small supper of refreshments were served before the ball was opened with Crown Princess Ophelia and Prince Jonas.

Congrats Debs!

#ivanov legacy #ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 simblr #crown princess ophelia #prince jonas #princess rosalind #prince ramses #princess Elizabeth #crown Prince Duncan #lady Victoria #prince Hunter #yue dias #antonio landgraab #feng mien dias #lord giovanni #lady clementine #lord lucian

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extrabeurre · 4 years

Text

IL PLEUVAIT DES OISEAUX en tête des nominations du Gala Québec Cinéma 2020

En direct du salon de Guillaume Lambert, les nominations du Gala Québec Cinéma (qui ne fera pas l’objet d’un rassemblement télévisuel cette année, confinement oblige) ont été dévoilées cet après-midi.

En cette année dominée par les réalisatrices, 6 des meilleurs films sont réalisés par des femmes et 3 femmes sont en lice pour l’Iris de la Meilleure réalisation.

On parle bien sûr d’Antigone de Sophie Deraspe (Meilleur film, Meilleure réalisation, Meilleur scénario), La femme de mon frère de Monia Chokri (Meilleur film, Meilleure réalisation), Kuessipan de Myriam Verreault (Meilleur film, Meilleure réalisation, Meilleur scénario), Jeune Juliette d’Anne Émond (Meilleur film, Meilleur scénario), Il pleuvait des oiseaux et Louise Archambault (Meilleur film, Meilleur scénario, et 13 nominations au total, le record cette année), et du plus inattendu Fabuleuses de Mélanie Charbonneau (Meilleur film).

Ces films réalisés par des femmes sont rejoints dans les catégories de pointe par les « films de gars » Mafia Inc de Podz (Meilleur film), Sympathie pour le diable de Guillaume de Fontenay (Meilleure réalisation, Meilleur scénario), et Le vingtième siècle de Matthew Rankin (Meilleur premier film, Meilleure réalisation).

Un grand oublié : Xavier Dolan, qui a lancé deux longs métrages l’an dernier. On ne s’attendait pas à un couronnement du mal-aimé The Death and Life of John F. Donovan, mais l’excellent Matthias & Maxime aurait mérité plus d’honneurs. Il est quand même en nomination dans les catégories Meilleure interprétation féminine dans un rôle de soutien (Micheline Bernard), Meilleure interprétation masculine dans un rôle de soutien (Pier-Luc Funk), Meilleure direction de la photographie (André Turpin), Meilleur montage (Xavier Dolan), Meilleure musique originale (Jean-Michel Blais) et Meilleur maquillage (Erik Gosselin, Edwina Voda).

Du côté des interprètes, je suis soulagé que mon long métrage québécois préféré depuis longtemps, Le rire de Martin Laroche, ait été au moins reconnu pour les brillantes performances de Léane Labrèche-Dor (Premier rôle féminin) et Micheline Lanctôt (Rôle de soutien féminin).

Il faut aussi souligner les deux nominations comme acteur de Robin Aubert, pour Jeune Juliette (Premier rôle masculin) et Merci pour tout (Rôle de soutien masculin).

Et une pensée pour Andrée Lachapelle, qui nous a quittés récemment, nommée comme Meilleure actrice pour Il pleuvait des oiseaux.

Parlant d’Il pleuvait des oiseaux , félicitations à Will Driving West, un de mes groupes préférés, parmi les finalistes de la catégorie Meilleure musique originale.

Aussi, je suis très heureux pour l’extraordinaire Je finirai en prison d’Alexandre Dostie, en nomination pour l’Iris du meilleur court métrage.

LISTE COMPLÈTE DES NOMINATIONS

MEILLEUR FILM

Antigone - ACPAV - Marc Daigle

Fabuleuses - GO Films - Nicole Robert

La femme de mon frère - Metafilms - Sylvain Corbeil, Nancy Grant

Il pleuvait des oiseaux - Les Films Outsiders - Ginette Petit

Jeune Juliette - Metafilms - Sylvain Corbeil

Kuessipan - Max Films Média - Félize Frappier

Mafia Inc - Attraction Images - Antonello Cozzolino | Caramel Films - Valérie D'Auteuil, André Rouleau

MEILLEUR PREMIER FILM

Mad Dog Labine - Jonathan Beaulieu-Cyr, Renaud Lessard - 1er scénario de Jonathan Beaulieu-Cyr, Renaud Lessard

Sympathie pour le diable - Guillaume de Fontenay - 1er scénario de Guillaume de Fontenay, Guillaume Vigneault

Le vingtième siècle - Matthew Rankin - 1er scénario de Matthew Rankin

MEILLEURE RÉALISATION

Monia Chokri - La femme de mon frère

Guillaume de Fontenay - Sympathie pour le diable

Sophie Deraspe - Antigone

Matthew Rankin - Le vingtième siècle

Myriam Verreault - Kuessipan

MEILLEUR SCÉNARIO

Louise Archambault - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

Jean Barbe, Guillaume de Fontenay, Guillaume Vigneault - Sympathie pour le diable

Sophie Deraspe - Antigone

Anne Émond - Jeune Juliette

Naomi Fontaine, Myriam Verreault - Kuessipan

MEILLEURE INTERPRÉTATION FÉMININE | PREMIER RÔLE

Anne-Élisabeth Bossé (Sophia) - La femme de mon frère

Anne Dorval (Isabelle Brodeur) - 14 jours 12 nuits

Léane Labrèche-Dor (Valérie) - Le rire

Andrée Lachapelle (Gertrude | Marie-Desneige) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

Noémie O'Farrell (Laurie) - Fabuleuses

MEILLEURE INTERPRÉTATION MASCULINE | PREMIER RÔLE

Robin Aubert (Bernard) - Jeune Juliette

Marc-André Grondin (Vincent «Vince »Gamache) - Mafia Inc

Patrick Hivon (Karim) - La femme de mon frère

Niels Schneider (Paul Marchand) - Sympathie pour le diable

Gilbert Sicotte (Charlie) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

MEILLEURE INTERPRÉTATION FÉMININE | RÔLE DE SOUTIEN

Micheline Bernard (Francine) - Matthias & Maxime

Juliette Gosselin (Clara Diamond) - Fabuleuses

Micheline Lanctôt (Jeanne) - Le rire

Eve Landry (Rafaëlle [Raf]) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

Geneviève Schmidt (France Gauthier) - Menteur

MEILLEURE INTERPRÉTATION MASCULINE | RÔLE DE SOUTIEN

Robin Aubert (Réjean) - Merci pour tout

Sergio Castellitto (Francesco « Franck » Paternò) - Mafia Inc

Pier-Luc Funk (Rivette) - Matthias & Maxime

Sasson Gabai (Hichem) - La femme de mon frère

Rémy Girard (Tom) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

RÉVÉLATION DE L'ANNÉE

Catherine Chabot (Chloé Therrien) - Menteur

Sharon Fontaine-Ishpatao (Mikuan Vollant [16-21ans]) - Kuessipan

Alexane Jamieson (Juliette) - Jeune Juliette

Nahéma Ricci (Antigone) - Antigone

Lilou Roy-Lanouette (Yanna) - Jouliks

MEILLEURE DISTRIBUTION DES RÔLES

Jacinthe Beaudet, Tobie Fraser, Geneviève Hébert, Myriam Verreault - Kuessipan

Nathalie Boutrie (Casting NB) - Jeune Juliette

Nathalie Boutrie (Casting NB) | Francis Cantin, Bruno Rosato (Casting Cantin Rosato) - Mafia Inc

Sophie Deraspe, Isabelle Couture | Pierre Pageau, Daniel Poisson (Gros Plan) - Antigone

Karel Quinn (Casting Karel Quinn) | Lucie Robitaille (Casting Lucie Robitaille) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

MEILLEURE DIRECTION ARTISTIQUE

Éric Barbeau - La femme de mon frère

Dany Boivin - Le vingtième siècle

Marie-Claude Gosselin, Jean Lebourdais - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

Sylvain Lemaitre - Jeune Juliette

David Pelletier - Mafia Inc

MEILLEURE DIRECTION DE LA PHOTOGRAPHIE

Yves Bélanger - 14 jours 12 nuits

Nicolas Canniccioni - Kuessipan

Josée Deshaies - La femme de mon frère

Mathieu Laverdière - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

André Turpin - Matthias & Maxime

MEILLEUR SON

Claude Beaugrand, Michel B. Bordeleau, Bernard Gariépy Strobl, Claude La Haye, Raymond Legault - The Song of Names

Sylvain Bellemare, Jocelyn Caron, Bernard Gariépy Strobl - Sympathie pour le diable

Serge Boivin, Olivier Calvert, Samuel Gagnon-Thibodeau - Ville Neuve

Luc Boudrias, Sylvain Brassard, Jean Camden - Mafia Inc

Bernard Gariépy Strobl, Sacha Ratcliffe, Lynne Trépanier - Le vingtième siècle

MEILLEUR MONTAGE

Geoffrey Boulangé, Sophie Deraspe - Antigone

Monia Chokri, Justine Gauthier - La femme de mon frère

Xavier Dolan - Matthias & Maxime

Myriam Poirier - 14 jours 12 nuits

Matthew Rankin - Le vingtième siècle

MEILLEURS EFFETS VISUELS

Alchimie 24 - Alain Lachance, Jean-Pierre Riverin - The Song of Names

Mikros - Véronique Dessard, Philippe Frère - The Hummingbird Project

Oblique FX - Benoit Brière, Louis-Philippe Clavet, Kinga Sabela - Sympathie pour le diable

MEILLEURE MUSIQUE ORIGINALE

Andréa Bélanger, David Ratté (Will Driving West) - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

Jean-Michel Blais - Matthias & Maxime

Jean Massicotte, Jad Orphée Chami - Antigone

Howard Shore - The Song of Names

Peter Venne - Le vingtième siècle

MEILLEURS COSTUMES

Valérie Lévesque - Mafia Inc

Ginette Magny - Jouliks

Patricia McNeil - La femme de mon frère

Patricia McNeil - Le vingtième siècle

Caroline Poirier - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

MEILLEUR MAQUILLAGE

Jeanne Lafond - Jouliks

Léonie Lévesque-Robert - Fabuleuses

Marlène Rouleau - Mafia Inc

Adriana Verbert - Le vingtième siècle

Erik Gosselin, Edwina Voda - Matthias & Maxime

MEILLEURE COIFFURE

Michelle Côté - The Song of Names

Stéphanie Deflandre - Mafia Inc

Nermin Grbic - Le vingtième siècle

Daniel Jacob - Fabuleuses

Martin Lapointe - Il pleuvait des oiseaux

MEILLEUR FILM DOCUMENTAIRE

Alexandre le fou - Pedro Pires | Pedro Pires

Mad Dog & The Butcher - Les derniers vilains - Thomas Rinfret | Divertissement Breakout - Vito Balenzano, Bruno Rosato | Vélocité International - Valérie Bissonnette

Soleils noirs - Julien Elie | Cinéma Belmopán - Julien Elie

Xalko - Hind Benchekroun, Sami Mermer | Les films de la tortue - Hind Benchekroun | Sami Mermer

Ziva Postec. La monteuse derrière le film Shoah - Catherine Hébert | Les Films Camera Oscura - Christine Falco

MEILLEURE DIRECTION DE LA PHOTOGRAPHIE | FILM DOCUMENTAIRE

Dominic Dorval, Vincent Masse, Thomas Rinfret, Richard Tremblay - Mad Dog & The Butcher - Les derniers vilains

Sami Mermer - Xalko

François Messier-Rheault, Ernesto Pardo - Soleils noirs

Pedro Pires - Alexandre le fou

Pedro Ruiz - Sur les toits Havane

MEILLEUR MONTAGE | FILM DOCUMENTAIRE

Benoit Côté, Thomas Rinfret - Mad Dog & The Butcher - Les derniers vilains

Sylvia De Angelis, Sophie Leblond, Pedro Pires - Alexandre le fou

Aube Foglia - Soleils noirs

Annie Jean - Ziva Postec. La monteuse derrière le film Shoah

Natalie Lamoureux - Une femme, ma mère

MEILLEUR SON | FILM DOCUMENTAIRE

Wolfgang Beck, Mustafa Bölükbasi, Kerem Çakir, Huseyin Can Erol, Sonat Hançer, Eric Lebœuf, Bruno Pucella, Ibrahim Tarhan, Yener Yalçin, Tolga Yelekçi - Échos d'Istanbul

Luc Boudrias, Patrice LeBlanc - Une femme, ma mère

Sylvain Brassard, Benoit Leduc, Gaël Poisson Lemay - Alexandre le fou

Shelley Craig, Marie-Pierre Grenier, Luc Léger, Geoffrey Mitchell - La fin des terres

René Portillo - Sur les toits Havane

MEILLEUR COURT MÉTRAGE | FICTION

Je finirai en prison - Alexandre Dostie | Art & Essai - Hany Ouichou

Jojo - Guillaume Laurin | Couronne Nord - Fanny Forest, Julie Groleau, Guillaume Laurin

Juste moi et toi - Sandrine Brodeur-Desrosiers | Les Films Camera Oscura - Johannie Deschambault

SDR - Alexa-Jeanne Dubé | À Deux - Emili Mercier

Une bombe au cœur - Rémi St-Michel | Christal Films Productions - Christian Larouche | Panache Films - Sébastien Létourneau

MEILLEUR COURT MÉTRAGE | ANIMATION

Le cortège - Pascal Blanchet, Rodolphe Saint-Gelais | Office national du film du Canada - Julie Roy

Le mal du siècle - Catherine Lepage | Office national du film du Canada - Marc Bertrand

Organic - Steven Woloshen | Steven Woloshen

Physique de la tristesse - Theodore Ushev | Office national du film du Canada - Marc Bertrand

Les vêtements - Caroline Blais | Caroline Blais

FILM S'ÉTANT LE PLUS ILLUSTRÉ À L'EXTÉRIEUR DU QUÉBEC

Antigone - Sophie Deraspe | ACPAV - Marc Daigle | Maison 4:3

La femme de mon frère - Monia Chokri | Metafilms - Sylvain Corbeil, Nancy Grant | Les Films Séville

Genèse - Philippe Lesage | Unité centrale - Galilé Marion-Gauvin | FunFilm Distribution

Kuessipan - Myriam Verreault | Max Films Média - Félize Frappier | Filmoption International

Répertoire des villes disparues - Denis Côté | Couzin Films - Ziad Touma | Maison 4:3

PRIX DU PUBLIC

La femme de mon frère - Monia Chokri | Les Films Séville | Metafilms - Sylvain Corbeil, Nancy Grant

Il pleuvait des oiseaux - Louise Archambault | MK2 | Mile End | Les Films Outsiders - Ginette Petit

Mafia Inc - Daniel Grou (Podz) | Les Films Séville | Attraction Images - Antonello Cozzolino | Caramel Films - Valérie D'Auteuil, André Rouleau

Menteur - Émile Gaudreault | Les Films Séville | Les Films du Lac - Émile Gaudreault | Cinémaginaire - Denise Robert

Merci pour tout - Louise Archambault | Les Films Séville | Amalga - André Dupuy

IRIS HOMMAGE

Alanis Obomsawin

#gala québec cinéma #il pleuvait des oiseaux #andrée lachapelle

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everythingandeveryplace · 5 years

Text

Daryl Dixon x OC

All I’ve Ever Known

She's a fighter.

A warrior.

A survivor.

She's also alone.

When the world stopped turning and the dead started living 24 year old Ellie Mitchell was left to make it through the carnage and destruction entirely on her own. It's been 2 years and Ellies never needed anything from anyone, when she finds 10 year old Sophia Pelletier hiding from walkers behind an old oak tree she knows that she has to help this little girl find her way home. She didn't expect to join forces with a one handed redneck and she especially didn't expect to fall for his handsome and incredibly protective baby brother.

Life has a way of showing you exactly what you've always needed.

That is if you open your eyes of course.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd spoilers #the walking dead spoilers #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon/oc #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon cosplay #daryl dixon x reader

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tasksweekly · 7 years

Photo

[TASK 056: THE IRON CONFEDERACY]

Shout out to @olivaraofrph for inspiring and helping compile this task! There’s a masterlist below compiled of over 90+ faceclaims categorised by gender with their occupation and ethnicity denoted if there was a reliable source. The Iron Confederacy's a pre-colonial powerful Native American/Canadian political and military confederacy, forming at an unknown time before 1692. While the Confederacy itself dissolved in the 1860s, the tribes that formed it remain as the Plains Cree, Saulteaux, and Nakoda Sioux. If you want an extra challenge use random.org to pick a random number! Of course everything listed below are just suggestions and you can pick whichever character or whichever project you desire.

Any questions can be sent here and all tutorials have been linked below the cut for ease of access! REMEMBER to tag your resources with #TASKSWEEKLY and we will reblog them onto the main! This task can be tagged with whatever you want but if you want us to see it please be sure that our tag is the first five tags!

THE TASK - scroll down for FC’s!

STEP 1: Decide on a FC you wish to create resources for! You can always do more than one but who are you starting with? There are links to masterlists you can use in order to find them and if you want help, just send us a message and we can pick one for you at random!

STEP 2: Pick what you want to create! You can obviously do more than one thing, but what do you want to start off with? Screencaps, RP icons, GIF packs, masterlists, PNG’s, fancasts, alternative FC’s - LITERALLY anything you desire!

STEP 3: Look back on tasks that we have created previously for tutorials on the thing you are creating unless you have whatever it is you are doing mastered - then of course feel free to just get on and do it. :)

STEP 4: Upload and tag with #TASKSWEEKLY! If you didn’t use your own screencaps/images make sure to credit where you got them from as we will not reblog packs which do not credit caps or original gifs from the original maker.

THINGS YOU CAN MAKE FOR THIS TASK - examples are linked!

Stumped for ideas? Maybe make a masterlist or graphic of your favourite faceclaims. A masterlist of names. Plot ideas or screencaps from a music video preformed by an artist. Masterlist of quotes and lyrics that can be used for starters, thread titles or tags. Guides on culture and customs.

Screencaps

RP icons [of all sizes]

Gif Pack [maybe gif icons if you wish]

PNG packs

Manips

Dash Icons

Character Aesthetics

PSD’s

XCF’s

Graphic Templates - can be chara header, promo, border or background PSD’s!

FC Masterlists - underused, with resources, without resources!

FC Help - could be related, family templates, alternatives.

Written Guides.

and whatever else you can think of / make!

MASTERLIST!

Ladies:

Wilma Pelly (80) Saulteaux - actress.

Buffy Sainte-Marie (76) Plains Cree - singer-songwriter.

Margo Kane (65) Saulteaux and Cree - actress.

Sharon Bruneau (53) Metis of Cree, Cherokee, and French descent - model and bodybuilder.

Chantal Kreviazuk (43) Ukrainian, Scottish, English, 1/16th Polish, 1/64th Saulteaux - singer and songwriter.

Cheryl L’Hirondelle (58) Metis of Cree descent, French, German, and Polish - musician.

Michelle Thrush (50) Plains Cree - actress.

Irene Bedard (49) Inuit, Inupiat, Yupik, Cree, and Metis - actress.

Jennifer Podemski (43) Saulteaux, Ojibwe, Israeli, and Polish - actress.

Georgina Lightning (born 1964) Plains Cree - actress and filmmaker.

Tamara Podemski (39) Saulteaux, Ojibwe, Israeli, and Polish - actress.

Crystle Lightning (36) Plains Cree - actress.

Sarah Podemski (36) Saulteaux, Ojibwe, Israeli, and Polish - actress.

Teneil Whiskeyjack (29) Plains Cree and Mexican - actress.

Shayla Stonechild (23) Metis of Blackfoot and Cree descent - actress and model.

Michaella Shannon (21) Plains Cree and Possibly Filipina (was featured in a magazine of and for Filipino-Canadians, however can't find anything stating she's Filipina) - model, actress, singer, and tv host.

Osa Roan (21) Plains Cree and Isleta Tiwa - Instagrammer (osamuskwasis).

Savannah Rae Boyko (16) Cree - singer.

Hozhoni Whitecloud (15) Ho-Chunk, Omaha, Otoe, Comanche, Plains Cree, Lakota Sioux, Menominee, Muskogee, and Arikara - model.

Amber Midthunder (born 1991) Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux, Hudeshabina Nakoda Sioux, Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate Dakota Sioux, Chinese, and English - actress.

Xandrah (?) Nakoda Sioux - singer-songwriter.

Georgia Wettlin Larsen (?) Nakoda Sioux - singer.

Teagan Littlechief (?) Saulteaux and Cree - singer-songwriter.

Rosary Spence (?) Cree - singer-songwriter and actress.

Levi Sophia (?) Cree, Chinese, and British - model and actress.

Jaylene Johnson (?) Metis of Cree and French descent.

Kym Gouchie (?) Dakelh, Cree, and Shuswap - singer-songwriter.

Morningstar Mercedi (?) Chipewyan, Cree, and Metis - actress

Miika Bryce Whiskeyjack (?) Plains Cree and Mexican - actress.

Jessica Matten (?) Metis of Cree and Saulteaux, Chinese, French, British, and Ukrainian - actress.

DJ Kookum (?) Plains Cree - musician.

Eekwol (?) Cree - rapper.

Shayna Jackson (?) Cree and Dakota Sioux - actress.

Kait Angus (?) Mohawk and Cree - singer.

Niska Napoleon (?) Cree - singer-songwriter.

Alana LaMalice (?) Cree and Dene - actress and model.

IsKwe (?) Cree, Dene, and Irish - singer-songwriter.

Arlette Alcock (?) Metis of Blackfoot, Cree, and Nakoda Sioux descent - singer-songwriter.

Khadijha Red Thunder (?) Cree, African Canadian, and Spanish - model.

Wandbi Nanji (?) Yankton Dakota Sioux and Nakoda Sioux - musician.

Jayli Wolf (?) Saulteaux - actress.

Brandy McCallum (?) Blackfoot, Cree, and Metis - singer-songwriter.

Joleen Mitton (?) Plains Cree, Blackfoot, French, and Scottish - model.

Ranae Morriseau (born 1965) Saulteaux and Cree - actress.

Roseanne Supernault (?) Métis of Cree - actress.

Darian Landray Lonechild (?) Plains Cree and Saulteaux - model.

Sandy Scofield (?) Metis of Saulteaux and Cree descent - singer.

Heather White (?) Mohawk and Nakoda Sioux - actress.

Fawn Wood (?) Plains Cree and Whonnock Salish - singer.

Marilyn Thomas (?) Cree and Saulteaux - filmmaker.

Allyson Pratt (?) Metis of Plains Cree and French descent - actress.

T-Rhyme (?) Cree and Dene - rapper.

Shalaine Bouvier (?) Plains Cree - model.

Sera-Lys McArthur (?) Nakoda Sioux and Irish - actress.

Sewepagaham (?) Cree and Dene - singer.

Mariame (?) Cree - singer.

Laura Vinson (?) Metis of Cree, Cherokee, French, and English descent - musician.

Beatrice Love (?) Cree - singer-songwriter.

Thelma Cheechoo (?) Cree - singer-songwriter.

Bee Pastion (?) Nakoda Sioux - singer.

Shakti Hayes (?) Plains Cree - singer-songwriter.

Barbara Dumigan (?) Plains Cree - beauty pageant titleholder.

Angela Miracle Gladys (?) Plains Cree - dancer.

Male:

Michael Eklund (55) Cree and Norwegian - actor.

Lorne Cardinal (53) Cree - actor.

Michael Greyeyes (50) Plains Cree - actor.

Nathaniel Arcand (45) Plains Cree - actor.

Adam Beach (44) Saulteaux and ⅛ Icelander - actor.

Ryan Black (44) Saulteaux - actor.

Rudy Youngblood (34) Cree, Comanche, and Yaqui - actor, musician, dancer, and artist.

Bronson Pelletier (30) French, Plains Cree - actor.

Cody Lightning (30) Plains Cree - actor.

Nakotah LaRance (27) Hopi, Tewa, Nakoda Sioux, and Navajo - actor.

Joel “DIVIN3” Logan (born 1989) Cree - musician.

Ceejay Naistus (23) Plains Cree - musician.

River Thomas (born 1998) Plains Cree - model (for no reason won’t come up on google but instagram is riverfromthe6).

YoungPride (?) Plains Cree - musician.

Sunny D (?) Plains Cree - musician.

Sause Opissinow (?) Plains Cree - musician.

Sebastian Gaskin (?) Plains Cree and Russian - musician.

Mathew Jade Skylar Strongeage (?) Saulteaux - actor.

David Midthunder (?) Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux, Hudeshabina Nakoda Sioux, and Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate Dakota Sioux - actor.

W.T. Goodspirit (?) Cree - musician.

Justin Rain (?) Plains Cree - actor.

Mato Nanji (?) Yankton Dakota Sioux and Nakoda Sioux - musician.

Pte Nanji (?) Yankton Dakota Sioux and Nakoda Sioux - musician.

William Prince (?) Saulteaux and Cree - singer-songwriter.

InfoRed (?) Cree and Nakoda Sioux - musician.

Jimmy Blais (?) Plains Cree - actor.

Jason Burnstick (?) Plains Cree - musician.

J Dizzay (?) Cree - rapper.

Drezus (?) Plains Cree - rapper.

Billy Simard (?) Cree - singer-songwriter.

KASP (?) Cree - rapper.

Pacey Gillespie (?) Saulteaux and Cree - actor.

DJ Creeasian (?) Cree and Vietnamese - musician.

Ben G (?) Metis of Cree descent - musician (Niiko Soul and Ben G).

Robbie Black Kettle (?) Saulteaux and Blackfoot - musician.

NB:

Tomson Highway (65) Two Spirit - Cree - author and playwright.

Kent Monkman (born 1965) Two Spirit - Cree and Irish - artist.

Cris Derksen (?) Two Spirit - Cree and Unspecified White Mennonite - cellist

#rph #underused fc #indigenous fc #fc help #task: 056 #task: The Iron Confederacy

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

Text

Two idiots

When - about a week after douche car. and ...but dirtbag car if the kids are listening. Still on the road before the Greene’s Farm, Sophia is still safe and breathing.

Perspective - 2nd person

Relationships - you and the second idiot are hunting. He’s letting you try out his crossbow, too. Only Sophia and your big bro Shane make an appearance otherwise, and it’s only through the walkie talkies.

Genre - a pretty good time, but y'all do end up bickering (yay!). This is a slow burn series, so we might can consider this story as idiots to (eventual) lovers.

Pronouns - none used or really implied

TWs - language, and there is hunting involved as well as some walker killing.

Word count - 3,300. Masterlist here if you'd like to catch up on the other things you two idiots and the rest of the gang have been up to.

“How long did it take you to figure out how to aim this thing right?”

“Shh.”

“It’s rainin’, they can’t hear us,” you whisper.

“Shh!”

You find yourself staring at his finger pressed against his lips. His hand looks all strong and mascul...oh Moses, first you start getting distracted by his arms, now his hands? What is going on with you? You can’t need sleep that badly.

Like, sure, fine, fine, okay: you discussed with Carol that he was growing as a person and you were happy that he was. And heck, like, you’d even say you were becoming friends with him, but come on. He’s still an abrasive chain smoker driving a nazi bike (and ugh, do you hate that bike! How could his brother have the audacity to take a gorgeous motorcycle and defile it like that?).

On the bright side, this is another sign that your annoying crush on Glenn is lessening. That’s a big relief. You still love him dearly, he’s your best friend, but now your pulse and stomach behave normally around him. Now you can purely focus on whooping his ass when you race.

You adjust your hold on the crossbow and stick your tongue out as you fine-tune your aim a little higher...

“Shit, move your thumb!” he rasps in your ear.

“Huh? T-to where?”

“Just – down here! Can’t be on the barrel like that, ya wanna lose it?” This statement would’ve been sufficient, if impolitely delivered. But then he huffs under his breath “Damn idiot.”

You sharply inhale and feel the anger roil up. He just called you an idiot? Don’t blow up...

“So long as I still have my middle finger, I think I’ll be okay,” you can’t help but hiss back. Okay, you’ll grade that a B minus on not blowing up. Bonus is that you feel nothing but revulsion towards him again, not even for those objectively nice arms or strong hands.

In short order, he grabs his crossbow from you. You grit your teeth but say nothing, because anything else that comes out of your mouth won’t be quiet, and that will scare the food off.

Daryl positions his bow, aims, pulls the trigger and – wait why is the herd running away? Come on! Oh ouch, and the deer he’d almost bagged turned her head at the last minute and the bolt sliced her ear.

“Son of a bitch!”

“And now that poor deer has a hole in her ear!”

The look he’s giving you couldn’t be more dismissive or annoyed. “You’re sad about hurting the deer we was just trying to kill?”

“A quick, clean death ain’t the same as having a hole ripped through your ear, idiot.”

He stiffens. Then shakes his head, lets out an angry grunt, and storms off to the clearing, oblivious to the rain, another bolt already notched.

Ah, so that’s what scared the deer away. A walker. What else?

You stay behind in the woods in the relative dry and lean against a tree to try and placate yourself. Fine, just because he was rude didn’t make it okay that you were rude back. But in your defense, he called you an idiot! And he drives a nazi bike!

Annnnnd now you’re getting angry again. That dude really presses your damned buttons. He’s just so hot and cold! He’s like some rescue dog from a shelter, and how you don’t know what makes them snarl or growl or bite until you find yourself getting snarled at or growled at or bitten!

Once that comparison crosses your mind, you...you feel guilty; you’d grown up caring for fosters just like him, the only real difference was that they were younger and he’s now grown. Daryl is the way he is for a reason, and likely a very good one. Sure, he still has the responsibility to work on that shit, but you could be a lot more helpful in this if you didn’t bark back.

In your head, you imagined taking a tea kettle off the heat and hearing the whistling die down. Inhale. Exhale. Okay, back to it. “Daryl, you good?” you call.

...Hello?

“Daryl?” you call a little louder, feeling your upset being rapidly replaced by nerves. He probably couldn’t hear because of the rain, but where was he? Looking all around the field, you see...nobody? Immediately you speak into your little green walkie, saying “Hey, man, tell me if it’s all clear, okay?” So long as he had the yellow one on, he’d hear you.

Nothing.

Relax, he might could simply be pouting...though he’d still answer something even if that were the case…

First, you jog through the long grass to make sure something didn’t go horribly wrong when he put down the walker. You almost trip, the grasses are so long and wet. But there’s the walker, face down with a bolt hole in its head.

“Hi Y/N. What’s wrong?” Sophia’s voice answers over the walkie. She has the third one, the pink one that had been Amy’s.

“Just makin’ sure with Daryl that he was good to go, Soph, we’re all good,” you lie.

Then a familiar grunt comes from the far right side of the clearing and you sprint full-speed ahead, knife unsheathed (until you realize that is idiotic, so you sheath it). “Daryl, you bit?” you shout towards the noise.

“M’fine, keep back!”

Once you round the hill, you see what he’s been up to. There were four walkers (still standing upright) beginning to surround him, with some more shuffling out from the woods. Small mercies that the grasses are long enough to trip them, so a good number were crawling.

“Why didn’t you say nothing?” you screech, waving your arms and running in the opposite direction of Daryl, making sure the walkers notice you and start changing direction towards you.

Backing up while notching another arrow and letting it fly, he shouts back “Christ, I was busy!”

“Daryl! Don’t use a deity as an fuckin’ expletive!”

“Y’serious right now?”

“Better believe it, bitch,” you snap back as you drive your knife into the closest walker’s temple. Ow, your shoulder.

“Watch your damned mouth, bitch!” he yells back, kicking the one nearing him from the side.

“Watch your ass, Daryl. Oh sh – no, really, turn around, there’s one crawlin’ towards you!”

“Shit,” you hear him say when he sees it nearing his ankle. With a stomp on its neck and an arrow manually driven through its skull, it stops being a problem.

You find yourself falling backwards, releasing a panicked squeal as you scramble back and clamber a ways up the small hill to put more distance between you and the two that were practically falling over each other. Damned long grasses.

A bolt to the head stops one in its tracks (“Thank you!”), and you flat-out kick the other so it flops down the incline and you can dispatch it without as much risk. A second bolt stops one of the crawling ones in your half of the field (“Show off!”), and you run to the rest who were still crawling and start to take care of them.

The first one you go for and your knife ends up getting stuck again, and when you finally wrench it out, you feel the blade jiggle as if it’s loose. That’s not good.

Daryl jogged over to you at some point, and now you’re both finishing up clearing the area from this little gaggle of them or whatever you wanna call it.

Then you both take a step and groan upon hearing and feeling a gross, mucky *squelch*.

“Bleh.”

“Nasty.”

You two just wandered into some sort of muddy patch, and it’s thick. You both look down at your feet. Then at each other. And then you, for one, burst out laughing.

He stares at you unblinking before his eyes crinkle and he almost smiles. When you go to take a step and lift your foot out, your boot starts to pull off your foot, making you crack up more, and say “Uh oh! Mud. Thick, oozy mud!”

Ever practical, he shoots another crawling, stuck walker while you inelegantly squish your way out of the mud. When he goes to step out, his shoe gets caught, too, you reach out your hand to hold his bow for him and offer your free arm to help him keep balance as he yanks his foot out.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

All that’s left is to get the last two, both currently stuck in mud closer to the tree line. Like a weirdo, you giggle to yourself and quietly narrate “We can’t go over it. Can’t go under it. Oh no!” Expectantly you look at him and gesture that it’s his turn.

“What?”

Entertaining yourself, you go pfft and say the rest of the line: “We’ve got to go through it!” You tilt your head at him and bite your lip. “I reckon you didn’t read ‘We’re going on a bear hunt’ when you were a kid?”

“Why, you know it by heart or somethin’?”

With a shrug, you sheepishly admit “The next line is squelch-squirch, squelch-squirch, squelch-squirch.”

He looks down and wipes the raindrops from his forehead “...Thought it was squish-squash.”

“Ah-ha!” you exclaim, pointing your finger at him. “I knew you knew it!”

Shaking his head, he snorts and mutters “C’mon, help me get the rest of these guys.”

“Help me get the rest of them,” you annoyingly respond. Jogging around the muddy area, you casually mention “Oh hey, crawdad mound over there, Daryl.” He’s behind you, also with his knife out.

“Ran outta bolts,” he explains when you notice. “Hey, you didn’t mess up your shoulder more, did ya?”

“Dude, until we find a safe place, I’m gonna have to push through regardless.”

“I’ll finish ’em.”

“We’ll finish them.”

You try your best not to get your feet stuck in the mud again as you finish off the rest together, after which you wander around to retrieve his arrows.

“Should we might fish some out, or leave them be?” you ask, nodding at the crawdad mound as you wipe your knife clean. It’s an easy task, considering everything is soaking wet from the rain.

He shrugs. “Ain’t like we brought a bucket.”

“Or a shovel. It’s a pity we can’t bury these guys,” you think aloud sadly, and mentally add the five you’d just put down to the tally you have in your head.

“Walkers need to get burned.”

“Or that,” you concede. Burning can still be respectful. “How about finding that herd of deer again?”

“They ran. And ’cause of the rain, most other game is gonna be takin’ some kind of shelter.”

“What about ducks? Or Canada geese?”

“Canada geese taste nasty, but that’s probably our best bet,” he says, collecting his last bolt and snapping it back onto the bow. “Or more squirrel, they’ll be out and about in the woods since it’s drier in there.”

“Yay, more squirrel,” you monotone.

“Better than raccoon.”

Groaning slightly, you offer “I’ll take your word on that.”

“Let’s head back, we’re bound to run across some kinda meat. Plus, we’ve strayed too far from the cars. Your brother’ll skin me alive if you get hurt.”

“He will,” you agree cheerfully. As you two walk back across the small field, you are sure to let him know “The part in ‘Bear Hunt’ that goes through the ‘long wavy grass’ is ‘swishy-swashy, swishy-swashy,’ by the way.”

“Huh. Must be why I thought it was squish-squash for that mud part.”

“Was that your favorite book when you were little, too?”

“Nah, I’d never heard of it before. It was my, um, my younger cousin’s favorite.”

That’s unexpectedly sweet. “You must’ve loved them a whole lot,” you comment.

“Ain’t seen them since I was a teenager,” he mutters a little too testily. That meant there was some amount of pain or unhappiness involved. Especially when you conclude that he remembered enough of the book to indicate he’d read it more than a few times to them.

“Then I’m sorry.” And in silence, you two continue on. The rain is more of a drizzle now.

After a minute or so, you start to chat again. “One of Carl’s favorites was ‘We’re going on a bear hunt,’ too, so he’d read it to my nephew every time he saw him. My nephew ended up only wantin’ to read that story, so my poor sister was trying to turn him on to ‘Chicka Chicka Boom Boom’ so there’d be some variation.”

“They the ones in that picture I saw last week that you keep starin’ at? The sister holding the baby?”

You swallow. “Mmhm.”

After a somewhat heavy pause, he says “You musta loved them a whole lot, too.” That was also unexpectedly sweet.

Thankful that the rain will camouflage any tears, you answer with a simple “Yeah.”

And after a few more paces in silence as you both step back into the woods, he asks “What was that ‘chicken’ one?”

The innocence of that sentence brought your smile back and left you cracking up. “‘Chicka Chicka Boom Boom’, it’s this book that, um, it teaches babies the alphabet. You might could’ve been too old for that one when it came out, same as Bear Hunt.”

“What’s with the ‘boom boom’ part? And ‘chicka?’”

“No idea, but it’s fun. If we happen across a library I’ll find it for you.” Now you’re curious. “What was your favorite kid book?”

“Dunno.”

Lightly poking fun, you have to ask “Was it ‘Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day’?”

A blink. “Does that title even fit across the cover?”

“They used real tiny font,” you solemnly nod. Breaking into a smile again, you exclaim “Wait, I got it! Your favorite was Where the Wild Things Are.’”

Daryl coughs as if surprised and seems to weigh it in his head. “Yeah, actually. That one and the one about the snowy day. You know that one? Kid’s got a red snowsuit on?”

Hold up, he liked that one? Baby Daryl loved a book with a black protagonist? “‘The Snowy Day’ by Ezra what’s-their-face?”

“I guess.”

Oh my gosh, you’re beaming on the inside. Nope, apologies, you’re beaming on the outside, too. Just wait until Carol and Teddy heard this!

“Why you smiling like that, Y/N?”

“Would you prefer I act all huffy?” That reminds you. “I’m sorry I snapped back and that we got to fightin’ earlier.”

He looks over at you again and his shoulders fall slightly. “Me too. And m’sorry I called ya an idiot and, you know...a bitch.”

That’s when the walkies sound again and your brother’s voice comes through, asking “Y’all alive?”

“Alive and soaked, Shane,” you assure him. “How are y’all back at the caravan?”

“We’re good, we’re good. When are you two gonna head back?”

“’Bout a half-hour, maybe less,” Daryl answers into the yellow walkie he’s carrying.

“Alright. Be safe. Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you, Shaney.”

Daryl clears his throat, then quietly mocks “Shaney.”

“Dary-bear,” you throw right back at him. You aren’t sure what he thinks of that nickname, but your hope is that it annoys him. “Anyways, I forgive you.”

“Yeah, um, same,” he awkwardly mumbles.

“Even though we are two idiot bitches, let’s not deny that,” you deadpan, to which you are rewarded with a scoff and a smile that he tries to tone down. You nudge him and concede “We’re both kinda good at blowin’ up, ain’t we?”

“Mm.”

At that moment, you both hear honking…“Dude, geese!”

“C’mon, they’re prolly gonna land in the field!”

Quickly, you dash back to the tree line in time to watch the flock settle down and begin to waddle around the clearing.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Kneel down,” he directs, also taking a knee himself and lifting the crossbow off his shoulder. After cocking it, he positions it over your uninjured, non-dominant shoulder, muttering “There ain’t much recoil with this, but you’re lucky your dominant eye’s opposite your dominant hand.”

“I’m just relieved you didn’t see the two rabbits what just scurried on by us.”

“What?”

“Ain’t nothin’,” you whisper with satisfaction.

“Pain in the ass. Okay, keep your fingers below this part here on the barrel. The bowstring could snap one clean off if it’s up there.”

“Eesh.”

“Now I’m gonna aim this time so you can see where the sights line up. It’s different from using a proper gun, but...” He then leans in close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his body.

“Sorry if I smell,” you decide to say (yup, ‘idiot’).

“We all kinda stink right now,” he supposes. “Mainly you and me smell like bug spray, though.”

“So long as we ain’t getting chupacabra’d by ticks.”

The reference makes him grumble, so you decide to grumble back. With another snort and an elbow to your side, he insists “Alright, focus.” Pointing, he next asks “See how the sights line up? We’re goin’ for that one seated there. I lined it up higher to account for the drop from this distance.”

“Gotcha,” you nod.

“And yeah, just keep fingers off the top of the forearm part, that’s the barrel.”

“Won’t make that mistake twice.”

“Keep the stock pressed against your shoulder just like ya would with a long gun.”

“Naturally.”

“Exhale when you pull the trigger.”

“Yes, Shane.”

That ropes you another grumble out of him.

Exhaling, you steel your stomach, close your eyes for a split second (another idiotic move, but we’ve established what you are) and pull the trigger. You watch it hit home as you hear the other geese cry out in alarm and flap their wings as they begin to fly away.

It was a clean shot. Your eyes well up a little, but you swallow, reminding yourself that everybody needs to eat. “Sorry. Thank you, goose,” you tell it under your breath.

“Alright, let’s bring this shit dinner back,” Daryl comments, and with a nod and a light tap on the arm, commends you “Good work.”

“Thanks for indulging me. All I did was pull the trigger, really.”

“Eh,” he waves it off. “If I mess up my shoulder, I want somebody else to be able to hunt quietly.”

“Dale’s gonna make a dad joke on how we went on a genuine wild goose chase when he sees us bring it back.”

“It’ll be him or T-Dog.” He clears his throat. “Hey um, I never...” then he trails off, scratching his neck as you walk towards the goose together. “Thanks for savin’ my ass earlier. When that walker was reaching for my ankle.”

“Heck, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“And sorry again for callin’ you an idiot, that was rude. Then calling you a bitch back.”

“Friends fight,” you remind him, despite your hesitance about his being a friend. Somebody who drove a nazi bike was becoming your friend? Like, did Daryl even know what that SS symbol meant?

Still, there he goes picking up the goose carcass he’d so carefully lined up for you to ‘shoot’ and slinging it across his back as if it were his duty.

A chuckle escapes you, and you razz him that “I’m just bummed I didn’t call you ‘sunshine’ again. Remember that? When Glenn drove that car back to camp with the alarm blaring? That there was the word ‘idiotic.’”

“I actually cracked up about that after you left. Of all the things you coulda called me, I didn’t expect no ‘sunshine.’ Kinda wanna use that one at some point.” He makes a little grunt, then adds “Sorry I called ya ‘bitch’ back then, too. I hate bein’ called that.”

“Oh, I’ll try to avoid using that then.”

“Nah, s’fine.”

“Or I’ll use it when I truly want you reelin’,” you jokingly announce (mostly jokingly…).

Humming, he smugly points out “Troublemaker.”

So, you need to throw back “Redneck.”

“Idiot,” he then calls you, eyeing you from the side with a playful smirk.

Your voice goes way up high when you reply “Bitch.”

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jonsnowisthesexiestbastard · 8 years

Text

I'm wondering what big and choking deaths of major characters are gonna happen this season cause : - season 1 : Jim - season 2 : Dale and Sophia - season 3 : T-Dog, Merle and Andrea - season 4 : Hershel, Lizzie/Mika and Governor - season 5 : Tyreese and Noah - season 6 : ?? I honestly don't think Glenn is gonna die it would be too obvious because of the comics

#the walking dead #glenn rhee #sophia pelletier #dale #andrea #lori grimes #deaths #tv show #comics #rick grimes #steven yeun #norman reedus #daryl dixon #michonne #richonne #merle dixon

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baconwrappedcat-blog · 8 years

Photo

Cophia (Carl X Sophia) is the best, honestly. I love their friendship so much and I hope they both live to be adults and they end up getting together for real

#Carl grimes #Sophia Pelletier #the walking dead #cophia

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years

Text

Quarter!

Word Count - 2,800

Perspective - 2nd person

When - the Quarry. Same universe as Slowpoke and Deal. Find the Slowpoke Series and other stuff here!

Relationships - you and the gang! But this one mainly features the kiddos: our boy Carl, Sophia, and the two Morales children Eliza and Luis. There is no Daryl crush quite yet, but it follows the development and arc of his character, including how "you” perceive him.

Genre - nice and fluffy (though Daryl still should have used the pillow)

Pronouns - not technically mentioned again

TWs - language including the f-bomb, and allusions to spousal and parental abuse (Ed Pelletier)

“Will you tell me honestly?”

“Always Carl, what’s up?” you tell him.

“I think it’s cool and all, but are we gonna use stuff this in the real world?”

You shoot him a mischievous look. “Bored, punk?”

That made Luis giggle.

“Not too bored.” Carl smiled and tilted his head. “Just...wondering.”

Sophia speaks up, voice quiet as always. “My mom says we’re learning these things now, because they’re the, um, the foundation for the more bigger stuff we can learn later.”

“My papi said the same thing!” Eliza jumped in. “Learning about angles is what we need if we want to build buildings!”

“Or bridges and stuff!” Sophia added excitedly.

“Heck yes, girls, exactly! You two ladies thinkin’ about becoming architects?” you ask them. “Ms. Jacqui works in something to do with buildings and such, y’all should chat!”

“Maybe,” Sophia responds first. “I sort of want to be a policeman – well, policewoman – or a detective or something. Then I could stop bad guys from hurting people and stuff.”

You tamp down the rage that you felt bubbling up regarding that little girl’s trashcan of a father.

“Did you, um,” you stop to clear your throat and remind yourself to stay calm. “You talk to my brother yet, honey? Mr. Walsh a cop.” You lift your shoulders and smile. “He could tell you all about it.”

“He was cop partners with your daddy, right Carl?” Luis asks.

“Y-yeah...”

You don’t need to look to know that Carl’s expression had fallen. You could hear it in that response.

The kids did too.

“I’m sorry your daddy died, Carl. I would hate to lose my papi,” Luis tries to comfort him. “Yo, I have a pudding cup I’ve been saving. Do you want to share it? It’s chocolate!”

Then you hear Eliza then whisper to Sophia “You can sleep in our tent again tonight if you want. Maybe your mama can come if she doesn’t want him yelling at her more.”

Oh fuck, how had a – oops! You meant “oh fudge.” If you’d said that word out loud, you’d owe each kid a quarter. Rules is rules.

But really, how had finishing a math lesson turned into this? You glance around hoping to see one of their parents who could help (minus Ed. If he disappeared and never returned, good. You’d only feel sadness for Carol, because she would blame herself. Battered women usually think that they deserved the hurt or that it doesn’t matter).

Anyways, you’d taken over the schooling for the rest of the morning and are pretty much on your own for the moment, it seems. Carol had taken kitchen duty, and Lori was with Miranda doing either laundry duty or water duty, and you knew that Mr. Morales was on another run. And forget Shane.

You love your big brother, but he’d probably get them to ditch school early with him to go catch frogs or listen to Led Zeppelin or something. He’s fun like that. When you were little, he’d picked you up from school on more than one occasion to take you to the movies, swimming, shooting range, or to get hush puppies and fried catfish.

Yeah naw, you are gonna have to handle this yourself. Amy helps out sometimes, but she’s doing something with Andrea. Cleaning out that canoe, you think…

Yeah nope, you are solo for this one.

But it’s no big thing, you tell yourself. They’ve already been living through a worldwide pandemic that lead to society collapsing. And you know how to be honest with kids in a delicate way, if the situation got sticky. And having a deceased parent is something that’s become more than very common.

Having an abusive one, on the other hand…

Ugh. You hate this. You hate Ed. May he fall off the quarry edge and drown.

Okay. Back to it, you tell yourself. Revert the subject back to schoolwork in a non-awkward and non-dismissive way. Later, you’d offer to Carol to have Sophia share your tent again, if she didn’t have another sleepover with Eliza. If only Carol would share your tent, too…

Ugh! Shane had warned you against getting too involved in their situation. So had Dale. But how could you not want to?

Yes, you understand that the fallout for Carol and Sophia is the worry. But you also know that Shane is right there with you in wanting to break both of Ed’s filthy hands and maybe his face while you were at it.

Whoa. Calm down.

You try to remind yourself that every person is capable of redemption...ugh...

“Alright, kiddos. Eliza, Carl, and Sophia, no more skirting around your geometry. And how are you feelin’ about your times tables, little man?” you direct at Luis. “Did you wanna go over them again?”

“I wanna go over them with mama later,” Luis decides.

“You know what I want to do later? I want to build a twig cabin to put daddy longlegs in.”

“Oo I like that, that would be so cool! But no spiders!”

You consider...“Carl, you are totally gonna build a twig cabin because like Eliza just said, that would be so cool,” you begin, feeling your mood perk back up. You grin at the kids.

“So your homework is to do just that, okay? Count how many sticks you use. Be as imaginative as you want, just keep this in mind: we’re gonna count and measure every stick used, and measure the angles of the walls and the roof.”

“How come? Is that part of a test?”

“Yes indeed, Miss Sophia: we’re gonna test ‘em out tomorrow by putting a jug of water on top to see how strong they are. So what do y’all say, sound good?”

Their replies are in the affirmative.

Carl obviously teases you about assigning homework when school was a picnic table, so you remind him that “Punk, you were the one who came up with the assignment.”

Luis, by now, has half of his body stretched out on the table. He’s the youngest of the group, and is getting restless. “Are we gonna learn about eating bark again today for our last lesson?”

“Why, are ya hungry, little man?” you wink at him. He giggles.

“You kids vote. Do y’all want to learn some more first aid or health things, a wilderness survival tip, or to practice throwing punches again?”

The ‘last lesson’ was something that you or somebody else in the group tried to do every day. For example, tomorrow, Dale and Jim were going to do a mechanical lesson with them. Amy had done a fishing one, and T-Dog had done a football workout with them and showed them how to throw spirals.

Your lessons have been nothing too fancy or complex, but you wanted to put what you’d learned in school and EMT training to good use. Not that your official national exam results would be coming in anytime soon, what with the...state of things in the world.

Shane (the provider of the self-defense tips, naturally) had told you more than once how lucky you were to have done your classes, training, and testing just before the outbreaks started. Hand to God, you were more than a little grateful that you hadn’t been training or working in an ambulance when the sickness started. You’d been part-timing as a phlebotomist and that was a close enough call.

The wilderness tips came from your collection of books you’d kept in a hiking bag in your trunk. “Backyard Medicine,” etc, those types of books. You’d found that subject fascinating and intriguing in the before-times. Well, you sure were grateful for that now. Who knows how long you’ll all be out here?

And since that dude Daryl has let you join a few times when he’s done his hunting thing, you hope to learn enough that you’ll be able to share some pointers on that soon enough. Pity that he and his brother are racist, rude, stereotype dickheads.

For real, the older one, Merle, had walked by once when Miranda was doing a Spanish lesson, and he started to comment about “that sp*c language.” See, even he’s helping to give lessons: the kids learned right away that people will mock you for no reason other than they’re racist and high.

Ugh, that trash even had (you’d gladly pay the quarters to use the obscenity) the fucking SS symbol on his bike. You’d thought the motorcycle was cool until your saw what that nazi had painted on it.

At least Daryl was quieter and knew his stuff. He’s patient enough to let you tag along on some of his hunts, and on that note, hunts for the group.

Merle seemed to bully him a lot, actually. And not always in the way siblings will rag on each other. It was upsetting.

Anyways, you can admit that Daryl is decent enough. He sure ain’t Ed.

“Punches!” Sophia and Luis immediately vote. Okay, fifty-fifty already.

“Wilderness survival stuff,” is Carl’s vote.

“First aid seems the most important,” is Eliza’s vote.

Okay, punches wins. You’re running out of ideas for self-defense lessons, though. You’d already showed them the escape moves that Shane had taught you, and the last two times you’d shown them a set of basic punches and kicks that you’d learned from, um...kickboxing workout videos.

But hey, punches are punches, right? So long as you hold your arm and wrist the right way. Yeah. That’ll do the trick. It’s not like you’re about to show them that choke hold Shane showed you that time. Apparently, it’s illegal.

Yeah, foundational stuff is great for the kids. You’ll re-teach the hitting and kicking sets, with a focus on holding the wrist correctly and throwing their weight correctly! That should work nicely.

The thought pops into your head that you wish Carol was present. Well, maybe it might can still benefit the both of them, since Sophia was learning, right?

You jog over to grab the camping cushion that Dale had given to Jacqui, that’s what you used for the kids to practice hitting. “Okey dokey, proper stance, y’all. Show me it.”

The kids spread their legs to shoulder width, good. Their arms are bent at the elbow with fists formed, good. “Remember, don’t hunch your shoulders, although that might feel natural if you ever find yourself in a fight. But you might could hurt yourselves, so no hunched shoulders, yes?” At this, their backs straighten up some, good.

“When you bend your knees, keep it slight, not too much. Remember, the idea is y’all want to be able to move quickly in either direction, dependin’ on how your opponent –”

“What’s the ponent?” Luis cut in, brows set in concentration. Gosh, he’s he adorable. He gets so serious when he was learning how to fight, look at his face! Mr. Morales is a boxing fan, if you aren’t mistaken. Was it Jim you heard him talking about Manny Pacquiao to the other day? They’re both Pacman fans, you’re pretty sure.

“The opponent is your attacker, the person fightin’ you,” you clear up for Luis, then resume the lesson.

“Whichever is your dominant hand – that’s the one you write with – have the opposite leg more forwards, right?” you instruct. “Cause we wanna be able to use our body weight to hit harder and not tire ourselves out too fast.”

You look around at their positioning. “Sophia, tuck your thumb like this, okay? Kids, thumbs get tucked down here like this,” you demonstrate. “You might can break them super easy otherwise.”

“Did you ever break your thumb when you punched someone?” Luis asks.

Pardon: when? Not if? Do you seem like a throwing-hands type of person? Well...maybe you’re sorta hot-headed, but you’re also...gentle and sort of goofy. That’s why you and Glenn get along so well...right? Oh crap, how do people perceive you?

“Happily, I ain’t broken no bones at all yet, fingers crossed.” You pause, then snort “But no fingers crossed when making a fist, m’kay?”

Carl cracks up at that, then he, Sophia, and Eliza start to make overly exaggerated bad fists and fake punches, complete with sound effects. Luis will of course do no such thing, and instead begins to throw adorable (but very serious) kicks.

“Hey kid, don’t do that with your back,” a voice interrupts. You sigh.

Least it isn’t Merle or Ed. Whatever, so long as Daryl doesn’t use any bad words around the babies.

He walks over, complete with one, two...seven dead squirrels flopping on his belt, and rasps at Luis that “If you lean too far back like that, you could throw your balance off and fall and shit.”

“Quarter...”

“Quarter.”

“Quarter!”

“Quarter,” you huff to yourself.

Daryl both sounds and looks annoyed. “Why the hell y’all sayin’ quarter?”

“That’s another quarter,” Luis whispers.

“We got a no-cuss-rule, remember?” you explain, putting your hand on Luis’ shoulder and subtly guiding him towards you.

“What, like your no-litter rule?”

You choose to ignore that, already feeling that anger bubble back up. “Exactly. But for this, rule is you owe each kid a quarter when you swear within earshot,” you say, attempting to sound cheery if only for the kids’ sakes.

Surprisingly, Daryl only shrugs as if in surrender.

Until he then grumbles “That’s bullshit. What they gonna do with quarters anyways?”

“He now owes each of you three quarters,” you loudly announce. “How many pennies is that, guys?”

Whoa hold up. Is Daryl...checking his pockets for change?

“Seventy-five cents,” Sophia replies timidly. Men like Daryl (who you’d politely describe as “gruff”) made her nervous, and you couldn’t blame her. Sophia also adds “That was an easy one, though. Everyone knows three quarters is seventy-five cents.”

“Yeah, we’re not babies.”

“Carl, please,” you tease. “I changed your diapers; you’ll always be a baby to me.” And you are about to have them tell you seventy-five times three (while desperately doing the math in your head!), until you see Sophia's cute little expression.

She’s smiling shyly. “C’mon, we’re not that little.” The sweet way that she said it while holding the doll that Eliza shared with her sort of makes the sentence have the opposite effect.

“Sometimes, I liked to pretend Luis was my baby when he was smaller,” Eliza tells you all.

As you and the kids chatter on, you notice that Daryl’s expression looks...nice? You aren’t sure. But he didn’t seem annoyed anymore. You could almost venture to guess that he’s entertained. At least he isn’t being a dick, and hopefully he isn’t amused by the kids because he’s a creep. You’d never gotten that vibe, but now you wonder...

He catches your eye. “So, you gonna keep showin’ them how to hit right, or just keep yappin’?”

Well, you'd known it was only a matter of time until he turned dickish again.

“Mr. Dixon’s right, let’s get back to it. Get into position.” You grab the pillow and hold it out to him. “You’ve punched someone before, right?”

“What, I got that look or somethin’?”

“Yes. But it’s not an insult,” you quickly say. You shouldn’t be rude, plus you meant it. “It’s important for the kids to learn how to do something from somebody who has actual experience doing it.”

You notice that his eyes make the briefest of once-overs on you. “Yeah, you don’t look like you should be teachin’ no fight club.”

“Hey, shh! That’s the first rule!” you joke, hoping he got it. You’d never actually seen the movie, but everyone knows the first rule of fight club.

And to your delight, he snorts and almost smiles.

You look at the kids and incline your head towards Daryl. “Do me proud, nerds, then school’s out.”

He awkwardly holds the pillow and the kids start to practice. After the first kid goes (Eliza), he ditches the pillow, instead having them hit his arm (no, seriously). You bite your lip, nervous, as he winces a little when the kids start hitting somewhat harder. They're just excited to see if they could do well against someone tough like him, but still...

“We’re practicing proper technique here, my little savages, not tryin’ to maim Mr. Dixon,” you warn.

Carl does admirably, Eliza has the spirit at least, and Sophia, to your delight, causes the man to grimace and rub his arm in the spots she struck. You have to admit that you feel sort of guilty that he is most certainly gonna to be bruised and sore, but hey, he’d chosen to forego the pillow.

But then it’s Luis’ turn. Little man Luis, who takes his self-defense lessons very seriously. He asks Daryl “I keep my back like this?” and Daryl re-positions him, then nods for the boy to begin.

You should've seen it coming. So should've Daryl.

Luis does his punches as hard and quick as he can, but then adds kicks – and one hits Daryl right in the you-know-where.

Aw, shit.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelps, buckling before storming away. Then he turns around. As he’s heading back, face red, you’ve already been apologizing, as is poor Luis, who’s scared and probably thinking that he’s about to actually need to defend himself from an angry, scary, mean grown-up. Sophia has gone white, Carl is holding her hand, and Eliza has already stepped next to you and her little brother.

You’re ready to shut the man down if he gets too mouthy; Luis is a child, he made a mistake, he knows it, he’s sorry. End of story.

And Daryl should’ve been using the pillow! Your heart is pounding, you feel yourself starting to sweat, even your hands feel tingly.

But you’re still not going to take any of his shit. You gulp and hope you don’t look nervous.

And now he’s back in front of you.

But instead of an angry tirade...Daryl shuffles his feet (??), rubs his neck, and waves off Luis’ and your apologies.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grunts. “I owe ‘em another damn quarter.”

Then he blinks when he realizes it. “...another two quarters.”

176 notes · View notes

havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years

Text

“Deserved” Pt 1

Perspective - 2nd person

When - Quarry, right after you and Amy dry off following The Chicken Swim, until the following day when Ed gets beaten up; episodes “Guts” and “Tell it to the Frogs.” To read more belonging to the Slowpoke Series, here’s the Masterlist.

Relationships - you and the gang! It’s all the gang, and of course, Dary-bear

Genre - (?), but it follows the quarry camp’s events of episodes “Guts” and “Tell it to the Frogs.” Rick comes back!

Pronouns - not technically mentioned in this one. Also note that being Shane’s sibling in this series is not one of full blood relation, so visually you should look however you want (which is preferably however you yourself look, without any alteration. So long as you’re healthy, you’re fine how you are - and don’t you forget it)

TWs - mentions of an abuser (spousal/parental), and language. But luckily, the kids weren’t around so you don’t need to pay the quarter fine for the vulgarities

“But w-what’s he gonna do to Carol and Sophia now?” you sob.

“Well, to be honest,” Dale answers, “Nothing, not for a while. And until then, well...who can say? But there’s always a way out; there is always something that can be done to make a situation better.”

You’re sitting on the floor of his RV bawling your eyes out and trying to calm down. Your hands hurt. And your shoulders feel sore. And you have a bruise forming on your jaw.

You tried to beat up Ed Pelletier.

“But I would venture that he will certainly think twice about doing anything so long as you and Shane are a part of this camp,” Dale adds. He’s crouched beside you, sitting on the edge of the window seat.

You feel a fresh shower of tears stream out as your lip wobbles and you cough out “Fuck, we’re both such hot-headed idiots!” You reach for another napkin from the pile that Dale had in lieu of tissues.

“Maybe you and your brother both have that tendency, yes,” he considered. “But that doesn’t discredit that what you did came from a good place. As...I’m going to say as ‘impulsive’ as it may have been, the only thought on your mind, at least from what I imagine, was that Ed had hurt his wife, had been hurting his wife and maybe his child for far too long, and would do it again – but that maybe you jumping in would stop him from doing so.”

“B-but I know that doing shit like that usually results in the victims g-getting hurt even worse because the abuser sees it as a threat or somethin’ and gets mad!” you cry, voice getting progressively more full and shaky until it culminates in a heaving sob that makes you gag.

Dale doesn’t say anything back to you just yet, he only pats your shoulder. It seems that he’s decided to let you simply cry it out for a while in the quiet of his RV.

After a minute or so, you’re able to speak again, and you question him more. “Are you lyin’ that Shane was already on his way before I jumped in?”

“I have no reason to lie to you, and wouldn’t insult you by doing so besides. As for your brother, he had this,” he shakes his head, “I saw him from atop the RV, and he had a very unhappy look on his face before the fight even broke out. I’m not certain why, but he looked very...riled.”

“Did he say anything?”

“There was no time. He wasn’t close enough, and then, that’s when Ed hit Carol. Shane began bolting down that hill like a man with a chip on his shoulder. Before your own altercation took place, kiddo. When you did enter the equation, however, it only made him sprint faster, and I’m certain hit a lot harder.”

“Ed deserved it,” you mutter.

“Yes, I believe you’re right. In a way, hurting someone who hurts others is certainly seen as justice.”

“So you don’t think he deserved it.”

Next to Dale, you felt almost criminal. He was just so...good. No wonder he and Teddy and Glenn got along so well. Yeah, you were the praying type, and while definitely not naive, you were inexperienced about most things. You hadn’t even gotten properly drunk before, even after you’d turned 21 a few years ago.

But before someone so thoroughly attuned to their moral compass and consistent with it, you felt like some moody child. So damned hotheaded!

Even though you were certain that Ed deserved what he got and worse, Dale’s unshakable conscience was admirable. You hope to have that one day, that awareness and control and forethought. That patient kindness.

Sighing, Dale gently responds “I never quite said that, honey.”

Upon seeing your expression, he further explains his reply. He opens his mouth, but closes it, and considers again. Then, carefully, he finds his words: “I suppose that ‘deserve’ isn’t what worries me.”

“What d’you mean by that? Like mob justice?”

“Like mob violence, yes.” His brows are low and he is frowning. “When...things fall apart – when civilization goes through times of turmoil,” he clarifies, “Even if not through any malice or desire for power or even revenge, people end up sacrificing their humanity out of what’s often very reasonable fear.”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

He puts his hand back on your shoulder. “But other than worry for you getting injured, what you did doesn’t scare me.”

“Not yet at least, I hope,” you halfheartedly joke. You know that thing, where you joke to get an uncomfortable truth out? That’s what that was.

From the corner of your vision you can see that Dale shakes his head. He rubs your shoulder a few times and sighs.

“Because I know your heart, kiddo,” is all he says back. And that’s enough for you. If only you didn’t have to eventually leave the RV and face everyone other than Dale, right?

Your thoughts then drift to your brother. “What about Shane?” you ask him. “Are you worried about him?”

Dale clasps his hands and thinks about what to say. “Your brother is under a different sort of stress, since he’s sort of taken up leadership. And I don’t know him as well as I know you,” he trails off.

“Come on, Dale. You told me you’d be honest.”

He takes off his hat to fan himself with it. “What do you think about what I said?” he turns it around.

“About Shane, or?”

“About all of it,” he puts to you.

You chew your bottom lip. There wasn’t anything that you outright disagreed with about Dale said. People had already started to forget their humanity and do horrible things, and it didn’t even take long after the outbreaks. Heck, even a power outage in the before-times could cause chaos.

And as for your brother, you saw what was happening to him. It saddened and worried you. Plus, what Amy told you about Shane had said yesterday had been shocking – but you realized that it didn’t shock you as much as you wished, and that was worse.

When a radio call came from T-Dog about the danger they were in, your brother had said that they couldn’t risk going to help them. To rescue them.

If you’d been on that run, he would’ve dropped everything to go find you, and you knew it. He’d been taking risks and sacrificing for you and Lori and Carl ever since the bad things started. And you could only imagine what might’ve gone through his head as he came to that decision – to not risk any more of the group to rescue the others in Atlanta because he understood that it was objectively the safest choice.

But to know that he’d so quickly not placed that same value on other’s loved ones out of pure pragmatism, and so very quickly, was difficult. People would remember that.

And holy Moses, yesterday was wild. You were on that hunt with Daryl, carefully and silently tracking your way through the woods, when suddenly you heard a car alarm (??) getting louder and louder.

“The fuck is that racket?” he spat.

“Shit, that’s gonna draw the dead towards it!”

“And scare all the damned food away!” he erupted, managing to somehow keep it quiet.

“Daryl? I gotta go back, we gotta go back,” you stuttered. “I gotta make sure Carl is okay and -”

“Shh, keep quiet!” he hissed.

You flinched, but then grew angry. That dick was such a loudmouthed ass. You were being quiet!

“Don’t be gettin’ all huffy with me cause you’re mad the deer might get spooked, not when our people might could be in trouble back there!”

Thankfully, you managed to keep yourself from spewing out the insulting name you wanted to call him. For now.

“Fine, bitch. Go,” he scoffed at you. “Try not to get lost or bit on the way back.”

That was where you lost it. “Who you callin’ bitch, you little fucker?” To hell with the high ground; screw this son-of-a-white-trash-bitch for calling you a bitch! Who the hell did he think he was?

“You better watch your mouth,” he rasped at you.

“Yeah, you best watch yours, sunshine,” you snarled back. You were leaving. Fuck this dick. You tried not to crack too many twigs as you walked away and hoped that he wouldn’t mutter anything beneath his breath, because oh my gosh if he did, you didn’t even kn –

“Just – hey, be careful!” he called. “Don’t, you know, be all loud and shit on the way back.”

You slow down and exhale. Inhale. “Yeah, I’ll be careful. Same, um, same to you.” You start walking again.

“And m’sorry.” Oh. An apology? Well good. That was...very good. Very good of him indeed. You stopped moving altogether.

“Me too,” you admitted, mumbling. Why did you always need to boil over so quickly? You know that Daryl was a firebrand, too, and yet you’d barely tried to keep your cool when he started running his mouth off.

You then remembered something, and pulled the yellow camo walkie-talkie out of your back pocket. “Here. I almost forgot to let you borrow it. It’s the extra walkie. Radio the camp if you run into trouble or need help, yeah? It’s already on the frequency, just switch it on.”

“Hm?” He walked over and took the little walkie. “Hm. Where’d this thing come from?”

“I’d found these for Amy’s birthday, it came in a three-pack. She opened ‘em up earlier today. And guess what? They’re rainproof,” you announced, pretending to be highly impressed. You pulled out your green one and waved it a little. “This one’s mine.”

Was he about to laugh? “What, y’all got like a babysitter’s club or somethin’?”

“Oh, you a fan of the books, or did you want to paint nails with us?” you asked him, mouth twisted. He just squints at you and snorts in almost a friendly way.

Happily, you can’t hear the car anymore. “Well, the alarm stopped, so that’s prolly a good sign.”

“Nah, go on back, check to make sure all’s good,” he says. You can hear the apology in his voice. With an air of sarcasm, he adds “You can just take over water duty or some other fun shit, right?”

“Right.”

And with that, you each started your separate ways.

“Be careful, don’t die, don’t get bit,” you tossed over your shoulder, not thinking much of it.

“Hey, um,” he called back. “I ain’t sure how the range is on this thing, so radio me soon as you get back, alright?”

You were curious as to why he would care, but hey, why would you complain about that? Granted, maybe he was only worried about the fallout from Shane if you got hurt, but whatever; it was a good idea.

“I can do that. And hey, if you stay out late, check in every so often, too, yeah?”

And with that, you’d finally parted.

You made your way back to the campsite, radioed Daryl a quick “Made it,” and duly noted the orangey-red sports car that hadn’t been parked there before.

“Good” was radioed back to you, and you saw that Shane was waving you over. When you got close, you grew nervous. He was looking both pale and teary and happy (?) and somehow sad at the same time.

What was going on? Did something go down in Atlanta?

“Shane, what happened?”

“I have no idea.” Really, his expression was very...you couldn’t place it. Happy and shocked and ashamed maybe?

“What do you mean?”

Your brother didn’t explain. He might not have been able to. He simply inclined his head over to the fire where Lori and Carl and...what?

You weren’t sure who you were looking at and you also forgot to blink.

There was a new person.

But he looked very much like someone who was no longer alive. You’d known that man your whole life, you loved him so much, but he was, he was dead. He was shot, was in a coma, then died.

Oh no, were you asleep? Were you about to wake up and realize it was all a dream and burst into angry tears like you'd done so many times after you’d dreamt that your dead loved ones were still alive?

He even had the uniform on, it can’t have been him.

You must have been asleep. Heck, you even started to wonder if you were seeing a ghost, he was so realistic.

But then Carl just about skipped over to you and wrapped his arm around your middle saying, “He came back!” as “he” stood up to walk over and greet you.

Lori was behind him, looking more relieved than you’d seen her since the outbreaks began. You returned Carl’s hug but kept staring like a deer in headlights at that man.

Then he said your name. It even sounded like his voice.

“H-hi Ricky,” you scarcely believed was coming out of your mouth.

You’d been there that day, when Shane was trying to rescue him from the hospital after the medevac transports didn’t show. You’d been in the driver’s seat, actually, waiting to speed away as soon as your brother put Rick into the backseat.

But instead he’d stumbled out alone, full-on crying, and stammered that when the hospital’s power went out and the machine to which Rick had been hooked up stopped working, he didn’t feel a pulse.

“It’s good to see you in one piece,” Rick chuckled at you. His eyes were glistening and red-rimmed.

You remember sputtering out a confused laugh of sorts and looking at your brother. In an attempt to not burst into tears, once you’d gotten your bearings (somewhat) you asked Shane, “Sh-should I say it, or?”

His brows raised as he rubbed his forefinger and thumb on the bridge of his nose.

“After the scare he gave us, he deserves it,” Shane murmured, his eyes getting red now, too.

“What’s that then?” Rick asked, squinting and giving you both a playful smile as he wiped his eyes.

“I’m guessin’ it smelled like more bacon than usual,” Shane said for you, giving you a look.

“So who else w-would it have been?” you finished, tears clouding your vision, throat tightening, lips wobbling.

Lori, tears filled to the brim, too, coughed out a laugh as she started to cry. Carl looked up at Shane confused and said that he didn’t get it.

“Lore, he’s even in the outfit! Ricky, did you change out of the hospital gown right into your dang uniform?” you laughed, as tears finally fell from your eyes. Even Shane snorted at that.

“You know that man Merle called me somethin’ along the lines of ‘piggly wiggly,’ too,” Rick hinted, eyebrows lifted but eyes smiling even as he was teary.

When he next pulled you into an tight embrace, and you began to sob.

Then Lori wrapped an arm around you as you squeezed him to make sure he was real.

After using no fewer than four tissues, you joined them back around the fireside with the rest of the group.

In the before-times, Rick had been right there with you, going along with the jokes ever since you’d made your first police-related jab and held your breath to gauge his reaction. Your dad, Shane’s stepdad technically, had joined the police force later in life. He made cop jokes like there was no tomorrow.

The rest of that night, you couldn’t shake off the happy daze. Rick was alive! Your brother was alive!

Apparently, the group who went to Atlanta had almost not stayed that way. They all shared stories about what happened.

Jacqui laughed about how her knowledge of the city’s zoning and building history had almost come in handy. Andrea and Glenn ranted about the way they’d spotted Rick and how Glenn insisted on helping out, then how much trouble they feared he was going to be (all in good fun. But you could tell that it was another one of those situations where people were using humor to get out an uncomfortable truth).

Then Rick shared about what happened to him, how he was helped, and how he ended up here. He kept thanking your brother, but Shane stayed quiet, barely nodding in acknowledgment.

T-Dog stayed oddly quiet, too, and sat in silence next to Jacqui when he wasn’t speaking softly to her and Dale about whatever was troubling him. You sat next to him to keep him company for a while. He asked that you pray for Merle, of all people. You didn’t ask why, you just nodded and said you would.

At least Merle wasn’t there to make it worse, you guessed. You were surprised that he hadn’t come to grab food, though. Speaking of Merle, his brother radioed back “Found a tree with a huntin’ blind, gonna stay the night.�� Sleep overnight in a hunting chair?

That was some damned dedication, if you said so yourself. Risky though.

“Be careful, man. Don’t get eaten by nothin’, radio if you get trouble,” you quickly reply.

“I’ma shut off the walkie for the night, conserve the battery. G’night.” Okay, fair play.

Amy gave you a curious look and you explained that you’d lent him the third walkie. “So maybe you can chat with him when he turns his radio back on, huh Amy?” you winked, making Andrea’s face twist in disgust and panic until Amy saw, burst out laughing, and put her fears to rest.

And then Ed tossed a very large piece of wood onto his fire.

Really, it’s like he was begging for the camp to be found, especially the way he literally tossed it on, making embers spew everywhere.

Shane got that incredulous look in his eyes that you knew well and asked “Hey Ed, you wanna rethink that log?” Translation “Is your empty head shoved so far up your lazy ass that you’d risk everyone here?”

Ed settled himself back into his chair. “It’s cold, man.”

Ah, and there went your blood pressure, pricking up the by millisecond. And if the expression on Shane’s face was any indication, you were in good company. He shared a look with you, but kept his cool (pun intended), however, as he mildly replied “Cold doesn’t change the rules, does it?” Then he repeated the rule: “Keep our fires low; just embers, so we can’t be seen from a distance, right?”

“I said it’s cold,” was Ed’s reply almost instantly, as if he were only waiting for your brother to stop talking so that he could repeat it. “You should mind your own business for once.”

The only thing that kept you from reacting was that Dale caught your eyes and shook his head as if in solidarity. Shane got up calmly, walked over, and said something quietly to Ed. As he did, you noticed your brother’s fingers twitching.

Ed then ordered Carol to “Go on,” and she stood up and took the log out herself. Shane stamped it with his boot to help her, then bent down and smiled at Carol and Sophia and must’ve exchanged pleasantries or something.

You knew that Carol reminded him of your mom. She reminded you of your mom, too, even though she was decades younger. Shane had also seen a lot of domestic cases as a cop, and those had always weighed on him. He’d probably be half in love with Carol if it wasn’t for whatever you suspected he started to feel for Lori.

So you decided to get up and sit with them, even if it meant being in the same space as Ed. Carol kindly asked you about your day and you three chatted.

T-Dog soon walked past you looking glum, so you’d bid him a “Goodnight, Teddy!” He put his hand on your shoulder in thanks and continued to his cot.

Then much later, after most everyone else had gone to bed and you were ready to crash in your tent, Shane asked if you would stay up with him. And he wasn’t the sort to ask that for no reason, so you did.

He quietly poked at the fire. You repeated “Rick’s alive,” under your breath in disbelief. He echoed it, that happy/ashamed/shocked look still fixed on his face.

Eventually you and he and exchanged some minor small talk and banter, but nothing of real substance. Which was okay, but...

“Might could you and Lori have been startin’ to have feelings for each other?” you gently asked him.

He froze for a split-second. That meant ‘yes.’ Then that ashamed look took over and he nodded and seemed to huff. “You might could say that.”

“What’s that mean?” You knew your brother, but didn’t want to think that he would have started anything at the physical level with his best friend’s widow only a couple months after Rick had died. Um, was thought to have died, at least. Thank you, thank you, Rick’s alive!

“It ain’t a big deal. I deserved it anyways,” Shane attempted. And before you could say anything else in regard to his very interesting choice of word, he firmly stated “My brother is back. Our brother. I’d failed him twice over, but now he’s alive again, so.”

“I don’t appreciate that tone,” you start off. But to keep things light, you make a face when you tell him “And besides, you didn’t fail him twice over, dramatic loser.” You still wanted to talk more about his use of ‘deserved,’ but it was better to let sleeping dogs lie for the evening.

Shane knew that he had been rude, but was grateful that you were being patient with him. The corners of his mouth betrayed a smile when he grumbled “Don’t get all huffy with me, annoyin’ weirdo.”

That made you remember earlier. “So, I had a, um, a spat with Daryl earlier, said that exact thing to him. Called him ‘sunshine,’ too.”

Shane got a kick out of that. “Just be careful when you’re out there with him, he’s a...hot-head.”

Smirking, you quipped “Pot calling the kettle black, ain’t we?”

“Yeah, look who’s talkin’,” he chimed back.

You elbowed him for that, then asked “Wanna listen to my mp3? I charged it in the RV a few days ago.”

“Won’t say no to that.” Smiling, he elbowed you back. “You cool with me blastin’ all the Zeppelin you got?”

“Deal.”

You each wore one earbud and rocked out in silence for a while. You ended up leaving your music player with him so you could go to bed (or go to sleeping bag, technically) and Shane said that he was going to keep watch overnight.

It rained.

Which meant that your brother and Daryl were both getting soaked. You tried out your walkie to see if Daryl had his on or not. Because he was high up in a hunting chair in a rainstorm at night, that was a little worrisome.

“You should be sleeping,” came Amy’s voice through the radio, quiet. “Though now I know I forgot to turn my walkie off before bed.”

“Bug Daryl into responding with me, he’s still out there.”

“Daryl,” she sing-songed, still very quiet.

“Hey Daryl, answer please!”

“Mr. Dixon, are you there?” You also heard Andrea in the background that time when Amy said that.

“Dary-bear. Radio back and we’ll stop.” Oh, you were gonna use ‘Dary-bear’ again, tell you what.

“Hey,” came Andrea's voice. “So your asshole of a brother propositioned me about ‘bumping uglies’ in front of everyone, then called me a ‘rug muncher’ in just about the same breath.”

“Andrea, he did what?” you choke.

“All while handcuffed on the roof.”

“Handcuffed on the what?”

“You didn’t hear that conversation around the fire?” Amy asked you, voice high, as her sister also input that, “He deserved it.”

There was that word again. ‘Deserved.’

“That must’ve been when I was talking to Carol and Sophia,” you tell them. Because you would’ve remembered overhearing that. Handcuffed to a roof? Holy Moses.

“We’ll wait to tell you in the morning, okay kiddo?” That was Dale that time. So you’d just about awakened the whole RV.

Andrea added “At least you know his walkie is definitely off, he would’ve replied after I insulted his brother.”

“Hey, are you keeping dry in your tent?” Amy checked.

“Very, I’m at no risk of melting,” you joke. “I was just worried Daryl might if he got wet.”

“He’ll be alright,” Amy giggled back. You couldn’t help but overhear her sister in the background muttering that, “Hopefully he won’t multiply like a gremlin.”

The next morning, as soon as you’d slumped out of your tent, peed, and mixed a cup of instant coffee, Glenn dragged you over to check out the Chevy he’d used to draw walkers away from the group (and then had proceeded to speed off on a joy ride back to camp).

In his defense, it was a nice car. And he’d offered to take you for a spin in it. That made your pulse get louder and your walls snap up, but you tried to ignore that and lower them again.

“Can’t believe you didn’t shut off the alarm before comin’ all the way back, buttface,” you chided him. “Me and Daryl got into a hissy fit cause of that.”

“Well, he’s gonna have another when he gets back.”

“How come?”

Glenn froze. “Weren’t you there last night?”

“Well yeah, but I was talking with Carol – Glenn, what happened?” You still hadn’t seen the other Dixon, and if Daryl was gonna freak out about something, it was gonna be about his brother. “Was it somethin’ with Merle? I know he was handcuffed, but why ain’t I seen him around?”

From there, Glenn next dragged you over to T-Dog and you found out about what happened with the hoard, the handcuffs, and the key that slipped away, and the fact that T-Dog chained the door so Merle would stand a chance.

Daryl was gonna go apeshit.

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