Thinkin About The Time I Asked One Of My Third Graders What She Was Doing And She Told Me She Was Writing

thinkin about the time i asked one of my third graders what she was doing and she told me she was writing fanfiction

things are tougher than we are. i could walk out, but i won’t.

guys!!!! i got recommended by bcficrecs!!! i’m seriously freaking out this was absolutely the best thing to wake up to on a sunday morning <3

This Ain’t No Place For No Hero by moonshineshacks

He was right, Beth thought as they hurried down the creaking stairs. Places like this didn’t last after all. While on the road, Beth and Daryl stumble upon what might be a temporary safe haven, maybe even a new group. But when tragedy strikes, they’re forced on the run once more, with a new member in tow, and another on the way.

Daryl hadn’t believed in God, or any other kind of higher power, before the world had gone to shit. Definitely didn’t believe in one after. But when he and Beth came across that van with the backpack of food, everything from jerky, to canned veggies, to granola bars, to cake mix (who the fuck needed cake mix?), he was briefly tempted to fall to his knees and give thanks to whatever might be listening.

It was probably just the hunger, of course (he and Beth had been living off of a single-serving bag of Frito’s for the last week).

“Looks like we’ll be eating good tonight,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

He turned around and was greeted by the barrel of a shotgun.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” said the owner wielding it.

It was a man. He seemed young, probably around Glenn or Maggie’s age. He had a dark, unkempt beard, dark hair, pale skin, and pale eyes. There was desperation in them, but no wildness. The way he held the gun suggested he’d known his way around one for a long time. He wasn’t shaking, but he seemed to take no pleasure in what he was doing, either. Daryl wasn’t sure anymore if that made him less of a threat, or more.

“I’m just looking for food,” he continued.

Daryl realized he had an accent. If he hadn’t been so busy trying to think of a way out of their situation, he would’ve guessed the man was some kind of Hispanic.

“Please,” he said. “I have a family. My son is only five years old. We haven’t eaten in days.”

“What makes you think we ain’t been going hungry, too?” Said Daryl.

He felt Beth close to him, he couldn’t spare her a look, out of fear of what this man could do if he let himself be distracted even a moment, but he kept his grip on his crossbow firm, made sure to take a step in front of Beth, trying to communicate as clearly as possible that whatever this man intended to do, she was off-limits.

“I’m not trying to rob you,” he said. “I want to make a deal.”

If I never met you, I wouldn’t like you. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t miss you. But I did, I do, and I will [x]

She moved with shameless wonder. The perfect creature rarely seen since some liar brought the thunder when the land was godless and free.

[x]