#Abraham Ford one shot

[justanoasisimagines]

I don’t want to sleep alone - Preference-Set A

Warnings; Mentions of anxiety and past trauma, typical canon violence. Requests are open! Guidlines are pinned at the top of my page A/N; Part two will be up in a few days! So if you don't see your favourite character here, they might be in Part 2 Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and banner

Rick Grimes; The two of you nearly died after an encounter with the Saviours. Both of you are dragging your feet, both physically and mentally exhausted. When you turn to head towards your bed for the night, Rick stops you. He te;;s you he nearly lost you today and he doesn't want to sleep without you. Taking hold of his hand, you ask him which bedroom. He leads you toward his room because in Rick's opinion, your bed is like sleeping on concrete.

Abraham Ford; Ever since the two of you started getting serious, Abraham began to fear losing you. It comes from losing his wife and children. One thing is for certain he refuses to let that happen. This leads to Abraham asking you if you want to stay the night or insisting you two sleep close to each other for safety. Abraham wants to hold you close to reaffirm your there. It does begin to ease his anxiety when you agree.

Shane Walsh; It's you who tells Shane you don't want to sleep without him. The new world is ferocious, unpredictable, and deadly. Shane has adapted to the new world quickly, without question. So it makes sense for the two of you to share a space. Shane accepts because he doesn't like the idea of you being so far away from him when anything could happen.

Father Gabriel Stokes; Before the dead rose, Gabriel couldn't imagine sleeping with anyone whom he hadn't married. It was a sin in his eyes. The realization death is around the corner for anyone forces Gabriel to realise he doesn't want to miss out on these experiences with you. Gabriel eventually picks up the courage and expresses his feelings, you made sure he's adamant before agreeing.

Merle Dixon; Merle doesn't want to sleep without you. For a couple of reasons; one he doesn't like waking up alone. He wants to wake up with your bodies pressed together. Secondly, if Merle was being completely honest with himself, he doesn't trust anyone in Woodbury, There's no way in hell someone's going to hurt you while he's around. He'd gladly die trying to protect you.

Luke; Luke doesn't want to sleep without you. He feels like it's the next natural stage within your relationship. Living together, sharing a bed etc. Luke is grateful the two of you have found each other. It's only natural he wants to progress your relationship as normal as possible. For Luke, sharing a bed feels like the next step.

Siddiq; Siddiq is shaken from his encounter with the Whisperers. He's never been more terrified of dying before. He's struggling to adapt back to real life, constantly dealing with nightmares When you make the suggestion, Siddiq agrees. He'd thought he'd never see you again. He considers your warm embrace will help him sleep through the night again

Eugene Porter; Eugene is taken aback when you tell him you don't to sleep without him. He can't fathom why you would want to share a bed with him. His reaction is adamant, of course, he does. The entire interaction is awkward, soft and endearing as you both decide who's bed to share.

Benjamin; Benjamin never expected to fall in love. Never expected to find someone in the apocalypse, but he has. He's lying in bed one night, tossing and turning, struggling to sleep. His feet instinctively head him in the direction of your room. When he knocks, you are half asleep. He blurts out he doesn't want to sleep alone. You reply by opening the door wider and allowing him in

Beta; Beta insists you don't sleep alone. Living outside with the Whisperers is dangerous, there's danger at every turn. Beta hasn't cared in the past. When you two get together. things change. Suddenly, he's scared to lose someone. There is someone in his life that he wants to protect. So he insists you two sleep side by side.

Theodore "T-Dog" Douglas; When everyone's sorting out sleeping accommodations in the prison. You surprise him when you tell him you don't want to sleep alone. T-Dog immediately goes in search of a comfortable place for you to sleep. It's nice at the end of the end of the day, to know he's going to fall asleep with you in his arms.

Alden; You and Alden are sitting together reading, your eyes drooping, struggling to stay awake. Alden makes the suggestion you go to bed. However, you refuse telling Alden you don't want to sleep without him. Alden smiles, he truly adores it when you're sleepy and completely honest. Alden replies with you don't have to. Alden leads you up to his room.

Justin; Justin doesn't want to sleep without you through jealousy. He doesn't like the way Daryl's been staring at you. He wants to remind everyone, especially Daryl who you come back to after your day has finished. Who keeps you warm on those cold nights

Noah; Things are always tense in the hospital. There's always some politics going around. Noah's favourite part of the hospital is you. You two are hanging out, when Noah brings it up. He doesn't want to sleep alone, because its time he could have spent with you. The sentiment is sweet and when you agree, Noah asks you which side you prefer.

Jerry; You come to Jerry in the middle of the night, tears running down your face, pain-stricken. Immediately Jerry opens up his arms, embracing you. Jerry sets into consoling you. The world is harsh and cruel and even the strongest people break. When you tell Jerry, you don't want to sleep without him, he tells you you don't have to because he's right here.

Axel; Axel struggles to get accustomed to the harsh reality of the world. You are the best thing to come out of it. Companionship, patience, love. So when you come into his cell asking to sleep with him, he scoots to the side, pulling back the blanket. He tells you, you don't have to ask. He'll protect you from the nightmares.

Gareth; Axel struggles to get accustomed to the harsh reality of the world. You are the best thing to come out of it. Companionship, patience, love. So when you come into his cell asking to sleep with him, he scoots to the side, pulling back the blanket. He tells you, you don't have to ask. He'll protect you from the nightmares.

Micheal Mercer; Micheal is always busy. He takes the job seriously because it's important. However, sometimes he can feel like he's not spending enough time with you. It's why one night, he decides to ask you, to stay. He tells you, he doesn't want to go to bed alone anymore. Not when he can fall and wake up to something beautiful

Negan; Negan smirks when you tell him you don't want to sleep alone. He's been waiting for you to come to him. He didn't want to put any pressure on you, but he's been wanting to share a bed with you for a while. In Negan's mind, it's another way to be close to you. An excuse to feel your body against his.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Talk to Me

Daryl Dixon x Reader

After the prison falls you're on your own, until you find Daryl with a group. When things happen he carries the guilt for it all until you find the safety of Alexandria and force a confrontation

Warnings: talk of violence, cursing, forced sexual acts? The claimers were sickos(italics are flashbacks)

Same verse as Back Me so Reader was Shane's adopted sister

The day the prison fell was chaos. A blur of fighting, both humans and walkers. When you realized it was useless you'd heard yelling over the commotion. Maggie's voice was screaming for evacuation, Sasha too but you couldn't find anyone. You found an opening in the mass of walkers and ran, praying you'd find them on the other side as you sliced through the dead.

So much had happened since that day. If you stopped and let yourself ever actually think about it you were afraid you'd sink down into that hole and never find your way out. First it was Terminus, then Gabriel's church then the storm in the barn. The day Aaron had approached with photos and a story of a town that was guarded by a wall and willing for new residents all of you had rightfully been hesitant but now? You'd settled. It was slowly becoming home, you just wished things between you and Daryl could ever be fixed.

You sat on the porch of the home most of you were still sharing. Aaron had been adamant about the fact that there was plenty of room for you to spread out and you were slowly doing such but the group was tight-knit and felt better being closer. Maggie and Glenn had taken the house directly across the street, Rosita and Abraham were next door while you were planning to eventually move in with Carol and whoever else joined the two of you in the house she'd taken when offered.

You would've asked Rick if you could stayed with him, Michonne and the kids but that would also take explaining just why you felt uncomfortable moving into one of the other houses. You didn't want to see that look in Rick's eyes or to pull him into whatever was going on between you and Daryl. They were best friends, Rick claimed you as a little sister especially after Shane's death. It wouldn't have been fair to Rick.

You leaned your head back against the banister of the porch, fiddling with one of the arrows from your bow and watching a few residents of Alexandria. Poor bastards, the look on their faces the first time they'd gotten a look at your group had damn near been comical.

------------------

"Stay close and stay alert" Rick warned in a low voice, his eyes connecting with yours then Daryl's then Michonne's. Each of you gave a sharp nod. When the gate rolled open your group tightened up to walk in together. Your shoudler brushed against Rosita's on one side and Glenn's on the other. Ok maybe not that close. All of you adjusted slightly to give each other enough room to pull weapons if need be.

Aaron was leading your group in, looking part tour guide and part ring leader. A crowd quickly gathered, gawking like all of you were some sort of side show freaks. It hit you how normal this place looked. Untouched. You looked around at your friends, your family. Blood and mud caked most of you. Rick's beard was thick enough to hide a damn family of squirrels in, all of the women in your group save for michonne and Carol looked like you'd never heard of a brush and Daryl looked like he was nothing short of feral. You wanted to hate this community, for not being put through the hell all of you had, for not facing the shit storm outside this gate but you pitied them. How could they have survived this long? What would happen if the gate failed? If a walker got in? If another group attacked? Your people didn't need them, they needed you.

-------------------

"Walsh!" You were broke out of your own thoughts by Abraham's deep voice calling you. You jerked up and shot him a glare "That's a good way to catch an arrow Ford" he grinned and nodded to the bow sitting next to you "Might be if that thing was in your hand"

You rolled your eyes but could help a small smile before adding the arrow you'd been fiddling with to your bow and standing "What do you want anyways?" "You seen Rosita?" He asked and you nodded "bout an hour ago. She was headed to med with Tara. Why?"

He shrugged "Just wondering" he started to walk away but stopped and looked back "you alright kid? You looked a little out of it" you nodded "Yeah I'm good. This whole having time to catch your breath is new and taking some getting used to" his laughter echoed down the street "I hear ya on that. I'll catch you later" you watched him walk off and shook your head. If Abraham was starting to notice you needed to do something different. He barely knew you like that. It wouldn't be long before someone else said something.

"So what's the deal with you and her?" Carol's voice came from behind Daryl. He glanced over his shoulder to see her walking up to him. He was hoping hiding out on the outskirts of Alexandria meant fewer people but of course Carol would manage to sniff him out.

"Me and who?" He knew who the hell she meant, he wasn't that much of a dumbass but he wasn't gonna admit it. He couldn't face you, not after what had happened. She rolled her eyes "You and Miss America. Y/N. Who else! You and her have been damn near inseparable since the camp at the quarry then the prison falls and we all find each other again and I've yet to hear a word get passed between the two of you except for on your right or look out"

He shrugged, going back to working on the pile of arrows in his hand "We ain't gotta talk every day. We're here now. She's safe, ain't she?"

-------------

Carol knew him better than that, she knew when something was wrong. She sat down next to him "What happened out there? Before you and her found Rick and Michonne?" She watched him as she asked the question and saw his gaze flick from the arrows to her then down to the dirt underneath his boots "Nothing"

-------------

Daryl had joined the claimers just to have better chances of finding some of the group, a better chance against the dead. They were following the railroad tracks, supposedly going after some guy they had issue with that had killed one of their people. He didn't really care. He kept moving in hopes to find a trace of someone, anyone.

He'd been at the back of the group when he heard one of them let out a low whistle "Well look what we got here boys" then he felt his blood boil when he heard your voice, trying so damn hard to hold steady but he could hear the trace of fear in it "Let me go you son of a bitch before I fucking gut you"

-------------

"That look tells me something happened" Carol pushed and he shook his head "Nothing happened" she sighed "Ok but if something did and you need to talk or need help talking to her, I'm around" he muttered a thanks as she stood and walked away.

What was he supposed to say to you? He fucking missed you. You were the first person that had ever really had his back, to not judge him. He'd been there for you through Shane and you were there for him through Merle but now he didn't know if you could forgive him and even if you could, did he deserve it?

He stood up and grabbed the arrows and his bow. He needed to get out the walls for a while, get some air without everyone around. He'd go tell Rick he was gonna go hunting. That way he was helping at the same time and not just running.

"I'm not comfortable with you going out alone" Rick told you and you were trying desperately to not sound like a teenager begging to go out on a Saturday night and failing. There was only a couple years difference between you and Rick but now? It very much felt like when you were a teenager and him and Shane would happen to "Show up" wherever you were at.

You glanced over at Michonne who was watching the two of you with a hint of amusement. "Help?" She shook her head "No way. You're practically brother and sister. Not my job to intervene"

You rolled your eyes then turned back to Rick "I survived on my own after the prison fell before I found Daryl, do you really think I can't handle the woods around here? How long did Michonne survive alone? How long did Carol when you banished her from the prison? C'mon Rick, please?"

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Fine. Find someone to go with for my sake. I know you're capable but if you get a deer you can't carry it back on your own, can you?" You nodded "Thank you!" You grinned at Michonne and stooped to plant a kiss on Judith's head before rushing out the door.

You walked towards the gate and spotted Glenn on the guard tower and waved. "You heading out?" You nodded "Rick cleared it. He said I could go hunt" Glenn looked sceptical "On your own?"

Of course Rick didn't say you could go on your own but you hadn't found anyone to go with you. Carl was spending time with Enid, Maggie wasn't in the shape, you couldn't find Abraham and you were sure if Rosita or Tara was up to go hunting and Sasha had night guard duty so she was sleeping.

-------------

Before you could open your mouth to respond you heard Rick's voice behind you "Wait up" you turned on your heel to see Rick and Daryl walking towards you and Glenn. Daryl wouldn't make eye contact with you but you'd gotten used to that.

"Yeah?" You asked Rick so he motioned to Daryl "Carol said you struck out on everyone you asked to go with you and Daryl was headed out anyway. You two have always worked good together so I figured that solves both problems"

You weren't going to get into this now, not with Rick and Glenn here and not in broad daylight with anyone else nearby as an audience so you just cut your eyes at Daryl "Good with you Dixon?" He nodded "Fine by me" you looked back at Rick "Wish us luck. Hopefully we'll come back dragging a deer or two"

Rick smiled and patted your shoulder then looked at Daryl "Stay safe and keep her safe" "Yeah man, always" Daryl muttered as the gate slid open and you quickly walked out forcing him to half jog to catch up with you before you reached the patch of woods just outside the gates that would lead the two of you deeper into the surrounding area and hopefully onto some tracks so silence would be forced.

-------------

Yours and Daryl's footsteps were near silent as you moved in tandem through the woods. The last few years of hunting side by side had built a routine and familiarity that even the recently acquired distance between the two of you couldn't change.

You could feel his eyes on you every now and then but chose to ignore it. He hadn't wanted to come out here with you any more than you'd wanted to come out here with him. You had an idea that Carol had masterminded the whole thing in an attempt to force you two to be in the same area for more than a few minutes.

A twig cracking made both of you spin around, bows raised only to be met with one stray walker stumbling through the bush. You groaned in frustration, hoping it'd been a deer for a quick hunt as Daryl shot it. He cut his eyes at you "you good?" You half laughed "Be better if we found a damn deer for some meat"

He nodded before snatching his arrow out the walker and cleaning it off on the bandana he had in his hip pocket "Takes longer than thirty minutes" you knew that but you could feel how tense he was every time he looked at you. You rotated your neck in a tight circle then motioned to the woods in front of you "Well we're wasting daylight. Let's get on it"

You and Daryl hadn't traded more than five words past that but you did get two does. Daryl carried the heaviest of the two back so you heaved the lightest across your shoulders and followed his careful footsteps back the way you'd came. The pace you were going you should manage to be able to get back and dress the deer before the sun set good.

You could see the walls of Alexandria just up ahead and laughed when you heard Abraham's voice boom out "Well look what the cat dragged in. Dixon and Walsh done got us some Venison" you shook your head and followed Daryl into the gate. The two of you headed for the back of the food storage area where it'd been set up to strip animals after hunting trips.

--------------

Daryl barely glanced at you as the two of you worked to dress the deer, separating the meat. The skin and even some of the bones could be used as well. You were focusing on your task at hand, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your arm to avoid smearing blood on yourself.

You'd gotten pretty good at all this. He could remember when he'd had to teach you where to cut and how to pull the skin off to not ruin it. You cut your eyes up at him and smiled slightly but that was all it took for that flood of guilt to wash over him.

---------

Daryl felt his heart drop when he saw one of the claimers, Kilan with his hand buried in your hair, the barrel of his gun digging into your temple. You were still fighting, that was something he'd always loved about you. You refused to roll over and die.

You'd hadn't seen him yet but he knew these assholes rules so before anyone could speak he made sure his voice carried over them all "She's claimed" every one of the claimers eyes turned towards him and he saw the moment his voice hit your ears because your shoulders released just a little.

Joe nodded to Kilan and he released you causing you to stumble. The group stepped back and you practically dove into his arms. "Daryl! You're alive!" He'd never had anyone so damn happy to see him still breathing. He held you close to his chest "I'm alright darlin. Are you ok?" You nodded, glancing back at Kilan "Except for losing a handful of hair to the asshole over there"

Kilan took a step towards you but Joe stopped him with a hand on his chest before smiling wickedly "Well damn Dixon, introduce us" you turned to face the claimers, tucking yourself as close as you could to his side without inhibiting a draw of his bow. "Leave her be man" Joe tsk tsked "If she's claimed then claim her" Daryl felt his stomach drop at the look in Joe's eyes. Every claimer's hand inched toward their weapon. The two of you were outmanned and outgunned.

He shook his head before clearing his throat "I got this Y/N. Why don't you go shower?" You glanced up from the deer you'd just finished dressing "I'm damn near done" he shrugged "Yeah but I can finish up" you stared at him for a second before slowly nodding "Ok"

You wiped your hands on your pants then held out your knife "Sharpen this, please?" He nodded "yeah" and took it, careful to not touch your skin.

You found yourself on the porch of Carol's house. It was late so you didn't want to risk waking Judith by going to Rick's. After you'd showered you came out to Carl giving you your knife and saying Daryl had tasked him with returning it.

Even when everyone had eaten together he'd put Abraham, Rosita, Sasha and Glenn between the two of you. You didn't want to wake Carol if she was asleep so you just sat down close to the door and leaned back against the house. The night air had a slight chill but the jacket you now had was plenty of enough to block from the chill.

Rosita had braided your hair for you so that wasn't even a bother. You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of the night until the door clicked and you opened them to see Carol looking down at you "Wanna come in?" She asked and you shook your head. She nodded "in that case, let me get you some tea and I'll come out"

--------------

You sat on the steps, looking up at the stars and sipping whatever tea concoction Carol had brewed up. It was pretty good,had a slight honey and vanilla taste. She'd also insisted on you wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

After a few minutes she bumped your knee lightly "He won't talk to me, do you want to? Or need to?" You let out a breath that shook on the end "A lot happened Carol. A lot of bad shit"

She slipped an arm around your shoulders and whispered "You didn't judge me for Lizzie sweetheart. I'm not judging for anything but I love you and I love Daryl. You two care about each other so much, you have for so long and it hurts seeing the distance between you two"

You took a deep breath then nodded "Did Rick ever tell you about the claimers?" "The ones who attacked him, Michonne and Carl?" She asked and you nodded. You went silent for a few breaths so she turned to look at you "Honey. What happened?" You could feel tears working to break free "I was alone after the prison. I was running from a herd, trying to stay ahead of it. I fell and wasn't paying attention, I should've been paying attention.."

"Don't" she warned lightly and you gave her a watery smile before continuing "some guy grabbed me by the hair, shoved a gun in my face and announced well look what we got here boys" she connected the dots fairly easily "The claimers" her voice was low and you nodded "Daryl was with them. He spoke first said I was claimed?"

She gave you a questioning look so you shrugged "It was their rules. If one of them claimed something that was supposed to be the end of it but their leader Joe was bored apparently..." she squeezed your hand "you don't have to tell me if you aren't comfortable" you turned to face her "I can't keep it in my head any longer Carol" she nodded "Ok. I understand then"

You took another deep breath "He told Daryl to introduce me. Daryl asked him to just leave me be and I guess that pissed him off because then he told Daryl if I was claimed to claim me"

---------------

You hadn't realized you were crying until Carol pulled you over onto her "What did they do to you two?" She asked but you just shook your head. "I had to cross lines with her I never would've. Lines she'd never gave me permission to cross and lines that if we ever would've crossed shouldn't have been with eyes and guns on us" you heard and pulled back from Carol to see Daryl standing there, watching you with a worried expression.

Carol looked from you to him "Do you two want me here for this or do you need to do this alone?" You wiped your eyes and swallowed hard before finding your voice "Alone" she smiled and rubbed your arm "I'll be inside if you need me" she stood and patted Daryl's arm before heading inside.

"I'm sorry" he sounded so damn broken. "Daryl, you're not to blame" you'd wanted to tell him this for so long but the same day they'd found you they'd found Rick and Michonne. You and him were planning to leave but had to stay because a feeling had told you those sick fucks were after Rick.

-------------

You stood up and he took a step back to give room between the two of you. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a lot colder than the night "They didn't make you do everything at least" you wanted to offer comfort but his face twisted in disgust "They made me do enough. I should've fought them. I never should've been with them. I should've..." you cut him off "Yeah and if you would've fought them and they would've killed you? Then it would've them holding me down and taking turns on me!" You felt tears slid down your face as you faced him, weeks of frustration spilling over.

"I should've kept you safe" his voice was just above a whisper. "You did everything you could to keep me safe Daryl. Joe had a gun to your head. It was your lips on mine or his. Your hands on my breasts or his. Even then you shielded my body from their view as much as you could and I nodded that it was ok because that was how we could stay alive"

He shook his head "I still touched you without you wanting me like that. You should hate me. You got every right to" you reached out for his hand and he flinched slightly but didn't move away "Listen to me Daryl. I don't hate you, nor do i blame me. You kept me alive and you kept me out their hands. We saved Carl from getting raped by them. We killed them. You're just as much a victim as I am but I need you back. I've had you at my side for too long. I can't do this damn thing without you"

"I'd never hurt you for nothing" he spoke and it broke your heart hearing his voice crack. You nodded "I know Daryl" you used his hand you were still holding to pull him towards you and instead of resisting he let you pull him into a hug, fitting himself around you.

You buried your face in his chest, letting the emotions you'd been burying since the fall of the prison hit you fully. You felt moisture hitting your head and realized Daryl was crying but didn't say anything, he needed to get it out too.

After a while the two of you pulled back and you smiled up at him "I missed you" he half laughed "I missed you sweetheart"

"How did you manage that?" Rick asked Carol as the two of them watched you and Daryl walking towards the gate, bows thrown over your shoulders talking and laughing.

"They just needed a little help finding their way past the bad shit back to each other" she replied with a smile.

[deadpresidents]

After President Abraham Lincoln was shot during a performance of Our American Cousin at Ford's Theatre, several doctors who were in the audience and also enjoying the play rushed into the Presidential Box and began attending to the President. It was clear that Lincoln's wounds were almost certainly mortal, but the doctors still attempted to save his life. Originally thinking that the President had been stabbed, they soon found that he had been shot behind the left ear and the bullet -- a 43.75 mm ball which had been fired by John Wilkes Booth's .44 caliber Derringer -- had sliced through Lincoln's brain and lodged behind his eye sockets without exiting the skull. When Lincoln's breathing became more shallow, Dr. Charles Leale used his finger to remove blood clots from the wound, which immediately improved Lincoln's respiration.

The doctors decided to move Lincoln from the theater, but felt that the President's condition was far too weak to risk taking him back to the White House, which was several blocks away. A nearby saloon was considered just as unseemly of a place for the President to spend his last hours and likely die in as a theatre, so Lincoln was carried across the 10th Street to William Petersen's boarding house. When they brought Lincoln into the boarding house, they realized that the 6'4" President was too tall for the bed they found for him, so they laid him diagonally upon it.

It was obvious that Lincoln could not survive his wound, so the attending doctors simply tried to keep him comfortable in his final hours by clearing the blood clots in his skull that caused his breathing to become more labored. Throughout the night, the President never regained consciousness, but witnesses said that he looked peaceful as his life was drawing to a close. The only visible evidence of his mortal wound were the bloody pillows that his head rested on and the raccoon-like bruising around Lincoln's eye sockets due to the orbital bones fractured by Booth's bullet after it passed through his brain. Nine hours after he was shot, Lincoln died in Petersen's Boarding House at the age of 56.

Shortly after the President was pronounced dead, his body was placed in a coffin and transferred back to the White House in a carriage. Just a few hours later, one of the residents of Petersen's Boarding House, Julius Ulke, took a photograph (seen at the beginning of this post) of the room and the bed -- including a pillow soaked with the President's blood -- where Lincoln had died earlier that morning.

The room in Petersen's Boarding House where Abraham Lincoln died, pictured in 2007.

[writerintheworking]

Smut one shot requests (I write them on Wattpad & here but you can only request on here, my Wattpad user is sm_twrit_r) I only do male smut sorry

Baby:

-damiano younes

-niccolo govender

- Brando de sanctis

-fiore fiorenzi

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Harry potter + fancast:

-theodore nott

-mattheo ridde

-tom riddle

-lorenzo berkshire

-regulus black

-blaise zabini

-cedric diggory

-harry potter

-ron weasley

-fred weasley

-george weasley

-draco malfoy

-professor snape

-professor lupin

- James potter (fancast)

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Outer banks:

- JJ maybank

- john b

- poper heyward

- rafe cameron

- topper Thornton

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The vampire diaries:

-damon salvatore

-stefan salvatore

- Enzo st john

-jeremy gilbert

-tyler lockwood

- alaric saltzman

-klaus mikealson

- elijah mikealson

-kol mikealson

- kai parker

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The walking dead:

-daryl dixon

-rick grimes

-carl grimes

-negan smith

-glenn rhee

-ezekiel sutton

-jesus (Paul) monroe

-abraham ford

-alden

-merle dixon

-dwight

-shane welsh

-micheal mercer

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Stranger things:

-steve harrington

-eddie munson

-billy hargrove

-jonathan byers

-dimitri

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Riverdale:

-jughead jones

- archie andrews

- f.p jones

-sweetpea

-fangs fogarty

-reggie mantle

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Shameless:

-ian gallagher

-lip gallagher

-carl gallagher

-mickey milkovich

-kevin ball

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Grey's anatomy:

-derek shepherd

-alex karev

-jackson avery

-mark sloan

-george o malley

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Random:

- Jake webber

- johnnie guilbert

- Colby brock

- Sam golbach

- Vinnie hacker

- ghost (cod)

- ghostface

-dominic fike

-javon walton

-jaden walton

-matt sturniolo

-chris sturniolo

-dean winchester

-samwinchester

-percy jackson(og)

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The rookie:

-tim bradford

-john nolan

-wesley evers

-aaron thorsen

-henry nolan

----------------------------------------------- if there's any kinks, tropes or setting you want in lmk in comments or lmk in messages

MY WATTPAD IS DOWN RIGHT NOW!!

[disturbingstar]

TV/Comic Death Comparisons

Otis

• In “Save the Last One” Otis is left to be devoured by walkers after being shot in the leg by Shane Walsh.

• In the comics, Otis is devoured by walkers in the Prison. He is put down by Rick Grimes after reanimation.

Sophia Peletier

• In “Pretty Much Dead Already”, Sophia is revealed to have been bitten by a zombie and reanimated, and is later shot in the head by Rick Grimes after reanimation.

• In the comics, Sophia is still alive.

Dale Horvath

• In “Judge, Jury, Executioner”, Dale is disemboweled by a walker on Hershel's farm and mercifully shot in the head by Daryl Dixon.

• In the comics, Dale dies much later during the group's conflict with the Hunters, after being sustaining a bite from a walker. He is shot in the head by Andrea before reanimation. His death is similar to that of Bob Stookey from the TV Series.

Shane Walsh

• In “Better Angels”, Shane is stabbed to death by Rick Grimes, and is shot in the head by Carl Grimes after he reanimates.

• In the comics, Shane's death happens much sooner, roughly a day after the attack on the Atlanta camp. Instead of being premeditated like in the show, Shane's attempt on Rick's life is a “spur of the moment” event, brought on by Shane losing his mind due to several factors. Unlike the show, Shane is shot in the neck by Carl Grimes. After discovering that people reanimate regardless of the circumstances of their deaths, Rick travels to the Atlanta campsite to put Shane down, shooting him in the head.

Lori Grimes

• In “Killer Within”, Lori dies during a C-Section giving birth to Judith Grimes. She is shot by Carl Grimes before reanimation.

• In the comics, Lori survives giving birth to Judith, and isn't killed until the Governor's second assault on the prison, when she is shot and killed by Lilly Caul. This also results in the death of Judith, who is crushed by Lori's corpse, unlike the show where Judith is still alive.

Andrea Harrison

• In “Welcome to the Tombs”, Andrea is bitten by an undead Milton Mamet, whom Philip Blake stabbed and left in a room with a tied-up Andrea. Rather than die from infection, Andrea chooses to take her own life by shooting herself in the head.

• In the comics, Andrea dies much later during the war with the Whisperers. While leading a giant heard away from Alexandria, she is bitten on the neck while saving Eugene. She eventually dies from infection and is stabbed in the head by Rick Grimes after she reanimates.

Hershel Greene

• In “Too Far Gone”, Hershel is decapitated by Philip Blake after Rick refuses to vacate the prison. In “After”, he is put down by Michonne, who stabs him in the head.

• In the comics, Hershel gives up on life after his son Billy is killed during the second prison assault. He is executed by Brian Blake, who shoots him in the head.

Philip Blake

• In “Too Far Gone”, Philip is stabbed through the back by Michonne Hawthorne, and is later shot in the head by Lilly Chambler as he lay dying.

• In the comics, Brian Blake is killed by Lilly Caul, who shoots him in the head and kicks his body into a group of zombies.

Gareth

• In “Four Walls and a Roof”, Gareth is hacked to death by Rick Grimes.

• In the comics Chris, Gareth's comic counterpart, is brutally slaughtered by Rick Grimes, Andrea, Abraham Ford, and Michonne Hawthorne.

Bob Stookey

• In “Strangers”, Bob is bitten on the shoulder by a walker. To spare Sasha from watching his slowly die, he decides to walk out into the woods, where he is knocked out by one of the Terminus remnants. He wakes up, only to discover his leg has been eaten by the Termites. When Bob reveals he's been bitten, Gareth decides to return him to the church. He eventually succumbs to infection in “Four Walls and a Roof”, and is put down by Tyreese Williams before reanimation.

• In the comics, Bob is a former army medic living in Woodbury, who patched up the Governor after the latter endured brutal torture at the hands of Michonne Hawthorne. In the novel series, Bob continues to serve as the town's doctor following the second prison assault until his death of a heart attack. He is then put down by Lilly Caul before reanimation.

Tyreese Williams

• In “What Happened and What's Going On”, Tyreese is bitten on the arm by Noah's zombified brother. His arm is sliced off by Michonne to stop the infection from spreading, but Tyreese dies due to blood loss anyway. He is stabbed in the head by Michonne before reanimation.

• In the comics, Tyreese dies sooner, during the second prison assault. He is decapitated by Brian Blake after Rick refuses to vacate the prison. His zombified head is later stabbed by Michonne Hawthorne. His death is similar to that of Hershel Greene from the TV Series.

Ron Anderson

• In “No Way Out”, Ron holds Rick at gunpoint after witnessing Rick hack off Jessie's hand to save Carl. He is stabbed through the chest by Michonne, which causes him to reflexively fire his gun and shoot Carl's eye out.

• In the comics, Ron is devoured by zombies when he starts panicking and making too much noise. Carl's eye is accidentally shot out by Douglas instead. His death is similar to that of Sam Anderson.

Abraham Ford

• In “Last Day on Earth”, Abraham is picked by Negan Smith to be executed. Negan smashes Abraham's head with his baseball bat, Lucille, off-screen.

• In the comics, Abraham is shot in the back of the head and through the eye with a crossbow bolt fired by Dwight. His death is similar to that of Denise Cloyd.

Glenn Rhee

• In “The Day Will Come When You Won't Be”, Negan Smith smashes Glenn's head with Lucille after Daryl attacks him.

• In the comics, Glenn's death is similar, but happens under slightly different circumstances, as Glenn is the one who is chosen by Negan to be executed.

Olivia

• In “Hearts Still Beating”, Olivia is shot in the face by Arat as retribution for Rosita trying to kill Negan.

• In the comics, Olivia dies much later during the conflict with the Whisperers, when she is decapitated by Alpha.

Carl Grimes

• In “The King, the Widow, and Rick”, Carl is bitten by a walker while taking Siddiq back to Alexandria. In “Honour,” Carl shoots himself in the head after saying goodbye to his friends and family.

• In the comics, Carl survives the entire duration of the series.

Paul “Jesus” Rovia

• In “Evolution”, Paul is stabbed through the heart by an unnamed Whisperer.

• In the comics, Paul Monroe is still alive.

Alpha

• In “Walk With Us”, Alpha has her throat slit by Negan, who then decapitates her and brings her head to Carol. Her head is later recovered and put down by Beta.

• In the comics, Alpha's death is pretty much identical, although the circumstances of her death are slightly different. Negan doesn't lure Alpha away by claiming to have captured Lydia, but she instead approaches him after banishing him to sleep outside the Whisperers' camp. He also brings Alpha's head to Rick instead of Carol. In addition, Alpha's head is not known to have been put down afterwards.

Rosita Espinosa

• In “Rest in Peace”, Rosita is bitten on the shoulder and succumbs to the infection. She is then put down by Eugene before reanimation.

• In the comics, Rosita is one of the pike victims.

[sunnybunnyy2]

THE WALKING DEAD MASTERLIST

I write for Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Rosita Espinosa, Maggie Rhee, Glenn Rhee, Abraham Ford, Sasha Williams, Tyreese William, Enid Rhee, Lydia, Negan Smith, Tara Chambler, Connie, Kelly, Beth Greene and potentially anyone else if you request it!

I am around Lydia, Enid and Beths age so it’s nothing creepy and most of the fanfics for them will be platonic especially towards Lydia because she is literally my child.

💋- Smut 💖-Fluff 👀- Angst

One shots:

Series: Dark Cell Masterlist Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader. 💖👀

One shots:

Series:

One shots: A Morning Pick-me-up Rosita Espinosa x fem!reader 💖💋

Series:

One shots:

Series:

[mariacallous]

The attempted assassination of former U.S. President Donald Trump shocked the nation.

While speaking to a rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, on the afternoon of Saturday, July 13, a 20-year-old man fired at Trump. A bullet appears to have swiped Trump’s ear, drawing blood, before the former president ducked beneath the podium, surrounded by Secret Service agents. He insisted on standing up as his security detail gave him cover, pumping his fist into the air and yelling to the crowd: “Fight!” A firefighter and rallygoer named Corey Comperatore, who dove on his family to protect them from the gunfire, did not survive.

The horrendous incident rightly earned strong condemnation from across the political spectrum. “There’s no place in America for this kind of violence,” said U.S. President Joe Biden. “It’s sick—it’s sick.”

The violence instantly became a moment for politicians and pundits to call for calm and pull back from the toxic polarization that has left Americans bitterly divided. “Violence is infecting and inflecting American political life,” an editorial in the New York Times lamented. “It’s not who we are as a nation,” Biden said in his remarks the following day.

But is it? Much of the reaction downplays just how pervasive violence has been in U.S. history. Although the ideology of American exceptionalism pushes Americans to think of their country as fundamentally different than other nations that have been wracked with these kinds of events, the truth is that the United States has a long and sordid history of people who try to solve political differences using bullets rather than ballots.

Violence is one of the reasons that the U.S. electoral system has always been extraordinarily fragile. It has taken heroic efforts to maintain the republic that Benjamin Franklin, one of the country’s founding fathers, famously warned would be necessary to care for and protect.

The common perspective that violence is somehow un-American misses a key point. The normalization of violent rhetoric in recent years is so dangerous not because it constitutes a fundamentally new turn in U.S. democracy, but because it taps into a deeply rooted history that Americans ignore at their own risk. The reality is that assassinations and assassination attempts targeting high-level officials have been taking place for decades.

The United States has sadly had many political leaders, presidents, and prominent candidates killed. The price that President Abraham Lincoln paid for trying to preserve the union and bring an end to slavery was John Wilkes Booth murdering him on April 14, 1865, in Washington, D.C. In July 1881, Charles Guiteau shot President James Garfield, who died in September. The nation had barely caught its breath before an anarchist named Leon Czolgosz killed President William McKinley in 1901. And Americans would mourn collectively after Lee Harvey Oswald assassinated President John F. Kennedy in November 1963.

The count of these four slain leaders does not include the many serious assassination attempts that failed, such as when President Franklin Roosevelt was nearly killed in February 1933 by an unemployed tradesman named Giuseppe Zangara. President Gerald Ford survived two attempts to kill him within weeks in 1975. President Ronald Reagan’s life was almost brought to an end by John Hinkley Jr. in March 1981. Like Trump, Reagan managed to manage the crisis to his benefit. Reagan and his team downplayed the severity of the wound. He and his team shared jokes to emphasize perseverance, such as his telling the surgeons: “I hope you are all Republicans.”

Candidates for the presidency have also been targets. On Oct. 14, 1912, former Republican President Teddy Roosevelt, running as a third-party candidate, was fired at by John Schrank during a campaign rally. An eyeglass case made of metal and the thick text of the copy of his speech in his pocket saved his life even though a bullet penetrated his chest. Roosevelt refused to go to the hospital and instead went on to give his talk. “I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot,” Roosevelt said, “But it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose!”

Most baby boomers remember when Sen. Robert Kennedy, after winning the June 1968 California primary, was slain by Sirhan Sirhan at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. Four years later, Alabama Gov. George Wallace, who became infamous for his staunch opposition to racial integration, was partially paralyzed a bullet during his run for the presidency in 1972.

Violence has also afflicted Capitol Hill. The Yale University historian Joanne Freeman writes that violence in the pre-Civil War Congress was as American as apple pie. Freeman took the classic story of the pro-slavery South Carolina Rep. Preston Brooks beating Massachusetts Sen. Charles Sumner with a cane and revealed that it was not an anomaly. By the 1850s, members of the House and Senate were coming to work armed and loaded, and they frequently engaged in physical conflict on the floors of the chambers as tensions over slavery mounted. Freeman documented more than 70 acts of violence between congressmen in the tense period between 1830 and 1860.

Civilians have also deployed violence against legislators. A man named Carl Weiss took the life of Louisiana Sen. Huey Long, a potential candidate for the presidency, in 1935. On January 8, 2011, Arizona Democratic Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was badly wounded after being fired upon in Tucson; one of her staffers and five others were killed. In 2017, a 66-year-old man named James Hodgkinson gravely wounded House Majority Whip Steve Scalise during a practice for the annual congressional baseball game. Even family members can become victims, as former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband, Paul Pelosi, experienced in his home when a conspiracy theorist David DePape bludgeoned him in October 2022.

At the national level, violence has not been confined to politicians. The United States has also lost the leaders of many movements along the way. The streets of the cities were on fire after civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. was shot down in Memphis in April 1968; three years earlier, Malcolm X had been killed as well.

The United States has also seen immense electoral violence at the local level. The Jim Crow South was a political system where institutionalized violence was essential to the disenfranchisement of Black Americans. In states such as Mississippi, Black residents understood that they faced immense risk when they traveled to the courthouse in an attempt to register to vote. Another civil rights leader, the charismatic and inspiring NAACP field secretary Medgar Evers, was struck down outside his home on June 12, 1963. T.R. Howard, a surgeon and civil rights leader, said in his eulogy for Evers: “For 100 years, we have turned one cheek and then another. And they have continued to hit us on both cheeks, and I’m just getting tired now of hurting in silence.”

This year is also the 60th anniversary of Freedom Summer in Mississippi, where three civil rights workers—James Chaney, Mickey Schwerner, and Andrew Goodman—were murdered by the KKK and allied police officials because they were partaking in the voting rights mobilization that inspired young people around the world. And much of the country, including President Lyndon B. Johnson, was horrified a year later on March 7, 1965, now called “Bloody Sunday,” when police and white mobs brutally attacked nonviolent civil rights activists who were marching from Selma to Montgomery in support of voting rights legislation. Photographers captured the horrific images when troops fractured the skull of John Lewis, a leader from the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and future member of Congress.

On Nov. 27, 1978, Dan White, a former member of the board of supervisors of San Francisco, shot and killed Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk, who had become a heroic figure within the gay community. And since the tumultuous 2020 election that culminated with the attempted insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, 40 percent of state legislators polled by the Brennan Center for Justice have reported receiving threats.

The United States has many wonderful characteristics, but violence is one of them as well. As the historian Richard Slotkin has written in his classic works on the subject, violent mythology has always been deeply embedded in American culture. More recently, the historian Steven Hahn has traced the powerful impact of illiberalism, which has included electoral violence, since the founding of the country.

None of this unsettling history should discount the dangers stemming from the very real uptick in violence and violent threats that government officials have faced in recent years, which have reached elected officials, judges, and even poll workers. The current atmosphere is indeed one of heightened danger. Just because conditions have been bad in the past does not provide comfort in current times.

Yet history should send a strong warning about the dangers of politicians and others who use violent rhetoric. Indeed, this warning was often made to Trump, both when he was president and after, about his willingness to incite crowds. These calls to action tap into a treacherous component of U.S. culture that is often right beneath the surface.

The attempt to kill Trump should be a chilling reminder of how easy it is for some Americans to trigger a lethal tradition. Americans have seen the ugliness too many times before to act like this doesn’t usually happen here. It does.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Neutralised (1994): S01 E01 [1/5]

(Meant to be read like a TV show, or the description of a TV show)

Warnings: Shitty writing (I'm rusty on television writing), death & dead bodies, 90s fashion decisions (can you tell I don't know what to mention), misunderstandings & perceived abuse, cheesy nicknames, violence & Swearing.

2000 ish words. Please tell me if you want to be tagged.

~~💀💀~~

The scene opens on a graveyard at dawn, a figure holds a shovel and attempts to dig, but the ground is too cold and hard. Next to him is a completely black golf-cart type vehicle.

A small subtitle appears at the bottom of the screen, it reads 'January 1st 1994, Chicago, Illinois'.

As the camera gets closer to the figure we can see them in more detail, blonde hair and glasses wearing a denim shirt and jeans under a dark brown winter coat, along with black boots, the faint hint of stubble colours his jawline in a tint of gold. This is Caleb 'Cal' willow, head grave-digger, 32 years old, British-American, six-foot tall and good-looking even though he doesn't wish to be anyone's eye-candy.

The figure (Cal) stops, leaving the shovel standing straight up in the frozen ground as he leans on it and looks towards something off-camera.

The camera shifts to behind the man in denim and we see truck, a beat-up, old, purple, 1989 Ford F-150.

The shot gets closer and the couple in the car are suddenly clearer.

The man in the driver's seat is hefty and has a smug smirk on his face, his leather jacket covers a stained off-white tank-top, a baseball cap covers most of his curly brown hair, except for the week-old beard and puts his blue eyes in shadow. This is Lance Carter, an electrician, 30 years old, originally from Mississippi, six-foot-two and a former college athlete.

"You gotta stop trippin' over yer feet, Mona." He grumbles as he leans over to kiss the woman.

The woman, 'Mona' is paler than her lover, light blonde hair, styled into bangs and a ponytail, and bright blue eyes contrast with her black painted lips and dark crimson eyeshadow, her red V-neck sweater vest and black long-sleeve shirt show a hint of cleavage and a black heart necklace. Her bangs barely hide a poorly covered bruise from that earlier morning. This is Monday 'Mona' Duke, the youngest grave-digger, 26 years old, born and raised in Eloia, five-foot-one and deceptively lean.

"I'll try not to, my Lancelot. I'ma go hand Cal his coffee, I love you and I'll see you later." Mona whispers, kissing his cheek and pulling away to get out of the truck.

Mona takes a set of three paper cups and a black satchel bag with her, the camera shifts to show her walking, with a slight but noticeable limp on her right side, towards Cal, his figure standing in the graveyard, and we see she's wearing black cargo pants and black heavy boots with inch-thick platforms on the bottom.

"Bram not here yet?" She calls as she walks over.

"Not yet, Mona, waiting for the call to say he's got religious reasons." Cal breathes out a cloud as he sighs, happily taking a cup from his female co-worker.

"We should have taken today off, but then again, you don't care about New Year's Day, and I don't want to be in the same apartment as my dumbass boyfriend."

"Go send Prince Charming away then, Princess." Cal chuckles softly.

Mona jogs back to the car, which isn't easy with her limp being made worse by the freezing weather.

"Lance, I'm at work now, you can leave."

Lance leans out of the window to kiss Mona, when they pull away a man can be seen between them, about six feet from the car.

The man is tall, broad shoulders with a black trench-coat draped over them, his pale blue jumper clashes slightly with the dark green colour of his trousers, and the maroon brown shade of his boots. His curly black hair comes to rest just above his dark brown eyes and aquiline nose, his scowling lips are framed by a neatly trimmed goatee. This is Abraham 'Bram' Machado, the tallest grave-digger, 30 years old, born and raised in Idaho, six-foot-three and easily angered.

He glares at Lance as the man drives away, his rage vanishes as he looks at Mona.

"Morning, Mona, sorry I'm late Cal… car troubles." The tallest member of the trio nervously explains, gesturing to his car parked neatly in its place, the only hint of damage is a cracked passenger window.

"Lateness I expect from Mona, not from you, Bram." Cal huffs as he once again tries to dig the frozen dirt.

Mona limps a couple paces before sitting in the black golf-cart.

"Are you doing okay, Mona?" Bram raises an eyebrow in concern, taking a swig from the final cup of coffee to hide the scowl on his lips.

She nods, taking a sip from her coffee before she turns to scan across the graveyard, her eyes widen when she spots something.

Cal gestures for Bram to put his drink down and focus on the work. Bram nods but stares at Mona as he continues working.

"Excuse me, sir," Mona starts walking towards a slumped figure, "you can't sleep out here, you'll catch your demise, mister?" She pokes the figure with her foot, dropping down to check their pulse.

Cal and Bram stop and silently watch as Mona slowly stands and starts carefully walking backwards towards them.

"Monday, are you alright?" Cal's voice waivers slightly as he starts to realise what the lady grave-digger has seen.

"Monday, come here, you shouldn't look at that. Mona, Mona come here." Bram pulls Mona towards him, making her squeak as her smaller frame collides with his chest, he shields her body with his.

Cal grabs his phone from his back pocket and dials a number, the scene starts to fade out as Cal says, "Hey, Boss…"

The next scene fades in, an office, cramped and claustrophobic.

An older gentleman, his black hair balding, short of both stature and temper, wearing an all black suit more at home in the 70s, along with black leather gloves on his hands. He sits at an old wooden desk and shakes his head as he grabs a small pile of paperwork.

"These are your witness reports," He looks at the trio, annoyed at them, "I'm not letting you three get off of work just because you found a body. Miss Duke, shift's over, I'll see you later. Out." The older man, Mr Mortimer according to the name plaque on his desk, grumbles in an Italian accent, waving the three grave-diggers out of his tiny office.

They step out into a larger room, past a young black man sitting with his feet on his desk reading 'Funeral Monthly', and through another door into what almost looks like a gothic hotel lobby. At the desk sits a larger, blond gentleman, downing an energy drink with an obvious 'I don't want to be here' attitude.

Cal strikes up a conversation with him with a casual, "Hey, King." Then the conversation fades into background noise.

"Hey, Monday… Are, are you sure you're okay, Mona?" Bram whispers as he sits down with her on one of the benches in the lobby.

"Yeah I'm fine, Bram, it's nothing I haven't seen before," She shrugs, "Lance should be here soon to take me to the café anyway." Mona's voice is a mile a minute, it's clear that this is just how she talks, fast-paced with little time to relax, as is her lifestyle.

But at the mention of Lance, Bram's soft, caring smile drops, replaced with a scowl full of hate as he hunkers down, placing his forearms against his thighs, he glares at the entrance and his jaw clenches tight, hands already balled into fists.

He's shaken from the mist of blind anger by Mona gently patting his shoulder as a gesture of thanks.

Mona heads outside, lighting up a cigarette as Bram stands, stopping himself from following her, he waits for Cal to leave first.

Bram glares at Lance as Mona kisses her boyfriend and leaves with him, Bram continues glaring until he can't see the truck anymore.

"Drop the glare, we have work to do. You can fight him when Mona isn't around him," Cal nudges Bram's arm, "c'mon Romeo."

The two men climb into the golf-cart and head back to the grave they were digging.

Meanwhile, Mona and Lance share an awkward moment of silence before Lance huffs a hefty sigh.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" He grumbles.

"What? The dead frozen guy?" Mona raises an eyebrow at the gruff tone of her boyfriend's voice.

"No, Mona. Are we gonna talk about him, the tall guy you work with?"

"Bram? What about him?" She shrugs, not understanding the question.

"He glares at me, every time I drop you off or pick you up. Hell, Mona, he glares at me when I visit you at work."

"He's just protective, it's not every day that someone shows up with bruises and a limp."

Mona checks her hairline in a compact mirror, showing the bruises, which can't be older than a week or less, she attempts to cover them with makeup and fixes her bangs to hide them again.

"I know that, but it's every time, not just today." Lance slams hard on the horn and silently mouths a couple curse words at another driver.

Mona jumps at the noise of the horn, Lance notices and takes her hand to press a reassuring kiss to the back of her palm.

"I didn't realise that, Lancelot, but pay him no attention. I'm your girl, not his." Mona whispers as Lance parks the truck.

As soon as Mona steps out of the truck, the back door of the café swings open and a young man, in white clothes and an apron, with jet black hair comes rushing out, stopping when he sees Mona and rushing over to hug her.

"Fry, down baby brother, down." Mona chuckles softly.

Fry puts his hands up and takes a step back, "Estelle's here. She's mad at Angelo."

"Why's she mad at Angelo for?"

As Mona steps through the door the camera follows her and when it swings back the screen goes black.

The scene fades back and the camera raises diagonally out of the grave Cal and Bram have been digging. Cal and Bram have both ditched their jackets by this point, Cal's denim shirt has sweat stains in the armpits. Bram is in the process of taking his jumper off, revealing a long-sleeved beige undershirt and suspenders.

"So, what's the deal with you and Mona?" Cal asks, watching as Bram's shoulders drop as he sighs.

"The deal with me and Monday," Bram murmurs as he places his jumper in the cart, "From the day she got hired, I thought me and her would be friends, or maybe more, but she doesn't see me in that way. If she truly wants Lance, then the lord better fix him fast." Bram grumbles as he avoids looking Cal in the eyes.

Cal goes to speak, falling silent as both men look towards the sound of tires screeching to a halt.

Lance's truck pulls up beside the row of headstones, the driver's side door swings open and he steps out, scowling as he looks at Cal and Bram.

The passenger door swings open and a young, golden haired man in a dark blue security uniform steps out and rushes over to Lance's side. The name tag on his chest reads 'Kane Carter'. This is Kane 'K.C' Carter, the day-shift security guard, 27 years old, the younger brother of Lance, five-foot-nine and a man who is usually late due to being a heavy sleeper.

"Piss off, Kane." Lance growls, taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the seat before slamming the car door.

"Lance, don't. Think about what Monday would want." K.C tries to push his brother towards the car as Lance storms towards the grave-diggers.

"Don't you dare." Cal whispers as he pries Bram's hand off the shovel, chucking both potential weapons in the back of the cart.

Bram stands his ground, glaring daggers at Lance as the, slightly shorter, tall man advances.

[otto-or-cain]

Welcome to Otto or Cain a TWDU centric blog! THIS BLOG IS ANTI-CENSORSHIP (PROSHIP) AND MAY CONTAIN NSFW CONTENT. ALL CONTENT IS TAGGED APPROPRIATELY.

Other Links: Ao3 | LordSuven 🂾 Main Blog | Roll-of-Royces 🂾 RP Blog | butibite I am currently taking requests for headcanons, drabbles, and possible one-shots for TWD or FTWD. My favorite characters to write for include (but are not limited to): Troy Otto | Daryl Dixon | Negan Smith | Melvin & Ennis | Beth Greene | Rick Grimes | Abraham Ford | Alicia Clark | Charlie My top TWDU Ships: Beth x Daryl | Alicia x Troy | Negan x Lucille | Abraham x Rosita | Daryl x Connie | Rick x Michonne

My TWDU OC and other character sheets: Tiffany Otto |

Masterlists

Teotwawki Archivist Division (TEA)

[whitepolaris]

The Secret Life of John Wilkes Booth

The date was April 14, 1865. The War Between the States was nearly at an end, with Robert E. Lee having formally surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant just five days earlier. President Abraham Lincoln, who was in good spirits, celebrated the excellent news by accepting an invitation to a play.

Of course, anyone who's made it through fifth-grade social studies knows what happened next. John Wilkes Booth, actor and Confederate sympathizer, made his way into Lincoln's theater box and shot the president in the back of the head with a single-shot Deringer pistol.

Booth had counted on a quick getaway, but had trouble when he leaped from the box and clumsily caught his riding spur on a U.S. Treasury Guards flag, tumbling to the stage and breaking his leg. Nevertheless, after shouting that infamous cry, "Sic semper tyrannis!-the Virginia state motto meaning "Thus always to tyrants"-Booth ran outside, mounted the horse that was waiting for him, and rendezvoused with fellow conspirator David Herold in Maryland.

After staying that night with acquaintance Dr. Samuel Mudd, who reset Booth's broken leg, Booth and Herold fled for Virginia, where they were discovered several days later hiding out in a barn. Surrounded by Union soldiers in the early morning hours. Herold surrendered, but Booth stood his ground. As the soldiers began setting fire to the barn, a sergeant named Boston Corbett spotted Booth through a gap in the wall and fire at him, striking him in the back of the neck. Booth succumbed to his wounds a few hours later and was eventually buried in the family plot in Baltimore, Maryland. (Cue the suspenseful music.) Or was he?

Thirty-eight years later, a man by the name of David E. George would raise doubt concerning the fate of Lincoln's assassin. In January 1903, in a long narrow room on an upstairs floor of the Grand Venue Hotel in Enid, Oklahoma, Georgia made a settling confession. He was dying, and although a doctor had been called to his bedside, there was nothing the physician could do; George had ingested a fatal dose of strychnine. As the dying man drew his last breath, he confessed that David George was just an alias. His real name was John Wilkes Booth, and he had killed Abraham Lincoln.

None of the locals really seemed to know that much about George. He was a self-professed house painter and devoted barfly, that much they could say-though he was fond of quoting Shakespeare, which he did at length when he was on the drink, which raised speculation that he may have once been very familiar with the stage. Was it possible that he was who he claimed to be?

The evidence began to pile up. Upon examination of George's body, doctors noticed scars that matched those Booth would have had. He had also suffered a broken leg sometime in the past, just above the ankle, as Booth had when he leaped to the stage at Ford's Theatre. Plus, he shared Booth's height and features, and was the proper age. Moreover, a minister by the name of E. D. Harper revealed that, during a previous suicide attempt, George had confessed once before to being Booth.

Still, nothing came of the matter. And since no one came forward to claim the body, the local mortician mummified George, dressed him up and set him on display in the front window of his funeral parlor/furniture store. Despite George's supposedly astonishing revelation, he remained little more than a minor curiosity.

The mystery grew, however, when Finis L. Bates, a lawyer from Memphis, heard about George's claim, traveled to Enid to see the corpse for himself and identified it as the man he once knew as John St. Helen. St. Helen, he said, had been a friend of his back when he worked in Granbury, Texas, in the 1870s. Furthermore, at a time when St. Helen was gravely ill and believed he was lying on his deathbed, he confessed to Bates that he was the man who killed Lincoln and proceeded to described the whole affair in detail. St. Helen recovered, however, and left town, supposedly for Oklahoma. Bates who spent years investigating the claim, tried to bring the incident to the attention of the U.S. War Department, but he was dismissed.

Since then, more than a handful of theorists have concluded that it's plausible, if not entirely likely, that John Wilkes Booth actually escaped following the assassination of America's sixteenth president. Many believe Booth was involved in a conspiracy with the U.S. government to have Lincoln killed and was allowed, even helped, by the military to make his getaway. The man who was killed that night in the Virginia barn was either a patsy or someone shot by mistake. Oddly enough, there have been some clues, although yet unsubstantiated, that Boston Corbett, the man credited as Booth's killer, also lived out his final days in Enid, which raises some interesting questions about a possible association between him and David George. In recent years, a group of researchers, joined by several members of the surviving Booth family, petitioned to disinter the man buried in John Wilkes Booth's unmarked plot in Maryland to prove whether or not he's really the man he's supposed to be. Unfortunately, their request was denied. So, the mystery, at least to many, is still unsolved.

As for David George's mummy, Finis Bates acquired it from the funeral parlor in Enid and toured the country with it, putting it on display and renting it out to carnivals. It even made an appearance at the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair. Following Bates's death, the mummy changed hands several times and was eventually lost.

The hotel in which David George made his confession, however, still stands in Enid at 205 S. Grand Avenue. Today it's the site of Garfield Furniture.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 4.14 (before 1940)

43 BC – Legions loyal to the Roman Senate, commanded by Gaius Pansa, defeat the forces of Mark Antony in the Battle of Forum Gallorum. 69 – Vitellius, commanding Rhine-based armies, defeats Roman emperor Otho in the First Battle of Bedriacum to take power over Rome. 966 – Following his marriage to the Christian Doubravka of Bohemia, the pagan ruler of the Polans, Mieszko I, converts to Christianity, an event considered to be the founding of the Polish state. 972 – Otto II, Co-Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, marries Byzantine princess Theophanu. She is crowned empress by Pope John XIII in Rome the same day. 1395 – Tokhtamysh–Timur war: At the Battle of the Terek River, Timur defeats the army of the Golden Horde, beginning the khanate's permanent military decline. 1471 – In England, the Yorkists under Edward IV defeat the Lancastrians under the Earl of Warwick at the Battle of Barnet; the Earl is killed and Edward resumes the throne. 1561 – A celestial phenomenon is reported over Nuremberg, described as an aerial battle. 1639 – Thirty Years' War: Forces of the Holy Roman Empire and Electorate of Saxony are defeated by the Swedes at the Battle of Chemnitz, ending the military effectiveness of the Saxon army for the rest of the war and allowing the Swedes to advance into Bohemia. 1775 – The Society for the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage, the first abolition society in North America, is organized in Philadelphia by Benjamin Franklin and Benjamin Rush. 1793 – The French troops led by Léger-Félicité Sonthonax defeat the slaves settlers in the Siege of Port-au-Prince. 1816 – Bussa, a slave in British-ruled Barbados, leads a slave rebellion, for which he is remembered as the country's first national hero. 1849 – Hungary declares itself independent of Austria with Lajos Kossuth as its leader. 1858 – The 1858 Christiania fire severely destroys several city blocks near Stortorvet in Christiania, Norway, and about 1,000 people lose their homes. 1865 – U.S. President Abraham Lincoln is shot in Ford's Theatre by John Wilkes Booth; Lincoln dies the following day. 1865 – William H. Seward, the U.S. Secretary of State, and his family are attacked at home by Lewis Powell. 1881 – The Four Dead in Five Seconds Gunfight occurs in El Paso, Texas. 1890 – The Pan-American Union is founded by the First International Conference of American States in Washington, D.C. 1894 – The first ever commercial motion picture house opens in New York City, United States. It uses ten Kinetoscopes, devices for peep-show viewing of films. 1895 – The 1895 Ljubljana earthquake, both the most and last destructive earthquake in the area, occurs. 1900 – The world's fair Exposition Universelle opens in Paris. 1906 – The first meeting of the Azusa Street Revival, which will launch Pentecostalism as a worldwide movement, is held in Los Angeles. 1908 – Hauser Dam, a steel dam on the Missouri River in Montana, fails, sending a surge of water 25 to 30 feet (7.6 to 9.1 m) high downstream. 1909 – Muslims in the Ottoman Empire begin a massacre of Armenians in Adana. 1912 – The British passenger liner RMS Titanic hits an iceberg in the North Atlantic and begins to sink. 1928 – The Bremen, a German Junkers W 33 type aircraft, reaches Greenly Island, Canada, completing the first successful transatlantic aeroplane flight from east to west. 1929 – The inaugural Monaco Grand Prix takes place in the Principality of Monaco. William Grover-Williams wins driving a Bugatti Type 35. 1931 – The Second Spanish Republic is proclaimed and king Alfonso XIII goes to exile. Meanwhile, in Barcelona, Francesc Macià proclaims the Catalan Republic. 1935 – The Black Sunday dust storm, considered one of the worst storms of the Dust Bowl, sweeps across the Oklahoma and Texas panhandles and neighboring areas.

[yesthatssadirichardslove]

'Manhunt,' about hunt for John Wilkes Booth, may make you wish you paid attention in history class

NEW YORK

A new series transforms the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln into a true crime thriller that goes deeper into the story than most textbooks.

Most who studied Lincoln in school learn he was assassinated by a man named John Wilkes Booth. Lincoln was watching a play with his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, at Ford's Theatre when Booth came from behind and shot him.

What isn't as widely remembered is that Booth killed the president just five days after the surrender of Confederate General Robert E. Lee effectively ended the Civil War. It was a pre-planned, coordinated attack on the president, Vice President Andrew Johnson and the Secretary of State. Only Booth was successful.

A Confederate sympathizer, Booth relied on a network of supporters to help him hide. Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War, led the search by the Army to track Lincoln's killer down. He was found 12 days later hiding in a barn where he was shot and killed.

“ Manhunt," debuting Friday on Apple TV+, dramatizes the hunt for Booth and the trial that followed. It’s based on the book “Manhunt: The 12-Day Chance for Lincoln’s Killer” by James L. Swanson. Tobias Menzies stars as Stanton, who also helped convict Booth's conspirators.

“Most no one knows the details of this story unless they’ve done a Ph.D or it’s a special interest of theirs,” said creator- showrunner Monica Beletsky in a recent interview.

Bringing Stanton to life is exciting, said Menzies, because he had a close, respected relationship with Lincoln.

“A big part of Stanton’s journey is both a political loss and also a personal loss. He loses a friend. ... I studied very little American history, and I certainly didn’t do this period of history,” said Menzies. “As an actor, I’ve done quite a lot of period stuff and I find it enjoyable to get the chance to find out about a new part of these stories and this is a really good example of that.

"Truth is stranger than fiction.”

Anthony Boyle plays Booth and his awareness of the man began with an episode of “The Simpsons” where Bart portrayed him in a school play. He knew his research needed to dig deeper to understand Booth's psyche and read letters he had written between the ages of 15 until his death at 26. Boyle describes them as a “descent into madness.”

Beletsky hopes “Manhunt” underscores how Lincoln's killing was especially shocking at the time.

“That kind of murder was so uncommon,” she said. “Lincoln famously left the White House door unlocked during the Civil War, even though he had piles of death threats. It wasn’t even imagined that kind of crime could happen in our culture. My costume designer told me that Booth, wearing all black that night, is the origin of villains wearing all black in our storytelling.”

There was a boldness and conceit to the way Booth decided to kill Lincoln so publicly in front of an audience that fit his desire for attention.

“The theater was absolutely jammed,” said Menzies, a British actor who's starred in “The Crown" and “Outlander.” “And then to run out and disappear into the night and then take 12 days to find this man, you couldn't make it up.”

Booth was an actor in a family of actors, but lived in the shadow of his older brother Edwin, who was well-respected for his talent. “I'm gonna be the most famous man in the whole world,” Booth says on the show, prior to the assassination. While on the run, he reads newspaper articles about himself and loves the attention.

“It was like, Leonardo DiCaprio’s brother killed the president," said Hamish Linklater, who plays Lincoln. "I mean, (Edwin) was the biggest celebrity of his time," he said.

“This was before the internet and before television, this was word of mouth," added Boyle. "People were hearing about it (asking), ”John Wilkes Booth, the actor, killed the President? Was this some sort of farce?”

Besides telling Stanton's story, Beletsky introduces viewers to Mary Simms, a slave belonging to a physician named Dr. Samuel Mudd, (played by Matt Walsh), who treated Booth while he was on the run. She was freed by the Emancipation Proclamation. The series depicts Simms — played by Lovie Simone— as interacting with Booth when he shows up at Mudd's house to hide, but in reality, she never met him.

Simms went on to testify in the trial of Booth's conspirators — which included Mudd — and confirmed his allegiance to the Confederacy. Because there is not a lot of information available on Simms, she was written as a composite of a number of people who helped to convict Booth's co-conspirators.

“It was a real opportunity to bring some of these heroes to light, like Stanton and Simms, and also to sort of set the record straight in some ways of what happened in our past and how that still continues to affect us," said Beletsky.

“It feels like a good time to be telling this story. You know, there is a big election coming up in November. Our story is partly a story about the fragility of democracy to some extent," Menzies said. “I think that’s as true now as it was then. It has a relevance and a resonance which feels kind of rich to be telling now.”

[xtruss]

Abraham Lincoln's assassination was a national tragedy. But it was also the beginning of a personal tragedy for Henry Rathbone and Clara Harris, who accompanied the Lincolns to Ford's Theatre—which still displays many of the effects that Lincoln had in this pocket that night. Bronze casting of the death mask of Abraham Lincoln and what was in his pockets the night he died in 1865 against a red cloth. Photograph By Archivio GBB, Contrasto/Redux

Lincoln Was Killed Before Their Eyes. Then Their Own Horror Began.

For Henry Rathbone and Clara Harris, that April night at Ford’s Theatre was just the beginning of a tragedy that would unspool for the rest of their lives.

— By Parissa DJangi | March 06, 2024

It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, but Henry Rathbone was anything but relaxed. He and his family—his wife Clara Harris and their three young children—were visiting Germany in December 1883.

Friends and family would later say that Rathbone couldn’t shake the fear that disaster would soon befall him, just as it had all those years ago: In 1865, Rathbone and Harris were sitting in the presidential box at Ford’s Theatre when Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.

Rathbone had been unable to save Lincoln that fateful night, a fact that still haunted him. For Rathbone and Harris, however, the violence of that night was just the beginning.

Befriending The Lincolns

Before they were witnesses to one of the nation’s greatest tragedies, Henry Rathbone and Clara Harris were stepsiblings, each of whom hailed from Albany’s most prominent families. In adulthood, their relationship blossomed into love, and the young couple became engaged.

By 1865, they were both living in Washington, D.C. Rathbone, who had served as an officer in the U.S. Army during some of the Civil War’s bloodiest battles, had an office job for the Army, while Harris had moved to the city after her father, Ira Harris, became a New York senator in 1861.

As a senator’s daughter, Harris was enmeshed in Washington high society and counted Mary Todd Lincoln as a friend. As Harris wrote in April 1865, she and the first lady “have been constantly in the habit of driving and going to the opera and theater together.”

It thus wasn’t unusual when the Lincolns invited Harris and her fiancé to see a play, Our American Cousin, on April 14.

The young couple had not been the Lincolns’ first choice of guests that night, however. Initially, they had planned on Ulysses S. Grant and his wife Julia accompanying them. But after the Grants pulled out, the Lincolns scrambled to find replacements.

Eventually, they landed on Harris and Rathbone, who gladly accepted the invitation. The cheerful party of four arrived at Ford’s Theatre at 8:30 p.m.

A Night At The Theater

Mary Todd Lincoln leaned against her husband and let him hold her hand—even though they weren’t alone in the presidential box.

Mrs. Lincoln asked her husband, “What will Miss Harris think of my hanging on to you so?”

“She won’t think anything of it,” he assured her.

Those may have been Abraham Lincoln’s last words.

At approximately 10:30 p.m., John Wilkes Booth slipped into the presidential box and fired a bullet into Lincoln’s head.

Henry Rathbone reacted quickly. He tried to apprehend Booth, but the assassin pulled out a knife and sliced Rathbone’s arm, severing an artery. Rathbone’s blood sprayed his fiancée as Booth escaped.

This illustration of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln depicts Clara Harris seated next to Mary Todd Lincoln as her fiance Henry Rathbone attempts to stop John Wilkes Booth from killing the 16th president. Photograph Courtesy National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Rathbone and Harris turned their attention to Lincoln. They shouted that the president had been shot. Pandemonium broke out, and doctors eventually moved Lincoln to the boardinghouse across the street.

As chaos reigned around her, Harris tried to comfort Mary Todd Lincoln. Yet whenever Harris, stained with Rathbone’s blood, approached her, she cried, “Oh! My husband’s blood, my dear husband’s blood!”

Meanwhile, Rathbone’s blood loss weakened him. Harris created a makeshift torniquet for him before he collapsed. He was rushed to the Harris household, where a surgeon, with Harris’s help, treated his near-fatal wound and saved his life.

Nearly two weeks later, Harris shared some of these images in a letter to a friend. They still haunted her. “I really cannot fix my mind on anything else,” she wrote.

Trying To Move On

After the assassination, Rathbone and Harris attempted to pick up the pieces of their lives. They married on July 11, 1867.

Nonetheless, the horror of what they had witnessed—and what he had been unable to do for Lincoln—weighed on Rathbone’s soul. He developed breathing problems and heart palpitations with no known physical cause.

Left: Famed Civil War photographer Mathew Brady took this portrait of Clara Harris after Lincoln's Assassination. The image would later be used in Alonzo Chappel's Painting, "The Last Hours of Lincoln." Photograph Courtesy Chicago History Museum, ICHI-050385, Mathew B. Bradley, Photographer

Right: ​Major Henry Rathbone was ​haunted by the President's Assassination—which he had nearly bled to death himself trying to stop. ​He would live in fear for the rest of ​his life, an anguish that ended in tragedy for his family. Photograph Courtesy National Archives and Records Administration(NARA)

As the young family grew to include three children, Rathbone’s anguish became increasingly pronounced. He lived in fear that his wife and children were at risk.

By 1883, Rathbone’s state had deteriorated. As the Elmira Daily Advertiser would later report, Rathbone had become “morose, melancholy, irritable, and insanely jealous of his wife,” believing she would leave him. He would soon take a violent turn.

A Final Murder

The Rathbones were in Germany when Henry Rathbone became unsettled on December 23, 1883. Reportedly fearing that his children would be taken, he attempted to enter their room with a loaded gun.

Alarmed, Harris had the door to the children’s room locked. They went into their bedroom, and Rathbone attacked. He shot his wife and stabbed her before stabbing himself. She died on their bed.

He survived, though reportedly in a confused state. As the Sunday Morning Tidings of Elmira, New York, reported days after the murder, Rathbone “believes his children have been abducted, and that he was wounded in a fight with their abductor.” He did not recall killing his wife.

Rathbone stood trial in Germany, where he was found guilty and incarcerated at Hanover’s Hildesheim Asylum. He died there on August 14, 1911, 46 years after that traumatic night at Ford’s Theatre.

[underatedcharactersunite]

For @deansamore​ end of year Challenge!

Day 3         Day 6

                               »»————-　🇰　————-««

Making Jam;

Finding something sweet in the new world can be onerous at times. Finding fruit seeds and plants can give you the taste of something sweet, but of course, it has to be able to last. One of the ways people do that is creating Jam. it's able to last longer, and it used in many different things. Whenever you or Abraham are in the process of making Jam, the other has to come up and sneak some of it to taste before anyone gets to. It's also able to provide feedback in case anything is too sour or too sweet.  

Arranging your clothes; 

Abraham often wonders why you arrange your clothes placing, the warmer clothes into the back of the drawers or bringing the warmer clothes to the front. To him, it made no sense. Instead, he told you why couldn't you keep your clothes as it is. It took some explaining to keep your warmer clothes to do the front because that's what you would use more regularly. Abraham, it claims it doesn't make any sense. Until one day, you walk into the room and catch Abraham bringing his winter and Autumn clothes up into the front of his dresser just as you had done with yours.

Decorating the Porch

Each year, you try to decorate your porch as festively as you could. You use anything you can find around camp, whether it be leaves or pinecones or acorns. You try and make a wreath as you work hard to create something out of what you have that's accessible to you. For the most part, Abraham allows it to be your project, but he does help you if and when you need it. In the end, he admires all of your hard work, but he knows you have your work cut out for you when everyone approaches you, asking if they could help you with theirs.

Helping others;

In the new world, helping others is one of the most vital parts of life. Both you and Abraham do your part to help everyone around you. Sometimes the smallest of things can truly help someone out with anything. Whether it's helping someone with laundry or planting some of the fresh seeds, all of that matters. An act of kindness can go a long way, especially in the world that has taken over. So just as you would, every Autumn/Winter you try to help people out as much as you could, because you knew the hard work was coming as it grew colder.

Having a Bonfire;

Having bonfires are a great way to connect with other people as well as some quality time with your loved one's  With the warm heat providing the perfect ambience, everyone's smiling and laughing together. Abraham keeps his arm around your shoulder as you cuddle into his side while everyone discusses a variety of different topics.  Now and again, Abraham brings you into a passionate embrace as the two of you almost get lost into the eyes of each other. At some point, Abraham thinks you are not close enough, so he pulls you onto his lap while everyone is happy. You learn to live for moments like this.

Taking an early morning walk; 

There is something special about taking an early morning walk when everything begins to cool down. While the cool air crisps air nips at your face. There's something peaceful as you an Abraham keep an eye out for any potential disruptions, for the most part, everything is normal. There's a glimmer of peace that appears dome over Alexandria. It provides two time for a conversation about a variety of different topics. Both of you prefer taking the morning shift as no one is up and about yet doing their tasks or getting ready for a run. It's silent as if the world stood still.

Cooking with Abraham; 

Abraham loves to cook, there is nothing that man can't rustle up with a limited amount of ingredients. Does he know what he is doing at any given moment? Absolutely not but in the end, it manages to taste delicious. Always. Cooking can be a joint activity for the two of you. Abraham makes sure that the two of you have the house completely to yourselves,  so no one can bother you while you have an impromptu date night. While you're cooking its a mixture of hearty jokes and flirtation as the two of you discussion. While the two of you cook and prepare your meal together.

[fearlessmercenaryimagines-blog]

Perseverance

Summary - Y/N is a Mother of two. She’s a proud Mother to a ten-year-old son named Andrew and her eight-year-old Daughter Jessica. Ever since the World broke down and the death of her fiancé Y/N has been on her own struggling to keep the remainder of her family alive. As the three travel a deserted road, a brave determined Sargent and his team step in and save her and her children from danger. What happens when Y/N and Abraham get close and experience the ups and downs of the broken world? 

Pairings - Abraham Ford X Y/N Dixon + Reader’s children 

WordCount - 3,192

Warnings - Strong Language, Violence, Death

The sun blistered down on the three lonely despite people. Y/N and her two young children took step after agonising step. Y/N would do anything if it meant they could stop. Her back ached with each step as it reminded her of the amount of weight she carried on her back. The rucksack carried things like clothes, scraps of food they still had and medicine. Whenever Y/N could she stopped to see if she could find anything that might be useful to her family. Two assault rifles were slung over her shoulder as well two pistols on her hip and two knives slipped into the belt she had made personally. Safety was her priority, she refused to lose any more members of her family.

Y/N watched her ten-year-old son Andrew observe the road ahead his pistol held up at all times. They had many disagreements about him carrying a gun. To her she was still her baby, she was meant to be the only one who carried such a dangerous weapon. Before the apocalypse started, she would have never let her son even touch a gun before he was the age of eighteen. Yet she had no choice. The world was more dangerous than it had ever been. If people weren’t attempting to kill other people in desperation than it was almost guaranteed that a walker was lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce. So she let Andrew carry a pistol as well as a knife. They weren’t just any normal knife or pistol they once belonged to his Father so he knew that he had to treat them with the utmost respect. He was the man now. But no matter what he always had to listen to Y/N.

Y/N’s eight-year-old Daughter, Jessica twisted and turned her head in many directions terrified of the woods. Jessica knew that walkers often roamed around in the woods searching for their next meal or something to kill. Jessica never used to be terrified of the woods but ever since the apocalypse started, the woods suddenly became more terrifying. So she stuck to her Mother like superglue just waiting for the inevitable.

“Momma, can we stop for some water?” Jessica pleaded as Y/N turned her head to look down at her momentarily. 

“We can’t stop right now honey. But you can have some water. Turn round and I’ll get it out for ya, okay?” Jessica halted as Y/N unzipped her Disney Princess Rucksack. While she slipped the bottle out of rucksack her eyes were fixed on Andrew making sure he didn’t leave her sight. The moment the rucksack was zipped back up they were walking again. 

“Mum! There’s a car!” Andrew’s alert began Y/N’s search for what her son had discovered and he was right. Not too far up ahead was a white four-door family car. Everyone seemed more alert as they picked up their feet beginning to get closer and closer to their location.

“It looks trashed!” Y/N’s hand gripped hold of Jessica’s as they began a slow jog towards the car. Y/N dropped her rucksack onto the ground as she began to check out the car to see what kind of condition it was in. For the world they lived in, the car was actually clean minus some rubbish. But rubbish had become like gold to them. Rubbish meant the possibility of supplies. 

“At least this one has no dead bodies in it.” Andrew commentated as he pulled open the passenger door. 

“The question is why was it left? Jessica, honey, how about ya check through those bags in the back. Andrew pop the trunk and check in their while I look over the hood and see what we’re dealin’ with.” Y/N had known very little about cars before and she was no expert now but she knew the basics to get a car running. 

The car looked in pretty decent shape there was just one tiny problem. It had no gas and the chances of finding a gas station around with any gas were little to impossible. They had once again been screwed. Kicking the tire of the car she pushed the hood down wondering what she was going to do now. Jax would have known what to do, he always did and now she was stuck here in a world that was fucked with no idea how she was going to find them a safe place to stay or food.

“Mum look out!” Andrew’s voice broke her through train as she grabbed hold of her knife out of her belt and swung it around stabbing the walker straight in the head. 

“Am I not allowed five fuckin’ minutes to think? Before one of ya dead fuckers come along and attempt to kill ma family.” Glancing up she noticed there were at least six more.

“Andy get in the car close the doors and let me handle this.” Andrew hesitated but he knew that look in his Mother’s eyes. As quick as he could, he closed the trunk, swiftly running around to close every other possible door and grabbing hold of the rucksack before locking himself and his sister in the car. All the while Y/N stood there waiting for the Walkers to approach as they did Y/N sprung into action almost as if it were a dance she knew all too well. One by one she took down the walkers stabbing them or throwing punches causing a bloody mess all over her and the road but in that moment she didn’t care. She was angry at the world for bringing her into a predicament without her family to help her. Instead, her son carried a gun and would gladly die to protect herself and her sister. It was not right.

The moment it came down to the last walker, she smiled up at what used to a man. 

“I’m really sorry about this. But ya picked the wrong day to cross ma path.” Punching the Walker in the face, she began the onslaught of punches before she grabbed one of the assault rifles slamming the walker in the head over and over again gradually turning the Walkers face into a bloody mess before destroying it completely. She wouldn’t have stopped but she heard something. Something that made her blood run cold yet sparked her with hope. 

A truck heading in their direction. 

A piercing scream broke Y/N’s concentration. Y/N’s head turned swiftly to the right. Another two Walkers had appeared and were now attempting to break into the car. Y/N quickly moved around the car stabbing them in the head. She heard the truck come to an abrupt stop. Standing in front of the trunk of the car, she braced herself. She had no idea what was coming out of the Army truck. But she knew her mission. To protect her children at all costs.

“Enjoy the show assholes” Suddenly both of the doors open as three people exited the truck. Two men and one woman. The women appeared to be fairly lean, her hair tied up in pigtails. The man with the darker hair appeared to be absolutely terrified. Yet the ginger-haired man, tall bulky build, military haircut dressed in a grey vest and camouflage trousers oozed confidence and authority.  

“You’ve got a pretty big mouth on ya.” The tall ginger man spoke deeply trying to make Y/N submit. Y/N had never submitted to a man and she was not about to start now. 

“Well can ya blame me. Ya just watched me kill two walkers.” Y/N retorted quickly.

“So other than your big mouth, what else you got?” Y/N up at the man trying to get her bearings with the man. There was certainly something about him but she didn’t know what. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The women stepped towards the car and Y/N quickly met her step. 

“Ya go near this car again and I’ll stick a bullet in ya.” The women raised an eyebrow at her before she attempting to get past her but Y/N was ready for her. Her pistol was out aiming at the women. 

“I warned ya. Ya stay away from that car or I’ll blow your brains out.” The dark haired man pointed towards the car and Y/N watched him intently. following his finger towards the car window. He knows. He can see Jessica and Andrew. The man whispered to the tall ginger haired man. 

“Rosita back off. She ain’t playin’ she’ll kill ya” The ginger-haired man sighed running his hand over his moustache. Y/N watched as the women who she now knew was named Rosita backed off and slowly Y/N felt as if she was a safe enough distance to lower her pistol.

“Why do we have to back off? She might have things we need” 

“You wanna go against a Momma bear protecting her cubs? That’s for someone who has a death wish. Which we do not. I apologise for the hostilities Honey we don’t mean you or your cubs any harm. My names Abraham, this here’s Eugene and that’s Rosita.” Y/N wasn’t happy still. For all she knew this could have been a trap yet there was a feeling buried deep in her conscious that believed that perhaps these people might be good people. 

“Y/N.” Abraham took a step forward, his eyes fluctuated between Y/N‘s body looking for her reaction. He knew exactly what she was going through her head. By the looks of it she had been on her own for a while. There were patches of dirt all over her face. Her plaid shirt was covered in blood as well as her trousers. She looked pretty beat up.

“Eugene go grab a rag so she can clean up a little. Ya got any spare clothes?” Y/N nodded, signalling to the car. 

“Alright. I understand your concern for your children’s lives and your own. You have every right. But you have my word, none of us are going to hurt you and if you would like we’d be more than happy to let you tag along with us? Does the car work?” Y/N examined Abraham before running her hand through her hair. She knew she could trust him. She didn’t know why but she just felt it.

“No gas. I placed my kids in the car when a small heard came through. Once I got rid of them, your truck was coming through and I was debating whether or not to shoot you. Of course two more thought they’d try and attack ma kids and then here we are.” 

“Looks like we’ve got a badass on our hands. I like that. Here’s what we‘re going to do, we’re going to get your supplies and the little ones safely onto the truck and then you can get those clothes off and into something less revolting and then we will have a chat” Y/N walked around towards the passenger door, opening it up. Andrew was clearly on edge with everything that was happening. Jessica was petrified.

“Momma are they good people?” Jessica asked as you smiled softly. 

“Abraham seems nice enough. So what’s going to happen is, I’m going to get you and your brother loaded up into the truck, while I change and then I’ll be right with ya.“

“I’m not giving up my gun.” Andrew nearly yelled. Y/N sent him a stern look. 

“Nobody is asking ya too. Have I ever told ya how much ya remind me of ya Uncle Merle when you say stuff like that.” Andrew smiled sheepishly before he slowly opened up the door stepping out of the car. Y/N followed suit, helping Jessica get out of the car before grabbing the rucksack and opening it up rummaging through it to find a clean set of clothes. Buried deep inside the rucksack Y/N discovered her spare clothes, throwing them onto the trunk. She tore off a piece of her shirt before moving it to wrap it around a nearby tree before carving a small message.  

“What are you doing?” Eugune questioned. 

“She’s leaving signs for Uncle Daryl and Uncle Merle.”  Andrew stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Why?” 

“Because she knows that if anyone will find us it’s them, best trackers in the world they are.” Andrew gleamed the thought of his Uncle’s. To him they were the coolest people in the world. He knew that his Uncle Merle had his flaws but to him he was deep down one of the greatest people he would ever know. 

“Alright let’s get you two settled up in the truck.” Abraham lead the way, however. Jessica was reluctant. 

“Go ahead honey, I am right here, ya need anything all ya have to do is call okay?”  Jessica reluctantly nodded before getting into the truck. 

“I am warning ya if ya harm my kids I’ll kill ya.” Abraham held his arms up in defence. 

“You’re just gonna have to learn to trust us.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N slipped back into the car so she could change. She slipped on her vest top and camouflage shirt, she felt comfortable as she changed her socks giving her feet a fresh feel before lacing her boots back up and stepping out of the car throwing her now torn shirt to the side. She kept the jeans, if she could find a creak or something she might be able to get them clean. Rolling them up, she brought them out with her.

Abraham passed her a rag giving her the time to clean over her face and her hands. She felt like herself. 

“Your carriage awaits” Y/N followed them into the truck still unsure of what meeting these people would bring her and her children.

A couple of days passed, driving towards New York. Eugene, Rosita and Abraham appeared to be good people. Eugene was shy and incredibly intelligent, he was a scientist who had the cure. Rosita was the toughest woman Y/N had ever seen, she was strong, an excellent fighter. She could stand on her own two feet against anyone. Abraham was arguably the most difficult to read out of the entire group. He was head-strong, argumentative, arrogant and volatile. But every time she watched him she had this feeling that there was more to him than what he put on the table. 

One night, Abraham was driving and he asked you to sit in the passenger seat while he drove. Jessica and Andrew were fast asleep alongside Eugene and Rosita. Y/N sat up at the front her boots off resting her head on the back of her chair. 

“You’ve been pretty impressive the past couple of days. Got me wonderin’ where ya learnt those skills.” Y/N glanced up towards Abraham pulling the necklace off of her neck opening up the small trinket. 

“There’s me thinking ya were gonna ask what my favourite colour was. I learnt my hunting and tracking from ma brother Daryl. My shootin’ was thanks to ma brother Merle. My ability to think quickly came from my fiancé Jax. He was a military man like yourself.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it but where is your fiancé?” Y/N looked down at the picture that laid in her hands within the small trinket. 

“I have no idea. One day he went out to see if he could grab some supplies. He’d been a little longer than usual but I didn’t worry bout it. He came back a little later. Covered in blood. I thought it was nothin’ perhaps he’d killed a few walkers but when I pulled off his shirt a chunk had been taken out of his arm. I knew what that meant and so did he. Do ya know what that crazy son of a bitch did? He wrapped his arm up in a bandage so the kids didn’t see and he began loading up the car with food and supplies. He told the kids they were gonna see my brothers for a while. He made sure they had everythin‘ Jessica’s teddy bear, Andrew’s comic books. He made sure they were okay and then lead me to the gun cabinet and gave me every weapon we had in the house. Every last bullet. Everything he thought we would need? I knew he was getting weaker. He got us all in the car, kissed the kids and myself and went back into the house, just like I was going to my brothers on a regular day. I know I should have killed him. But I couldn’t. Not him.” Y/N felt a gentle hands on hers, looking up her eyes met Abraham’s. 

“You did the right thing. You got your pups out of there and because of you, they are here still alive. Don’t blame yourself for doing what needed to be done.” Abraham kept his hand on the young woman's hand Never had he met a woman so dominate before? She knew what she had to do and how to do it. She could handle herself and manage to keep an eye on her pups at the same time. Abraham never used to believe that Wonder Woman existed but he was beginning to think perhaps he was wrong.

“Perhaps your right, it still doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. So what about you?” Abraham sighed that was one thing he never spoke about it. Heck, he’d been with Rosita and Eugene for months and he hadn’t said a word. Yet this woman walks into his world and he feels like he can open up to her. What the fuck was going on? It didn’t settle right with him. Yet at the same time, it did. Abraham had finally lost it.

“We’ve got similar stories, except the world, decided to fuck me up real hard. I lost my wife and my children. I’ve got nothin’ let to lose.” Y/N took hold of Abraham’s hand tightly.

“Ya know ya don’t have to be tough around me right? Ma brothers attempted to be tough asses all their lives. Thinkin’ if they went around the place pretendin’ that shit didn’t go down then I wouldn’t see any of it. I saw every last thing. Albeit Merle was better at hiding things than Daryl. Then again Merle had plenty of shit he needed to hide. What I was meanin was I can see through these tough ass personas.” Abraham laughed and so did Y/N, attempting to keep it down so they didn’t wake anyone up.

“Your really somethin’ Darlin’ you know that?

“Been told that a few times. Does that mean we get to stay travellin’ with ya?” Abraham raised an eyebrow at her. Even when she was threatening them several days ago, he knew that he wouldn’t get rid of her and the pups. No way in hell. 

“I haven’t got much of a choice now do I?”

“No way in hell.” Abraham focused back on the road with a smug smile on his face. He was about to be in for one hell of a ride and for once in this dicked earth he was looking forward to it. 

[3than1no]

In The End

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Abraham/Reader

A/n: I was feeling angsty af so this is the result of that lol. enjoy x 

The first time Abraham saw you was in Terminus. You had been at the back of the group, he didn’t pay that much attention to you. His gaze had drifted over you briefly as you cast a wary eye to the new members. Given the situation, neither of your focuses were on the other. All you had thought was they were another mouth to feed, whilst the thoughts that whirled around his head was that there were now more people to help with the mission. 

After escaping Terminus and going through the ordeal at Grady Memorial, neither of you interacted much. Save a few words here or there exchanged. In fact, Abraham didn’t remember much of you before Alexandria. He knew you were there of course but his mind had been focused on the mission then going into complete disarray after finding out Eugene had lied. He had been mentally fragile after that, withdrawing emotionally from people a little. Of course he was still an active participant within the group but he just couldn’t find anything that made him want to carry on. To him, that was it. That was the end of his reason to keep living. 

The night in the barn had almost been his breaking point. When the storm had rolled in and the walkers were at the door, there had been a split second where he had wanted the door to break down. To have the walkers spill into the barn, end everything but then he saw everyone piling onto the door in desperate hope to survive. He wanted these people to survive, despite his feelings on life. He wanted to help them. That night he made a promise to himself that he would do anything to help the group, his group, to survive.

Then Alexandria came along, changing his outlook on life completely. Showing him that there is a point to life. That there is something to look forward to again. Life does go on, despite how the world was. Alexandria helped him see that they can build a sustainable life there, that he can try at life again. Of course, at first, he was skeptical but then you gave him a reason to believe that he can try again. 

It was a slow, a gradual build up of feelings. It started out with having guard duty together, extending to hanging out on your downtime. When you were together you genuinely seemed to enjoy being in his company, causing him to feel all kinds of feelings. Feelings he was sure he would never feel again in his life. The type of feelings that he could never even fathom feeling for Rosita. The woman he was supposed to be with. He felt like a jackass. He knew how shitty it was, yet he couldn’t help himself. 

You made his heart race, his stomach fill with butterflies every time you entered a room or threw a smile in his direction. He felt like a teenager again, giddy with love. He wasn’t afraid of the feelings, didn’t once shy away from them. You made him happy and wanted to keep that feeling for as long as he could. The day he told you he had been drinking, reasoning with himself that he needed some liquid courage. He wasn’t incredibly drunk, just enough that his filter was gone. 

You were shocked, slightly amused by his incessant rambling. The amusement changed quickly to hesitation. He could sense you were unsure, you were biting your lip as you stared at him. Your hands pressed together in an attempt to not fidget under his gaze. “What about Rosita?” You had asked quietly, your voice shaking slightly. “All I know is that you make me see a future here..” He had rumbled, his palms sweaty and his usual confidence gone. “I have things to sort out I know that but.. I sure as shit can’t not know whether we have a future. I know I want you, do you want me?”

You did. You wanted him so bad. Of course you were wary, he was involved with another woman. You had never planned on acting on any of the feelings you had. You weren’t that type of girl. You made it clear that nothing would happen whilst he was with Rosita. He told you he would end it, that he couldn’t stay with her with the knowledge you wanted to be with him. 

It was messy. Rosita didn’t make it easy for the two of you. She was hurt, which was inevitable. You knew Abraham didn’t handle the break up very well, that he never really explained why to her. Maybe things would of worked out better if he’d taken the time to actually talk to her. All he knew was that he couldn’t just settle with a relationship that didn’t make him feel happy, life was incredibly short. You made him feel something, made him feel alive. 

You were happy, he was happy. That’s all that really mattered in the end. The moments you had together were treasured, the play fights, the moments he made you laugh so much you thought you were going to pee yourself, the times when he would just hold you, the first time you said ‘I love you’, the sweet kisses, the kisses that knocked the breath right out of you, the feel of his body on yours as he made love you. You remembered them all, the sweet and intimate moments you had together because in the end that’s all you had left. The memories of the time you two had together.

You remembered the last time you had seen him, the memory burned into your brain. Desperate to remember him. You had memorized the way he had whispered into your ear that he loved you, that he needed to help, that Maggie and her baby was the future. That he hoped one day the two of you could contribute to the future. The feel of his lips against yours, the slight pressure he made as he kissed you softly. The tickle of his facial hair against your skin. His large hands on your lower back. His body pressed against yours. The last time you heard his voice as he whispered goodbye. The sudden feeling of loss as you watched him walk through the door, leaving you alone. The worry that pulsed through you, making you feel sick. Being up all night as you waited for them to return. The moment you saw the RV return, watching everyone stagger off the vehicle. The plummet of your stomach and the cold that seeped through you when you realized he wasn’t coming home to you. The moment you collapsed onto the floor, your heart aching as you sobbed gently onto the concrete path. 

Because in the end, it didn’t really matter. You were happy, he was happy. In a world where the dead walked, happiness is all that you could hope for.