#and i understand respect the approach rick chose

[demigods-posts]

imagine a world where the heroes of olympus series was one big crossover. a world where we meet an eleven year old boy named jason, no last name because it reminds him of his mother — a drunk who literally threw him to the wolves as a toddler. jason, who's earliest memory is chewing on a stapler and his older sister tending to the wound on his bottom lip — but he hasn't seen or heard from her since they were separated years ago. jason, who grew up reaching for the sky like a purpose, desperate for a chance to prove himself. jason, who fought to save the world at fifteen years old. and jason, who finds himself in the grand canyon four months later with no memory of who he is or where he came from, feet away from some frantic sixteen year old girl in search of some dude named percy jackson. imagine what this could have been.

[curseofdelos]

I was rereading the 'should we let Nico suffocate in a jar' scene, and I was struck by Hazel's relationship with Jason in this scene and in this paragraph in particular:

Because Hazel and Jason WERE friends pre-canon!! In TLH, when Jason gets his memories back, Hazel is one of the characters he lists as someone he was friends with back in Camp Jupiter. Then, in SoN, Hazel is among the campers who looked up to Jason as a leader - both as a praetor and the former leader of the fifth cohort - and was eager to get him back.

...But then, in this scene, he doubts that Nico is trustworthy and questions if rescuing him is the best course of action.

What's interesting too is Hazel, in SoN, also doubted how trustworthy Nico was. He was keeping things from her and was annoyingly cryptic, and this was something that frustrated her. However, the second Nico is in serious danger, she sets all her reservations about him aside and rescuing him becomes her primary goal. (Rick's writing can be so inconsistent sometimes that I'm not confident this was intentional, but my interpretation of this is that Hazel was so afraid of losing Nico that she forgave him for all the lies, half-truths, etc. Petty squabbles don't seem important in the face of potential tragedy.)

Hazel approaches the "should we rescue Nico" debate from the perspective of someone at risk of losing her brother. Nico is the only family she has left, and the only demigod who can relate to her struggles of being a kid from the 30s/40s transplanted into the modern day. She loves and cares about him. Her own feelings and her own relationships take priority over the quest. It doesn't matter to her that they're walking into a trap; she'll do whatever it takes to get her brother back.

Jason, on the other hand, is approaching the debate from the perspective of a soldier. His biggest concern is whether or not Nico is someone they can trust, and if he's worth risking their lives (and the quest and the world) to save.

Jason has no personal relationship with Nico at this point and no reason to trust him - especially considering Nico was travelling between both camps and said nothing to him during those several months Jason lived at CHB, and especially considering the number of times he's lied to and betrayed Percy over the years. Yes, the reasoning behind Nico's actions are sympathetic and valid, and the decision to keep secrets was out of his hands to a certain extent, but Jason's (and Percy's) hurt and distrust of him is valid too. WE know Nico can be trusted, but it makes sense that Jason doesn't given his experience with him.

Jason has been at Camp Jupiter since he was a literal toddler. The Roman legion is the only life he knows. He was born and raised to be a weapon for the gods. His entire story happens precisely because Hera/Juno wanted a champion. He was moulded to be the kind of person who follows the gods unquestioningly, and at this point in the series, he's only beginning to break out of that mentality (hence why him standing up to Zeus later in BoO is such a big moment for him). He prioritises the quest over Hazel's feelings because as a Roman leader, he was taught to prioritise the quest over all else.

And it's so interesting to me the way that this difference in opinion - Hazel prioritising Nico's life over the quest VS Jason prioritising the quest over Nico's life - ultimately leads to a fracture in their relationship and completely alters the way Hazel views Jason for the rest of HoO. In Jason's defence, he does apologise to Hazel fairly soon after this moment, but it's interesting to me that in HoH she's still clearly (and understandably!) bitter about the position he chose to take - to the point she wonders if Jason would abandon her too if he deemed it necessary for the quest - and in a way she isn't bitter towards Leo (iirc) despite him making the exact same points.

Because Jason was her friend. She looked up to and respected him. When he disappeared, she was among those who missed him and wanted him to come back. He was a fair, good, and just leader, so she assumed he would be on her side and fight for what she believed was right, but he isn't and he doesn't. When the time comes for Jason to support Hazel in rescuing someone important to her - in much the same way she supported his rescue - he fails her. He doesn't take her feelings or her trust in Nico into consideration. He weighs the cost-benefit analysis in his head, and isn't sure rescuing her brother is worth potentially walking into a trap.

And Hazel is hurt. Who wouldn't be? And Jason does try to make things right by apologising, but not immediately agreeing to stop your friend's brother from suffocating to death in a jar is a difficult argument to bounce back from.

idk. The way their different approaches to the "should we rescue Nico" debate causes their friendship to fall apart in this scene is so interesting to me <3

[schnozzbun-art]

Hi! Are you still doing the commentary thing? 'Cause there is a passage in ASAL chapter one I find particularly fascinating. From ["Left by herself, Buddy rolled onto her stomach and noticed something.In his haste to leave, Rick had left the offending magazine on the floor."] to ["Buddy drew with increasing speed. The pressure from her crayon on the paper got harder and harder until it ripped a large tear through the center of the page. It was permanent and impossible to fix."]

Ask Game: Pick any passage of 500 words or less from any fanfic I’ve written, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!

/700 words, but I'll allow it bc I enjoy answering these very much uwu/

Left by herself, Buddy rolled onto her stomach and noticed something. In his haste to leave, Rick had left the offending magazine on the floor.

A bored child is prone to mischief. And after a day’s lessons, Buddy was in the mood to do some of her own education.

/Wild reading this in retrospect. I made some interesting choices in narrative voice here I’m not sure I would have made had I written this again. However to give myself credit the narrative voice I chose does give the text this sort of lilting, almost fairytale quality. Kind of like how when you’re remembering memories you had as a kid, you can’t really remember why you did it or the logic behind it, you kind of reacted on a basis of instinct. All hazy. Also knowing me, if I had approached this how I approach writing now, it would have been twice as long ^^; So actually I’m fine with how it is lol./

She opened the first page.

Then the next.

Then the next.

/Something that I’d always been curious about after I finished Joyful is what Buddy’s perception of mags would be. It certainly feels like one of the most cutting pieces of social commentary in the latter two games—that the measure of fiscal power in this world is measured by the accumulation of pornographic images of women. It’s on the nose for sure, but it’s important how it relates to Buddy, how this living breathing relic of ‘womanhood’ feels about all of these depictions of her gender, and I’m surprised Joyful never explored this dynamic at all. It would feed into Buddy’s resentment of the world, this constant reminder that she’s not seen as a person, but a resource, titillation, escapism—never a person. I wanted to plant that seed here with this scene./ 

Buddy knew a thing or two about women from her uncles, especially Rick. He saw it as important for her education that she “inherit an understanding about womanhood and female culture.” She knew women were nurturing, sweet, slim, pretty, didn’t slouch, didn’t eat their boogers, wore their hair long if they were respectable, and liked clothes. /Definitely giving some insight into Rick doing his best to try and parent Buddy, lol. Jokes aside, I really wanted to set up Buddy’s understanding of hegemonic femininity. I also was very intentional how I wrote Buddy not quite relating to these depictions of womanhood she’s been presented with. She sees them as seperate, hazy, alien. It’s interesting to think about how much of Buddy understanding on womanhood around this time is to do with personal upkeep who are made to be perceived, when I think perception by others is one of the last things on Buddy’s mind. (Not to mention Buddy has in no way had The Talk, and I don’t think conversations about motherhood/raising a family would have been encouraged by Brad at all)./ Well if that were true, Buddy couldn’t understand why these women weren’t wearing a single stitch between them. /Not sure if this joke lands, it almost feels a bit too British?? Eh, who can say./

The pictures didn’t look candid. The subjects looked trapped, contorted into bizarre positions, squashed like bugs between gooey pressed pages. Who were these women? Who took these pictures? And why were they traded for food?

/Something I was definitely channeling a bit here was definitely that moment too many people have had of accidentally stumbling into something pornographic when they were quite young. It’s like the mental equivalent of touching a hot stove, right? Or swallowing an ice cube on accident. It’s just this gross, violating, scary sensation of desperately wishing you could rewind the moment but knowing you can’t. I think especially as a young girl, a lot of of pornographic imagery of women, especially when depicting them as very submissive, gives you this sickly feeling that this whole ‘adult business’ doesn’t look very comfortable. It doesn’t even look enjoyable./

/As well, I very much wanted to draw attention to the reader the sheer temporal distance Buddy feels from these women. She cannot comprehend the structures of media distribution and printing houses and cameras and sets and advertisers and models that had to be organised to create this remnant of the past she holds in her hands—let alone understanding their role in the old society, and the very complicated conversations about the capitalistic structures profiting off of women’s sexual liberation. And not just because Buddy is a child, she’s just a product of such a different world, and is in such isolating circumstances. She’s peeking into one of the corners of ‘the old world’ that can be the most alienating for a lot of women to talk about./ There it was. The chasm-like void in her gut. The emptiness deepened as she flipped each page with growing desperation. /I have this recurring motif in this chapter of Buddy experiencing this great emptiness inside her that are triggered whenever Buddy experiences a lack of agency due to her gender. I’ve always seen Buddy’s main struggle in Joyful being her yearning for her agency—her ability to choose the trajectory of her life by her own terms. And I wanted to establish that this resentment of being railroaded into a role she never asked for had begun even before she escaped Brad; I wanted to show it starting all the way back while she was trapped underground, already getting glimpses of what a raw deal she got being born a girl./ Surely she wouldn’t turn into something like that—undergo grotesque pupation, grow tumorous bloats on her chest, mutate into an oily beast that stared with eyes wreathed in black blades and grinned with bloody red lips. /Very very purposefully drawing parallels in this sentence to the mutants who roam Olathe./

She flung the magazine across the room. It fell like a struck bird. /I always enjoyed that simile./

Buddy gripped her legs to her chest. Her mind was a knot she was too scared to untie.

Spending hours underground by herself would leave Buddy Armstrong’s mind to wander into meandering bramble-filled paths. One of them was the suspicion she wasn’t human.

What if Brad and her uncles had found her one day, some alien creature, and invented the existence of women as some elaborate kindness so she wouldn’t grow up thinking she was some kind of freak? If she did have extraterrestrial origins, maybe that meant she was like that movie E.T. Cheeks told her about sometimes. That there was some homeplanet out there teeming with happy young girls just like her. She wasn’t sure if that made her happy or sad.

/Really wanted to highlight Buddy’s isolation here. If her connection with womanhood is tenuous, then her connection to humanity is even vaguer. Buddy to me is a victim of an ongoing identity crisis. She’s never met another woman, all the information she has about them are mythical and intangible from stories told by her caretakers, or maybe some very censored pictures here and there, [Sidenote: I’d always had a silly idea veeeery early on that never made it into the chapter of Rick trying to make ‘dolls’ for Buddy by cutting out some of the more ‘naturally posed’ women and putting paper clothes on them. It never went anywhere, but the idea made me giggle at its ridiculousness.], and her only interactions with flesh and blood humans have been men. And as Buddy is told that she is the ‘last of her kind’ to exist, there’s something dreadfully lonely about that. She’s a Thylacine. As far as she knows, she’ll live and die never knowing someone like her. So it makes sense why she’d see herself as something ‘other.’ (A cornerstone of feminism studies is about how Simone de Beauvoir in her book The Second Sex explains how women are classified by society as The Other—this stigmatised figure just meant to represent everything men aren’t. It’s lonely being ‘the other.’)/

But now there was the alternative. Women were real, she was one, and the only surviving relic were these lumpy, twisted creatures.

When would the transformation begin? Soon? Buddy was a growing girl after all.

/Reference to a line Brad says earlier, re-framed in a much more sinister light./

Then there was the way Brad looked at her—furtive glances she’d occasionally catch before he averted his eyes. She’d thought it was just general scorn caused by whatever esoteric way she had slighted him. But now she recognized it. Disgust.

It made terrible sense. Her tank top was getting small. Brad would chastise her whenever she raised her arms and the fabric rose above her belly button. It must’ve been why Brad forbade anyone from touching her. Why she’d been left down here—to moult into something monstrous.

/I’m gonna break down exactly how I was trying to the reader’s mind in the above few paragraphs./

Then there was the way Brad looked at her—furtive glances she’d occasionally catch before he averted his eyes. She’d thought it was just general scorn caused by whatever esoteric way she had slighted him. But now she recognized it.

/At this point I wanted the reader thinking “Surely... surely not, right? Is OP really implying THAT? Christ.”

But now she recognized it. Disgust.

/And then the reader to realise “OH OKAY IT’S NOT THAT THANK GOD. And of course not—Brad’s no Marty! But huh? Disgust? Why?”

It made terrible sense. Her tank top was getting small. Brad would chastise her whenever she raised her arms and the fabric rose above her belly button. It must’ve been why Brad forbade anyone from touching her. Why she’d been left down here—to moult into something monstrous.

/And here I wanted the reader to have the lightbulb moment, realising “Ohhh, Buddy’s projecting her own fear of her lack of control over how her body will change onto Brad’s recent treatment of her. She’s making a false connection, but a logical one considering her circumstances.”/

/I was really putting some trust in the reader in this sequence of paragraphs, trusting that they can recognise that Buddy is an unreliable narrator, who is projecting her own fear from her experience looking at the magazine into why Brad is forcing her to stay underground. Even then though, Buddy isn’t too far off. Due to Brad’s trauma with what happened to Lisa, he tries to protect her by leaving her completely isolated and (literally) in the dark about anything to do with her body. But due to that, Buddy is forced to come to the worst conclusions, to feel ashamed, scared—literally believe she’s going to turn into something horrifying (because it horrified her). I wanted this to be a clear example about how keeping kids in the dark about the realities of puberty/sexuality/sex/reproduction harms them more than it helps. Granted, it’s a very loaded topic due to the culture of Olathe, and Brad’s decision to keep her from the world are understandable (to a point), but still! I wanted to emphasise through this whole fic that Brad’s good intentions constantly hurt Buddy one way or another./

Buddy forced herself to her feet and picked up the magazine from the floor. She carefully returned it to its spot like it had never been opened.

By the time Rick came back down, Buddy had pulled out a sheet of paper and crayons from the dresser and was occupying herself drawing.

Rick inhaled as if about to speak, then froze. An odd look crossed his face when he saw the magazine on the ground. He bit his cheek as he looked over his shoulder at the hole above him, then back at her.

“Uh, hey, Buddy.” He inched forward. “I just... left this here.”

“I know. You can take it,” Buddy said without looking up. She was trying to color the sheet of paper entirely in brown. It was the longest crayon she owned. /When I wrote this I wanted the implication to be that brown was the colour she used the least because she lives in an underground hole, she has enough brown in her life, so she wouldn’t have much reason to draw with it. Though something I didn’t realise until just now is that perhaps this includes Brad and his brown poncho, no? 👀 / Each stroke was long and methodical, like she was trying to wash something clean.

Rick picked it up. He looked at it and then back at her. “Buddy, if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m always—”

“Rick. You done?” Brad called.

/Aargh! Really wanted the reader to feel frustrated here. Rick is on the cusp of asking Buddy what’s wrong so they can have a conversation about her feelings (and he has a sinking suspicion of what may have happened) like a good caretaker, but he’s interrupted by Brad’s meddlesome paranoia./

Rick and Buddy simultaneously winced at his voice.

“Just a sec!” he responded. He returned to Buddy. “Buddy, are you—

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Buddy said flatly. “Go.”

/Buddy has to play adult. We’re seeing her grow up very quickly, hardening herself already, and also still deeply shaken by what she saw as she tries to reassert control over her surroundings. I think we’ve all felt like that, feeling particularly curt with our caretakers when we feel troubled about something./

Sufficiently cowed, Rick backpedaled and climbed out of the room.

/This sure is a sentence./

Buddy drew with increasing speed. The pressure from her crayon on the paper got harder and harder until it ripped a large tear through the center of the page. It was permanent and impossible to fix.

/And this of course is a deeper metaphor. I wrote this hoping the reader would understand the subtext that Buddy has crossed a threshold in her knowledge of the world. Her innocence has been chipped away at even further, she’s gained terrible knowledge about the realities of how women are viewed in this world, and it’s not something she can unlearn. Merely knowing that she is the same thing of something that scared her for an unnamable reason is scary enough. Definitely establishing a sense of foreboding for the rest of the chapter./

/Thanks for sending this! Quite the trip down memory lane./

[xpao-bearx]

《Original post here》

Part 2 HERE

SUMMARY: [Supernatural TWD AU] In which Negan is a kinky incubus, Rick Grimes is your secret guardian angel, and Daryl Dixon is a gruff monster/demon hunter. Three drastically different men who can only agree on one thing: making you theirs.

PAIRINGS: Reader x Negan, Reader x Rick Grimes, Reader x Daryl Dixon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please be prepared and do NOT report.

NOTE: This is actually my first time ever writing an xReader story series as well as writing on Tumblr (I usually only write on Wattpad). As such, it probs won't be perfect though I would SERIOUSLY appreciate your *respectful* feedback and support!

I understand writing xReader content can get a lil tricky, so please just keep in mind that not everything Y/N says or does would be something that you'd do IRL or even approve of. Also, sometimes I may not help but put a teeny bit of myself in Y/N...

Lastly, I recently got back into the TWD fandom after a looong ass time and I'm taking a while re-watching the whole show. So I apologize in advance if my portrayal of any of the characters are rusty or I may not remember too much of the events from the show, but I promise to do my very best and hope y'all enjoy~!! \(^o^)/

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @blccdyknuckles and @negans-attagirl 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 1

The sounds of laughter and easygoing chatter filled your ears as you walked closer to the church, a light breeze blowing through your F/C floral dress and the sun blinding your eyes. It was Sunday, most residents of the small town of Alexandria having gathered for mass.

It was a day like any other; peaceful and happy, children giggling and chasing each other around as their parents socialized outside before church could start.

Your heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you were just about to enter the building before a familiar voice called out.

"Y/N!"

Spinning, a huge smile instantly reached your ears as you saw none other than Carl Grimes waving enthusiastically at you as he jumped out of a car. From the driver's seat, his father soon followed as he stepped out.

Rick Grimes--dedicated sheriff of this fine town. His usual uniform forgone, instead replaced with a casual navy coloured suit. His baby blues met your E/C, flashing you a bright smile of his own that rivalled the sun itself.

Carl was running towards you now, and once in front he gave you a big hug.

"Settle down, cowboy! It's as if you haven't seen me in forever." You chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair affectionately.

"That's 'cause it did feel like forever." Carl pouted, eventually letting go as he looked up at you.

Before you can reply, Rick patted Carl's head and greeted you. "Hey, Y/N. How are things?" He asked in that endearing Southern accent of his.

"Just fine." You nodded, grinning before you couldn't help but let your gaze wander around a bit. "No Judith?"

It was then that Rick's smile faltered, but just barely. You nearly didn't catch it. "No. She's with her mom."

Rick was divorced from his ex-wife, Lori, after he discovered her cheating on him with his also now ex-bestfriend Shane Walsh. After the divorce, Shane and Lori quickly moved to the neighbouring community of Woodbury together and agreed on joint custody of the kids.

It really made your blood boil; you've interacted with Lori only a few times before so you didn't really have much of an opinion on her...that is, until, you learned what had happened between her and Rick. You knew it wasn't any of your business, but you cared about Rick a lot and he sure as hell didn't deserve to get cheated on.

"Oh." Was all you could say, quite stupidly. Your cheeks reddened, mentally slapping yourself before clearing your throat. "Will I see her in the daycare tomorrow, though?" You were a daycare teacher and even though you loved all of the kids, Judith was your favourite. She was simply such a sweetheart.

Rick nodded, his smile softening. "You got it."

You couldn't continue the conversation as the bells rang, making you jump out of your skin. Carl, noticing this, laughed which made you playfully roll your eyes before slinging an arm around him as all of you went inside.

♡♡♡

You took your place near the back of the church with Carl and Rick. Once everyone was settled and done singing, the service began and Father Gabriel stood on top of the podium. A few minutes into his sermon, the interruption of a motorcycle revving loudly outside sliced through the air. Gabriel flinched in surprise, and it was obvious he was desperately trying to keep his cool. Finally, when it was silent again, you found yourself biting back a smile knowing all too well who had caused the ruckus.

It seems Rick knew, too, judging from how his jaw clenched and his hands turned into tight fists.

The doors were thrown open, making Gabriel flinch once more and some of the congregation turning in the pews to look. But poor Gabriel quickly fumbled with his Bible, raising his voice just a tad to regain their attention.

There was a low whistle accompanying the approaching footsteps, but the congregation did their damn hardest to ignore the latest visitor.

"Damn... I assumed the church would be a lot more welcoming than this." A husky voice whispered, and you at last couldn't hold back as a smile broke through.

"Negan." You whispered back, turning slightly in your seat to see he has taken the spot behind you. His leather clad arms lackadaisically resting on your chair, the musky scent of his cologne invading your senses oh so wonderfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What? Is it really that surprising, darlin'?" He grinned, presenting a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "I go to church."

"Not all the time." You pointed out.

"Ah..." He chuckled softly, hazel eyes twinkling. "That's 'cause Father Creepy McGee over there is just that. Creepy. As. Shit."

You bit the inside of your cheeks, suppressing your laughter. True, Gabriel did have his moments, but he wasn't that bad. That didn't change the fact that Negan knew exactly how to tickle your funny bone, though.

He was new to Alexandria. It was a lovely town, but since it was relatively small not a lot of people want to move here not unless it was families looking for their children to grow up in a safe environment. Which was why it was quite a shock to find out that a single man like Negan chose this destination, and even more so when he took everyone aback with his infamous pottymouth and rather inappropriate charisma.

He had moved just a couple of houses down from yours, and you made it your mission to befriend him. Right from the get-go, he had piqued your interest and curiousity. He was different from everyone else--even possessing an air of mystery about him--and that definitely intrigued you. And also, perhaps you were just too nice and didn't want him to feel outcasted. Although, that didn't seem like an issue to him at all.

"Want one?" You were brought back to reality when you saw Negan's hand outstretched with a pack of cigarettes.

"Dude, we're in church." You reprimanded, frowning.

Negan didn't say anything, only cocking a brow and still with that same shit-eating grin. You sighed, finally giving in as you swiftly grabbed one and stashed it away in your purse for later.

"Y/N." You turned to the left, Rick's icy gaze piercing you. "Pay attention."

"R-Right. Sorry..." You mumbled sheepishly.

Carl, who was sitting in the middle of you and Rick, had dozed off. Rick nudged him, but the brunette only groaned softly and snuggled into Rick's chest. Defeated, the sheriff sighed and was just about to listen again to Gabriel before Negan cut in.

"Rick!" Negan purposely raised his voice, knowing it would get a rise out of the other man. "Didn't even see ya there. Howdy, cowboy!"

Rick grimaced, and it looked like he was just going to ignore Negan though he knew that if he did that then Negan would just irritate him even further. "Good to see you, Negan." He forced himself to say.

"Only you can say that while giving me such a deadly side eye, Grimes." Negan snickered. "How have you been? How's the wife?"

Rick flushed, his fists in a tight ball again and it looked like his nails would be digging into his skin. You abruptly swung into action, placing a hand on Rick's own.

"Rick..." You said gently. "It's okay. Calm down."

Rick did, his shoulders drooping as if a heavy weight had been lifted. He can barely pay any attention to Gabriel now, then you suddenly stood up and grabbed Negan's arm.

"We need to talk. Now."

"What, we going for a quickie?" Negan smirked, but that soon faded when he saw your serious expression. He sighed dramatically, reaching his full height as he towered over you before following you out.

At this point, you didn't care if people saw what transpired or would even start gossiping. No one, not even Negan, was allowed to harass Rick. He has helped you through so much shit--more than you'd like to admit--and you at least owed him this much.

Once outside, next to where Negan parked his motorcycle, you exploded. "What the fuck is with you?! You leave Rick alone, or I swear to fucking Christ I will--"

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horses, missy!" Negan guffawed, his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, I like 'em feisty, but goddamn! Watch your fucking language."

"Tch. You're one to talk."

"Did you just scoff at me?" He raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets as he slowly drew closer to you. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, tilting his head slightly. "No one's ever fucking scoffed at me and didn't regret it soon after."

You frowned, letting out a huff as you met his gaze challengingly. "As if you'd do anything to me."

He was silent for several moments before chuckling, leaning back against his motorcycle. "You're right. I have too much of a soft spot for ya." He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it then taking a drag. He drew his head upwards, puffing out the smoke. "Whaddya say we just forgive and forget? I truly am sorry. You can even tell Rick that I am metaphorically down on my goddamn knees begging for forgiveness~"

"I'm not forgiving or forgetting anything until you actually face Rick and apologize yourself." You muttered. And without another word, you spun on your heel and strutted back inside the church with your head held high.

Negan's intent stare lingered where your ass had just been, taking another long drag and letting out a small laugh to himself.

His eyes suddenly glowed a crimson red, a smirk playing on his lips.

Oh, he really did pick a GREAT one.

[whatwewrotepodcast]

Of Life and Death

This is a super old story of mine that I recently came across. My writing style is very old and there are a LOT of adverbs in there, but other than that I feel like it’s held up surprisingly well. Although there are a lot of Australianisms in there that I usually try to tone down. It’s not a bad premise I don’t think. It was originally going to be a Trilogy, but I only got as far as the first book.

From what I can remember there is an eternal war between the God of Life and the God of Death. Each God has a demi that they appoint to help fight their battles. The God of Death is responsible for mass destruction, plane crashes, natural disasters, accidents. Katren, the demi of Life must fight to keep the death tolls from rising.

Enjoy!

~ez

To look upon the world, one would think it simple. Normal. Billions upon billions of people, living, dying. Each individual has a past, lives the present, and looks forward to a future. Of course, there comes a time when there is no future, a time where it must end. Some have more than others. Some are barely even alive before they are dead. There is no controlling it. People try, of course. Hygiene, education and scientific experiments. There are vaccines, cures, doctors, and nurses. Anti-aging creams, botox, lipo suction, plastic surgery. All stem from a want to extend life, to keep on living, no matter the cost. Some claim they deserve it, some just want it, and others don’t like to think about it too much.

  Truth is, everyone dies.

         And there isn’t anything they can do about it. Because it’s not their choice. It’s not their decision.

 It’s ours.

The rain thundered down like there was no tomorrow. It hit the ground so hard that the droplets would jump up again, so high that it became hard to differentiate between what was going up and what was going down. People ran to and fro, huddled under umbrellas and buried deep within their coats. As if that would help keep them dry, as though their feeble clothes and materials actually stood a chance against the sadistic wind, hurling sharp knives of the rain in under the umbrella’s soaking even the most water resistant fabrics with in seconds.

Katren walked through the scurry of people, head bowed down, collar drawn up around her neck. She didn’t bother to hurry, didn’t try to battle with an umbrella. There was no point, she’d get soaked through no matter what she did. She drew her coat closer, in a vain attempt to keep the wind from biting her tender flesh. She didn’t have far to go, but in weather like this, it felt as though she’d walked miles, where in actual fact it was only a few meters.

She sighed in relief when her apartment came in to view and she quickened her pace. Ducking her head, she made it to the door in one very soggy piece, and shouldered it open roughly, clutching her sodden bag to her chest. Once in the foyer, she stood still for a long moment, holding her arms out by her sides, panting slightly, blinking through the drops that slide down her darkened side fringe and into darker eyes. She heard a chuckle from afar and looked up and around, searching for the source.

“Bit wet?” the girl asked, smirking. Janie was tall, taller the Katren, with loosely curled hair that twirled to well below her shoulders. She had bright emerald eyes that were set in a fine featured and pale face that just completed her essence of beauty. Sometimes, Katren hated her best friend.

“Just a touch.” She answered a little coldly, peeling off her soaked coat and shuddering. Janie laughed again and Katren approached her casually before flicking off her hat and shaking out her hair like a dog. Janie squealed and flinched away from her, holding her hands up as if to protect herself from the flying droplets that sprung from her hair.

“Bit wet?” Katren returned tartly, brow arched. Janie scowled at her and rolled her eyes before turning and heading for the lift. Katren followed, head held high, despite knowing that she looked rather like a drowned rat next to an earthed goddess.

“What kept you so long?” Janie asked as the lift opened with a welcoming chime. They stepped in and Katren keyed in her card before stowing it back into her bag.

“You know what it’s like over there. You’re just about to finish up then suddenly you get a dozen “Before you go” requests.” She answered a trifle bitterly. Starting out in a simple temp position, she had risen through the ranks of the large firm till she had achieved the optimum position of head executive. It paid well and it was a respectable job, her mother was proud and she lived a good life.

Generally speaking.

“I tried to buzz up, but Rick didn’t answer. “ Janie continued reaching back to make a lazy show of tying up her hair. It looked perfect afterwards, of course. Katren wondered briefly how she did it, before realising that Janie was waiting for a response.

“He must have been in the studio or something.” She answered, shrugging idly. Rick was Katren’s somewhat eccentric room mate. He considered himself a budding rockstar, and while his music was easy to listen to, he never seemed to actually sign up for gigs or get his music out there.

The elevator slowed before stopping completely. The doors opened with another happy chime and she walked in to the small foyer. She fished out her other key and opened the door, shouldering it open and stepping in. Janie followed closely, shouldering her bag into a more comfortable position.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Kat.” She said as she moved for the lounge room. Katren smirked at her over her shoulder.

“I was hardly going to leave you out on your arse, was I?” she returned rhetorically. Janie snorted quietly.

“I dunno. I’ve seen the cold glare of yours before. Wouldn’t put anything past you.” She called as Katren escaped into her room, already peeling off the layers of wet clothes.  She changed quickly, putting on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black leggings, comfy clothes. She went into her bathroom and snatched up a towel, beginning to scrub viciously at her hair. It was long and straight, falling down to her mid back, and a light golden colour, or it was, when it was dry.

Satisfied that she wasn’t going to catch pneumonia, she went out into the lounge room, slouching down beside Janie.

“What are we watching tonight?” she asked as Janie flipped over the channels to the AV channel. It was Friday night and, as a rule, they often got together to watch a movie and catch up. Janie was staying the night this time, however, as a power outage had struck her street and she’d been without power for two days now. Janie could do with out light, but to go without coffee or a hair drier for 48 hours was virtually impossible.

“Not the news. It’s never been more depressing.” She mumbled, casting an eye around for the dvd remote. Katren nodded her agreement. Although it was rarely anything major, there had been a steady rise in unforeseeable accidents lately. Things like trees falling on houses, even though there was little wind to be had, and people falling through faulty balconies. A strange number of people were often killed in these feeble accidents.

“Let’s start with the 5th season of Gilmore girls, and work our way up from there.” Janie suggested, finding the remote with a satisfied trill and slouching back down into the couch. Katren settled down beside her, snatching a pillow and hugging it to her chest, settling her chin on it comfortably.

Around halfway through season 5, Rick emerged from the small studio out the back of the apartment and looked in the lounge room with an amused expression. He stood in the door way with short dark hair, tanned features and dark eyes. He wore simple clothes, t-shirt with some unknown logo and loose jeans.  Katren arched a challenging brow at him that clearly gave him two choices, sit down and shut up, or become scarce. After a moment, he chose the former, sitting down on the floor, leaning back against the couch next to Katren’s legs. She gave him a half hearted kick and he grinned at her over his shoulder before settling in to watch the t.v.

 “I’m hungry.” Rick whispered. Janie leant down to whack him across the back of his head. He cried out in surprise and pain and rubbed it whilst looking over at Janie reproachfully. Katren shook her head, throwing the pillow at him before pushing herself up to her feet.

“I’ll go get the usual.” She suggested, heading for her bedroom once more. She fished out her pair thickset boots, a jacket, scarf, beret and a coat. She donned them all and headed out for the door.

“I’ve got my phone with me. Don’t get any blood on the couch.” She warned. Janie waved to her over her head, engrossed with the television. She’d seen the season a hundred times or more, and yet she was glued to the screen as though her life depended on it.

Once outside, she drew in her coat close around her. It wasn’t raining as heavily as it was previously, but the steady drizzle still had a knack for seeping in and down her neck. She grumbled briefly to herself, wishing that she had never totalled her car last summer. It hadn’t been her fault, but she hadn’t had any insurance, which was ironic, considering the company that she worked for. So now, more than three months later, she had a dicky knee and no car.

She headed quickly down the street, the slap of her feet on the wet foot path echoing against the tall grey buildings. She didn’t understand how people could think a city was beautiful. Where was the grace in a hunk of cement? Where was the beauty in the smog that loomed threateningly among the very highest of peaks? Every tree had to be planned, nothing grew because it wanted to grow. Just like people, the nature was simply ordered. Don’t grow there. Grow here. Why? Because we want a new condo development.

It wasn’t that she hated the city. She loved it. There was always something new, something unheard of around the corner. There were always new people to meet, new people to scorn at. There were shops and markets and an alarming array of food. She was still trying new foods, even after five years of living there.

“Wait.” A sharp voice cut through the air suddenly, coming from the alleyway. Katren gasped, her heart leaping up into her throat, the sudden surge of adrenaline making her head sway alarmingly as she wheeled around to face it. She barely had time to catch her breath before she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked and the explosive bang of it being fired.

At first she thought it was a prank, someone shooting blanks at her. But then there was blinding pain and she felt her knees give from beneath her as she crumbled to the pavement, gasping in pain. She heard footsteps moving back down the alleyway. They were slow, calm and deliberate, the footsteps of someone who had completed a task. A job well done.

[walkingdeadfan25]

Call Me Jesus part 5

** Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. I only own Cassia. Other characters belong to their respective owner(s). 

Warning: May contain content not suitable for some people. Read at your own risk. Some situations are mature.****

 “When I got here, Gregory was already in charge. Thought the people chose him for a reason. Looking at it now, I think it just happened. I didn’t like how he did things, I couldn’t imagine anyone else in his place. I can now.” “Who?”, Maggie asked. “We’ll talk about it sometime.”, Jesus said with a slight smile. Sasha and Maggie turned to him.

“I should have talked to Gregory sooner. I’m sorry. Hopefully you guys will let me make it up to you?”

“We will. Look they’re closing up the gates.” Maggie and Sasha turned to leave and Jesus pulled away from Cassia. “Wait, they’re still loading up outside.” Maggie turned to Cassia, “We’ll see you later tonight for dinner.” They left and Jesus turned to Cassia, “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to Gregory sooner.”, he wrapped his arms around Cassia’s waist and his voice turned husky, “Maybe you can let me make it up to you?”

Warmth pooled in her lower stomach as she brought his face closer to hers, “Maybe once I’m healed.”, she responded us Jesus smiled and began to kiss her passionately. A knock started them to break apart. “It’s Sasha.” “Come in, we were just about to leave.”, Jesus said. “If you want to make it up to us.. can you find where Negan lives?” “One of the trucks is going back there, so yeah, I can do that.”

“Can we keep this between us? Just you, me and Cassia?”

“I don’t like that and I’m sure neither does Cassia.” Sasha looks at them sadly, ‘Me neither.”

Sasha left. “I’m going to. I’ll be careful I promise.” Jesus led Cassia back to his place. Once inside, he got his running gear on. He turned to face Cassia, she handed him her favorite knife. “This is the only thing I have to remember my father by. It’s kept me safe and I want you to have it for your journey, a piece of me to remind you to hurry home safely.” Jesus took it and slid it into his belt then pulled Cassia into a hungry kiss. They kissed like it’d be their last. He slid his tongue past her lips as he let her taste wash over him. Cassia pulled away, “I’ll be here for you when you get back, ready.” Jesus understand her meaning.

 “Cassia are you sure? I don’t want to rush into anything if you think this has to happen, because it doesn’t .” “I love you, Paul Rovia. I want you to be the first and only man I ever give myself to fully.” He gave her a passionate kiss, “I’d be honored. I can’t say you’d be my first but you will be the first and only I have ever truly made love to.” He rubbed his nose against hers before pulling away to find where Negan lived. 

Cassia followed him out, running into Sasha who was on her way to gather her for supper with her and Maggie. Sasha spend the door as they were surprised by Enid.

“Enid. It’s so good to see you! Did you travel here alone?”, Cassia asked as she moved to hug the girl. “Hi. I-I came to help. And yes I came here myself.” They sat down, Cassia beside Enid. “Why are there balloons on Abraham’s grave?”, Sasha asked. Enid looked to Maggie. ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell you. Glenn would’ve. He was a bad lair.” Enid turned to Sasha, “Sorry.” Sasha smiled as she said, “There’s no need to be sorry. Nothing wrong with balloons.”

“There’s nothing marking the graves.” “No. Maggie was using Glenn’s watch but douche bad Gregory, the ‘leader’ here, took it.” Maggie took the watch out, “It was my dad’s. He gave it to Glenn. But I’m giving it to you.”, Maggie said handing it to Enid. They all held hands and said grace before eating. “For this new morning, with it’s light, for rest and shelter of the night, for health and food, for love and friends, for everything that goodness sends. Amen.” “Amen.”

Once done with dinner, Sasha and Cassia sat outside sharpening their knives. Afterwards, Cassia goes back to Jesus’ her stitches hadn’t caused her any problems, so she undressed herself and pulled on one Jesus’ shirts. She got in bed and snuggled up to his pillow, his scent lulling her to sleep. She awoke the next day, got dressed and began helping everyone out with whatever they needed; keeping her mind off Jesus.

It was around the afternoon and Cassia had her break. She felt arms wrap around her waist and turned. Jesus smiled down at her. She leaned up and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. “Hi.”, he whispered against her lips. “I’ve got someone here to see you.” Cassia pulled away to see Daryl. Tears sprung into her eyes as she ran to him.

She hugged him tight as tears fell from her eyes. “I see Jesus has been taking care of care.”, he said in his gruff voice as he hugged her back. “Yes, he has. How are you, you doling ok?” “I’m fine, always am.”

After their little reunion they helped Cassia finish the task she was doing before lunch. Suddenly Maggie called out for her, Sasha and Enid. They rushed to the gates as they opened, revealing Rick, Michonne, Tara, Carl and Rosita. Cassia smiled. Rick talked Maggie as Jesus came up behind Cassia, wrapping his arms around her. Rick came up to Cassia. “”I’m glad you’re better.”, he noticed Jesus’ hold on her and smiled, “I see you finally happened. I owe Michonne the last candy bar. You take care of her Jesus.” Jesus smiled. Everyone hugged one another with Carl threatening to hurt Jesus if he hurt Cassia, he also asked if he was ok after jumping out of the truck.

Cassia turned to Jesus, “Paul Rovia! You jumped out of a moving vehicle. You said you’d be careful.” Jesus looked at Carl and then Cassia, “Yes but I’m fine. i told you I would be.” Cassia turned to see Rick hugging Daryl. Cassia even caught Enid and Carl looking at each other. “You finally lose your mouth virginity?”, Cassia joked with Carl playfully nudging him. “Yeah you lose your actual virginity?”, Cassia playfully gasped, “No but I will tonight.”

Carl gave her a horrified look and moved beside Enid while Cassia laughed. “You’re going to scar that boy Cassia.”, Jesus told her. “I was only telling him what he asked.”

“You’re still serious about this?”

“Yes, but only if you want to.” Jesus dropped the subject as Rick approached him. Jesus reached behind his back and handed Rick his gun. Then they began to head towards Gregory’s office.

“No! No way in hell. That was not the deal. You people swore you could take the Saviors out, and you failed. So any arrangements we had is now done.....null and void. We aren’t trade partners, we aren’t friends, and we never met. Hmm? We don’t know each other.”, Gregory said. He sat down and turned to Rick, “I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees, at great personal risk.” “Oh, you were very brave staying here while Maggie, Sasha and Cassia saved this place. Maggie is pregnant and Cassia was at risk of ripping her stitches and bleeding internally. Your courage was inspiring.”, Jesus said bitingly. Cassia patted his thigh approvingly. “Hey, don’t you work for me? Aren’t we friends?”, Gregory said to him.

Rick spoke up, “Gregory, we already started this.” “You started it.”, he filed back. “We did. And we’re gonna win.”

“They are killers.”  “Is this how you want to live? Under their thumb, killing your people?”, Rick implored. “S-sometimes we don’t get to chose what our life looks like. Sometimes Ricky you have to count the blessings you have.”

“How many people can be we spare?”, Cassia asked, “How many people here can fight?” “We?”, Gregory laughed, “I don’t even know how many people we have Cassandra. And does it even matter? I mean ugh w-w-what are you going to do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? ‘Cause that’s what we got. They grow things. They’re not gonna want to fight.”

“You’re wrong.”, Tara spoke up. “When people have the chance to do the right thing, they usually step up. I mean people just-” “Let me stop you before you break into song, okay?”, Tara just looked top Daryl exasperated. “And by the way, who would train all this cannon fodder?” “I will.” “Give me a week.” “Jesus and I.”, Sasha, Rosita and Cassia all replied. “Rhetorical, okay?”, Gregory said dramatically. “I don’t want to know. I never want to hear another word about any of it, ever.” “Would we be better off without the Saviors, yes or no?”, Rick demanded harshly. “Yeah. Sure, okay.”, Gregory replied as if he didn’t really care. “So, what will you to fix the problem?”, Michonne asked. “I didn’t say we had a problem. You did. And what happens outside of my purview is outside of my purview”

“What the hell, man? You’re either with us or you ain’t. You’re sitting over there talking out of both sides of your mouth.”, Daryl yelled. Gregory stood pulling the sleeve of his jacket down, “I....I think I’ve made may position very clear. And I want to thank all of you for not being here today, and not having this meeting with me or... or being seen on your way out. In other words, go out the back.” Everyone made their way out shooting Gregory a look. “Walking ballsack. Wanna knock that idiot’s teeth out.”, Rosita said. “Yeah, well, we don’t need him anyway.”, Daryl said. “Yeah, that’s right. ‘Cause we have Cassia, Maggie, Sasha and Jesus here.” “And.. Enid.”, Cassia said as the front door opened and said girl walked in. “Hey, hmm...” “What’s wrong?”, Sasha asked. “Nothing. Just....come outside.” Cassia is the first to move, following her out, everyone else followed. 

Once outside they were greeted by a small group. Cassia walked down the steps in front of them, Maggie behind her. “What’s going on?”, Cassia asked. “Hey. So if you don’t remember me, I’m Bertie. And I owe my life to you all, twice over. A bunch of us do. Enid says that you want Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?” “Yes.”, Maggie answered.

“Do you think we can win, that we really could beat them? Us?”, Bertie asked. “We do.”, Cassia replied.

“Well, Enid says you could show us the way. I’m ready.” “Me too.” “Yeah.” “Let’s do this.”, people agree. Everyone looks at each other smiling and Jesus interlocks his fingers with Cassia’s. “It’s a start.”, Cassia said as they began moving. “It still won’t be enough.”,Sasha said. “No it won’t.”, Rosita agreed. “Well, we find the right stuff, then maybe we don’t need the numbers. Blow ‘em up, burn ‘em to the ground.”

“You said there weren’t just soldiers with the Saviors, that there were workers there. People didn’t have a choice.”, Tara stated. “We gotta win.”, Daryl said. 

“We need more hands, another group. Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they are looking for you Daryl, we need to be there.”, Rick announced. “You don’t have to get back.”, Jesus said causing everyone to turn to him, “Not yet.” He pulled a radio out of his pocket, holding it up. “It’s one of theirs, long range. We can listen in, keep track of them.”

“So, if we’re not going back, what are we doing then?”, Michonne asked. Jesus smiled, :I think it’s time we introduced you to Ezekiel. King Ezekiel.”

“King?”, Rick asked in disbelief.

[lolozhaoworld]

Do you believe in Affinity?

Suddenly wanted to write about the story of affinity. However, before we get to that, what led to it? 

Well 3 things: 

1. Jackson wang 100 ways

2.  TỰ TÂM - NGUYỄN TRẦN TRUNG QUÂN

3. My love for interesting stories

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZS3ZS7Y1oQ

Jackson Wang-100 ways (Behind the scenes)

During behind the scenes, Jackson says that the story of 100 ways is about a warrior and a prince that both fall in love with a girl. The prince kills the warrior and the warrior waits 1000 years to finally be with her. Although I’m not sure which story this is, I suspect it’s a historical Chinese tale or perhaps an ancient Greek legend. Regardless, I was pleasantly surprised that his MV was based on a story. It felt like a cherry on top because it peaked my interest by adding depth and space for the mind to imagine and wander. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GuR_g75ufY

Then, soon after I saw TỰ TÂM - by NGUYỄN TRẦN TRUNG QUÂN which was mindblowing. 

Just seeing the background setup, clothing, props, everything, lord knows how much their company spent on all of this. Must have been a fortune, especially since generally even a simple single backdrop setup would be around the 5 digit range. 

From perfect lighting to intricate clothing, to the setting and detail, everything is absolutely beautiful. They really put a lot of work into the MV👏👏  

And although I don’t understand Vietnamese, the music is alluring and the story overflows with detail, capturing everything that the audience needs to know within 8 minutes. Watching it, you don’t even feel that it is 8 minutes long.

As we go on, we find out that it’s actually a 2 part series and in the second MV there’s more to the story. Not to spoil too much, it captures the story of love that slips away, a love that can’t be grasped no matter how much one wants to. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d6IiLmjQYg

And that leads me to the story of affinity. 

Why do we love some, but are unable to be with them? Why do we like some, but are unable to get closer to them? Why do we have interest, but never meet some? 

Perhaps, the story of affinity explains it all. Affinity is a story that I once read in a book when I was 12 years old and ever since then, I became so intrigued with the idea and have always wondered about affinity between people.

If you’re ready for the story, let’s enter.

The story of affinity (缘分)

Once upon a time... there was a young scholar who left his hometown for the imperial examination. Just before he left, he made a pact with his fiancee that when he returned, they would get married on a certain day of the year. However, when he returned, he found that she had already wed another. Struck by the news, he became unable to eat or sleep and fell devastatingly ill.

One day, a monk passes by and sees the scholar and his dire. The monk, wanting to help him, pulls out a mystical mirror and shows the scholar a scene:

As he stares into the mirror, a body appears. It is the dead body of a woman laying on the side of the road. As the body lays lifelessly on the ground, a passerby emerges. Approaching closer and closer, he simply glances at the woman, shakes his head and keeps on his way. Not soon after the first passerby leaves, another person appears. This time, the man takes off his clothes, covers the body and then leaves. 

However, even with the clothes, the body still laid noticeably on the side of the road. After quite a bit of time, a third person appears. This time, the third person digs a pit on the side of the road and carefully buries the body. 

The monk turns to the scholar and explains, “The female corpse on the road was the past life of your fiancee. You are the second person who passed by; the one who gave her your shirt and covered her with it. She fell in love with you in this life, only to repay you with her affection (love). However, the last person is the one who buried her. That is her current husband; the one she is to repay for a lifetime.”

Suddenly, it all became crystal clear for the scholar.

This is a Buddhist story that talks about the lifetime of a person and all that has to do with affinity. In the story, all three men had a chance to meet with the woman, but all three treated her differently. What they gave was different, so each of their endings and relation with the woman was different in the next life.

In the vast sea of people, we meet many individuals. Just like these people, some we meet but never get to understand. For others we meet, we get to come together fall in love with; but never to stay together for a lifetime. And for some, we get to walk down the path of life and grow old together.

Just like the story tells, the first person that passed by without doing anything is similar to those that you meet but never get to know more about. The second person that gave her the clothes is the ones that you date and love, but without fruition. And lastly, the third person is the one that saved you in the past, only for you to return this favor in this lifetime.

In this story, there may be some concepts that seem foreign to many. One example may be: Why does the woman have to return the favor for a lifetime just because the third person buries her?

This is because historically, burying someone is a sign of respect and allows their soul to rest peacefully. Giving their physical body a place to rest allows them to pass on in peace and reincarnate.

In Chinese culture, burying someone well is important because it is viewed as a sign of respect to your ancestors, who will in turn bless you and future generations to come. There are many superstitions and folk/regional rules about how and where to bury the deceased, along with how they and their graves are to be treated afterwards. 

Many believe that by following these rules, it affects their luck and how their future generations live. If they happen to get rich, people will say “you buried your ancestors well” or “your ancestral grave is buried in a good place”- often referring to the Feng Shui aspect that’s connected to it. And if bad events continuously happen or a major bad event happens, some may wonder if it’s because they chose a bad location for the grave or if they’ve somehow angered their ancestor’s spirit by not doing something correctly.

Tying this back to the story, the third person showed respect to an unknown woman and went out of his way to bury her. He gave her soul a place to rest and allowed her to move on and reincarnate. In a way, he took care of her in the form of a duty that would only be carried out by family. Thus, in the next life she repays him by becoming his lifelong family; his wife.

Anyways, Affinity is an interesting story that I came by when I was very young. At that time, I thought the concept was so interesting (just as much as I think Rick and Morty series or the Fermi Pardox is interesting). It kind of ties in with the lesson of karma and that what we do can affect us in different ways. If we take a step forward, our story can change, and that in turn can also create a change in someone else’s life. Regardless of whether we believe in reincarnation or not, relationships are built on taking that step forward. Without the back and forth interaction, we kind of seem like the first passerby; the one that looks and walks away.

For now, I choose to be the onlooker. #Social distancing #Goodnight

[daylflay]

It’s Always Darkest

Before the Dawn

“It’s always darkest before the dawn”; that’s how the old adage goes. Having said that, it’s currently pretty difficult for most of us to see past the dark. COVID-19 continues to spread (https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-argentina/argentina-announces-mandatory-quarantine-to-curb-coronavirus-idUSKBN216446), the economy inexorably spirals downward (https://www.marketwatch.com/story/echoes-of-the-great-depression-us-economy-could-post-biggest-contraction-ever-2020-03-19), and my home state of California has just been put into lockdown (https://www.politico.com/states/california/story/2020/03/19/newsom-orders-all-40m-californians-to-stay-home-in-nations-strictest-state-lockdown-1268248). The world is currently facing a crisis the scale of which arguably hasn’t been seen since said world was at war with itself, and for some, at least in America, that crisis started in 2016 when our current president was elected; for others, it started back during the 2007/2008 financial crisis; regardless of when the crisis started, the only path forward starts with labor. 

During the early 20th century, when industry was changing the nature of then-modern life, global conflict’s grisly violence shocked sensibilities, and the meaning of life in Western culture started being questioned by the masses, a group of writers/artists known as the Modernists rose to the occasion and attempted to encapsulate the malaise and spiritual unease of their milieu. Poets like Edward Arlington Robinson chose to focus on the cynicism of the moment, as portrayed in his poem, Richard Cory. At the end of Robinson’s poem, the titular Richard Cory commits suicide: “And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, went home and put a bullet through his head.” I’m personally a highly cynical individual, and can very much understand Robinson’s disposition, but in this particular moment of ours, amidst a pandemic, I believe there’s much merit in the antithesis of my usual misanthropy; I think it’s optimism that gets us through this, not the other way around, and that will take work in our current social climate. Ezra Pound was another Modernist, and famously cynical, but he did have a somewhat famous catchphrase that I think is helpful in spite of his problematic nature: “Make it new”. Though neither Robinson nor Pound achieved the success they desired via their poetry, both economically and otherwise, until their latter years, they still labored on and continued writing, because they understood the importance of what they were creating; they understood that the moment in which they lived demanded their sacrifice. In our current moment of crisis, when nothing is certain and everyone’s on edge, we have to take our usual misplaced hatred and diametric opposition towards each other and work towards transforming it all into something else; we have to make it new.  

The New

The idea of making something new can result in positive and negative developments, and Brooke Erin Duffy delves into some of the latter in The romance of work: Gender and aspirational labour in the digital culture industries. In Duffy’s article, she rallies against a new form of exploitative labor unique to the digital era: “While critical discourses of precarity and instability offer a decidedly bleak view of the contemporary labor market, individualist appeals to passion and entrepreneurialism temporally reroute employment concerns. That is, affective mantras like ‘Do What You Love’ shift workers’ focus from the present to the future, dangling the prospect of a career where labour and leisure harmoniously coexist. This illusory coexistence is well suited to descriptions of work in the culture industries, widely understood as environments where low pay and long hours are a tradeoff for creative autonomy”. I think Duffy’s ultimately correct in her assessments, but this present moment of ours compels me to momentarily disregard the nefarious implications of the modern labor market. I think that if you’re able to create entertaining content for people during this dark period of time, and you get to “do what you love” while doing so, then you’re providing a mutually beneficial service when people need such a thing most. It’s during moments like these that the best in people can shine through the ominous haze, and the individuals I’m tracking are (mostly) no exception. For the most part, the people I’m paying attention to are already professionally involved in media to some degree, so they’re not vying for employment on the same level the individuals Duffy refers to in her article are, but that makes their intent clearer to an extent.

Rick Wilson always makes attempts to simultaneously espouse his ideology while humorously attacking individuals on Twitter, but he’s also been posting a lot of entertaining memes/gifs recently. Just today (3/19/20), he posted two of them within a couple of hours of one another: One was a gif pulled from a South Park episode, which itself was a reference to the film The Human Centipede, and it read, “I wonder if Hannity likes the cuttlefish or the vanilla pudding.”; the other was an image of Donald Trump in a Star Trek costume, and it read, “Glad we have a space force instead of a pandemic response team”. Rick was not being incredibly nice to either Sean Hannity or Donald Trump, but the overtly humorous images are bound to brighten the days of folks that are rightfully upset with both Hannity and Trump for their respective roles in exacerbating the current crisis.

Mehdi Hasan is generally a solemn tweeter, which is sensible considering that his occupation as a journalist entails that he maintain a certain sobriety when communicating anything to the public. Mehdi’s approach to producing sunnier-than-usual content today involved (somewhat) praising a man he loathes, and bestowing loving and kind thoughts upon his children: In a tweet directed at Fox News host Tucker Carlson, Mehdi tweeted a link to a Clickhole (a humor/satire website) article whose headline read, “Heartbreaking: The Worst Person You Know Just Made A Great Point”; in another of Mehdi’s heartfelt tweets of the day, only a minute separated from the prior tweet, Mehdi responds to a tweet by Time magazine editor Anand Giridharadas that read, ‘What have you watched, read, or heard in this strange, dark time that has given you comfort and joy?’, to which Mehdi says, “My kids”. It’s a nice moment from Mehdi, and a reminder of what’s important during times like these.

Like with most things in life, women, relative to men, have to deal with additional complications attached to their actions online, and that unfortunately remains true even when it comes to them trying to do moral and selfless things. In The Unwanted Labour Of Social Media: Women Of Colour Call Out Culture As Venture Community Management, Lisa Nakamura, like Brooke Duffy criticizes exploitative digital labor practices, especially germane to women: “Digital labour is ‘difficult to conceptualise’ because the internet creates new styles of labour: it not only traffics far more in the immaterial, it is also arrayed along new axes of production, new forms of compensation, and new forms of gendering and racialisation. It is this kind of labour that interests me. I am specifically interested in the hidden and often-stigmatised and dangerous labour performed by women of colour, queer and trans people, and racial minorities who call out, educate, protest, and design around toxic social environments in digital media.” All of the women I’m following fall into at least one of the aforementioned social/cultural categories, i.e., they’re all women of color, and one of them is trans. These women, even while being entertaining are still politically conscious, and just by existing on Twitter are making a statement while simultaneously making themselves vulnerable. Having said that, they still persist in generating entertaining content for everyone’s sake despite it all. 

Patti Harrison is trans and Vietnamese, and doesn’t hide either from her 100,000-strong Twitter following, so she’s someone whose very public existence is a powerful declaration of pride in of itself. On March 15th, and also today (3/19), Patti shared how she was spending her isolated time at home, in typically candid form: (3/15) “I am playing @AbzuGame right now on PS4 & it is really good also I am high and online! Love the websites on here. This tweet go viral now!”; (3/19) “Uh  oh…craft alert…I hand-painted these @Margiela tabi boots. And Per @tweetrajouhari I added an awful foot tattoo of Elsa from Frozen.” Patti, by simply sharing the details of her seemingly enjoyable time at home, invited her Twitter feed into her life, and she was happy to do so, which must’ve made a plethora of her followers feel markedly less alone with such a vibrant personality keeping them company virtually. 

Kashana Cauley is a black woman, who, like Patti, has upwards of 100,000 followers, which inevitably results in some negative attention, but she tweets on regardless. Kashana hasn’t been very active on Twitter recently, but when she does tweet, she makes it count, as evidenced by this tweet from March 15th: “Ask not what staying home on the couch can do for you, but what staying home on the couch can do for your country.” That tweet of hers was liked by over 100,000 people, which exceeds her follower count. The amount of people that it reached, and the amount of people who interacted with it, is astounding, and the amount of humor and joy she surely brought to those lives, even if just for a moment, is commensurately astounding.

Candace Owens, unlike the aforementioned women, is not exactly one to diffuse joy; in fact Candace loves doing the exact opposite. Her presence on Twitter is almost exclusively designed to anger people and start fights, which is why I’m so shocked that even she is attempting to lighten up the mood during this somber period of time. This is a tweet of hers from today (3/19): “I wanted to do panic buying, but then I checked my account. Turns out I can only afford to panic…#CoronavirusHumor…Lighten up folks.” If even Candace is willing to perform humorously in favor of the greater good, as opposed to inflaming tensions with her usual provocative rhetoric, then I have hope for the dawn.

The Dawn

In Of Modern Poetry, Wallace Stevens communicates the spirit of Ezra Pound’s directive to “make it new”: “The poem of the mind is the act of finding what will suffice. It has not always had to find: The scene was set; it repeated what was in the script. Then the theatre was changed.” Our global theatre has officially changed, and each and every one of us has a responsibility to work towards finding what will suffice in this maelstrom of ever-changing circumstances. For me, that means working on a script for a movie that has zero chance of actually existing (which means that I have zero chance of profiting off of any of this), because I’m just hoping that it makes someone out there smile.

In my last blog post, I imagined what a contemporary addition to George A. Romero’s living dead cinematic universe might look like. Personally, the act of simply thinking and writing about this silly, hypothetical project has brought me some sense of joy during all of this, and that’s saying a lot for someone as typically nihilistic as myself. I’m going to add to said hypothetical entry in Romero’s saga, entitled Gen-Z, with a speech delivered towards the end of the “film”. This speech is delivered by a Communications student at the university in Fullerton, California in which the living dead outbreak originated. A number of the university’s students have barricaded themselves in the campus, and are about to engage in a last stand against the hordes of living dead. Their survival is unlikely, so they’ve decided to gather one last time in an attempt to rouse one another before their climactic battle. 

This is the speech that the student delivers: “I remember my first official day on this campus vividly, but not fondly. It was the first day of the Fall ’18 semester, and I guess classes just let out because I saw what felt like thousands of people suddenly rush across campus. It was like the running of the Titans, and I was wearing orange. Or the running of the dead, and I was alive, as the case may be. College was never part of my plan, so I had never toured any university campuses, and I did not know what to expect. I kind of freaked out and started questioning all of my decisions, like: Why did I decide to attend a school with 40,000 students if I don’t even like small groups of people? And why did I major in Human Communication Studies if I don’t even like myself? It was overwhelming to me that I could be surrounded by people, yet feel so alone. Then I walked over to my first class, and I saw some of the same faces that I’m looking at today. Everything can be overwhelming when you feel like you’re alone, but what I started to learn that very first day, and what this major continues to teach me, is that I am not alone; none of us are. I have not had the pleasure of knowing everyone on this campus, but we have all walked this path together despite that: We have all been stressed out because of Finals, we have all battled personal demons, and zombies, we have all lived life with its many complexities, and we did it all together on this campus. To this day, I still do not like myself all that much, but that’s okay, because none of this is really about me; it’s about all of you. Look to your right, and to your left, and in front of you, and maybe behind you; that is why we do what we do; we fight alongside each other, for each other. In this era of social media, divisiveness, and the living dead, nothing is more important than empathy, and that is the core tenet of our work here. We have been trained to understand each other, and that means that it is incumbent upon us to help mend our fractured communities; our fractured country; our fractured world. It is going to be a lot of work, but it’s work worth doing, because we’re not just doing it for ourselves. As Zac Efron once said in the 2006 hit film, High School Musical: ‘We’re all in this together.’ Rest in peace, Zac, this one’s for you. Now let’s go kill some fucking zombies!”  

[such-a-common-girl]

Scandalous Love [Negan x Reader] Pt. 2

Word Count: 5,155

Series Summary:  In this tumultuous story, the drama begins when Negan threatens to kill your boyfriend, and group leader, Rick Grimes if you don’t join him in the Sanctuary as his wife. Over the time you spend as Negan’s wife, feelings arise, making everything a bit more complicated. Based off a request. 

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, insecurities, alcohol use, violence/gore, fluff

Part One

Waking up the next morning and realizing that the previous night’s events were not, in fact, a dream hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” Negan’s voice booms through the room, startling you. You had only woken up a few moments prior, still in a sleepy state, and the last thing you wanted to hear right now was a highly loud and enthusiastic Negan.

“What time is it?” Your voice comes out groggy, your eyes still half closed. The sunshine is streaming through the light colored curtains, indicating that it was still quite early in the morning. During your time you spent with Rick and your previous group, you learned easily how to tell time by where the sun was placed throughout the day.

You wince as you realize that you just considered the people you view as family your “previous group.” Whilst it is true, it still hurts your heart to refer to them as that. The emotional wound is still prominent and sore within you. You feel as if it might always be, but you also know you have to make an effort to put it behind you, despite how much you would rather dwell on it. You made your choice, this is your life now. As much as you hate Negan, he had a point when he said that you didn’t have to make it any worse than it has to be. It’s only as bad as you make it. And after your breakdown you had last night, you knew that he was right.

Dwelling over what you lost isn’t going to change anything.

“’Round six a.m.  I told you that you’d have a busy day today.” Negan half smiles at you, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“So, husband,” You say quite bitterly. “What exactly is on the agenda today?”

“Meetin’ the other wives, makin’ sure that the community here knows that you’re off limits, and I got a little surprise for you afterward. You’ll like it, that’s for damn sure.” Negan winks at you.

“Boy, am I thrilled!” You say with fake enthusiasm. “How many other wives do you have, anyway?”

“Seven, including your feisty ass.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, unbelieving of what you just heard. When Negan had told you that he had more than one wife, you were expecting two or three, maybe four at the most. Never had you ever expected for him to say that he had seven.

A part of you is disgusted that he’s using his power to gain him things like this, since you could almost guarantee that if Negan wasn’t, well, Negan, he couldn’t do things like these. Despite the condition of the world (although most laws aren’t typically followed anymore), most groups wouldn’t agree with their members having several spouses.

Another part of you, though, has to admit that you’re intrigued. Who the hell is this guy?

You must have a shocked look on your face because when Negan notices your reaction, a giant grin appears on his lips.

“S’alright to be surprised, hun. It’s a shit ton to spring on to you. I can be sympathetic, remember?” Negan sits down on the bed by your feet. Leaving the comfort of your pillow and blanket, you force yourself to sit up and face him. For a moment, you forget what he did, why you’re here. The only thing you can notice is how attractive he looks.

Similar to what he was wearing the previous night, his white shirt (no leather jacket this time) and tight gray pants fit him in the all the right places. His dark hair, no longer slicked back, is sticking up messily but in the best way possible. His chocolate brown eyes look soft and inviting, not unlike the expression you’ve received from Rick several times. His salt and pepper beard is freshly shaven, seemingly only ridden of this morning. For a minute, Negan’s utter beauty makes you forget who he is.

But the minute you spot the tiniest drop of blood on his face from where he had cut himself shaving, you come back to reality in a heartbeat. Memories of last night come flooding back, and although the blood on his face is merely from a shaving incident, you can’t help but remember that last night it wasn’t.

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, looking away from him. “I’m gonna get dressed, do you mind?”

“Not at all, babe.” Negan smirks at you, indicating that he was expecting you to change in front of him.

“Get out.” You point to the door. “If I wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed as you last night, why in the hell would you think I would change in front of you?”

“Shit, never mind.” Negan raises his hands up in defense, walking over to the door. “Score number two for me in showing you how much of a gentleman I can be. I will respect your boundaries.”

“You’re going to need a shit ton of more points for that one, buddy.” Attitude seeps through your voice. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“And believe me, Y/N,” Negan begins to shut the door, giving you the privacy you desire. “I plan on it.”

-

“Ladies,” Negan opens the double doors to a room filled with a large group of women. They all look over at Negan, back at you, and then back at Negan. Their faces mirror each other with either ones of anger or curiosity, all directed towards you, and you can’t help but feel intimidated. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help it. They’re all exquisitely beautiful, and next to them, you feel like you are nothing.

You suddenly understand why Negan had told you that you’ll want nicer clothing. All of the wives are impeccably dressed, wearing skin tight dresses along with heels. All of their makeup is done perfectly and not one hair is out of place. Not to say that they didn’t look uncomfortable, because almost all of them did, but that doesn’t help with making you feel bad about yourself. You’re only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with your hair up in a messy ponytail and no makeup. It’s what you always wear, and you never really had a problem with it until now. These women are intimidating.

‘It doesn’t matter. I can’t compare myself to them. I am only here for one reason, and one reason only. Having a beauty contest with a group of sister wives is not that. I’m here because I chose to save my boy- ex-boyfriend. I refuse to compare myself to them.’ You think, shaking your head. Giving a weak smile to the women standing in the room, you wave hello to them all.

“Now, this here is Y/N.” Negan introduces you to the women, who only stare at you in response. “And I want all of you to be real fucking nice to her, alright? She’s new, and you guys know what that means. The new wife gets more time with me. I don’t want any bullshit jealousy going on around here, my dear wives. If I hear about anyone saying even the slightest motherfuckin’ rude thing to Y/N, well… You know. You understand me?” Negan raises his eyebrow, giving Lucille a little twist in his hand before turning to you and winking.

You roll your eyes, noticing how hard he is trying to woo you. To be frank, you don’t understand why Negan is trying so hard. He got what he wanted, you’re here, and you agreed to act somewhat civilized towards him. If he is seriously going to try and attempt to have you develop a liking towards him, he’s more psychotic than you originally thought.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Negan sighs dramatically. “Make yourself at home, Y/N.”

You look around the room hesitantly, unsure of where to go. None of the wives looked too particularly inviting, except maybe the small blonde girl who is sitting on the couch. She’s been avoiding eye contact with Negan the entire time, taking small sips of her champagne as she seemingly waits for him to leave.

You’re about to walk over to her, deciding that taking your chances with her was better than the other girls who are staring at you angrily. Your pick up your foot to begin walking her way when Negan grabs your arm, pulling you back towards him.

“Let me know if you change your mind about the clothes.” He whispers in your ear, his grip tightening on your arm. “You look about the same size as Sherry. I’m sure her feisty ass wouldn’t mind lending you clothes.”

“I’ll think about it.” You dismiss him, the idea of wearin his wives clothing slightly off-putting.

Negan lets go of your arm before walking out of the room, closing the doors behind him. You look around the room awkwardly, and to your surprise, all of the women look relieved now that you’re gone. Maybe they weren’t angry at you like you thought- maybe the attitude was directed towards Negan.

A woman with light brown hair approaches you, an unreadable expression on her face as she hands you a glass of champagne.

“Here,” She says as you take the glass from her. “You’re going to need it.”

“Uh, okay.” You respond slowly, staring down at the champagne like it’s a foreign object. In some ways, it is, since you haven’t really had the luxury of having alcohol since the outbreak began, even with previously living inside Alexandria. The booze was limited and saved for special occasions.

“You can drink it, you know.” She raises her eyebrow at you. “It’s not poison.”

“Thanks?” Your voice squeaks.

“I’m Sherry.” She introduces herself.

“I’m Y/N.” You wave, unsure of how to act around her. You know this is the women that Negan said that you remind him of (which you’re assuming is not a good thing, since you’ve been quite the bitch). “So, this is what it’s like being in a big, polyamorous marriage, huh? Can’t say I ever imagined this being my future.”

“Yeah, if you call this marriage.” Sherry snorts. “It’s bullshit. Most of us are only here because of Negan’s threats. That’s why you’re here, right? You’re the girl who came with Daryl?”

“Wait, you know about Daryl?” You’re immediately interested in the conversation. “Is he okay? What’s happening to him?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “My ex, Dwight, he’s in charge of the torture. That’s all I know.”

“Fuck,” You whisper, your eyes beginning to water. You hate that Daryl is being tortured right now, it breaks your heart. You wish you could do something.

“Don’t cry.” Sherry snaps. “If Negan sees you crying, he’ll have a bitch fit. Just ask Amber over there.” She points to the small blonde sitting on the couch, looking terrified.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” You snap back. “Daryl is a good ass friend of mine, and the only reason I am even here is to save my group. So, do me a favor and don’t tell me what to do.”

“I like you.” Sherry grins. “You’ve got a mind of your own. That’s something you don’t see around here much.”

“I’ve noticed.” You deadpan. Sherry laughs, taking you over to another room that is connected to the main area you’re in now. The room is filled with clothing, all of which are exquisitely fancy.

“Choose your poison,” Sherry tells you, letting you roam around the room. “Negan wouldn’t dare let any of his wives walk around looking like that.”

“Why the fuck is it that you guys are so into material things here?” You glare. “We’re the fucking apocalypse. Why the hell does it matter what I wear?”

“Negan likes his wives to be dressed nicely.” She shrugs. “So I’d seriously consider complying.”

‘Don’t be difficult, Y/N. Don’t forget that you’re trying to make this as less terrible as possible.’ You remind yourself, and you give Sherry a big, fake smile.

“I’ll take the black one.” You say sweetly. She hands you a black dress, which is skin tight and stops just below your butt. You feel uncomfortable wearing it, especially once Sherry handed you matching black heels, since you never dress like this. Not even before the outbreak.

You and Sherry are walking back into the common room when you spot Negan sitting on the couch, speaking to the wife with ginger hair. When he sees you walking towards him, his jaw visibly drops.

“Well hot damn, Y/N.” He ogles you. “I knew Sherry could talk you into it.”

“That she did.” You grit your teeth.

“You get along with everyone?” Negan asks you, completely disregarding the conversation he was having with the ginger wife.

“Perfectly.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Negan beams. “C’mon, Y/N. We’ve got other shit to do today, this was only stop one.”

“Awesome…” You whisper under your breath. Negan grabs your hand, leading out of the door as the wives look at you in sympathy, all of them except Sherry, who stands there with a straight face. You’re really not sure how you feel about her.

For the next few hours, Negan gives you a tour of the Sanctuary. You meet most of his men, and you’ll admit that you actually like some of them. They’re not all terrible people, much to your surprise. Most of them just don’t realize there is better out there, that Negan isn’t everything.

Every time a man would look at you in any sexual way, Negan would smirk and pull you closer to him, as if to say, ‘Hell yeah, she’s mine. Hot as shit, ain’t she?’

When the “tour” was finally over, you’re exhausted. You’d like nothing more than to go to bed, and as you’re about to, Negan reminds you that you have one activity left. The “surprise.”

“You ready for your surprise, dear wife?” Negan asks as he throws his arm around you, making you promptly reach up to shove it off of you. But, after the (quite terrifying, if you’re honest) look that Negan gives you, you allow him to put his arm around your shoulders.

“No. I can only imagine what kind of surprise you have for me, anyways. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow. I’m exhausted, Negan. Believe it or not, it’s been a rough few days.” You sigh. “You woke me up early this morning, after having a long ass night, and then proceeded to tote me around the Sanctuary for hours like a toddler would with a new toy.”

“It’s the same damn concept, isn’t it?” Negan smirks. You glare at him in response, making him laugh. “Jesus, sweetheart, it was a joke. Believe it or not, I can have a sense of humor.”

“Mhm.” You mumble as you start to walk faster down the hall, hoping to get to your ‘surprise’ as quickly as possible. You have no idea what it could be, but it worries you. Negan doesn’t strike you as the type of guy that would give you a nice, nor romantic, surprise.

He leads you to the main entry door of the building, guiding you outside. He takes you to a white truck, smaller than the RV, but still big enough to hold a few people. The two men who were in the front seat the night before, now recognizing them as Dwight and Simon, are sitting in the back of the truck, waiting for you two to arrive.

Negan opens the passenger side door, smirking as allowing you to get inside the truck. You hesitantly get inside, your nerves growing by the minute. Where could you possibly be going?

“Score three for Negan- opening up the door for you like a goddamn gentleman,” Negan says once he gets into the driver’s seat.

“Wow, you’re really getting up there.” You say sarcastically, but you can’t help but have a small laugh escape from your lips. This guy really is dedicated to showing you how “respectful” he can be.

“Did I- Did I just make you laugh?” Negan raises his eyebrows. “Well, hot diggity dog! Score number fucking four!”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You huff out, your smile faint.

Negan puts the key into the ignition and begins to drive off, his workers opening up the main gate as you exit the boundaries of the Sanctuary.

You drive for a while in silence, no one saying anything. You can’t take it anymore- you need to know where you’re going.

“Negan, just tell me where we’re going.” You roll your eyes, turning to face him.

“Baby girl, I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” Negan smirks. “But, if you insist, I will. We’re going to visit your buddies back home.”

Your face drops, unsure if you heard him correctly. “What?”

“We are going to Alexandria!” His voice booms throughout the truck.

“Negan, I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” You shoot him a look. “You said you’d give them a week. It’s been a day. Please, Negan.”

You never once thought that you’d be begging Negan for anything, but if it comes down to saving the people you consider your family, you’d do anything for it. Begging and pleading Negan included, no matter how idiotic it made you seem.

You know why he’s going to Alexandria, or at least you have a pretty good idea. He’s going to take all of the stuff they own, as well as most likely show off to Rick what he lost.

“Shit, I like you begging for me like this.” Negan smirks, and you have to stop yourself from smacking him in the face. “Do it again.”

“Negan,” You breathe out, not believing that you’re about to give him what he wants. “Please. Those people… I may not be with them anymore, but they’re my family. I can’t stop you from taking their stuff, shit, I can’t stop you from doing anything. But please, give them the amount of time you promised. Keep your word. Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Negan sighs. “We don’t have to.”

“Thank you.” A rush of relief runs through your body. A part of you can’t believe that he just agreed to it, that he didn’t even put up a fight or try and force you to go anyways.

“If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, we weren’t going to take their crap. Hell no- I would’ve brought all of my damn men if that’s what we were doin’. I was just takin’ you to get your shit to bring back to your new home.” Negan looks over at you.

“Oh.” You mumble. He was going to do that for you? I guess you were wrong about him not making nice gestures for people, despite his persona. “I still don’t want to go. If I’m making a new life for myself, I want to leave everything behind. Leave my shit in Alexandria- it’ll just make me remember what I left behind. I have no interest in that. I have no interest in going back to Alexandria ever, not unless you ‘divorce’ me and I’m free to live on my own.”

“Damn, that’s a sob story. Are you that upset about bein’ my wife?” Negan frowns.

“Please don’t act like you care, Negan. Just turn the truck around and let’s go home.” You shake your head, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. The sun is already setting, and although you can barely see the sunset through the trees, you know it’s a pretty one. The orange, pink, and purple colors peek throughout the tree branches, and it brings a sense of peace for you. Sunsets always do.

“I told you this once, I’ll tell you it again. I actually fucking like yo- shit!” Negan swerves the car off the road. Your body slams into the side of the truck, which is now halfway into the ditch off the side of the road. You look over at Negan in confusion and terror, wondering what the hell just happened.

You look out of the window of the car, and your jaw drops. A giant herd of walkers are standing in the middle of the road, walking right towards the truck you’re in.

“We need to get out of here right fucking now. Grab your weapons and shoot. We can outrun those bastards if we go fast enough.” Negan orders, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Y/N, you know how to shoot, right?”

“Of course.” You nod your head.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. Me, Simon, and Dwight will take care of it. Run as fast as you possibly fuckin’ can, alright sweetheart?” Negan reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt as well.

“I can fight, I can-“ You start, but Negan cuts you off by shaking his head.

“No,” He states. “I’m not going to risk you getting hurt.”

You’re taken aback by his level of concern for you, but you don’t have the time to process it. You just not your head, kicking off your heels as you open up the passenger side door. You start running down the road barefoot in the opposite direction of the walkers, looking back every once in a while to make sure none of them are catching up. Negan is only a few feet behind you, shooting his gun at the occasional walker, while Dwight and Simon are even further behind. The air is ringing with the sounds of bullets being shot and the distinct sounds of walkers.

After a few more minutes of sprinting, Negan catches up to you, you both out of breath. Lucille is in his left hand while his gun is in the other as he stops running, looking at you with concern.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Negan pants out.

“I’m fine.” You nod. “How are we supposed to get back to the truck? We’re far enough away now, but I don’t have a doubt they’re still there.”

“Looks like we’re goin’ camping.” Negan grins. “They’ll be gone tomorrow. We can walk back then.”

“Okay.” You say simply. You’d rather not stay overnight in the middle of the woods with no real shelter, but it would have to do. You know your chances of survival are better this way than if you try and stay back at the truck, fighting off the walkers with limited bullets.

“Where the fuck are Dwight and Simon?” Negan looks down the road, furrowing his brows. “Those dickwads better not have gotten themselves killed, they’re my best men.”

“They’re probably fine. They were behind us, and we were sprinting. They’ll catch up. We can just sit here and wait for them.” You put on the safety button on your gun, beginning to sit down.

“Hell no we won’t.” Negan scoffs. “No way in fucking hell we are sitting out here in the open while we wait for them. We’re going to find a place to set up camp is what we’re doin’.”

“You’re abandoning your men?” You ask in an accusing tone.

“Like you said, they’re probably fine.” He shrugs. “Besides, I am more worried about us right now. You’re my main concern over them.”

You wanted to argue with him, tell him that he had no concern for you at all. Tell him that he’s a lying piece of shit. But after tonight, after he practically saved your ass because he seemed genuinely worried about you, you don’t say anything. You just nod in acceptance, not knowing what to think. You want to hate him, and a part of you does- but a part of you doesn’t, too. Some of you knows that this man isn’t as bad as he seems to be, even if you refuse to admit it to yourself.

Negan sets his gun in his pocket, leading you out into the woods. Every time either one of you hears a noise that could remotely sound like a walker, you two instantly draw your guns back out, ready for a fight. Although, since none of the times were actually walkers, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re just paranoid.

“This’ll do.” Negan stops at the base of a relatively large tree, with a padding of grass surrounding the area beside it. You two sit down your things before laying down in the grass.

“Goodnight.” Negan whispers, patting your ass as he closes his eyes. He’s only a few feet away from you, close enough for your arms and legs to touch each other, but far enough away that it’s not uncomfortable for you.

You don’t respond, only closing your eyes as you drift off to sleep.

You were almost asleep when you heard it. The sounds of the leaves crunching, the low grumbles and noises that a walker makes. Your brain didn’t process what was going on until you felt it grab your foot, making you jump up and start screaming.

“Fuck!” You scream out, attempting to get your gun out of your pocket as you try and kick it off of you. Its mouth is getting dangerously close to your calf, and it’s worrying you since you’re having a hard time taking your gun off safety.

Just as you think it's going to bite you, Negan jumps up from where he was sleeping, bashing its head in with Lucille. The walker falls to the ground, lifeless. Your heart is still beating out of your chest when you look over at Negan, who is standing above you with a bloodied Lucille in his hand.

“Oh my god,” Your voice trembles as you speak. “Thank you.”

This is the second time he’s saved you tonight, and as much as it pains you, he deserved a thank you. Negan isn’t as bad as you presumed he would be. Maybe he was right when he said that he’s not a bad guy, that he was just doing his job whenever he killed your friends. Yes, it was a terrible thing that you’ll forgive nor forget about. But, as Negan has been proving himself to you, you’re understanding that he did what he did for a reason. Rick did kill twelve of his men, and if the situation was turned around, Rick would have done the same thing. Hell, Rick wouldn’t have been merciful at all- he would’ve killed all of them.

Your heart hurts a little at the thought of Rick, and how you just defended Negan. You can’t help but feel like you’re betraying Rick (and Maggie, and the rest of the group, for that matter) by having these thoughts, by feeling like Negan isn’t a terrible person.

You shake your head mentally at yourself, guilt spreading throughout you. ‘Why the hell am I feeling this way towards the man who killed my friends and practically forced me to be his wife? I can’t feel this way. It’s wrong. I can’t.”

“No problem, Y/N.” Negan sets Lucille down on the ground. “I’m gonna go drag this shithole somewhere else so it’s not sittin’ by us while we sleep.”

“Okay.” You whisper out, your body still shaking at how close you just were to brushing death. Negan comes back a few moments later, an exhausted look on his face as he sits down beside you.

“Go to bed, sweetheart. Go to sleep. I’ll stay up and keep watch.” Negan whispers.

“I’ll stay up with you. Not fair for only one of us to be exhausted.” You shrug, sitting up and leaning your back up against the wall.

“Just go to damn sleep, Y/N.” Negan sighs.

“I don’t think I can right now.” You admit. “That freaked me out. My heart is racing too fast for me to relax and sleep right now.”

“Ah, come here sweetie.” Negan puts his arm around your shoulder, inviting you to lay on his chest. You hesitate, realizing how intimate that position would be. A few hours ago, you would have scoffed and not even considered that idea. It would have been preposterous. But now? After all that’s happened? You’re not sure how you feel.

After some internal debate, you slowly lay your head down on his chest, feeling his own rapid heartbeat against your cheek. His body is warm against you, making you cuddle into him more as the cool air around you blows lightly. The dress that Sherry had lent you to wear was obviously not made for warmth.

You hate to admit that you’re enjoying this.

“Can I ask you a question?” Negan speaks up after some time.

“After everything that has happened between us these past few days, you’re asking permission to ask me a question?” You say, dumbfounded. “Sure, go ahead.”

“You got real mighty pissed at me earlier, back in the truck while we were talkin’ about how I care for you. Then you just… Calmed down. Outta goddamn nowhere. You went from being Yosemite Sam to Granny in point two seconds.” Negan says.

You laugh softly at his Loony Toons reference, having not watched that show since you were a young girl. “I saw the sunset.”

“The hell does the sunset have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know,” You whisper out honestly. “There’s just something about it. It’s a source of comfort for me. No matter how bad the world gets, no matter how ugly and dirty- the beauty of the sunset is always there. It’s the only constant, beautiful thing left. It’s always there, and until the world ends, it always will be.”

“Christ, that’s deep.” Negan says after a few moments. “I never thought about it that way.”

“Well, now you do.” You say softly.

“You really loved Rick, didn’t ya?” Negan says solemnly.

“Yeah, he was the love of my life. Not like it matters anymore, though.” You lay there on his chest, eyes closed.

Negan is silent, deciding to not continue the conversation. You take this chance to begin to slowly drift off to sleep, hoping that Negan keeps his word about protecting you. You’re almost asleep again when something interrupts you, but this time, it’s not a walker. Nope, it’s Negan, who is talking to himself.  

“Holy hell, I haven’t had a girl make me feel this way since… Fuck. What am I getting myself into?” He mumbles, clearly thinking you’re asleep. You can feel him staring at you, despite your eyes being closed. “You’re not what I expected, Y/N. Not at all.”

Little does he know, though, that you’re asking yourself the same question. What am I getting myself into?

SERIES TAG LIST: @chandlerhuggs @negans-network

EVERYTHING TWD TAG LIST: @dead-boy-12 @nicolesyneah25

if you wanna be added to either of these, let me know

[klllerwithingone-blog]

okay let’s talk. because there’s only so much passive-aggressive salt you can throw before even that’s boring. 

the thing about twd is that i used to love this show more than so many things in life. because it made me feel like it’s inportant to survive, to grow, to care about people whoa re family regardless of blood. it taught me about being good when the world is bad. & i loved carl, & rick ofc. & i loved a great many dynamics between people not based on just romance. but especially rick grimes as a father.

now i’m not saying this is the most important issue of the show. or the only problem the critics & fans have. i’m just addressing it because it relates to my character and thus this blog. 

there’s only so long you can actually look at something as being ‘oh they just don’t have time,’ or find off-screen throw away lines acceptable time savers or plot drivers. at this point, the bad writing permeates into the actual in-character universe of the show. 

at this point, the rick grimes portrayed on the show is a terrible father. sorry. 

there’s a point where your child has been shot, suffering many physical & psychological effects including apathy, discordance, a lack of aim that could, in the given world, cause death. you don’t speak to him. you don’t try and find out what’s up or train his aim or any other skills. fine. there’s others who can do better & it might be hard. it’s not... good, to have ignored it. but he did. and maybe it was very hard for him. 

your kid then choses to be mutilated and/or possibly die rather than have you or anyone else in your family be hurt. it clearly ruins you. you don’t talk to him about it because clearly, this child is mentally sound. the next time you talk to him, he snaps at you, and you throw him a frown and leave without saying goodbye.

your son is then taken hostage by your sociopaths enemy who clearly has some kind of interest in him. you find out that during this time said son gunned down a few men. your response is to throw your son a dirty look. 

after this whole experience, you probably figure... maybe it’s time for a talk. a hug. a bit of understanding and communication. something.

but rick doesn’t. not only that but rick choses to talk to his girlfriend, instead, and the pair of them make out. they don’t talk about what happened to carl or anyone else in their family. shortly after that they leave again, and rick wants to spend longer on the road, having sex in abandoned places, making sure to pick up said girlfriend gifts because that’s important. 

now, alternatively, if you actually want to go a very unhealthy route with rick and carl and play this out, though it’s nothing like actual rick grimes?? that’s one thing. and in that case, do it. actually have them talk so they can fight and argue. show the animosity. but they don’t even do that. carl is standing like cardboard, like if he isn’t acting out a comic scene he forgets how to function. 

when all of you joke about how omg carl’s grounded?? nah. i mean, i get the joke. it’s fun. but parents actually acting this way towards their kids is not healthy and, as always, i adore not healthy things. when they’re addressed as not being healthy. but this isn’t. no one see’s anything wrong with this and that makes me kind of sick. 

& honestly the same people giving lori shit for ‘palming carl off on people’ are the ones like ‘omg shut up it doesn’t matter’. the double standards here are pretty disgusting. & this coming from someone who makes a point to stand up for males when double standads hit them. ofc Carl is 15/16 now and can handle a lot more. & yet still has an injury and the afore mentioned things in need of addressing. & then there’s judy. i hate how judy is utalized as a plot device. but i’ll address her here as part of the narrative. rick palms judy off constantly but at the very least remembers he has a responsibility/care for that child. whilst seeming to forget about his son completely.

but as i say... it’s beyond the point of awkward writing now. it can no longer be ignored or written off. it’s actually kind of disgusting. and it’s so sad cause that’s not rick grimes at all.

and if you wanna’ talk about richonne, like it or loathe it, that’s not any kind of man i can see michonne wanting at all. even if you go for the ‘it’s just that he doesn’t know how to approach carl’ angle, the fact she hasn’t slapped his face and told him to make it good is ridiculous. the fact they never discuss it being the problem.

even if you don’t really like carl or you love richonne, i can’t see how you can look at this objectively and be like ‘that’s ok.’ 

so what the show teaches me now? all that matters is the quick throws of something semi-romantic. & that it’s okay to throw away responsibilities for it. & that it cures all kinds of mental stresses & disorders. & that it’s okay to give up if your boyfriend/girlfriend is gone somehow because that’s what matters: not you. not family you’ve made yourself with grit & respect. 

[takebackthedream]

Dear Democrats: Screwing Public Schools Won't Get You Elected by Jeff Bryant

“Here we go again,” was what many left-leaning folks likely felt after seeing a recent announcement about a new effort by wealthy donors to rescue the Democratic Party from its electoral doldrums. Backed by $20 million, the “New Blue” campaign, coming from politically centrist think tank Third Way, promises to lead the  party out of the “wilderness” of its minority status to a pathway to “achieving progressive majorities up and down the ballot.”

But Third Way’s offer sounds more like a continuation of the old losing ways. This is especially true on the issue of education where Third Way continues to bang the drum for a failed agenda that voters mostly reject.

Third Way was founded in 2005, mostly with the support of the financial industry and business executives, to cement the “New Democrat” centrism of the 1990s and make Bill Clinton’s presidential administration the permanent leadership of the party. The organization “championed disastrous trade accords, balanced budgets, and cutting the safety net,” writes Robert Borosage, but now swears to mend its elitist ways and “discover how to talk to working people without alienating Wall Street.”

New Blue Blinders

Any lesson Third Way is trying to learn from its outreach to the working class is likely being lost in translation according to Molly Ball of The Atlantic. Ball accompanied Third Way researchers on a foray into middle America to find out why communities in Wisconsin, Indiana, and other parts of the Midwest flipped from voting Democratic to Republican in 2016.

“It was Third Way’s vision that had been on the ballot in 2016—and lost,” Ball explains, and now the organization wants to know why working-class voters switched, and it pledges to approach that subject with “open mindedness… humility and respect.”

Ball notes that while Third Way professes to advocate for “what the plurality of Americans are thinking,” it tends to favor an agenda that doesn’t align particularly well with what the majority of Americans, or even most Democrats, seem to want.

Throughout Third Way’s history, its calls for cutting Social Security and Medicare and its reluctance to increase the tax burdens on Wall Street and the rich have not aligned with the views of most voters. While Third Way has long urged Democrats to meet conservatives “in the middle” on issues like health care, trade, a $15 minimum wage, and tuition-free college, most Democrats today want their party to move further to the left and embrace populist grassroots causes.

According to Ball, during its outreach to the Rust Belt, Third Way heard a lot about the issues dividing Americans and making compromises between Republicans and Democrats difficult, but then decided to report instead that working class Middle America “wanted consensus, moderation, and pragmatism—just like Third Way.”

While Third Way eagerly reported about “a local employer who sang the praises of automation,” Ball notes, it neglected to include the voices of “union members who worried about jobs disappearing.” Third Way reported its encounter with a technical-college instructor who called the education crises spawned by conservative governors like Wisconsin’s Scott Walker and Michigan’s Rick Snyder “opportunities,” but chose not to report about “public-school teachers who saw their classrooms gutted by voucher programs.”

The ‘New Normal’

In its education manifesto “The New Normal in K-12 Education,” Third Way declares that the contentious arguments over important education matters — such as charter schools, standardized testing, and how to recruit and retain teachers – are essentially over and that those who are  “fighting in the trenches” just need to get with the program.

The “program,” Third Way advances sounds very much like what’s been in place for the past 15 years, especially during the Obama administration under the leadership of Secretary of Education Arne Duncan. The title of Third Way’s document is borrowed from Duncan’s own words to describe the need for schools to go along to get along with the “new normal” of Republican fiscal austerity coupled with ever harsher accountability mandates and more competition from charter schools.

Duncan’s calls for higher class sizes and leaner compensation for teachers didn’t sit well with parents then, and Third Way’s support for charter schools, more standardized testing, and cuts for experienced teachers is not popular now.

Support for charter schools has dropped by double digit percentages among Democrats and Republicans, according to a recent poll. Another recent survey found the public is also generally opposed to using voucher money to send students to private schools, an idea pushed by current Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos that Third Way completely ignores (maybe because it’s too divisive). That survey also found most of voters don’t find test scores to be the best indicators of school quality. Lack of funding continues to be the issue most often cited by voters as the biggest problem schools face. But Third Way says nothing about that either.

So if Third Way wants to understand what made Rust Belt Midwestern voters flip to Trump and how it should talk to these voters, it should start with changing the way it talks about education.

Look at Erie

If Third Ways’ researchers want to understand where the education fight fits in in a new politics for a new era, they should include Erie, Pennsylvania in their forays.

Erie had given Obama double digit victory margins in both 2008 and 2012. But in 2016, it was just one of three Pennsylvania counties that flipped to Trump. Trump won the Quaker State by 0.7, only 46,765 votes.

When I covered a story about school closings in Erie earlier this year, I found a community seething with discontent over the “new normal” embraced by Third Way and Democratic Party establishment policy-makers during the Obama years.

Lack of funding, persistent segregation, and the incursion of charter schools were bankrupting the district, while federal mandates on testing and accountability labeled the schools “failures,” which further accelerated their slide over the edge. Charter schools competing for education funds received federal dollars to expand, costing Erie schools $23 million annually, according to the most recent count.

Erie’s education crisis was inextricably entangled with the economic crisis of the community. Trade and labor policies supported by the federal government for years had helped encourage most large-scale employers to downscale employment or move factories to more profitable labor markets. Most recently, the local GE plant issued another round of layoffs, taking a payroll that once topped 20,000, down to 4,500 workers. After a previous layoff at GE in 2013, one worker hung himself from a factory crane.

“When you think about what happens when industries pull out of towns, the tax base implodes, schools [are] not well funded, and the death spiral continues,” Princeton University’s Anne Case tells a reporter for Vox.

Policies pushed by Third Way and other centrist Democrats not only don’t interrupt the death spiral, they hasten it.

A New Movement

If Third Way’s New Blue initiative is ever going to amount to any serious recalibration of the Democratic party’s message, its researchers should not only talk with white laborers but should also talk with Democrats.

What they would learn is that today’s party members are “unimpressed with party leaders whose main claims to leadership are their lengthy résumés as members of the ruling elite,” writes Richard Eskow.

In examining the same polling data I cite above, Eskow notes how out-of-step Third Way and the rest of the Wall Street wing of the Democratic party are with the party’s grassroots momentum. “The party’s voters are looking to movements to bring them new leaders and a leftward shift,” Eskow notes, “something broader and deeper, something that infuses its members’ lives with purpose and meaning.”

Those Democrats “in the trenches” fighting to save public schools are part of that movement looking for something more meaningful than the new normal Third Way promotes. They, and not Third Way, represent the only viable future the Democratic party can hope to have.

First published by Alternet.

[candicegardner8-blog]

Schedule Spider Assessment

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