#howdy waking up opens up a lot of new doors - literally!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

In the lights out au, once some of the larger neighbors wake up, would it be possible to subdue Sally? Or at least tie her up until she wakes up for real?

hm... i don't think they would or could? she starts slashin' as soon as others are in range, and it's pretty tough to get past those claws. but i've been toying with an idea where, while Howdy and Frank are out looking for more supplies they find a new section that has building tools in it. hammer, nails. if they board up Sally's house, i think it would take a very long time for her to break out

[rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip]

Trade ya

based on this ask

TW//Slight violence and a mention of blood

-

Macaque slipped back into the theatre after his little chat with the Monkey Kid.

Boy howdy, that kid had some explaining to do, to his companions. If only he could stick around and watch that mess unfold. But he had to retrieve his lamp.

Honestly, that was easier than he thought it would be.

Wich was concerning.

As Macaque walked over to the stage he paused for a moment, where was (y/n) is all this?

The Monkey King was off doing his own thing for a while, and he'd assumed his kid would be hanging around Mk and his friends, yet the amber-furred monkey wasn't with them when they had entered the theatre.

Did Mk literally forget one of his friends? damn, he was starting to become like the Hero...

despite everything that's happened between them since the whole 'I stole the Monkey Kings powers from Mk and broke his trust leaving him emotionally distressed' thing, he actually wanted to get to know his kid(and maybe convince them to join him)the week of stalking wasn't enough for him to say the least.

Disregarding the thought (though not entirely) he make is way back to the remains of the lap.

And with a little magic it was good an new!

Fuck ya!

As he admirered his handy work for s little longer and sound of clapping caught is attention. Wiping his head around he saw the wired guy in a pin strip suit form the play, if Macaque remembered correctly this was the guy that game my the *Skeleton Key.

"My my, that was such a magnificent performance!"

"Ha, ya well it's over, t-this was the last show actually"

Oh he did not like this for a single second. His fur was standing on there ends screaming for him to just leave.

Just as Macaque was about to use the shadows to escape, in a flash of icy blue light the guy was now behind him, and the next thing he know he was being picked up by the neck and for some reason couldn't, fucking move.

What the actual hell is happening???

"Lady Bone Demon would like a word with you~"

In the blink of an eye, the scenery changed form the damaged auditorium he'd rented out to and underground cave with mechanical parts and machines everywhere.

Just one wif of the musty roten air and he knew he was in the Spider Queens lair. But it looked different then it had been that last time he was there.

Then again it's been centuries since he was last there.

He was shortly let go by the insane suite wareing guy and rubbed his neck where it had been grabbed. And just like that the guy disappeared, leaving the Lady Bone Demon in his stead.

"Why greetings Macaque, its beet long since we last spoke"

" not long enough if you ask me"

The white haired lady let out a hum of acknowledgement as she circled the monkey.

...

"Soo any particular reason why you got one of your brain dead servents to get me?" Macaque questioned, pulling back a bit not wanting to be in her immediate range.

Up purely tactical.

"Ah, well it's come to my attention that you poses something of grate use to me" her icy gaze fixed on the lamp.

"Ya not happening" Macaque said flatly, he went though a lot to get his hands on this thing and he wasn't going to part with it so easily. Besides what ever the Lady Bone Demon was planning, would spell doom for the world as they know it.

Macaque my be a bad guy in some sense, maby even be considered an antihero-that was just more of an ass on a good day- but he wasn't one for wold domination.

In the past he just wanted to wreck heaven with his dear beloved friend befor his change of heart, not enslave mankind. They just wanted to prove there worth nothing more. But this bitch, na she was jack shit crazy. It took the combined forces of Demons and celestials alike to seal her away, himself being one of said demons.

"Ohh what a shame, looks like I'll be keeping this little one then"

In a puff of smoke (y/n) collapses on the foor to her, there fur slightly matted with blood and a visible gash on the left eye.

Similar to where his was-

It wasn't deep and wouldn't cause damage, but it still needed treatment.

Holy hell is this where (y/n) was all this time?

Macaques mind was going a mile a minute but he kept his poker face.

"And I sould care about some random kid because?"

"Oh~ Don't play dumb with me, Six Eared Macaque. You know exactly who this little one is" she started using her powers for lift the amber-furred monkey off the ground there one good (color) eye glosed over and hazy.

"After all this is your child"

"Hate to brake it to ya, but I don't have a kid"

"My sources say other wise"

Several screens descended for the walls and around them, all flicked to like to reveal footage of Macaque during his little stalking mission when he first planed to steal the Monkey Kings powers and found out about his long lost kid, and then some other footage of his watching them from the shadows.

Oh, oh no.

"I had my suspension on the Luner New Years, but your reaction solidify's my assumption"

Wha- shit his poker face slipped! Shiiiit

"So I'll ask again, the lamp or your child- they won't die persay, but I think the underground market would pay a hefty sum for one of such unique lineage"

His heart was beating faster than he thought possible, wait why would it be doing that! He shouldn't care! Should he?

Glancing between the lamp and (y/n)'s beaten form Macaque made a decision he might soon come to regret.

-

(Y/n) was having a good evening, well that was until the Spider Queens minions jumped them while on there way to the theater to meet up with the others(minus Sandy, what he had cats to take care of!)

When the first woke up it was in a dingy cell. And the next thing they knew the Spider Queen tried to get information about the Monkey Kings whereabouts.

"Ya right like the peach loving old man tells me anything! So if you could kindly let me on my marry way that would be fantastic"

You realy needed to know when to such your mouth or just give total bullshit information because Queeni had gotten pissed, and tried to beat the information out of you.

The Lady Bone Demon had to pry the spider off you. Saying you still had a use befor you blacking out.

-

When they woke for a second time everything was hazy, and there was muffled talking almost like they where under water.

Water was nice, you should learn to swim! It seems like fun! Maby you could get Mk or Mai to teach you.

After all the Monkey King was a shitty swimmer- wait no he was crap as under water fights, but wouldn't that require swimming as well-

Uh oh, was you being moved? Nooo das no gooood stop!

Ughhh why won't the muffin voices stop! And why can't I feel my eye!

E-y-e

Y E S spelles yes

E Y E S spells eyes how did that one guy get that confused, and you is moving again ST 0 p

Wait this was more comfy than before, is that red? Oh my moons it is! It's so soft!

And soft it was and you drifted to a more comfortable rest this time.

-

The third and final time (y/n) woke, they weren't in a cell, or had a hazy mindset. Areas not that hazy, but this time it was more so due to medicine than pain.

In fact they lay on a plush mattress, with equally soft pillows and nice heavy blankets tossed other them.

As (y/n) sat up they winced in pain slightly.

Looking down they take notice of the bandages, and a slitting head- and there are bandages on your eye as well fucking perfect.

"Good to see your up" a voice greated. Wiping their head to the side, there stood Macaques with a slight concerned look on his face.

Wha- owowowowowowowow

Probably shouldn't be moving so fast as (y/n) winced in pain again.

As (y/n) tried to steady themselves again and think of a retort, and side of the bed diped and a hand was placed oh your forehead, whilst the other heaped your arm.

"What are you-" "checking to see if you're fever spiked " "I has a heaver?" "Fever, and yes it set is last night after a particularly nasty infection" "oh"

"Wait, why are you-"

"The Bone bitch had you, i-i couldn't just let her harm you any more than she already had"

"That's dumb, you're dumb"

Sigh

"Okay back to sleep with you"

"Where am I?" "One of my safe houses, now sleep"

Sleep but what if...

"I-its okay, it'll be okay I'll be here when you wake again"

(y/n) blinked at him.

"I promise" he said softly as he guided you back down to the pillow, he retucked you in and was about to leave when (y/n) caught his hand.

Well fuck

Uhhh, you know what he's had a long fucking day himself he needs some sleep too.

So discarding his scarf to the side, as well as some armor plating and his shoes, Macaque got into the bed himself and just used himself. As he made himself comfortable, back tuned away for his pup a single thought echoed in his head.

'Im a fucking dad now, geat'

--

*Skelton Keys are said to open any door, plus the cannon key had a skull on it so why not?

UwU Anon you have no idea what this means, you have water my crops cleared my skin and my mind is sane!

I was originally planing to have this thing where the spider queen captured the reader/oc and used the robo parasight to make them a follower, but this, this is so much better sksksksksksk

I did most of this on mobile and my auto correct is bitchy 🙃

[btsmutimagines]

All Tangled Up

A/N: I tried to be cute but I’m too awkward for that... I’m sorry OTL

Request from the old inbox:  can I have a Jimin fluff where you both have a Disney movie night and you choose your princess movie (mines is Tangled but you can choose which ever) and the love song comes and Jimin sings to you (like I see the light and when eugene's part plays he sings along) and it's really fluffy?(sorry if it stinks, but I figured I'd give you a non-jungkook request)

Word Count: 1.7K

please take this gif as a peace offering

 You groaned to the sound of your ringtone, suddenly waking you up. Refusing to leave the warm bundle of covers you were under; you stretched your hand to grab your buzzing phone off the side table. A string of curses was grumbled as you got up to pick up your phone and answer it.

Who thought it was a good idea to call you now?!

Howdy, girlie! How are you?

Oh, it’s you.

Ouch, no ‘Hello, bestie’? You’re so grouchy.

You could tell that your friend, Hana was pouting on the other end and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t in the particular mood to hold a conversation, let alone the ones that she tends to have. Long, drawn-out and could probably be wrapped up in 10 minutes if she could stay on topic.

Hana, I’m sick.

You are? Why didn’t you tell me?

I did. You even brought me medicine!

I did? Maybe I was drunk…

Anyways, I would like to get back to sleep-

Wait, I need some serious bestie advice and you just happened to be qualified.

Can’t I get a raincheck?

I really like this guy and I think he’s different than the others and…

She roped you into her story before you could even protest. You almost fell asleep a few times, listening to the whole spiel before she called your name.

Yah, Y/N! Did you even listen to a word I said?

Yeah, you think the guy you met last is the one because he took you out to coffee after whatever happened last night, and he’s been texting you a lot? It’s literally been less than 24 hours, how are you this hung up on a dude? You barely know him.

That doesn’t stop love, Y/N.

And I’m done with this conversation.

Don’t be like that, Y/N! It’s different this time, I swear.

Okay, I’m hanging up now. Bye.

You sighed, looking at the time you had your ear pressed to your phone. 40:31. Could you really expect less? Before you could return to bed, there was a knock on your door.  Is it national ‘let’s bug a sick girl’ day?

You grabbed a robe, the warm fabric hugging you as you slowly walked to the door. Turning the doorknob, you cracked the door open a bit and your eyes widen as you quickly shut the door.

Park Jimin was standing at your door, in the hallway of your apartment building and you looked like you could scare Death himself to death.

“Y/N? Could you open the door please?”

“J-Just a second.” You said, quickly rushing to the bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your bird nest of hair. You returned to the door, taking a quick breath before opening it up again.

“Hi.”

“That was longer than a second, you know.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, Jimin.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh, right.”

“I heard you were sick, and I figured I would stop by just to check up on you.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Jimin.” You could have sworn you saw him blush, but he coughed, looking away and you tried to fight the smile that wanted to peak through.

Alright, fine, you might have the tiniest, smallest, little crush on Jimin. He always did obnoxiously cute things that you couldn’t help but smile. He was clumsy, at times whiny but he was also really thoughtful, sweet and would always be a shoulder to lean on.

But a guy like Jimin isn’t one that you can keep to yourself- Not that you could do that or something.

“Are you sure you could be out of bed like this? Earth to Y/N?”

“Huh?” Jimin placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your face growing hot and he pulled away.

“Gosh, you’re burning up.” Tell me about it. You cleared your throat.

“Just lay down on the couch, I’m gonna heat up the soup Jin made.”

“Jin made me soup? I should get sick more often.”

“No! I-I mean I helped him out mostly, I really made the soup.”

“Sure, Jimin.”

“Just go lie down, please.” You did as you were told, lying down on the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, where do you keep your blankets?”

“Second door on the left.” He came back with one of your thickest blankets, covering you with it and you looked at him.

“You should take a picture, it would last longer.”

“Shut up. Where’s my soup, Jimin?”

“Oh shoot, I almost forgot.”

“Jimin, please don’t burn down my home.”

“I got this. You just lie there, all pretty and warm- I mean you could be pretty warm with that blanket, right?”

“Smooth.” He winked at you before quickly backing into the kitchen, you covered your mouth to hold in your laughter. So stupid.

You laid there, listening to Jimin opening and closing different cabinets in your kitchen. He came back with a bowl and chopsticks in each hand and you sat up.

“You like coconut curry, right?”

“My favourite soup. Maybe you did help out a little bit.”

“One day I‘ll show you.”

“Looking forward to it, Jimin.”

“Have some, it is for you, you know.” You broke the chopsticks and took a bite, instantly hit with the delectable flavours and couldn’t stop yourself from devouring the whole bowl.

“That good, huh?”

“God, Jin is a cooking prodigy.”

“Let me have a bite.”

“Nuh-uh, you can ask Jin to make some for you when you’re sick.” You said, getting your last bite but Jimin grabbed your hand and fed himself.

“You brat, that was my last bite.” You poked his cheek with your chopsticks while he began chewing.

“Tasted even better knowing that.”

“Is this how you treat the sick and vulnerable, Jimin?”

“Jin made more than one bowl.”

“Fine, you’re temporarily forgiven.”

“Temporarily?”

“I don’t deal with food lightly. Especially really good food.”

“Will you forgive me fully if we watched these together?” He handed you a plastic bag, when did he bring that in?

Your curiosity got the better of you, peering through the content and noticing there were all Disney movies. You enjoyed most of the titles, Bambi, Aladdin, Alice in wonderland but you stop when you pulled out Tangled. The Disney classic was one of your all-time favourites. It was well known amongst your friend group and it’s the only movie you would watch for the rest of your life if you had to.

“You brought these for me?”

“Yeah, I did. Am I fully forgiven?”

“I’ll tell you after the movie.” You snuggled into your blanket, watching Jimin turn on your tv and insert the disc into your DVD player.

“Can you turn off the lights too?”

“Want the whole experience too, huh?”

“It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“The things I do for you.”

“Hush, it’s starting.” You watched the intro of the Disney castle and felt yourself getting giddy. You were easily engrossed in the movie when you felt a warm body close to yourself.

“J-Jimin.”

“I’m feeling cold, do you mind?”

“I could grab another blanket.” You suggested, about to get up but Jimin pulled you closer to him, your body half resting against his.

“No, this is fine.” You turned your attention to the movie, trying to not be so rigid against him and focus.

You quietly sang along with the songs, Jimin laughing with you at all the funny moments and your favourite scene was about to come up.

You began to sing along with Rapunzel, watching the lanterns floating around them.

All those days watching from the windows

All those years outside looking in

All that time never even knowing

Just how blind I've been

Now I'm here blinking in the starlight

Now I'm here suddenly I see

Standing here it's all so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be

 And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

You heard Jimin clearing his throat before singing along to Flynn, you looked at him in surprise.

All those days chasing down a daydream

All those years living in a blur

All that time never truly seeing

Things, the way they were

Now she's here shining in the starlight

Now she's here suddenly I know

If she's here it's crystal clear

I'm where I'm meant to go

He met your eyes, the two of you continue to sing along.

And at last I see the light

 And it's like the fog is lifted, Jimin sang

 And at last I see the light

 And it's like the sky is new, you vocalized before you both sang together once again.

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything is different

Now that I see you

Now that I see you

“I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

“A hidden talent of mine. Your voice is pretty good too.”

“Why, thank you.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie and hearing Jimin let out a sigh. The movie went on, you only got up to stretch when the credits began to roll.

“I guess you’re forgiven, Jimin.”

“Y/N.”

“Oh, okay, why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?”

“Because,” he got up to stand in front of you, all you could muster a look of bewilderment as he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I want you to believe me when I say I like you…”

“You w-what?”

“I like you, okay? Don’t make me repeat it.” Uh, you just did- Wait, that’s not the point, Park Jimin just goddamn confessed to you.

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I can’t keep-”

“Could you stop trying to be cool for two seconds, so I could tell you I like you too?”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m not repeating myself, Jimin.”

“It’s okay I recorded it!” The two of you looked over to see Hana standing behind the couch and she waved.

“How the hell did you get there? Why the hell are you in my house and why did you record that?”

“It’s for my memories, Y/N confessing to Jimin after pining him for months-”

“You have?” Jimin asked, you avoiding his eyes and glaring at Hana. She’s going to get it when you aren’t sick, just she waits.

“Kim Hana, you’re so dead.”

[scribblesandsnark]

“Days Gone Bye” (TWD 1.1)

There’s so much about “Days Gone Bye” that is well done – not least because it operates primarily on silence and visuals rather than the preachy dialogue that takes over down the road. (Yes, season 2, I’m looking at you.) That said, not gonna lie, it took me bloody ages to figure out where the opening scene falls in Rick’s post-hospital, pre-Atlanta adventures. (And when I say ages, what I really mean is it took me about six or eight times watching the episode. Ye gods.)

I feel like Rick might have lucked out in the apocalypse. He’s a cop, so there’s obviously a uniform to wear as he waltzes off into the unknown. What would you opt to put on if you were in his shoes and didn’t have a uniform to default to? (Personally, I’ve realised I have a serious lack of practical apocalypse shoes on hand. Although I’m inclined to think that my high heels would come in handy for breaking dead limbs and stomping in undead brains, so there’s that to consider.)

Burnt out and/or flipped cars are popular for set design in post-apo/dystopian TV and films, as are buildings with blasted out/shattered windows, but until fairly recently I’d always viewed them as sort of abstract decorations without really registering how they might get that way. Indeed, in earlier drafts I spent some time snarking about how the zompocalypse must infect people’s driving abilities (a terrifying thought considering the actual driving ability of your average non-zompocalypse-affected person) and, to quote myself,

Given the amount of fire damaged/cars upturned/miscellaneous damage inflicted on cars, you’d think that fcking flamethrowers and grenades and rocket launchers were being wielded by random Georgian citizens as they frolicked through the streets escaping the dead.

But this year [2020], between the port explosion in Beiruit, which flipped cars with the force of the blast and turned high rises into ghouls with hundreds of gaping mouths, and the fires in California, leaving burnt-out hulks in their wake, it’s really come home to me how easy and careless that kind of destruction can be – and how swiftly it can come to be seen as a norm. No flamethrowers or grenades necessary.

Even the empty streets and the silence we’re greeted with in this opening scene, as Rick drives down a barren street and walks through an abandoned campsite, now has more resonance since the 2020 lockdowns brought that apocalyptic empty street into reality. I don’t think I’d ever really thought to walk down the middle of a street before, because, you know, traffic – and yet for a time, when there were no cars on the road and people were hidden away in their homes, that became a new normal. There was a freedom in knowing you could walk in the middle of the road with almost no risk, because all normal rules had been suspended indefinitely. Why stick to the sidewalk when you know a car’s unlikely to drive through?

I guess apocalyptic fiction only ever seems apocalyptic and unimaginable until the real world catches up.

There are a lot of things I could say about this opening scene, aside from the great visceral pleasure of getting absorbed by the camera work, feeling one with Rick as we witness the destruction, the abandonment, the death… There’s a stillness that I wish we saw more of in the later episodes. The introduction of the little walker girl sets up Rick’s hope and his despair in a wonderful way. Having the first appearance and first death of a walker be a little girl in her jammies really shows us just how much the world has been turned on its head – Rick’s a police officer, whose job is to help people (ideally, at any rate), and the realisation that in this new world the only way to help is to kill those he used to protect sets up a(n albeit inconsistent) through-line for the rest of the series.

So yeah, I could wax lyrical about the excellent beginning of “Days Gone Bye” – but because I’m a snarky arsehole, I’m going to talk about the dead. And I’m going to do so with the caveat that while I’ve read some of the behind-the-scenes commentary etc., I am not actually a Walking Deadhead, and consequently do not have at my fingertips the reasons why certain production decisions were made.

There’s an oddity in the first…two seasons? when it comes to cars and the dead, in that there are a startling number of people who seem to have just…died, while in the driver’s seat of their cars. We see two clear examples in the opening scene, as Rick passes between two cars, facing opposite directions, each with their own definitely dead driver slumped at the wheel. This appears, rather more egregiously, in the traffic snarl at the start of season 2, but for the moment we’ll stick with season 1. The camera’s shown us an abandoned camp, any number of cars that seem to have become part of stationary living. Yet we’ve got two dead people behind the wheel, in cars facing opposite directions. Now, I’m not disputing that people could die at the wheel. As the show later goes on to show us, you can get chomped, die, and resurrect within minutes. The problem is in the fact that a proportionally ridiculous number of people seem to die at the wheel. I suppose the logical conclusion is that said individuals stupidly had their windows down and their arms out, got chomped, and sent away the rest of the car’s occupants or anyone else in the vicinity, and then opted to just hang out in the car until death – at which point zombrain kicks in and any attempt to use a door handle is moot. (See, e.g., the number of zoms hanging out in closed cars.) Combine that with people more likely than this show’s putative heroes to shoot someone who’s been infected in the head before they turn and simply move on… Eh. I suppose it’s plausible. It’s just not very realistic. (Not least because oh my god, there are undead people, roll up your fucking window you fucking idiot. I know it’s hot in Georgia but roll those windows up, babe. You might sweat, but at least a stealth zom won’t use your hand for a snack. Gah.)

…not going to comment on the inconsistent zombehaviour in which a smolzom stops to pick up her teddy (see, later, other zoms climbing ladders, scaling fences, and using rocks to bash through windows – and in one instance, tugging her zip hoodie back up over her arm). Instead, my issue is with smolzom’s slippers. How has she not lost those by now??

(Total aside, but I’ve been bingeing L&O:SVU lately, and boy howdy do a lot of TWD people pop up like daisies there. Daryl, Shane, Noah, Dale, Beth, Lori, Amy, Tyreese, Lizzie, Liza (tbf from FTWD)…)

The fries that Rick and Shane are eating just look sad and wimpy and not worthy of eating. Do better, cops. (Do better, fries.) Really, it’s almost a surprise they’re not nomming doughnuts and coffee. There’s no doubt that the two are meant to be close, though; you have to be close to dab your fry in your partner’s ketchup (oh no, Lori).

Jon Bernthal is a good actor. I just wish they hadn’t given him a character who was so all over the place. (I’ll delve more into this in later episodes.) The first scene he appears in, after the opening credits, clearly sets him up as a chauvinistic dick, in contrast to pauvre Rick, whose relationship with his wife is suffering – and, critically, this is not because of Rick, but because of Lori. Her first introduction as a character is as a woman at odds with her husband – and the fact that her husband is in law enforcement really should not be glossed over here, not given America’s contentious relationship with LEOs. (We’ll get back to Rick and Shane eventually.) It’s no secret that spouses of people in law enforcement, or in the military, often struggle because their partners are always absent. I’m not trying to apply blame, here; law enforcement and military positions require a lot, and there is absolutely a high degree of trauma that can result due to the kind of work in which they engage. That said, the way Lori is set up as the antagonist from the get-go is just…distasteful. Rick is presented as reasonable, as wanting to try to make things right, as trying to do what Lori wants and yet always being the bad guy. The sad thing is that Lori is no one’s favourite character, and yet the character never had a chance. She was fucked over long before she actually turned up on screen, ensuring that our perspective of her is negative from the start.  In a show that takes years to establish strong women, Lori stands out as a particularly egregious example of a woman, wife, and mother who realistically could have been a positive representation of a woman that instead was turned into a caricature everyone loves to hate. (We’ll get to Andrea eventually, I promise.)

I think perhaps, most egregiously, the fact that Rick says something like “It’s like she’s pissed at me and I don’t know why” sets up Lori as being irrational and Rick as being patient and anxious to fix things without knowing why. Lori is fucked in terms of character development from before she ever  appears on screen and never has the opportunity to claw back some of that lost ground. Rick literally labels her as cruel – and cruel in front of their son, to boot. Who doesn’t view a person cruel to their child as a villain? Gah. Lori was absolutely fucked by merit of being Rick’s wife.  And it’s really a shame, because every so often Sarah Wayne Callies absolutely kills it (no pun intended, but leading up to Lori’s death is perhaps the character’s best scene).

Of course, too, the whole convo between Shane and Rick sets up Shane as a “fuck me, women, man” – and yeah, absolutely, this attitude ends up extrapolated to his behaviour towards people in general. Yes, it bonds our two good ol’ boy policemen as lads who love each other and try to jive each other into better moods but are sensitive enough to listen to actual emotional shit… But ultimately it establishes Shane as a dick and Rick as a victim. Shane’s absolute disdain for women’s emotion/women talking about their emotions is in some ways bizarre when you look at his future relationship with Lori – and yet at the same time, that disdain echoes through all of anything he does with Lori, with Carl, and with Rick in future.

Okay, so, let’s move on to the fuckfest in which Rick gets shot. (Twice, Lord help me. These fuckers are alarmingly inept.)

Pro: they fling out the spikey “stop the bad guy” chains.

Con: …well, at least one dude doesn’t know about the safety, so that’s … not ideal. (His death: not surprising.)

Pro: Rick can apparently drive backwards with skill. I can’t even back around a corner.

Con: Leon is a fucking moron.

Pro: Rick and Shane disposed of their hats??

Con: what happens to the Black cop? Why is he the only one we don’t know the fate of? (See TWD’s treatment of Black actors in general…)

Pro: the car does not flip in their general direction.

Con: pretty much everything else in this scene.

I dunno about the average viewer, but I feel like the two apparently competent cops – Shane and Rick – should each be assigned to one of the shitty cops, rather than riding together, because really, do you want cops rolling in to save you when they clearly don’t know the first thing about gun operation? (Yes, as any number of viewers have pointed out, there’s no safety on the gun that Leon is holding, but the fundamental point is to articulate how much of a fuck-up he is as a cop. If you’re out in the field and don’t know how your piece works, should you even be out there? Don’t they give cops gun training? You’d hope so…yikes. Although I guess it does sort of set up the absolute nightmare of season 2’s gun control plot line. (Oh god, season 2. Help.))

Am I the only one amused by the name Leon Basset? He’s a cat and a dog at once!

It takes Rick and Shane and co. an embarrassingly long time to put down the baddies – one of whom manages to hit a cop in a spot not covered by his vest, after having been flipped violently upside down in a car crash. Seriously, the fact these dudes are able to crawl out of the car and start merrily firing away, much less actually hit someone, is fucking insane. Have they trained in post-car crash shooting? I have to conclude they have, because otherwise the fact they have better aim than the multiple cops shooting at them is absurd. (Also hilarious: bad dude #1 crawls out of the completely totalled, upside-down car with, like, a scratch on his cheek. Until bad dude #2 takes a shotgun blast the chest, he appears to have lucked out with almost zero wounds from the crash. Are we sure *they* aren’t actually already dead??) And really, Rick’s an idiot in this scene – his fellow cops are intelligently hanging out by the cop cars, using them for cover, while Rick displays a high degree of absolute idiocy in waltzing straight out into the open; it’s made even worse by the fact that he’s brandishing his cute little Colt Python revolver while at least two of the cops behind him are wielding shotguns.

Bad copping, Rick. Cop better, please.

There are several shots right before Rick gets shot the first time where the camera angle makes it appear that Shane has his shotgun pointed straight at Rick, including the actual frame where he *does* get shot in the vest – when he’s shot in the side closer to Shane than the unnamed assailant. Now, this is probably due to bad blocking, although you’d think Rick would know better than to walk directly between the baddies and his fellow cops when there’s active gunfire, since it makes him a liability (seriously, I doubt the efficacy of the cop training programme in whatever bit of Georgia this is), but with the benefit of hindsight you could also see it as foreshadowing the eventual deterioration of Rick and Shane’s relationship. Think about the scene in “Wildfire,” the penultimate episode of the season, when Shane and Rick are in the woods doing a sweep, and Shane sights down that shotgun at Rick walking through the trees ahead of him for a long moment before Dale turns up. In that later episode (and moving on increasingly through all of Season 2), Shane wants Rick out of the way, but it takes a very long time in terms of screen hours to actually get around to making his final move. Ironically, it’s only ever here in the opening episode, following Shane appearing to be aiming through Rick’s back at the assailants, that Shane ever successfully gets Rick out of the way. Unintentionally, of course, but there is nevertheless an odd parallelism created here due to blocking and weapon of choice.

Dammit, Shane.

You know, on thinking it over, I’m surprised that this police force functions at all. Yes, the dispatcher only noted two individuals in the car, but if I’ve learned anything from watching procedurals it’s that before stopping to chat about anything you clear every possible place an unknown assailant could be hiding. I’d think that would especially be the case for a car chase, because how accurately can you see inside a speeding car? (That’s a legitimate question; I have no idea.) And actually, entirely aside from the possible existence of a third assailant, if you shoot someone with a gun, surely the follow-up after they’ve gone down is to immediately approach, ensure any weapons are out of arms’ reach, ascertain if the individual is dead, and if not, call immediately for medical attention. I know the baddies took several shots to the chest, but come on. They also emerged almost entirely unscathed from a totalled car, so clearly they’re already marked as practically unkillable. And yeah, following procedure wouldn’t have allowed Rick to get dramatically shot for real after the first fake-out, but they could easily have had him get dramatically and unexpectedly shot by the third dude when following procedure and checking to see the other two were dead. Most of the dialogue could have been retained as well. But oh well. I guess the show sets up the failure of authority figures to function effectively from the very start; not following procedure proves to be useful to Rick, considering his future actions as leader of the Merry Undead crew.

Further proof these cops don’t know how to cop: literally no one notices the third dude crawl out of the car, not even to go “hey!” Dude literally has enough time to crawl out on his hands and knees, stand up, point a gun, and actually hit his target before anyone (aka Shane) so much as notices his existence. There are at least three other cop cars in the vicinity – the other car that arrived with Rick and Shane (the “wait what’s a safety” cop and his partner) and the two cars that were chasing the criminals in the first place (four more dudes) – and yet apparently no one noticed a third guy standing up with a gun in his hand. And yeah, I’ll cut some of them a bit of a break on the theory that they probably couldn’t see the guy until he stood up because of the car in the way, but with seven people standing, *someone* should have seen him. Given Shane’s angle when he shoots, the two cops behind him definitely should have noticed something. The fact that someone only shouts to move in after Rick gets shot is just…shoddy copping. Seriously, this is the kind of stupidity that leads you to wish characters would just die. I’m sure someone would miss these people, but the world isn’t likely to notice they’ve gone. (Also, Shane blowing away the third dude on the first shot is pretty much the only time any of these professionals have actually hit their target immediately. Glad to know the safety of the Merry Undead crew is in the hands of people with worse aim than people flung around in a totalled car. Hurray!)

I’ve decided that after Shane goes with Rick to hospital in the ambulance, the rest of the terrible cops get eaten by the reanimated baddie crew. It’s what they deserve, really.

Moving right along…

Rick has a frigging massive hospital room. Either he or Lori is secretly a drug runner, or else the local cops have some pretty sweet health insurance. Lucky for Rick; if he’d been in a shared room or on one of those corridors with multiple beds separated by curtains, he’d have been walker munchies asap. Unforeseen side-effects of the zompocalypse: healthcare edition.

I…am not going to deal with the time issues of Rick being in hospital and then waking up to a hellscape. Suspension of belief, yeah?

I think the weirdest thing in the cut from Shane with the flowers to Rick waking up on the bed is the silence. The background beep of the machines has vanished, telling us the power’s gone off; the off-screen background hospital noise – heard most notably in the undiscernible PA behind Shane talking – has also vanished. Rick’s harsh breathing under Shane’s words also vanishes when the shot does, though I’m not sure if that’s meant to suggest Rick is better, worse, or otherwise. The scene doesn’t show it, but it sounds vaguely like a ventilator is functioning when Shane’s in the room, which would suggest Rick’s still hooked up to breathing support following surgery; if that’s the case, Rick was taken off the ventilator to breathe on his own at some point after that, since he wakes up only with oxygen to his nose. The shift from all that background noise to absolute silence is incredibly effective, because though we can’t register it visually, and may not consciously notice the shift in audible sounds, it nevertheless conveys to the viewer that something has changed before Rick even opens his mouth.

Horrifying thought, though, being stuck in hospital in Georgia without aircon. (I’d melt. Not just in hospital, but in general. Heat and humidity are not my friends.) Frankly, I’m surprised Rick manages to get any words out of his mouth given he’s probably a wee bit on the thirsty side; my mouth goes a bit dry and I might as well be trying to talk through a damn desert for all the words I manage.

It’s kind of amusing that there’s a lingering shot of the clock on the wall. Yeah, it adds to Rick’s confusion and disorientation because dammit, he can’t even tell what time it is – and what is the world without timekeeping?? – but what are the odds it happened to run out of battery in time to inconvenience the last man standing in the zompocalypse? “Oh no! I’ve missed the end of the world! Ah well, better late than never.”

Helpful that Rick woke up during the day – can you imagine how disorienting it would have been to wake up in pitch dark with zero sound? Anyone who lives in a vaguely urban or suburban area is almost entirely unaccustomed to the dominance of both anymore; when I moved back to suburbia after living in a sort of downtown-y bit of an offshoot of the nearest city, I had serious issues for months because at night everything was so quiet and so dark, especially during the period when the house next door was unoccupied. Seriously creepy. (Although I’ve also seen raccoons, deer, and a coyote as well as the ubiquitous squirrels and birds and neighbourhood cats, so that’s exciting. Actually, weirdly, there’s a surprising dearth of animals, to say nothing of pets, floating around in the apocalypse. We see dogs occasionally as time goes on, running about the streets of Atlanta, eating the dead, getting eaten when times are desperate; deer pop up every now and then, and crows alight ominously all over the place, but…where are all the dead goldfish? The cats??)

Does Rick just have a super special water faucet in his private bathroom, or are the utilities still working? (Nice to immediately have a way to quench his thirst. It also apparently gives him super strength, since he doesn’t keel over again despite the probable weeks he’s been flopped out in bed not using his muscles.) Alexandria has running water, but if I recall correctly it was also designed as self-sustaining. Hospitals usually have generators, since if the power cuts for whatever reason (earthquake, hurricane, T-rex attack) you want to make sure a bunch of people don’t cut out as well as a result, but as far as I’m aware that…doesn’t affect the water systems? (I am definitely not a water engineer. Are there water engineers?) And since he later goes down stairs to get out of the hospital, is there really a system still functioning that pumps water up several stories when the electricity appears to be dead? Convenient water is convenient.

Obviously there must be a generator or some kind of power still functioning, since there are some lights on in the hall, complete with requisite horror-themed buzzing and flickering. (Help, I’m having flashbacks of my mother’s kitchen.) Useful, in any case, since otherwise Ricky boy would be tripping over the debris in the hall before he got to the nurse’s station. (I guess we’ll put his continued unclothed state down to disorientation, but if I looked out my door and saw that much of a hallway disaster, I think I’d find some shoes first. Yikes.)

The clock at the nurse’s station has also stopped. These are battery-run, guys, they don’t go off when the power does. Speaking of electronics, though – it’s 2010, right? Why doesn’t the nurse’s station have any computers? I mean, I got my first laptop in 2006 and I think we always had a family computer when I was growing up, so it’s not like this predates the computer era. Actually, that’s a point – in all of the places that the Merry Undead crew break into/crash at, I’m struggling to think of instances of computers, laptops, mobile phones, etc. Rick has an mp3 player at the start of season 4, when he’s in his farming phase, and Olivia in…season 6? still carries her long-dead mobile around, but aside from the CDC and actual hospital-related machinery, there’s a startling lack of technology. I dunno, it just seems odd. Like the lack of feral cats.

I know Rick wants to illuminate the situation (hah), but his first thought is RUMMAGE THROUGH SHIT TO FIND MATCHES. Like, seriously, open a drawer or something, there’s probably a flashlight in there somewhere? I suppose we couldn’t spend too much time on finding lighting resources, though, considering that would delay the DRAMATIC DISCOVERY of Rick’s first dead person.

On which point – what are the walker rules for nomming a corpse, and what are the rules for reanimation? If the only way to actually put down a walker is through the brain, why isn’t our eviscerated lady corpse in the hospital undead? Her head appears entirely intact, although we might be missing a wound on the far side. (Although jeez, given how many facial bites and tears we see throughout this series, including the little girl at the beginning of this episode, how has no one snacked on her delicious face??) A single bite will kill and turn you, and some people do manage to get an initial chomp and then remain unconsumed before turning, like Sophia and the little girl at the start of the episode. But is there a maximum limit of flesh that can be consumed before a person is thoroughly dead and won’t reanimate? A severed head sans body will reanimate, as we see later with Hershel and the Whisperers’ victims, so it seems like percentage of bodily consumption can’t factor in. Certainly bike lady later in this episode is missing her entire lower half without it having affected her walkerdom eternity. Yet we have people like hospital lady corpse and T-Dog in season 3 who get more or less entirely consumed without reanimating. And that’s without even talking about all of the dead who appear to have croaked in their cars without becoming undead despite the lack of a head wound. So where’s the boundary?

At least some of this we can probably attribute to early days inconsistencies, since most shows don’t dive in with all of the rules for new worlds and supernatural creatures laid out and set in stone, but the amount of consumption has always bothered me. From the other side, too, actually, because walkers appear to be wholly driven by a single purpose: consume. So when a walker has a nice juicy item in front of them with plenty of flesh left on it, why would they leave it behind to drift off after something else? Walkers are later shown to be drawn by light, by sound, by smell (operating on the suspension of disbelief that undead would retain any of the senses of sight, hearing, or smell, but never mind), but since the underlying drive remains to consume, why would light, sound, or smell be sufficient to draw them away from a meal directly in front of them? I could see it if, for instance, a corpse were being devoured by a whole bunch of walkers and so those who couldn’t easily get to the body went “welp fuck it, Imma go follow that gunshot I just heard,” or if a body has pretty well been picked to the bones, since then there’s not anything left to consume and the drive would push on to the next. But there are plenty of times over the course of the series when walkers abandon a perfectly delicious human with plenty of meat left on the bones in order to go chase something else. I’m not saying walkers are meant to be intelligent hunters or anything, since as Jenner shows us there’s just some sad little sparkles at the brainstem that are still operating, but if you boil it down to the most basic drive, walkers are driven to consume, and it makes little sense that they’d abandon something consumable in front of them that’s a sure thing to chase something else (I could see maybe abandoning an animal to chase a human, like dropping the pigs’ feet to chase after sirloin). But to leave something not completely eaten… Unless they get full? The human stomach can only contain so much at one time, so maybe there’s a default survival code that overrides the consumption drive to stop a walker eating if continuing to do so would explode the stomach. Although that doesn’t really make much sense, either, since any number of walkers are wandering around with their innards more or less exploded without it being a problem. Hmm. No real answers, there, other than that overriding logic of THE PLOT. I guess the only thing I can say with some confidence is that at least part of the walker digestive system seems to still operate, because when Rick and Daryl gut a walker to make sure it hadn’t eaten Sophia, not only is the woodchuck turned from fur and flesh into nasty black goo, the skull of the woodchuck has also been stripped clean. (Then again, I have difficulty envisioning how a walker manages to swallow an entire woodchuck skull, but that’s neither here nor there. Who’s up for woodchuck chilli??)

Anyway, back to Rick and his terrifying exploration of his new world of doom.

I have to laugh when I look at this disaster of a hospital. Did someone, in the last throes of the world ending, just take medical records and fling them everywhere? When is there ever that much paper floating around loose in a medical facility? Ye gods, Rick could learn confidential patient information! Nooooooo…

Ahem.

Like the episode’s opening scene of Rick working his way through the abandoned streets, silence is used to great effect from the time Rick wakes up through to his encounter with Morgan and Duane. The audience takes in everything along with Rick, unfettered by exposition. The silence, the dark, the emptiness, the dead – it all unfolds through Rick’s shocked and bewildered eyes. I mean, what would you do if you wandered down the hall and suddenly discovered a mostly devoured corpse? (I’d probably hurl. Ew.) Alas that so much of the series later gets bogged down by humans who never shut up. (Yes, Rick, I do mean you.)

Of course, in order to do that, the episode also, to quote CinemaSins, conveniently conveniences a bunch of its walkers. Where are they? Where they can’t hurt Rick before he knows what to do. Which is…kind of ridiculous. Logic be damned! I mean, if there’s one thing this show has been consistent about, it’s the inconsistency of its walkers.

Wait.

Man, I would not want to be walking across that floor barefoot. Ew. And ouch.

I’d be a terrible candidate for the apocalypse. I’m afraid of the dark.

I do like the background details of all the blood spattered on the walls. It’s more quiet filling in the blanks of what happened when Rick was in his coma – all that lovely show, don’t tell that later gets left by the wayside. BUT HE’S WALKING BAREFOOT THROUGH GLASS OH MY GOD PLEASE STOP AND FIND SOME SHOES AAAHHHHHHH.

PUT ON SOME DAMN SHOES.

DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE.

The fact that the doors are bound with a chain AND with a slat of wood just makes me laugh. I don’t think that wood’s going to do much if the chain breaks.

That’s a shockingly good manicure for a dead person. She might be stuck in a locked room for eternity but at least her nails look fab.

I know Rick is freaked out by the groaning and dead lady manicure and chained up door and blood all over the place, but charging into a pitch-black stairwell armed only with a fold of matches seems really stupid. This is perhaps the most egregious instance in this episode of convenient walker placement. The fact that Rick not only makes it down the stairs and outside without tripping and smashing his pretty face is one thing, but it’s really stunning that there are no walkers who got trapped between the stairwell doors. I guess maybe that was the military exit route so they cleared as they went (and…took the bodies with them, as well)? Then again, I’d rather rappel out a window using bedsheets than make my way through an endless stairwell of night, so…

I’m going to be *extremely* nitpicky here and wonder why Rick hasn’t noticed the smell. Between lady chewy and the not insubstantial blood puddle he walks by, you’d think there’d be at least a whiff of the smell of decomp, especially if the power and thus the aircon are out and humidity reigns supreme. Blood is a biological hazard, and it…is definitely not odourless, especially after it’s been sitting around for days. Rick does grimace when he first goes into the stairwell, implying he’s caught a whiff of the dead, but he doesn’t encounter anything going down the stairs that seems likely to have caused it (maybe the dead laid out that he encounters outside?). Scent’s an ongoing problem with this show, though; it crops up when it’s a useful narrative point, like smearing yourself with guts to escape detection or realising there’s an ocean of the dead nearby, but otherwise, not so much. Okay, yeah, maybe I can buy that after a while of living in close proximity you’d acclimate – humans are stunningly resilient – but given how quickly humans tend to get tetchy when in forced contact with disgusting smells, are you really telling me that Rick just…doesn’t notice? Or is his own “I’ve been in a coma for an indeterminate period of time” smell so bad that it overpowers the death smell? Yikes.

That said, the moments of tension when Rick’s match goes out and he’s left alone breathing in the dark of the stairwell are lovely. It carries the audience along with Rick’s fear and anxiety and confusion, knowing he knows something is hinky without actually knowing what’s happened and what’s going on, while as a viewer conversant with the horror genre you keep expecting something to happen, to lurch up out of the dark. That nothing does actually is a delightful defiance of expectations. And after a silence and darkness punctuated only by the dim, narrow light of a match and Rick’s harsh breathing, the overwhelming brightness of the outdoors combined with the sawing of the cicadas almost begs you to retreat back into the contained, comparative safety of the stairs rather than venturing out into the huge unknown of the world outside the hospital and its endless supply of the dead.

Shame that the hospital’s flickeringly dodgy power doesn’t include the EXIT sign. Aren’t those supposed to work even if nothing else does? Maybe it was crashed with whatever took out the clocks. (Hah.)

Every barefoot step Rick continues to take hurts. Like, there’s all kinds of shit on the ground, and I’m not just talking bits of wire and other stabby pieces of metal. There’s blood and guts – do you really want to be squishing that between your toes?? Also, I’ve let it go this far, but Rick is wearing his hospital gown backwards, and if he’s been in a coma he…really shouldn’t be wearing boxers (and should have been hooked up to a catheter, but I think watching Rick rip that out instead of pulling the IV from his hand might have been a bit too traumatising for the average viewer). So out here in the open air, with all the wrapped rows of the dead, we get our first obvious sign of decomp in the number of flies buzzing around, and some of the limbs look like they might be mottling from decomp (kind of hard to tell, though). I know I said I wasn’t going to get into the time problems, but I promise I’ll try to keep it to this paragraph. The fact that the hospital and town are both almost entirely deserted, as we’ll go on to see, certainly suggests a decent amount of time has passed, since it takes time for that many people to up and leave somewhere. (I’m really surprised that in this show they only ever seem to encounter major traffic pile-ups on freeways or similar; if the people in my town were trying to skedaddle, we’d all get stuck on the road outside my neighbourhood. Hell, until they put in roundabouts it backed up horrendously just for getting to the schools in the morning! You’re telling me everyone was able to get out of their neighbourhoods to get to the freeway in the first place? Bullshit.) The state of the dead half-lady Rick runs into outside also seems to support that, since she’s pretty decomposed (though weirdly looks more mummified than not, which is odd considering Georgia’s on the humid rather than the dry end of the heat spectrum). On the other hand, though, the state of decomp of the lady in the hospital hallway and the corpses outside the hospital point to not much time having passed; they’re still juicy, if you like. As the following episodes will go on to show via characters’ minimal clothing and copious amounts of sweat, Georgia is hot and humid, and I hate to tell you this, guys, but if you keel over in a climate like that, you decompose quickly. You bloat up and your skin slides right off, and it’s all extremely disgusting. But here there’s a stunning amount of intact left on these corpses considering, again, it’s Georgia. (Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor, so my observations might not be medically valid. Then again, the very idea that dead people are wandering around eating people is … also not medically valid.) In any case, Rick should be walking through a soupy mess of liquefying human tissue seeping through the sheets wrapped around the dead (yum. One more reason to acquire footwear, mate). The bodies piled in the truck should be sliding over each other as decomposing human makes the sheets slippery. I suppose that’s a major flaw in zombie construction in this particular zompocalypse; it forgot to take account of actual decomposition in the specified climate. (The smell also ought to be enough to pretty well bowl Rick over, but again, everyone apparently has the opposite of super smell in this series, so we’ll let it slide). Of course, if corpses actually decayed like normal, they’d be rid of most of the zombies in no time.

There’s a weirdly small amount of damage that’s been done to this hospital, from what little we’re shown. The hospital scene in “TS-19” suggests that bombing of the hospital, or nearby, has commenced, but all we see is a relatively small chunk of building missing, rather oddly in the middle of a wall, a downed ambulance sign, and then a bit more horizontal damage behind the military encampment when Rick gets up the hill. You’d think they’d have kept bombing, not least to eradicate the piles of corpses, but unfortunately we never really get to see much of the early days and the military reaction; we get snippets about bombing Atlanta and see Shane and Lori watch as Atlanta’s struck, and when Daryl and Carol stalk Grady Memorial there’s at least one shot of the city where it’s clearly suffered aerial bombardment. But there’s really not a lot of engagement with the drastic measures taken to try to control the situation, just the idea that those existed. Fear the Walking Dead, from my understanding, doesn’t really do much to deal with this either, despite ostensibly aiming to initially tackle the very period of time that The Walking Dead skipped over. So that’s a shame.

The military encampment is odd. Surely you’d only bail on things like helicopters and Humvees if you absolutely had to, since otherwise they seem to me like the first thing you’d hop into as an escape route (and certainly in season 3, the Governor indicates that military playthings are highly prized). Sure, maybe your random joe couldn’t commandeer a helo, but surely joe schmo could yoink a Humvee. I mean, if I were fleeing a hospital and there were a whole military encampment hanging out in the back yard that no one was minding, I’d be inclined to hijack something and zoom away. Operation Save the Toes! If a herd had passed through, surely we’d see more damage to what remains (for instance, would that nice tent still be standing?). Points, though, for framing of Rick against the broken military might that both visually and metaphorically shows us how small he is. Okay, so I have to ask: how far away from hospital did Rick and his family live? Because he appears to walk for quite a while – with a bullet wound that’s still healing! – and their house looks like it’s firmly in a nice suburban neighbourhood. So did he walk several miles to dead half-lady and steal her bike, or did he literally just walk down the street? Maybe the unhappiness in the soles of his feet is just being overwhelmed by, well, everything. All I can say is that I ran away from home barefoot around age 8 or 9 and ended up with such bruised and blistered feet – after maybe twenty minutes of walking total – that I couldn’t go to school for several days because I couldn’t walk. And I wasn’t even recovering from a gunshot wound!

(Also, can we talk about that hospital wristlet. That sucker should have waaay more info on it. Really, if nothing else I think we can conclude that the hospital Rick was admitted to post-shooting spent all their money on giant rooms and then forgot about actually hospitalling. Do we blame that on Georgia, America, or bad TV writing?)

CORAAAL!!

Further proof of the rapid adaptation of the human species: Rick spots the bike and goes AH YES MINE, sort of clocking the half of a lady ten feet away without really being fussed; maybe an hour (?) into his re-entry into this waking nightmare of a world, he’s already become so numbed to dead bodies hanging about that it barely registers until she moves. And, mind you, while he’s seen plenty of dead people, and seen undead fingers poking through the crack between doors, this is the first undead person he’s actually seen. His reaction to just…flee is very much in line with his general “holy fuck okay moving on” attitude that we’ve seen thus far; each thing is weirder and worse than the last, layering up the horror as a surreal reality that’s made even more bizarre by the utter lack of any living people to ground him. While his collapse and “is this real?” moment at the Grimes household is, I think, a bit misplaced, it’s also really understandable because everything he’s seen is so far out of the normal realm of expectation that the only logical reaction is to question reality. He’s almost certainly both dehydrated and undernourished, on top of which he’s been utilising muscles that haven’t been used in some time; probably the most unrealistic aspect of his first hours after waking up is that he actually manages to get out of hospital and home so easily, rather than keeling over somewhere in the street and becoming Walker O’s (part of a balanced breakfast!). Although I feel like I would have hit the “wake up” whacking yourself in the head point long before getting home and realising my family wasn’t there. I think I’d be more likely to believe I’d walk through the door and my family would be out than to believe that all of the dead or the moving dead were real. Obviously the latter for Rick makes the fact his family isn’t home that much more surreal and distressing, because thus far he appears to have awoken to a world where there are no living people aside from himself, thus leading to the conclusion that if there are only the dead and himself, Lori and Carl must be dead – but I think I’d crack before getting to that point. (Though I sometimes wake up in the morning and literally can’t tell reality from what happened in my dreams, so who am I to judge?)

Weirdly as well, there’s very little in the Grimes household that tells me anything about any of the family. I know Lori and Carly frolicked off with Shane super fast when everything went to hell and took pictures and photo albums, but this house (as excellent as it is) looks very much like a set. There’s nothing really personal. It’s weird. Who are the Grimes, even? It reminds me of my ex-boyfriend’s flat. No pictures, no posters, no books (!!), nothing on the walls, no trinkets or files or any personal touches at all (please don’t be a serial killer eek). No wonder Carl settles into the apocalypse quickly and Lori has no personality other than being a disaster. They had practically no pre-pocalypse life other than “I’m Rick’s child” and “I’m Rick’s bitchy wife.”

As Rick walks back out of his empty house, you can see that the letterbox appears to be full of envelopes. Do you suppose Lori wrote a bunch of letters to people on the off-chance they’d get picked up after she and Carl left town with Shane, or do you think the post carried on even after everything else collapsed? (Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds… Nor zombies either, apparently. Now I really want a series of shorts following a postman as she strives to deliver every letter she can (well, not the bills, obvs) even as the world continues to collapse around her head.)

Okay, so if you get home and discover your family is not there, and everything is topsy turvy and haywire and omg what the hell is even happening – who just goes and plonks outside to think? Surely you’d think “hmm, okay, maybe I should check the neighbours”?

Are overhead fans on the porch a southern thing? I can’t imagine having one here in the Pacific Northwest.

Can we talk again about how absurdly lucky Rick is when it comes to the existence of walkers in this town? The only ones in the hospital are literally chained behind doors with an explicit warning to piss off. The only one he encounters on his journey from hospital to home has no legs, and thus poses minimal threat to a man able to walk (or cycle, as the case may be). The first mobile walker he sees is in the distance and hasn’t noticed him yet, and before he has a chance to shout out and put himself in danger, Morgan and Duane ex machina themselves into position to not only take out the walker but also provide medical support. (I guess Rick’s just been running on…adrenaline? And yes, I know Rick also takes a shovel to the face – we’ll ignore the fact that there’s no apparent lasting damage from a shovel to the face, good grief – but that’s a far cry from the fate of having his flesh ripped from his bones before he even knew what walkers were. Boy, would that suck.) A whole bevy of walkers turn up that evening, ostensibly because Morgan had fired a gun, but then they all vanish by morning aside from a single walker still skulking around for the convenience of whacking practice. (I wonder what would have happened if the single walker still hanging around had been Morgan’s wife. Somehow I doubt he’d have been as willing for Rick to practise his new world survival skills on her.) Quite aside from his dubious hospital survival, Rick Grimes should be dead. I really wish this could be attributed to his cop training (but we know that shit is dubious as fuck), but unfortunately he’s just a dude wandering aimlessly who gets super lucky. Sigh.

(I can’t be the only one who looks at the walker Rick sees and thinks he must be either a mortician or a goth kid. That much black? When it’s apparently warm enough in Georgia that Rick is totally fine in your not-standard-issue hospital gown and boxers? Also, thanks camera for keeping the walker blurred out so we can’t tell he’s dead (did you save on makeup?), but in retrospect it kind of makes you wonder if Rick has eye problems. Now there’s a real problem in the apocalypse.)

Two things about Duane’s first appearance. First, he was inches away from Rick; how did he get enough room to swing a shovel? Second, wtf is Duane doing shrieking for his dad? He’s been living in this world for at least a month and his mum’s a zom: he has to know that walkers are drawn to noise, yet he’s yelping out like a wounded dog here. Apocalypse better, kiddo.

Rather hilariously, it’s when Rick sees Morgan casually shoot the walker through the head that he starts to panic. OMG HE KILLED A DUDE. I feel like with everything Rick’s seen so far he ought not to jump so quickly to the assumption that Morgan killed another living dude. Then again, he did just get whacked in the face with a shovel and should probably have a concussion, so…

Convenient that Rick passes out when Morgan threatens to kill him if he doesn’t answer, since given his current state I’m not sure he could have done coherently. Note to self: when faced with difficult or awkward questions, keel over. It’ll give you time to think.

The first conversation Rick and Morgan have when Rick first wakes up tied to the bed raises far too many questions related to how long Rick’s been in hospital and how bad his wound is. I…am not going to spend much time on this, because it’s a never-ending chase with no real answers. This is the scene that rips us out of the glorious silent exploration of Rick’s new apocalyptic world and thrusts us into exposition, which at least in this case has a reason given Rick’s total ignorance of the current state of the world – but it’s still exposition.

Anyway, briefly – didn’t Rick get hit from behind, under the armpit? Shouldn’t Morgan have had to change two dressings? But there’s only one, and moreover, Rick’s original bandaging didn’t come close to covering where the original gunshot entry wound was. Magical moving bullets! Mystery wounds! Exposition! Hurray!

Ugh, reasons never to work on The Walking Dead: you have to film in Georgia, and it’s hot and disgusting and everyone sweats, even at night. Blech. Thanks but no.

Morgan’s stupid use of the gun to kill the walker provides helpful exposition, but his reason for why he did it – “it all happened so fast, I didn’t think” – doesn’t make much sense. It was one walker, with no others anywhere in the apparent vicinity, and while his son had potentially whacked down another walker, there wasn’t exactly an urgent need to use the gun. And while I’m not sure that Rick would be able to articulate the idea that what Morgan killed was something other than a living human being, the fact that he’s so insistent that it must have been a man speaks to his desperation to cling to anything resembling normalcy, while unfortunately ignoring his experience since waking up in the hospital. What do you do when you don’t have the vocabulary to articulate what you’ve seen?

As an aside, Rick chained up to the headboard wearing his boxers and hospital gown kiiinda looks like he’s ready for someone’s doctor dom fantasy playtime fetish. Good thing Morgan’s not into that, right?

There’s something deliciously hilarious about Morgan warning/threatening Rick with his tiny little knife when the backdrop is such delightfully mundane floral pillowcases. Laura Ashley does not approve!!!

Why couldn’t Morgan have found Rick a snuggie? Or, I don’t know, slippers? Or socks? Or an actual bathrobe? He’s stuck with blankie chic.

I do love that shot though.

Sidebar, your honour, I have a digression to indulge.

Morgan’s “friend, you need glasses” is kind of hilarious given that now they’re into the apocalypse, sucks to be you if you have non-perfect sight or any medical problems requiring medication or other intervention. There’s a surprising lack of your average American with lots of health problems on TWD, perhaps in part as commentary that many of those individuals would have stood no chance against the relentless people-eating horde. While the introduction of Connie offers a welcome insight into how someone with a disability is able to survive in an apocalyptic situation, the show on the whole oddly glosses over that whole issue. America is not a healthy country (we weren’t pre-Covid and we’re certainly not doing well lately). Nearly half of Americans take prescription drugs, according to a survey from the National Center Health Statistics. Some of these are vital, in that without them the person would die sooner rather than later; others treat conditions that won’t kill you immediately if untreated, but will kill you eventually or will cause significant problems as time goes on; and still others treat conditions that, while usually debilitating, you can usually survive and be at least vaguely functional. Some medications can be substituted by herbal remedies (digitalis, marshmallow root), but many can’t. I have chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia, and deal with chronic pain and migraines; I take daily meds to counter both pain and migraine, as well as an assortment of supplements (and hayfever tablets, oh god) that I *can* function without, but which to do so would seriously suck. Where are these people in the apocalypse? There are so many people with disabilities or on medication who would be able to keep functioning as potentially beneficial partners in the post-apo world. Where are they? And where are the characters grappling with the choice of whether to sacrifice themselves or let their family and friends deal with an ongoing and worsening condition? The only times we really encounter that sort of thing are Milton’s test subject Michael Coleman, who ultimately dies of prostate cancer, the vatos’ little senior citizen safe haven, and Lilly and Tara’s father, all of whom are elderly. We only ever get a little blip of each of those instances, as well, in what appear to be relatively comfortable and secure locations, so we really don’t get a sense of how their frailties or differing abilities play into the survival of those around them. Hershel’s worst health problem was the leg amputated post-walker bite, and that ultimately was irrelevant to how he lived and died. I might be missing someone – I probably am – but it’s an oddity, one that I suppose arises out of both a narrative need – the elderly and disabled and sick are often viewed as less capable and thus less interesting except as an emotional zinger – and a practical in-world need that wants to focus on the strongest and most active rather than devoting time to people who’ve not only had to adapt emotionally but also physically and psychologically. I’ve got a main character in a post-apo situation who’s not only hauling herself through cities and forests with a bad lower back and weak hip and reliance on a cane but who also is unquestionably the leader of her group, because while her disability is not ideal in this post-civilised world, it doesn’t negate her value. The apocalypse doesn’t eradicate every non-fit, medicated adult, and leaving them out or using them as plot conveniences isn’t ideal. To get back to Morgan’s glasses comment – a quick google search suggests that around 61 percent of the population is reported to wear reading or visual aids at least occasionally. This probably isn’t nearly as many once you wipe out the need for reading glasses among the older population (and, you know, people in their 30s like me… *sob*), but nevertheless there’s a significant portion of the population who can’t see very well without glasses (and let me tell you, good luck getting contacts during the apocalypse). My sister is pretty well blind as a bat without glasses and has been since she was in middle school. Imagine how differently things might have played out if Carl’s vision had been super shitty.

Sidebar complete.

I like the all-male hand-holding over the meal prayer. There’s something sweet about it, a clinging to old habits even in chaos.

It’s interesting that Morgan asks Rick if he even knows what’s going on, because by this point it must be at least a month into apocalypse (per Morgan’s line later in the episode that the gas mains have been down a month or so) – what are the odds you’d run into a random person so utterly clueless a whole month in? I guess maybe the hospital gown, boxers, and bare feet clued him in.

I’ve been thinking this all episode: Rick’s beard is beautifully trimmed for a dude who’s been in a coma.

Rick’s response to Morgan’s “yep, the undead, they’ll try to eat you” line is so blasé it’s funny. Like he’s just so overwhelmed by everything of the day that zombie cannibals or whatever are hardly worth getting fussed over. He jumps right from sort of reacting “oh dead people” to going “so they’re out there? Okey-day then”. Meanwhile, Morgan’s cool air comment about drawing zoms never occurs again, and there’s such a time gap between the firing of the gun and the walkers skulking around outside the house that it’s odd they’re still hanging around. Actually, you see this too at the end of season 2, when the herd of walkers wanders out of Atlanta and eventually ends up on Hershel’s farm – they turn when they hear the gunshot, but how good are their powers of perception? Like, they’re attracted to sound – fine, whatever, I can buy that, fine – but a gunshot, for instance, is a single instance of noise that then dies away. If you’re not in the immediate vicinity, as a walker, how do you continue knowing where to go? The show suggests that when zoms are drawn by noise it’s like a magnet, pulling them in unerringly to the source of the sound, but how do they continue to know which is the right direction for ages after the sound has ceased? It’s not like they have a compass or GPS.

Aww, we’re still early enough in the apocalypse that car alarms still work.

Morgan’s wife makes me sad in a lot of ways. Obviously she’s undead and roaming around looking for her next snack and her son and husband love and miss her and find her undead state to be traumatic, but it’s not that specifically so much as the consequences down the line. Morgan and Duane stayed in the same house where Mama Morgan died, meaning they’re regularly within eyeshot, thus inflicting pain and anguish, or suffering the threat thereof, long after her actual death. (Yes, of course, they had a secure and safe base in the house and didn’t want to move, but still.) Morgan couldn’t kill his wife when she dies, the first time around (although that makes me wonder at what point she was booted outside, considering she died in the house; did they chuck her dead body out the front door before she turned, or wait until she was ambulatory and forcibly eject her?). This – I guess you could call it weakness – proves tragic. When Rick gives him a rifle, he sets out deliberately to kill her and still can’t. And then, because Morgan repeatedly failed to put her down, she ultimately causes the death of Duane – and Morgan takes the blame, flipping into a state of madness that operates until he meets the cheesemaker. (I’ll come back to Morgan in later posts. I have *thoughts* about him as both killer and pacifist.)

How do you grieve loss or try to move on if you can’t actually lay the dead to rest? It’s a question that I don’t think gets explored enough in the show, because most of the time everyone is so concerned with pressing on and surviving that grieving is set aside. I’m not going to go into this here, because there’s ample opportunity to do so in later episodes without needing to jump seasons ahead.

Early days: walkers attempting to work doorknobs are a thing, rather than just pawing at the door.

Man, I miss having a bat. I have a wok and a kitchen knife to protect against the undead these days…and assorted high heels, should it come to that. (Oh god the humanity. My shoes would be ruined!!)

There’s something adorable about Rick wearing a damn headshield mask as he waltzes out the door in the morning with his wooden baseball bat and WHITE T-SHIRT to whack the undead dude on the front walk to death. Where did the headshield mask come from? Did the Drakes just happen to have one in the back closet in case of a pandemic? (*sad hollow 2020 laughter*) In any case, it’s a laughable contrast with rest of the show; by the end of the season, no one gives a shit about facial protection or protecting the skin. Potential backsplatter? Eh, give it here, I bathe in zomgoo for the health benefits daily.

Lori appears to keep a glass jar of pinecones on a shelf. She also apparently took framed photos from the wall in addition to the photo albums. At least one photo album makes an appearance in this season, but unless Morgan repurposed the empty frames for defensive purposes, there’s no indication ever of what Lori did with those framed photos. (Sadly, the photo album is lost when they flee Hershel’s farm. One assumes, anyway, since Carl later gets hold of a single photo for Judith because there are no others.)

Atlanta as a safe haven/refugee centre is…well, it’s a plot point to get Rick where he needs to go. Realistically, you don’t want to go into an urban centre when there’s a pandemic. In America, Covid is now hitting rural areas with force, but pretty much all of the early outbreaks and spread were in urban areas. And that’s without the added complication of the dead getting back up again! Cities obviously have more resources, but… I dunno. Although, to be fair, unlike Covid or the flu or the common head cold, zombieism appears only to transmit through bites (since we don’t yet know that everyone is infected!), like rabies, rather than being so contagious that if someone breathes on you, you’re sick. But even then – even accepting that people think that it’s passed solely through bites and not any other way – being bitten doesn’t necessarily mean instant death (Carl is perhaps the most obvious example of this, I think, but Jim and Deanna both also survive for a time after being chomped), so you could conceivably be bitten in a non-obvious area (your side, for instance), waltz into a populated area with only minor symptoms or hop on a plane and then be released into the population of another country, only to then actually die and start to nom people. Eh.

How many sets of keys do the Grimeses have??

I’d suck in the apocalypse because without showers I’d be so sad.

Ah, bonding is always best when undertaken half-naked and wrapped in a pristine white towel.

Duane is adorable. Why couldn’t we get a show following Duane and his sass?

This episode is almost entirely about following Rick in his discovery and acceptance of this new, batshit life, but in some ways I wish we’d got a snippet of flashback with Morgan and Duane and Lady Morgan. It wouldn’t really have fit into the episode, but I can dream.

Rick showers and puts his uniform on rather than civvies. The implication here is that the uniform retains a certain power – protect and serve – so anyone living who sees him would know that here’s a person whose job is to help. Contrasts sharply with the police officer in the second episode of Fear the Walking Dead who’s stockpiling water and clearly has already shifted over to an every-man-for-himself mindset. In light of America’s current epidemic of problematic police officers, it’s interesting to contemplate differences had TWD first aired in 2020. Or had it aired, for instance, in the Pacific Northwest or Northeast, which generally tend to have a more left-skewing and police-condemning attitude.

I mentioned guns briefly earlier, but seasons 1 and 2 have this cute “must respect guns” thread underlying any use of a firearm. Here Duane wants to learn to shoot, but both Morgan and Rick make sure to emphasise that he has to respect the weapon – “Yeah, it’s not a toy, son, when you pull the trigger you gotta mean it.” Season 2 has Shane (and Andrea) flouncing about articulating THOUGHTS about gun ownership and use and training. After that? Welp, fuck it. You get a gun! And you get a gun! And you get a gun! To be clear, I do think if you’re going to handle a gun you should know how to do so properly and safely, but in the context of the Walking Dead it’s an early seasons thing that’s totally dropped by season 3 as the zompocalypse marches on and nobody got time for that shit anymore. (I’ll get around to discussing the shooting practice in season 2 later…)

I don’t know if it’s just the camera angles, but when Rick remarks that a lot of the armoury is gone, it seems like a massive understatement – from what we see, almost all of the guns are gone. Which might be a prop issue (although given the number of guns floating around on this show you wouldn’t think that would be a problem), but does sort of make season 3’s trip to the ol’ hometown with Michonne and Carl kind of funny given that all the guns are gone if there were never really any left to begin with. (And, thinking about it, when Rick is trying to justify going back into Atlanta to get Merle, he comments that he cleaned out the armoury, which makes it even odder that Rick decides to go back for weapons against the Governor et al.

“Conserve your ammo. It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice.” Unless you’re in season 2 on Hershel’s farm, in which case everyone has so much ammo that they’ll never run out.

I know Rick is still in early days of understanding the apocalypse, but it’s still sweet, and ridiculous, that he gives Morgan a radio with the expectation they’d continue chatting and catch up with each other. It also highlights Morgan’s downfall: the unwillingness to get involved in others’ business. He could go with Rick and probably be safer, not least because there’s two grown men to protect one boy, but he instead waits – ostensibly to up his and Duane’s shooting proficiency, but ultimately we see that it’s very much about the unfinished business with his wife.

As an aside, it seems the police station was useful for (1) hot showers and (2) guns and ammo. I’ve never been in a police station, but weirdly I’d have thought they’d have supplies stashed away. Rick and co. didn’t even have a gander at what might be there. But again, early days, I suppose!

RIP Leon Basset.

I love how Morgan hammers the shit out of the wood he’s using to barricade the door. I guess the zoms are conveniently faffing about elsewhere. Especially funny given that he then goes upstairs to snipe walkers, none of whom seem to have noticed the hammering. Are hammers just soundproof??

Christ Morgan’s wife is beautiful.

There’s something…poignant about Rick tracking down the first living dead person he ever knew in order to put her to rest. It’s the same kind of early apocalypse care that we see in “Guts,” when he stops to look through the walker’s wallet so they know the life of the undead man they’ve killed. His sorrow and tendency towards mercy are both here clearly indicated and provide a sharp contrast with the man he becomes. The mercy and drive to do what’s right is what results in him feeling he has to go back to Atlanta to get Merle, what makes him so adamant that they don’t kill the living and should strive to go where there might be a cure, what drives him to hop off the road and go after Sophia and to keep optimistically searching for her. There’s a sweet innocence there that still exists because he came to the zompocalypse after the fact and still retains a strong need to do what’s right that time living in zombieland will beat out of him. The parallelism in this section of the episode, which switches between Rick and Morgan’s actions after leaving the police station, also highlights the difference between having to kill someone you love vs. killing someone you don’t know (or, rather, have no personal attachment to; Rick kills Leon Basset with few qualms, but also frames it as mercy).

Rural Georgia looks hot. And sticky. Thank God my sister didn’t end up moving to the south.

Are the cracks in the windshield and the dirty appearance of the glass supposed to be the result of the apocalypse, or just their police department being a bit short on funds? (Also, it’s Rick’s face in a cracked mirror! Premonitions of mad Rick??) At least Rick’s got his windows rolled up like a sensible person.

Initial observations of Camp Outside Atlanta:

Dale is wearing glasses that I *think* never appear again.

Amy is carrying an armful of kind of hilariously long twigs.

WHY IS AMY WEARING WHITE TROUSERS IN THE APOCALYPSE THIS IS A TERRIBLE DECISION.

Who on earth is on watch on the RV? From a distance it looks, frame-wise, like either Shane or Daryl, but Shane makes his appearance to the side and Daryl is off on a hunt, so who’s this? Actually, in general, it’s kind of amusing that there’s a whole slew of other people in this camp (mostly older/heavier people, based on visibility) that are just sort of vaguely there until the walker attack. It’s actually a shame, really that they didn’t do anything other than plonk some irrelevant extras in the background; it means that when they all die, it means pretty much nothing as a viewer. (I’ll come back to this.)

Shane has great hair. Shame he shaves it off later…

It’s difficult to see when you’ve watched the episode multiple times, but we don’t know what either Lori or Carl look like before they appear in the quarry group receiving Rick’s radio call – we only actually realise who they are when Rick flips down his visor. And, actually, despite what I said above, Lori’s first appearance is not that bad. She observes that there are others – Shane sort of dismisses it with “oh well we knew that.” And then she says that they ought to put up warning signs on Highway 85 to warn people away from the city. Which is smart. Yes, it’s potentially dangerous, but as we’ll go on to learn, they’ve sent people to Atlanta with no previous problem, on top of which the road into town is absolutely empty – Glenn’s exit from Atlanta on the same road Rick rode in on tells us that the road Lori is talking about here is the same road Glenn and Rick have been in and out on. And this is the first time that Shane puts forward an argument that’s just plain wrong. He says they’ve had no time. Okay, fair enough – but they have a group of five literally in Atlanta as they speak. And based on Glenn’s exit path on the way back to the quarry, that group of five followed the same route in. Setting aside the question of why the hell their scavenging team apparently couldn’t stop along the road to place a “Stay Away, Walkers Ahead” sign, Shane’s argument is that they can’t spare the time to place the sign, because it’s “a luxury we can’t afford.” This makes no sense. As we’ll go on to see, this isn’t the first time someone from their group has gone into Atlanta (although it turns out that Glenn, their “go to town” man, has previously only gone himself, without anyone else). Everyone else up by the quarry is basically just fucking around doing nothing. The fact of the matter is that putting up a sign to warn people away from the city isn’t a luxury, but rather a helpful, logical, and overwhelmingly safe thing to do. Shane’s objection comes, in the first instance, from a man reluctant to relinquish control; it’s clear that Shane is viewed as a decision maker with practical knowledge the other survivors lack, and as a result of that knowledge is viewed as a leader. It’s an important if subtle moment in which Shane is established as the leader of the camp, a position that he then unwillingly gets shoved out of when Rick turns up. It is interesting, though, that here Lori is gung-ho about leaving their mountain and going down to put up a sign, while she later adamantly vetoes her husband going back to Atlanta. Shane’s argument is that no one goes anywhere alone, but given later events, it seems that Shane’s objection is not that someone wants to go warn people away from Atlanta, or that they want to risk Atlanta itself, as much as it is his desire to not let Lori be in danger. And Lori’s frustration at Shane’s decree is obvious – and yet she relents and gives in once kisses are to be had. Shane following Lori to verbally whack her for even thinking of putting herself in danger just points up Shane’s chauvinism. NOT LEAST BECAUSE, OH MY GOD, HE CALLS HER GIRL. SHE’S A WOMAN, YOU TWAT. If the argument had been made that Lori shouldn’t go because she has a son, and she shouldn’t risk him being an orphan – that I could understand. But Carl is so side-lined here that he’s really just a reason to make Shane and Lori stop kissing. Sigh.

God I wish Lori would have socked Shane in the eye. He does have nice hair, though.

Also, those are some *really* nice giant tents. Although my best friend’s adventures have made clear to me that I have unrealistically small expectations about tents.

I’m a little concerned about the condition of the windows of Rick’s cop car. They’re…disgusting. The driver’s side front and back windows look equally awful – I guess it’s good the apocalypse happened, because good luck seeing traffic out those windows. His windshield doesn’t look much better. Is over-enthusiastic pollen a thing in Georgia??

So, about the dead couple whose farm Rick encounters/steals a horse from. They’re both dead, woe, sadness, etc. What I’m fascinated about is that dude took the time to shoot his wife, and then decided to write a message IN HER BLOOD on the damn wall. I mean, okay, you wanted absolution for killing your wife and being about to kill yourself. But you kill your wife and then use her blood to write on the wall??

Signs that Rick is still in early days acceptance: he doesn’t enter the house with two clearly dead people (and thus likely no walkers) and then has a sit on a bench, throws up, and then goes in search of alternative transportation.

…that poor horse.

Is horse-taming a southern thing? I feel like I’d be terrified enough of the giant heavy horse to…not approach it.

Iconic shot!

It’s stunning that Rick has encountered zero walkers aside from the little girl. Works with the need for the story to move along, but is silly in terms of later walker distribution (ignoring season 2, which is its own special disaster).

Is everything flat in Georgia? Legitimate question. The extent of my knowledge of Georgia is a flight transfer through Atlanta. (Atlanta airport employees are all super nice, though.)

There’s something about the two zomdudes hanging out on a bus that cracks me up. How do walkers decide to just park it somewhere? “Ah yes, I recognise this bus, I’ve taken it to work every day for ten years. Definitely the best place to spend eternity.” It’s also odd but entertaining that the two dudes on the bus are repeatedly seen once Rick is in the horde and then in the tank. Why these two? Yeah, they’re the first Atlanta walkers he passed by, but they’re not exactly presented as special or important enough to appear repeatedly. Rick pops out of the top of the tank and whacks the one across the face, and the other skulks around the base of the tank and makes eye contact.

One of the weirdest and most uncomfortable moments in this episode, for me, is the two crows nomming the dead military officer. Caw caw! There’s a mild horror at the thought of ever being carrion. Though I guess everyone is just food for something else…

I can forgive Rick for a number of odd decisions based on the fact that he’s really only been awake for, what, two days? Maybe three? He’s still adapting to the new world, learning its rules, etc. But he rides a damn horse into a major city and is just generally not concerned. He comments to the horse when they pass the bus with the two walkers that it’s no big deal, they can outrun them – and yet somehow doesn’t think ahead about the existence of the dead in a major city. I guess it can sort of be attributed to the fact that he’s encountered remarkably few dead, plus in his brain Atlanta and its refugee centres are the answer to everything. He just hasn’t actually thought about it.

And, again, I’m stunned at the amount of abandoned military equipment. I guess the moral of the story is “don’t trust the military, don’t trust the government, they can do fuckall to help you.”

So Rick sees a helicopter. When he meets the others after Glenn rescued him, they ridicule the idea that helicopters still exist. Which brings up two instances. Firstly, beginning of season 3, when Andrea and Michonne witness a helicopter crash with military dudes who’ve got others attached to them. Secondly, the helicopter that rescues Rick and has apparently set up Rick Grimes’s future films. I just wish I knew where this particular helicopter was from and where it was going.

For a cop, even one with minimal experience with the world as it is now, Rick is an idiot. He lunges forward as stupidly as he went forward alone in his confrontation with the idiot car guys. Surely you should be thinking ahead? He’s in relatively unknown territory in a relatively new world. I’m not saying he should have anticipated a horde of dead people, but you’d think he’d exercise as least some caution, especially when his nearby décor indicates that the damn military was swamped with the enemy, such that they fucked off elsewhere. But maybe it’s just me.

Ooh, look, an extra drinking water.

I like that the makeup artists decay the walkers more each season. Season 1, most of them are sort of “hai I’m a regular human, I just have some dramatic injuries and some zombie eyes.” They look like people who are mostly dead but haven’t started to decompose. (I’d never be hired as a walker – the longer the show goes, the more they need skinny people so the makeup and prosthetics aren’t so obvious…and I am not skinny.)

That poor horse…

Yet again, Rick seriously lucks out. We see him multiple times with “omg dead people” face, with walkers just sort of lurking/dancing in place because they can’t lunge in or he’d be dead. And then there’s conveniently a tank above him. I’ve never been able to decide whether Rick going “Lori, Carl, I’m sorry” and then putting his gun to his head is a genuine “Oh no, I’m about to die” or if he’d realised the hatch was above him and so it was a “welp if I die, I love you.”

Men have huge feet. Yeek.

It’s stunning how long Rick’s in the tank with a zombot before said zombot wakes up and attempts a menacing growl. Not least because Rick’s so overwhelmed at having been upwardly mobile that he completely fails to take in his surroundings. (Although, as we’ve seen, Rick has never been great at checking his surroundings. Dude should be walkerbait by now.)

Oh no, a walker. Haaalp.

I do appreciate that Rick suffered auditory pain from firing a gun in an enclosed metal space. I also find it funny that one of the buszoms comes into his eyesight, like for some reason he's important.

“Hey, you. Dumbass.” Glenn is fucking amazing and iconic. I wish he'd been the main of this show. No offense to Andrew Lincoln, of course, but Steven Yeun is great, and Glenn's development from a kid into an adult is just lovely.

Anywho, that marks the end of "Days Gone Bye." Good in so many ways, eh in so many others. What's not to love?

love  em

[crawgluvr4]

(ao3)

it’s half one in the morning. gabriel stares intently at his work, even as the lines start to blur from exhaustion.

“c’mon, gabe,” jack whines, arms draped over gabriel’s shoulders. “you can do this tomorrow. there’s time before the party.”

gabriel sighs. “i’m nearly done.”

“you’ve been saying that for nearly two hours,” jack protests. he tightens his grip, and gabriel struggles to keep the fabric he’s sewing even. “bed time. please.”

“i can just… mist into bed, you know.” gabriel keeps a careful eye on the needle, nervous. “that’s something i can do now.”

“i don’t think sneaking into bed is the intended use of this,” and jack waves a hand, loosening his hold, “whatever it is. what if it wears off or something and you get stuck like that?”

gabriel’s nervousness spikes up. if it wears off.

“i mean i’d still love you even if you were a sentient cloud,” jack continues, oblivious. “but i think sex would be weird-”

“fuck off,” gabriel groans. he slaps at jack’s arms. “i’m not having this conversation. you’re weird and i hate you.”

“you loooove me,” jack sings, directly into his ear. 

“why is that even the first thing you think about! what the fuck. not ‘how do i keep my darling husband from blowing away in the wind’.” gabriel covers his face with his hands. “it’s ‘how will i fuck the cloud’.”

“it’s not like i went into the logistics of it!” jack is laughing against his back. “and it’s not like i wouldn’t- ugh, never mind. i’ll shut up about it if you come to bed already.”

“given your train of thought, that sounds like a proposition.” gabriel leans back, grinning. 

“i literally have to be up at seven tomorrow.”

“yeah, but i know how quick you can be.”

jack pulls gabriel’s beanie down over his eyes and leaves, grumbling. gabriel laughs so hard he ends up slumping off his chair onto the floor.

“it wasn’t even that funny!” jack insists as gabriel, eventually, comes into the bedroom, still holding his side. “you just have the sense of humour of a twelve year old.”

“you’re one to talk, cloud-fucker,” gabriel retorts, chucking his shirt at him. jack catches it and gives him a withering glare, undermined by how his lips tremble with trying not to smile.

gabriel finishes up his nightly routine and finally gets into bed. jack immediately curls up to him, wrapping his arms around gabriel’s shoulders and giving him a little kiss on his spine. gabriel can feel him smiling in the dark.

“if you cut the blood supply off to my arm,” gabriel says, “i won’t hesitate to push you off.”

“just cloud it or whatever,” jack mumbles into his neck, half asleep already.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” 

jack just snorts. “love you.”

“love you too.”

--

he dreams of blowing away in the wind.

--

jack is gone when he wakes up, which is increasingly normal. life for them was never simple, but work had been a bigger burden over the past few months, and their time together was more and more centered around dinner and sleeping.

but it was nice, even then. just to relax and be human for a while, much as he could.

he ignores paperwork to finish the costumes; it takes another good hour and a half, and he begrudgingly admits to jack via text that he was right. jack texts back ‘always am ;)’ and gabriel makes a very irritated cheese sandwich.

he eventually drags himself over to the training range to go check on mccree. he had left him in charge of the recruits for the morning in order to finish sewing (and have a lie-in), and felt the urge to make sure he hadn’t burned the place down.

“howdy!” mccree greets him before the door even finishes opening, jogging on over with a have. the recruits all look nervously between him and gabriel, before mccree remembers himself. “uh, i mean, howdy… commander.”

gabriel looks at him tiredly. “report, mccree.”

one of the very new recruits looks like they’re about to pass out at their casual interaction. gabriel always loved pretending to be a serious hard-ass to new recruits at first, usually to test how they were with authority. it also made the parties blackwatch had a lot funnier for them.

“already had to send that palmer girl up to angie,” mccree sighs. “fightin’ over what target she gets to shoot at. real pain in the ass. rest of the kids here are doing fine, though.”

“some of these ‘kids’ have a decade on you, jesse.”

mccree coughs, adjusts his hat. “okay, okay, whatever. some of these respectable recruits,” and he puts on a very posh voice, “are doing absolutely wonderfully given the stressors of the situation.”

gabriel rolls his eyes. “right.” 

gabriel watches the recruits for a while as mccree goes into detail, occasionally inputting his own notes on his tablet to add to mccree’s report when it comes. assuming the cowboy hadn’t forgotten to write up the physical report, of course, but he planned to leave him to remember that on his own.

mccree shuffles closer after a while, leaning in. “did ya get the costumes finished?”

gabriel raises an eyebrow. “you think i’d be here if i hadn’t?”

“oh. right.” mccree pauses. “i just… had an idea. your mask has eye holes, right?”

“yeah.” gabriel lowers his tablet slightly. “i gotta see, jesse.”

“well i was thinkin’,” mccree gestures to him. “you can smoke up random bits of you, yeah?”

gabriel grimaces. “it’s supposed to be for combat only.”

“aw, like you haven’t used it for convenience. i know you! but that’s not the point.” mccree grins. “say you go in normally. everyone’s impressed by your craftsmanship, yeah, of course. but they’re used to it now. they all know you too well.”

gabriel frowns.

“i’m not bein’ insulting,” mccree adds hurriedly. “but it’s true.”

gabriel’s frown deepens.

“alright, alright! i’m just sayin’... the people there all know your weird cloud status.” gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to forget his conversation with jack the previous night. mccree doesn’t seem to notice. “and i think you could pass it off as clever effects if anythin’ got leaked. so just imagine bein’ dressed as sexy grim reaper-”

“it’s not sexy grim reaper, for fuck’s sake,” gabriel mumbles. “it’s tasteful and mature gothic halloween fashion.”

“the point IS if you start having smoke melt out your eyes-”

“wait, is it the boots? are heeled boots too much? christ, i’m not sure i can find flat boots in time-”

mccree elbows him. “the boots are fine, pops, i’m joking. now the smoke. think about it?”

gabriel stops thinking about how he’s going to obtain thigh high flat boots before the evening. “right. smoke. i dunno how long i can do that for, though.”

“you ain’t gotta do it for a long time,” mccree says, leaning back against the wall. “just occasionally when someone looks at you. and during the pictures.”

gabriel thinks about his dream. thinks about the deep-seated fear he’s had of himself since undergoing moira’s treatment and being able to dissolve. 

thinks about the potential look on jack’s face.

“you got a deal.” he flicks off mccree’s hat with a grin. “good idea, kid.”

--

the look on jack’s face - a mixture of fright and awe - is definitely worth it.

gabriel wins the informal costume contest, again, and donates half the winnings (a bottle of absurdly pink and sparkly gin) to mccree as thanks. reinhardt nearly passes out from fear. the rest of the party is simply good fun, and he feels a little more comfortable that the people around him don’t think him some kind of monster. outside of costume, anyway.

later, in bed, jack tipsily tells him he thinks smoky grim reaper in high heels is actually pretty hot. gabriel refuses to speak to him for a record two minutes, pillow over his face, while jack nearly cries laughing to himself.

“i’m not indulging your new cloud fetish,” gabriel says eventually, and jack wheezes into the quilt. “the rest of it i’d be happy to get to wear more often. they’ve been in my closet for years.”

“wait.” jack sits up. “in your closet? you didn’t just make that stuff?”

gabriel lifts the pillow off his face slightly. “nah, mccree asked me to make his and genji’s costumes. mine was just a well planned combination of clothes i actually own. i don’t wear ‘em much cause i don’t want the press to be weird about it.”

“oh my god,” jack groans, flopping back into the bed. “oh my god. you kept me up late like three days in a row making a ridiculous two-piece dragon cowboy costume for those two?”

“i take my work seriously, jack.”

“you skipped like four important meetings over the past month.” 

“saving the world is just a hobby,” gabriel grins. 

jack slaps the pillow back onto gabriel’s face. “you’re terrible. awful. evil. i hate you.”

“love you too, honey.”

[inactivvvee]

I finally finished making the first chapter! The book is called Bone Marrow by the way

This chapter contains: paranoia, and recalling traumatic events

The smell of coffee beans waffered through the air as the sun barely peeked through the city buildings. A medium sized lump on the old small bed stirred before a bony hand appeared from inside the cocoon. The hand grasped at the blanket, peeling it away from the body underneath. The skeleton sat up and dazedly stared at the wall before him. Sun rays peered through the dirty cracked window, old curtains fluttering lightly from the heater pumping warm air out below it. The walls were a light brown though the male was sure it had originally been a more cream color despite his landlord's protests. The floor above him creaked lightly as he could hear echoes of footsteps coming from upstairs.

The boney figure was still shaken up from the previous night. His leg unconsciously curled into his chest as he thought about it. He became slightly short of breath at the mere thought of everything. He was still shook, mostly from the fact that he wasn't killed but also the mere fact that something like this happened to someone like him. He wasn't anyone important, just a mere photographer who produced photos for the local newspaper and even got to write a few of the stories. He never wrote anything on the murders and stuck to the boring things that people tended to overlook. It was a sucky job but someone had to do it.

When the skeleton had gotten back to his place, he had immediately called the police. The police hadn't really belived him when he had said he witnessed a murder since the streets souronding that area were peaceful and only contained your average junkies and hooligan teens. But they proceeded with protocol and dispatched a police officer to go check the crime scene. When they had found the body an investigation was released almost immediately after seeing how the victim was murdered. The way the victim had died resembled the many others that fell victim to the 'Hound'.

The Hound was the newest serial killer in the state. They were named 'Hound' after the first few bodies were found with sharp almost canine like teeth marks littering their bodies. It wasn't released to the public yet if the cause of death was from the bite marks or the deep gashes done with a bowie knife. The police tried to keep the whole thing on the down low but a few reporters caught wind of it and jumped to give this new killer a name, which seemed to only fuel the wrath by said killer. The Bureau tried to disclose any other information so the media couldn't make a not on anything. It was an attempt to lure the killer out and make them act more recklessly. Which utterly failed.

The skeleton was brought in for questioning a few hours later but was released a little while after since it was nearing the two am mark. He would have to come back in the morning to finish up the questions before he was off the hook. His eyes turned to view the alarm clock on his nightstand, he gave a small sigh as it read six thirty-eight. He only had an hour or so before he would be asked to come down to the station. He wanted to succumb to escapism and hide away from this reality. Perhaps he could go back to sleep and would later awake to realize it was all just a bad dream.

A cold chill ran down his spine as his mind drifted back to the crime scene. Was the person he saw really the Hound? He casted a paranoid glance around the room as he reminded himself that he was safe, that he was in his own sanctuary and that the Hound couldn't harm him. They had dispatched a police officer to watch the skeleton's apartment in case he were to leave town or if the killer wanted to clean up. He didn't get to talk much with the police officer since he was too tired and frightened to strike up a conversation.

He turned his body and let his legs fall off the side of the bed as he stood up. He wore a slightly baggy shirt (everything was baggy on him since he was quite literally made up of bones) and a pair of navy sweatpants. He made his way to his small kitchen, his feet making slight clattering noises as they moved over the hardwood floor. He walked over to the wooden counter, already spotting the container of coffee grounds already out. He messed around in the kitchen for a little before finally starting his coffee. He tapped his finger on the counter as he thought the cop would appreciate a cup of coffee. He might already have a cup of coffee. The skeleton thought to himself as he let doubt worm its way in. He decided he would just keep to himself instead of going out of his way to talk to the officer. He felt more comfortable with that.

He turned his back to the coffee maker, trudging through the small kitchen towards the small living room. The lights were still off, the only light coming from the window by the small one-person table. He liked the lights being off, sometimes they were just too bright. He pulled himself over towards the window, moving the thin curtain to the side so he could peek outside. The sidewalks were that busied, seeing a pedestrian every now and then. Anyone of them could be the killer. Could be pretending just to be a normal citizen as they checked out his building so they could plot when and how they would get in to finish the job.

Suddenly he didn't really want to look outside anymore. He let the curtain go and watched it cut the image of the outside off from his line of sight. He stepped back, his fingers knitting themselves together. Fear settled itself deep within his bones again. He couldn't really remember all that had happened last night. When he explained that the officers down at the station they assumed it was his mind trying to protect him by locking up his memories. It's very common to those who experience something traumatic.

His hands slithered over one another, feeling the scrape marks that indented his palms from when he fell. That might've been the only thing that reminded him that what had happened wasn't just some nightmare. He turned his palms upwards as he peered down. His hands ached as he eyes the indentations. They would heal of course but he tended to get hurt quite a lot. A perfect example of that was when he had stubbed his toe last week on his bedpost and it ended up breaking. The hospital staff became very well acquainted with him since the time he's moved in

The sound of a knock brought the skeleton back from his mind. He turned his head towards the door, watching it intensely. Had the killer saw where he escaped to last night? How did they find his room? Did they see him from the window? His thoughts raced through his mind as adrenaline pumped into his veins. He fell into a cold sweet, his hearing zoning in and trying to make out any other sound from the other side of the door. Another knock ripped through the room, followed by a voice.

"It's the police!" The voice announced, a little muffled by the wooden door. The skeleton nervously took a step forward towards the door. After a second he began to take a few more quiet steps til he pressed his palms against the cold wood. He leaned his head forward, his 'heart' hammering against his ribs. He looked into the peephole. The man on the other side was fairly tall, dark toned skin- maybe a few shades darker than almond-, thick brown curls that hugged the bottom of his jawline and the sides of his face. The two important details he noticed were the police uniform and the two eyes that glanced from the door to each end of the hallway. The guy on the other side of the door wasn't the serial killer.

The skeleton released a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against the door for a second before pulling the door chain off the wall. He turned the second lock, here the soft click when he did so. His hand clamped around the cold metal doorknob, pulling the door up slowly. He peeked his head off to the side, still cautious of the other. His left palm was gripping the edge of the door as his right hand was still pressed up against the door. The male on the other side smiled once he noticed the door was opened.

"Howdy! I hope I didn't wake you up, I just wanted to check in" His voice was fruity, which calmed the skeletons jitters a little more. His eyes were perfect, they looked like warm caramel that commercials showed for caramel filled candy. A small black dot that you could easily overlook was settled in the lower part of his right eye. The edges of his lips tugged upwards as he gave a toothy grin. Four teeth on the top row were sharp. The cop in front of his door was a vampire.

Vampires weren't very known to be in law enforcement. They tended to stick to jobs in the medical section, better access to bagged blood- or fresh blood. The male stammered slightly as he realized he had just been staring at the cop instead of replying.

"Ah yea...I'm doing okay, thank you" His words came out taunt and meek. He cleared his throat lightly so the next time he spoke, it wouldn't be so quiet. His fingers on his right hand scratched at the door in slight embarrassment. The vampire gave a small nod at the reply. Before the vampire could reply, the skeleton added a little more. "I didn't...catch your name.." He began to worry half way through his sentence that it was a bad idea to ask for it. Though his doubts were eased when he saw the smile on the vampire grow a little.

"Aki, Aki Linscott" He proudly announced. He raised a brow and gave a small tilt to his head. "I never actually caught yours, sorry" He apologized lightly, his hands resting on his hips. The skeleton widened his eyes lightly as he realized he never actually gave his first AND last name to the officers down at the station. He had only given his first name since he was still a babbling mess. It was kind of embarrassing now that he though back on it.

"Oh it's Milo...Uh- Myrah- my last name is Myrah" He stammered to make his sentence clear. Aki reached his hand out towards Milo, his expression friendly and welcoming. Milo was still cautious of the other, his shoulders tensing up slightly at the action. He kinda reminded him of an overly excited dog that was meeting another of his kind at the dog park. It was kinda cute. His shoulders relaxed once again as the image of the dog popped into his head once again. He didn't really seem treacherous

"Well it's nice to meet you Milo!" He gushed, a little sparkle happening in his eyes. Everytime Aki spoke, he felt a little more comfortable. Milo reached his frail hand out and wrapped it around Aki's more muscular and warmer one. Both parties shook their hands slightly. Aki's grip was more profound while Milo's was weak and vulnerable. Milo could spot a few scars on the officer's arms, a few hard to see while others were bold. One scar traveled from the inside of his left forearm, traveling upwards under his sleeve. He became a little curious about the scar, did he get it on the job or maybe sometime before?

"Mhm...Same here"

Word count: 2k

[pokemonfreak387]

Winter Break (Redone) Chapter 11 (Friskriel Fanfic)

Notes: Oh hey look. Angst. Huh, that was a thing the original fic was definitely missing. No wonder it was a shitty story. Also fair warning, the word f** is used uncensored in this chapter. Thanks to @thunders29 for proofreading and being supportive!

Chapter Summary: Asriel makes his way back to school after the winter break, but trouble soon rears its ugly head for him. The fiasco at the party has already been spread, and Asriel is more than upset about it. 2543 Words.

Chapter 11 Then We Wouldn’t Have to Deal With You Moggers

Asriel groaned as his alarm clock blared in his ears. If there was a thing all teens his age could agree on, it would be that the alarm on the first day back to school after a long break is both the loudest and most annoying one yet. It didn’t help him either that he could barely sleep thinking about what may happen when he gets back to school, especially after the New Year’s Party fiasco. Granted, Asriel didn’t see any of the school gossipers there at the party ironically, so there was a chance he was safe.

As Asriel slowly sat up and turned off his alarm, he heard a small noise being emitted next to him. He turned his head to find that Frisk was actually laying next to him still asleep. Two questions popped into his head: Why was Frisk here, and how did they sleep through the alarm? No matter the answer, Asriel gently made his way out of bed without waking them up, collected his clothes for the day, and went downstairs for breakfast.

It wasn’t until Asriel had breakfast and showered that he saw Frisk again that morning. He was laying in the loft, drawing on his sketchbook, when he heard his door open. Sure enough, Frisk appeared from behind it, one of Asriel’s blankets wrapped around them.

“You’re up early.” Asriel remarked, peeking above his sketchbook.

Frisk didn’t respond, but instead made their way over to the boss monster. They gently took the sketchbook out of his hands, placed it on the coffee table, and flopped themselves on top of him. He let out a surprised puff as he got most of the air knocked out of him, but it was shortly followed by giggles.

“Mmm, warm…” Frisk murmured.

“Even being wrapped in that thing, you’re still cold?” Asriel chuckled. “By the way, why were you in my bed this morning?”

Frisk rubbed their head deeper into Asriel’s chest. “Room… Too cold. Wanted warmth.”

Asriel never did understand why humans got so cold so easily, even when they had on garments that practically simulated fur on their body. Maybe it was because humans didn’t have magic within them to keep them warm? Definitely a question to ask Alphys today in class. Speaking of which, Asriel fished his phone from his pocket and saw it was time for him to leave. As much as he didn’t want to leave the comforting embrace of his lover, school called, and Toriel was going to be even more pissed if he didn’t go. Asriel gently kissed Frisk on their head and guided them back to their feet, Frisk letting out a groan in protest.

“Asriel…” They started. “Please be careful today. I’m worried what may happen to you.”

“S-same, honestly.” He replied. “Maybe with luck, everyone has forgotten about it?”

Frisk gave him a face.

“Hey I’m just trying to be optimistic.”

Frisk just chuckled and shook their head. They then walked up to Asriel and gave him a kiss. They stayed together for a while, their tongues twisting with each other, until they broke off and Asriel made his way to school.

---

When Asriel first came to middle school, he remembered people constantly whispering around him. He knew the whispers then were about him, some good, some bad, all leaving him with soul-shaking anxiety. Now in high school, the whispering had become somewhat less, and any whispering that did occur didn’t affect Asriel quite as much as it did before. However, it seemed the whispering was especially loud today, and the Anxiety that Asriel had first felt four years ago came back.

Trying to avoid the gazes of the students around him, Asriel made it to his Chinese class. He was glad to see John and Dave already there, though part of him was also a little disgusted by them. Maybe it was the memory of the two of them going off somewhere during the party to bang, but he didn’t give it much attention. Instead, he put on his best cheery facade and walked up to them.

“John! Dave!” Asriel greeted. “Howdy, how’s it going?”

John jumped at his voice and gave Asriel a nervous look. When Dave turned around and faced the boss monster, even through his shades, his eyes looked worrying. It was rare to see Dave have any sort of emotion, so this led to Asriel to instantly lose what positivity he had.

“Um… Asriel,” John said nervously. “You… May want to read this.”

He handed Asriel over a paper. It was the school’s newspaper, the “What’s News” newspaper. Seems even Toriel had gotten her hands on naming this, but that wasn’t what caught Asriel’s eye and the boys’ attention. No, what made them act so anxious was the headline”

BREAKING NEWS: IS THE HUMAN-MONSTER AMBASSADOR AN INCESTUAL TETRAPHILE?

On the night of December 31st, 2020, a majority of the town, Ebott, had been invited over to the Mettamansion for the ever popular Mettaton’s annual New Year’s Party. It was a very exciting event, especially since this was the first time ever that the human-monster ambassador, Frisk Dreemurr, had been able to attend one of these parties. There was plenty of enjoyment to be had, listening to their story of how they made it through the underground first-hand. However, it was only shortly after they finished their story that we got a shock of a lifetime. Around 11:05, Frisk had begun searching for their brother, Asriel Dreemurr. Nobody thought anything of it at first, until Asriel suddenly appeared in front of them, more drunk than a JRPG character. The 16-year old boss monster must have been drinking out of loneliness, as shortly after he had begun to what seemed to be sexually advancing onto Frisk. They showed resistance, that is until Asriel had begun to try to kiss them! He had blacked out during it, but it was very obvious what he was trying to do. This leads many questions to the public: are Frisk and Asriel in a relationship? Does the ambassador have more personal reasons for their ambassadorship? How long has this been going on? How will this affect Frisk personally? We will find answers soon.

When Asriel finished reading the article, he was so enraged that he burned the paper into ashes within seconds, and tossed them into the trash. John and Dave looked at him with fear and surprise.

“Hey!” John whined. “I paid a dollar for that!”

Asriel shot him back a glare that made John cower. Asriel seemed to be a lot scarier than he normally was. Dave had assumed that Asriel would begin to freak out like his usual anxious self, but he did not foresee this. In a low voice, Asriel growled something.

“Who wrote this!?”

The boys looked at each other.

“I-I think Marco Linder.” Dave responded. “He is the director of the press. Go to Mrs. Lalonde, she may be able to tell you more.”

In an instant, Asriel stormed out of the classroom, leaving the boys and any other bystanders stunned. John and Dave gave each other a look, and they made their way to Mrs. Lalonde’s room. There was no telling what Asriel would do at this state.

---

Rage didn’t even define what Asriel was feeling right now. He expected an attack on himself, especially with how much he knew there was a lot people in the school that didn’t like him, and he would’ve taken it passively as per usual. But frisk? No, that was crossing the fucking line, and Marco was about to learn that. It would be a miracle if Asriel didn’t get suspended from burning him to a crisp.

Mrs. Lalonde’s room was directly below Mr. Walsh’s class, so the trip wasn’t too long. However, no matter the distance, it seemed someone beat Asriel to the punch. Someone who, just like the teen, was a white, furred monster of large, threatening size. There was no mistaking the loud, lecturing voice. Even if it seemed way more malicious than usual, Asriel knew exactly who was already chewing out his target.

“Do you realize just how much damage you have dealt to so many reputations?” Toriel asked in a surprisingly restrained voice. “And you just let this story slide? Without thinking just how badly it would affect the world? This school was not built on rumors and dishonesty!”

“He claims that he was just going to report on something about the party.” Mrs. Lalonde tried to explain. “I didn’t go so I wasn’t aware that what he was reporting was this.”

“But didn’t you look at the final print before it was published?”

“N-no… I just thought, since he’s been doing so well, I had confidence in Marco that it was perfect.”

Toriel scoffed at the teacher’s ignorance. She then turned to Marco, fire almost literally burning in her eyes.

“Listen up, young man. This school is built on patience, bravery, integrity, perseverance, kindness, justice, and determination. This school was not built on childish rumors that are to be reported in the school news!”

“But it isn’t a rumor!” Marco talked back, no hint of regret or restrain in his voice. “Besides, you’re just biased cause these are your kids!”

“Well I am a mother to my children first, so as their mother I demand you tell me why you did it.”

Marco huffed in frustration. “We were short in stories and we needed something good. Unlucky for you, someone managed to hand us this gem of a story.”

“Who?” Toriel demanded, but Marco just laughed.

“You think I would tell you? A news reporter never reveals their sources.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m sure you’d be happy to tell the same thing to your parents once you are suspended on the grounds of bad attitude, failure to comply to the school rules, and threatening the life of a student. Not to mention if I don’t hear who told you right now, the Newspaper Club will be disbanded, and Mrs. Lalonde loses some of her paycheck.”

A whine came from the teacher, but she refused to speak. Marco also seemed to not want to talk, but there was no fear in his eyes, only challenge. Toriel could not believe this. She had never met such an ignorant, stubborn person in her life. It’s hard to believe that she used to think that Marco was actually once a good student when he first came to the school two years ago. What has this world turned into?

The stare off between Toriel and Marco was cut short as some called out “Excuse me,” from the audience that had formed behind Asriel. Everyone turned towards the bunny monster who spoke up. She shrank back when she suddenly realized everyone was looking at her, then mumbled something barely audible.

“Speak up child.” Toriel commanded, a little softer than she has been.

“I-it was a g-girl named Gillian.” The bunny explained. At the word Gillian, Asriel gasped, and all his rage suddenly melted into disbelief. “Gillian Tynnclear from B-Black Hills High Sch-school. We got the info f-from her.”

Toriel sighed at that news. Black Hills has not been a very friendly school with Tutoriel High, so she wasn’t too surprised it was a student from that anti-monster school. She recomposed herself and looked around the room. Her eyes then landed back on Mrs. Lalonde and Marco.

“Well, it seems at least someone can show a little integrity.” She remarked. “Mrs. Lalonde, the Newspaper club is to not release any more issues until we see some justice. Mr. Linder, I will see you in my office after school with your parents. The rest of you, please go to your first periods, the bell is about to ring.”

The audience parted like the Red Sea as Toriel walked out of the room, a small shake in her stride. The students soon dispersed, chatting about what just happened, some praising the bunny, some throwing tetraphobic jokes her and Toriel’s way. Mrs. Lalonde even left the room, looking like she was about to pass out in fear. This just left Asriel and Marco. One look at the rather short human, and Asriel’s rage reignited.

Asriel advanced over to him. Fireballs had begun to form in his hands, the flames shaking without much restraint. Determination and anger were plastered on the boss monster’s face as he spoke to the senior.

“Why?” He growled. “Why would you ruin all we worked for? All the PEACE we worked for!?”

The second Asriel got the last word out, Marco became a blur, and Asriel felt something smack him right in the cheek, knocking him to the ground in pain and snuffing out the flames in his palms. The world blurred, and Asriel began to feel dizzy. His cheek began to go numb as he saw a pair of shoes walk up to him, kicking him in the stomach and knocking the air out of him as he curled up in pain.

“Peace? Bullshit. All you monsters are nothing but trouble.” Marco spewed. “You all come here with your magical bullshit, suddenly claiming everyone is connected by their ‘souls’ and then we find out you can actually MAKE lives? You all have played god long enough.”

He kicked Asriel again.

“If only Trump actually became president. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with you moggers.”

Moggers was the worst insult one could call any monster. It was an old phrase from before the war, often used more to describe the more corrupt monsters. However, today it was used as a slur, much like fag and the n-word. It was the nail in the coffin to make tears finally stream from Asriel.

“Go back to the Underground, and then go to hell.” Marco spat, leaving Asriel to squirm on the floor in pain. When the door closed, Asriel let out a sob that he had been holding in. He wasn’t crying over being attacked, or being insulted, or even at meeting possibly the worst human ever. No, what made him cry was that he broke the promise he made to Frisk that morning. He blamed himself, as per usual, and was afraid to see Frisk after this. At the same time, he wanted them now more than ever. They would heal him, make him feel better, just make him forget about this only for a little while. But instead, Asriel just laid on the cold, tiled floor, crying.

A short minute later, Asriel heard a loud zap, followed by a pair of arms picking him up. He tried to look through the tears and dizziness to see exactly who it was. All he saw was a round, bone white head, and something blue underneath it.

“C’mon kid, let’s get you home.” The character said. Asriel felt a rush of wind and the background suddenly changed. He finally saw the character to be Sans, which made sense to him now that he thought about it. Sans laid the boss teen down on his bed, taking off his shoes and pulling the covers over him. He gave one last scratch to the back of Asriel’s ear before walking off.

“Rest up,” He whispered. “I’ll go get Frisk.”