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writingintheshadowsforever · 1 year ago

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It Was Real For Me Too Monica Rambeau x Reader

Summary: Monica is convinced you hated every second being trapped in Wanda's hex with her. In reality she couldn't be more wrong if only she gave you the chance to explain.

Carol raised a single eyebrow walking into the storage room of her ship. Where she kept all her extra cargo and miscellaneous items to see Monica rummaging around. The sound of stuff falling from the shelves along with someone whispering curse words is what drew her there. She already knew the identity of the culprit considering they were only four people on her ship counting herself.

You were off playing twenty questions with Kamala, and she was sure the young girl was taking notes for her fanfiction. That only left one person, and she'd been scarce from the moment you arrived on the ship.

"Is there something I can help you find?" Carol asked smirking when Monica jumped a little bit.

She threw a quick glare at the superhero who was still more of a mother figure to her. Then went back to searching through various boxes on the floor without a word. Her relationship was already rocky since the two still haven't worked through the abandonment issue, but it only got worse. When Carol decided to call you in to assist on the mission without consulting her first.

"Mon come on you're not the one who has to reorganize all this later" Carol pleaded.

"Do you have any liquor or wine on this ship?"

"I do but you won't find it here."

Monica stood up and turned around with a frustrated huff. "Where will I find it then?"

"I'll tell you if you answer a few questions."

Monica shook her head in refusal. "You owe me Carol you don't get to holdout on me."

"I do if you want the only bottle of wine I have plus I need to know what's going with you with what's at stake with this mission. Why does y/n being here bother you so much?"

"Its that obvious huh."

Carol nodded.

Monica let out a groan taking a seat on large container. She tried really hard to keep her cool once she realized you were on the ship. But then the two of you locked eyes, and it was her first time seeing you in almost a year. Her heart skipped a few beats as her legs turned into jelly when you hit her with that dazzling smile. The term absence makes the heart grow fonder couldn't be more true in this situation. She'd hope the time spent apart from you would've done the opposite, and erase her feelings for you. They just got stronger.

"I really don't want to talk about it Carol" Monica tried.

"Too bad y/n won't give me anything out of respect for you, and like I said I need to know what I'm dealing with here." Carol persisted not sounding apologetic at all. She was probably enjoying it in some weird way, because now Monica didn't have a choice but to confide in her a little bit.

Monica took a deep breath trying to figure out a way to explain her situation-ship with you without giving away too much. "You know I got trapped in a witch's hex right?"

"Yeah the one that gave you your powers right" Carol said following along.

"Well I kinda left out the part where y/n got trapped in it with me, and we were basically a couple doing couple things. Until I triggered Wanda's memory and she sent me packing." Monica explained hoping she didn't have to elaborate beyond that.

Carol frowned for a second before her eyes widened in shock only for a look of amusement to take over in the end. "Seriously aren't the two of you like best friends?"

"Yeah."

"Okay I get how it that could be weird at first, but it’s been a year. How haven't you two worked this out by now?"

Monica gave no reply and suddenly the container she was sitting on became ten times more interesting.

"Unless there's something else going on you haven't told me" The blonde woman added. A teasing tone in her voice to match the playful smirk on her face.

"Nope there is nothing else to tell" Monica lied. "You know what forget about the wine. Let's just go back to the mission."

She tried to scurry past Carol but a hand reached out catching her by the arm. Her grip strong and while she may have powers none of them let her match Captain Marvel's strength.

"Carol please just drop it."

"Let's go get the wine you're going to need it."

A Few Hours Later

Carol allowed Monica to drink enough to relax her a little bit before cutting her off. She probably would've finished off the bottle if she wasn't stopped. Carol had an idea or two of what was really going on, but decided it was just better until they got the coordinates from Kamala's mind to the next destination. Before trying to get the two of you to work through the issue. She could tell right away you weren't going to the problem in the matter.

You lit up with joy when she walked into the main hub of the ship with Monica in tow. "About time I thought you two were trying to sneak off without us or something."

Carol walked over to retrieve four head-gear contraptions that looked like a head-massager helmet. She gave one out to each of you explaining the process. "This will let us access Kamala's memories and see what she saw on the ship. No need to fear or worry I use it all the time trying to recover the memories. The Kree took me."

Monica shot her a look of sympathy. "Still."

Carol nodded sliding the head piece on.

"Wait will be able too see each other's memories as well?" You asked twisting it around in your hands.

"Yeah but as long as you don't focus on a particular memory too much. We'll be fine and won't be pulled into something else" Carol instructed.

For the first time both you and Monica squirmed a little bit glancing at each other nervously. You put the head piece on after along with Kamala, while your best friend still hesitated.

"Mon come on you got this" You encouraged her softly.

She took a deep breath letting your words wash over her and take effect. All of her worries seemed to disappear just like old times whenever you were by her side. You always looked after her if she fell you'd catch her. She put the head piece on.

Carol took the spacious couch with Kamala by her side. You laid down beside Monica for moral support. It was the first time the woman allowed you to be this close to her since you arrived on the ship. All four of you closed your eyes at the same time letting your minds link to each other. Kamala went back to the first fight with Dar-Benn. You were absent for the showdown, so you took in every single detail not just the coordinates. Carol told you that her powers were linked to Monica's and Kamala's.

You didn't know what she meant until now watching the fight play out. The three of them switching places whenever the other used their light-based powers. Carol brought you in because of your past with Kree she figured you could offer her an inside look on whar Dar-Benn's plan might be. The memory-sharing moved along smoothly as all three of you got a glimpse at the map.

Kamala played the memory back in slow-motion so you three could memorize it. Carol's mind went haywire letting her memories bleed into Kamala's throwing the three of you back into the past. The days of the Blip Carol and and Maria sitting on the front porch of Monica's childhood home talking about Monica, and other things.

Of course Monica freaked out trying to pull out, but not being able too. "Carol stop I don't want to remember this."

"I'm sorry I'm not doing this on purpose." Carol attempted to rein the memories again, but the door was open letting every moment flood out. Including the one where she promised a eleven-year old Monica she'd see her soon. All of you knew how that promise ended.

"Carol that's enough." Monica was begging now her voice cracking as the memory switched to her mother on her deathbed. Without thinking about you took her hand in yours squeezing it.

"Breathe Mon it's okay."

Carol's memories were pushed aside as a new wave took over overpowering her. They belonged to Monica and all of them were with you. The first day you and her met when Nick Fury called you in to help Monica deal with the aftermath of being blipped. Her breaking down in your arms after finding out about Maria's death. All the nights you spent holding her to chase the nightmares away, because your presence was the only thing that could soothe her. The memories were nothing new to you, and innocence. Monica panicked as she felt her control slip though, and memories you might've not been aware of appeared. "How do I stop this."

Now all four of you were back in Westview and while you were aware of what Wanda 's actions. This memory was new to you Monica in her S.W.O.R.D. uniform racing through the neighborhood. She ran right past the home she shared with you in the hex in a rush to get to Wanda. But you were still under mind control walking out the house dressed in high-waist jeans, and a long-sleeved blue shirt.

"Monica honey where did you go?" You called out to her.

She paused upon hearing your voice, and her heart swelled from the adoring look in your eyes. You were so in love for her, but none of it was real. She wished it was.

"You've been gone for a few days. you missed the fall festival did I do something wrong?" You blinked away a few tears as your smile wavered. You were hurt and confused by her disappearance.

Monica told herself back then what she was about to do was completely necessary. There was no harm in keeping the charade going as she wasn't sure of what would happened. If you came to your senses right now. You needed reassurance so that's what she gave you.

"Oh sweetheart you did nothing wrong you could never." Monica said turning back around to close the distance, and take your face in her hands. "You're perfect y/n God you're so freaking perfect I don't deserve you." Her words became more and more sincere as she went on her voice dripping with love.

"Monica-"

She cut off your words with her heartfelt kiss an arm gripping your waist as you melted. Her lips melded perfectly against yours just like all the other times. She pulled away slowly panting with her emotions running high. "I love you. I'll always love you y/n never doubt that okay."

You nodded touching your forehead too hers.

The memory came to an end only for another wave of them to hit. Your grip on her hand was so tight now her hand had gone numb. The two of you dancing in the house. Monica twirling you around by the hand with a happy smile. You climbing into bed with her snuggling up to her until her arms opened. A few more slipped through as Carol and Kamala stayed silent through it all.

"Enough of this." Monica cried tearing her hand free from yours to rip the head piece off bringing the session to an end.

You followed suit eyes flying open to find the spot beside you vacant. Monica was already headed to the the back of the ship.

"Um I'm just going to go stare into space." Kamala said not meeting your eyes. The young girl went over to the pilot seat.

"Don't touch anything Kamala I'll be over in a second" Carol yelled.

"Okay Captain" she replied.

Carol figured she'd start with you first blocking your path to the ship's hangar. "You need to go talk to her."

"She ran away before I could or did you not see that. She's been running from me for nearly a year now Carol" You argued.

"Well maybe it's time you start chasing her y/n." Carol shot back not backing down.

You threw your hands in the air with a humorless chucke. "As if it would make a difference Monica has been avoiding this conversation since Wanda's hex. There is no point even if I corner her she's not going to tell me the truth. I've tried, and all she does is dance around the topic. Until I drop it, you think I enjoy living like this. It sucks not having her around anymore. I went from seeing every single day to once every blue moon." You slammed your hand down on her work table, making it tremble. "Why don't you go try?"

Carol didn't stop you from walking past her this time, noting the watery eyes. She made her way over to Monica, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Out of view from the rest of you. She sensed Carol's presence the second the blonde woman walked into the space, and let out a sigh of exasperation.

Carol held up a hand to stop her protesting before she could a word out. "Don't tell me you're fine and nothing is wrong. That's a lie and both us of know it."

"Fine how about I don't want to talk about it" Monica grumbled.

"That's not a luxury you have at this point whatever is going is clouding your judgement right now. A teenage girl has been entrusted into our care, and we made a promise to get her back home in one piece. Which means next time we go into field you and y/n's heads need to be on straight." Carol gave her no other choice sliding down against the wall into a sitting position right next too her. Monica scooted over with a huff.

"Why don't you start from the beginning this time" Carol suggested.

"I was a complete wreck when I came back from being blipped. Just thrown back into the world so different than when I left. My mother was dead, and I never got the chance to say goodbye. On top of that I lost five years of my life, and then I have to hear how Captain Marvel swooped down from space to save the day in the fight with Thanos. I waited for you Carol." Monica paused lifting her head to look Carol in the eyes letting her see the tears gathered in hers.

She realized this wasn't just about dealing with her emotions for you, but was the much needed therapy session about Carol abandoning her for all those years. "I returned to mom's old home in Louisiana hoping you'd show up at some point. I told myself you were going to come back and apologize. Help me get through what happened, but you never did."

"Monica" Carol whispered her name with guilt laced in her voice. "I was bus-."

"Don't you dare" Monica cried the tears not falling from her eyes. "Don't you dare use the same old excuse I was too busy saving the universe. If we're going to have this conservation I want the truth. You want me to be honest about y/n then you're gonna have to be honest with me. Why didn't you ever come back before Thanos?" She fell silent with hardened eyes determined to get an answer.

How did the topic switch from you to her? Monica was like a daughter too her, and she knew she owed the younger woman answers for her absence all those years. But honestly Carol was hoping she'd be able to avoid the conservation a little longer. She wished they could just skip it, and an apology would suffice. But it was obvious Monica wasn't going to let that happen. She wanted an explanation.

"Okay fine you deserve the truth so I'll give it too you" Carol agreed. Letting a few minutes past by before continuing she needed to find the right words.

"Carol come on."

"I did a lot of bad things okay" Carol blurted out.

Monica furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What."

The blonde woman looked away not wanting to her surrogate daughter’s eyes anymore as she went on. "I know people think heroes can do know wrong, and even when we do. It was necessary or just a mistake, but that's not always true. I acted recklessly trying to fix a problem and only made things worst. The Kree call me the Annihilator and I hate that name with a passion because I deserve it Monica. I destroyed their home, their way of life, and then spent years punishing them for my mistake. I felt guilty and ashamed that's why I stayed away for so long. You looked up to me more than anything. Maria told me that no matter how many heroes there were I'd always be your favorite. I couldn't face you knowing I didn't deserve your admiration anymore."

A single tear escaped sliding down her face Carol acted fast too wipe it away. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, and Monica pulled her in coaxing Carol into dropping her head on her shoulder. She rested her own head on top of her childhood hero's. "Don't be ridiculous Carol you had no way of knowing that your actions would lead to all this. You were just trying to help which is all we can ever do. Sometimes we get it right and other times we get it wrong. No one is perfect." Her words brought peace to Captain Marvel's heart as the weight of her mistakes finally vanished. She couldn't stop the rest of the tears if she wanted to, so Carol just left them fall. The two of them stayed like that a little longer basking in their reconciliation.

"Y/N was the one who got me through it all" Monica finally whispered. Her arm tightening around Carol's shoulder. "She was like this bright star shining my dark and starless world. A beacon of hope bringing me back to life giving me reassurance every step of the way. That somehow I'd be okay again. I'd smile and it would be real one day. It was impossible for me not to fall for her you know."

"So what happened that led to this? Did it start in the hex?" Carol questioned.

"No it was before the hex originally they sent me out on the mission alone, but then Fury asked y/n too tag alone. He was still worried about me. I didn't know what we were walking into, but I had this weird feeling. After everything I lost I wasn't going to risk walking into danger without her knowing the truth. So I kissed her before we left for the mission." Monica took a deep breath pulling her arm away to bury her face into her hands.

Carol rubbed her back trying to give her some comfort. "And" she prompted not wanting to lose her now.

"She pushed me away" Monica whispered. "I knew right then she didn't feel the same. So I ran not wanting to give her the chance to formally reject me. I wouldn't have been able to handle it, and I still don't know if I can Carol."

"Moni-"

"No I don't think you get it every moment between us in that hex felt real, and it felt right to me. Sometimes I wonder if I could've broken free earlier than I what I did, but deep down I knew being with her in that capacity was the closest I'd ever get to being with her. So I let myself stay under mind's control on purpose. And for y/n when she came out she probably felt so violated. That moment when I went back into the hex I never thought she would find out about it. I confessed my love to her because I knew it'd stay between me and Wanda."

Thanks to the memory-sharing device you saw it, and knew the truth. How was she supposed to face now? The idea of discussing the events of the hex terrified her before. Now it seemed like an impossible feat.

"You run from her because you're afraid your truth is too much for her." Carol started pausing for a deep breath, and to lift Monica's head by the chin to catch her eyes. "But the more you run from her, the more you hurt her, and that I do understand."

Monica sighed as a whole conservation passed between her, and her surrogate aunt just by eyesight.

"I'm not going to force you to talk to her now, but please don't make her wait too much longer." Carol let Monica get settled against her again. The two of them staying there for just a little longer.

A Few Hours Later

The ship finally touched down at the landing port in Aladna, and despite Carol's weird behavior about the unfamiliar planet. Monica couldn't get off fast enough eager to escape being within close quarters with you. She promised Carol that after the four of you succeeded with stopping Dar-Benn and retrieving the second bangle. She'd sit down and have a much-needed conservation with you even if heartbreak was the end result.

That was her plan. Too bad you were done waiting around.

Carol walked the ramp with explaining to Kamala how things worked on Aladna. Monica hung back searching for you, and just when she thought maybe you had already exited the ship. You materialized out of thin air leaning up against the wall by the ramp. Arms crossed over your chest with a deadpan expression.

Monica jumped a bit cursing herself for forgetting invisibility was one of your powers. She frowned wondering why you weren't following Carol and Kamala. She got her answer when she took a few more steps forward, and you threw out an arm blocking her path.

"Carol you two go ahead. We'll go catch up" You said catching Monica by the waist as she attempted to go around you. She went still in your hold.

"Sure thing y/n don't take too long." Carol replied ignoring Monica's desperate plea for help. She walked out of sight with a giddy Kamala.

"That's up to you" You told Monica pulling your arm back.

"Y/N we really don't have time for this" she insisted. "We can do this later-"

You cut her off with a scoff. "You say that now but the second this mission is over, and we're back on Earth. You're going to runaway again putting as much distance between the two of us as possible. No more running Mon."

"Okay fine let's get this over" Monica exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. She turned around walking back into the center of the ship. "Go ahead and tell me how much you don't want to be with me, since you're so ready to reject me." She was yelling now with tears falling down her face.

You regarded her with sympathy as your face softened. "Oh Monica" you whispered right behind her. Her back was still you as she refused to turn around. "Monica look at me please" You tried again.

"No" she murmured.

You ran a hand through your hair with a sigh of exasperation. "There you go again assuming things. That's what got us here in the first place you know. You assumed I was going to reject you after that first kiss."

Monica glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You eavesdropped" she accused offended.

"Not me" You said. "More like a bored sixteen-year old teenager who was left to entertain herself alone far too long."

Kamala came bounding over to the work table you were sitting at tinkering with some machine-part. Rambling how she didn't mean to listen in on Carol and Monica's private conservation, but she was searching for the bathroom. The young girl just happened to walk past the two of them talking and like any other teenager couldn't resist juicy gossip. She continued on saying it wasn't right for her to repeat anything she heard back to you, but then again it'd be a crime for her not to. Because Kamala was sure you and Monica were meant to be, so she was just doing her duty making sure you had all the necessary information. Then she finally told you what she heard before you could stop her. You didn't get a single word in during the entire encounter.

"I'm going to kill her" Monica muttered.

"Her parents won't like that, and her mom kind of scares me so you're on your own if you do." Neither of you could resist the urge to chuckle.

"What did you mean? You're telling me I'm supposed to believe there was going to be a different outcome. After you pushed me away when I kissed you."

Your smile faltered with Monica getting the conservation back on track. "Monica I wasn't rejecting you which you would've known if you gave me time to explain."

"Then what was it?"

"I pushed you away because the timing didn't feel right to me. I mean of course I had feelings for you. Still do in fact" You were quick to correct yourself. "I just wanted to be sure you felt the same for me, and wasn't trying to use me as a distraction."

Monica went through a plethora of emotions through your confession. Hurt when referred to your feelings in the past tense. Relief when you made it clear those feelings were still present. Last confusion when you dared to say she would do something so sick in her eyes. After everything she'd been through in her life the idea of hurting you in such a way made her sick to her stomach. "Why would you think that?"

"Monica" You spoke her name softly moving so you were standing in front of her now. Bringing a hand to rest upon her cheek smiling when she didn't pull away. "You were battling so many emotions back then between the grief of your mother's death, and the resentment from Carol's abandoning you. I didn't know if there was enough room for you to love me, or if you were just looking for an escape from the crushing burdens. If you had given me the chance I would've told you to give it time. After the mission was over we could take sometime to ourselves, and figure things out."

You stepped back with a light shrug. "But you never gave me a chance, and I thought the hex might've made things easier considering what we went through in there. It just made the situation worse."

Monica stood in the exact same spot as you leaned back into the table behind you awaiting her response. She was stuck in a daze trying to process your words, what they meant, and what was going to happen now.

"So the hex...." Her voice trailed off as she hoped you caught on to what she was asking.

"It was real for me too Mon, and not in a bad way. I just really wished you had waited until I was out before confessing your love for me. I would've said it back."

"Can you say it back now?" Monica said pleading to hear those three words come out of your mouth. God knows she's been dreaming about this day for far too long.

"I love you Monica Rambeau, and I want to be with you more than anything in this world. I know you've been through so much, and hurt one too many times. And while I can't promise anything I do promise to do everything in my power to make sure. I'm never the reason for your pain if you're willing to take the risk." You said with your eyes locked onto hers with so much love in them.

You got your answer when Monica surged forward taking your face in her hands, pressing her lips to yours. In what became a desperate and breath-taking kiss as you matched her urgency wrapping both arms around her waist. Pulling her body to yours till there was no space left between the two of you. Her lips were soft but rough as they moved against yours. You moaned into her mouth letting her tongue slip inside, and it was never a battle as she seemed to let you win. For once in her life Monica was finally given the chance to just step back, and let someone else take control. And who better than the person who put her back together when she fell apart. The person who had been the missing puzzle piece in her life for the past couple of months.

Monica pulled away for a brief second panting pressing her forehead to yours. "I love you too" she breathed pressing another kiss to your swollen lips.

You nodded leaning in to capture them again as she ended it all too soon for your liking. Tightening your hold on her waist you kissed her a bit harder this time.

"Okay wow I really didn't need to see that" Carol's voice came from behind the two of you ruining the moment.

You pulled away too see Carol standing there holding the oversize hat with streamers attached to it in one hand. The other was covering Kamala's eyes. The young girl let out a squeal of excitement.

"Yes this is so going in my fanfiction" she commented.

"Uh no its not" Monica said ripping her lips away from yours, and whipping her head around.

"Please this would make such a good story I'm already thinking of a plot" Kamala pleaded. "I'll change your names."

"No-"

"Sure have at it kid." You gave her your blessing cutting off anymore of Monica's protests with one last parting kiss. She sighed into it with slight irritation.

I guess I owe you a few dates after this huh" Monica stated.

"You owe me more than a few but I'm a forgiving girl under the right circumstances."

Carol let out a low whistle gaining everyone’s attention. "Alright I'm thrilled the two of you were able to figure out your feelings for each other. In the midst of this chaos but we still have a villain to stop, and a planet to save."

"Okay, okay" Monica conceded stepping out of your arms. You followed suit standing up straight again. "Lead the way Captain Marvel."

"Oh and y/n don't think you're getting out of a threatening speech from me about what I'll do. If you hurt her" Carol reminded you pointing a stern finger at you.

You held up your hands in surrender as Monica stood in front of you shaking her head. Her and Carol went into a playful argument walking forward to the ramp. You followed with Kamala by your side holding out her fist for you to bump.

#mcu imagine #marvel imagine #monica rambeau x reader #monica rambeau imagine #monica rambeau #kamala khan #carol danvers #the marvels imagine

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risetherivermoon · 10 months ago

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Some s1 kids/kiddads art of an au im working my mind out on! basically a typical fantasy/faerun type au but my own little twist on it :))

heres some info cards about them in this specific universe as well as some rambling:

im also probably gonna make one of these for the dads as well because this au has become some brainrot lol, i had a lot of fun designing lark and sparrows outfits because i always imagine oakvale wear being white gold and green so i kinda really leaned into with that. Nick as a tiefling is fun and silly to me teehee, as well as terry jr as a vampire. Its just a bunch of magical people and then grant lmao

i like terry and ron having a found family type of bond, and i promise ron will end up meeting samantha at some point lol, and i have a lot of notes about ron's character because of his background and everything, they aren't all supposed to fit into specific dnd archetypes or classes, but some of them like sparrow, nick, and terry have actual dnd classes lol, im really just fucking around with the loose concept of faerun, tbh i kinda see nick as both a bard and a fighter type of character? yk?

the necklaces with the single green bead that both lark and sparrow wear actually hold some cultural meaning for oakvale that im still working on, but i came up with the concept a while back so we'll see if i decide to talk about it

their stories do end up intertwining but this is the basic background info about their stories, and there will be more revealed when i get into making the s1 dads info cards as well.

terry and the twins probably took the longest to color and draw because of how many details are on both of them, especially terry's parasol bc i drew that without looking up a reference so i do hope it actually looks like an umbrella...nick was a bit hard to draw just because his face is partially covered and grant was actually fairly easy and i love how his design came out since ive been attempting to figure out a s1/teen design for him for a bit, obviously this isn't it because he's in fantasy attire but it's close enough that i have the gist of the idea..i made him look so pale lol, i imagine carol is pretty pasty and darryl isn't too tan either so...white boy is very white indeed

anywayys thats some of my funky lil au lol

(here are the dads!)

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omegawolverine · 2 months ago

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QUESTION!!!! what do you think stu’s opinions on the walking dead would be? what characters do you think he would like? characters he’d hate? what about how the zombies are portrayed? or how the storytelling is or how the writing is in general?

(this is peak autism for me lol :3 i have thought about this and wanted to ask you and forgot til now)

eeeee this is also peak autism for me ive been obsessed with twd since i was literally in the 5th grade and was reading carl x readers daily that's how you KNOW its serious

anyways!!! i think stu would enjoy the earlier seasons but get really bored during alexandria and no amount of hot jeffrey dean morgan can fix that. he'd probably stop watching and then pick back up during the last couple seasons when it picks up pace again and he'd REALLY like some of the spin offs (namely ones who live bc his bisexuality makes a show about michonne and rick specifically perfect for him, theyre like eye candy to him)

he'd think the visuals, gore and sets/locations are fantastic and are a large part of what drew him in during s1 bc the story didnt really work for him until the later half of s2 and early s3 when it gets real brutal. that's not to say he thinks its bad, he just has a short attention span and he obvs loves watching action driven horror bc it means more blood and guts so once the show picks up he gets real into it. he probably forces billy to watch it weekly with him while its airing even tho billy is very meh towards the show.

in terms of how the zombies are portrayed, i think he'd like it. its leans towards classic and stu is a man of classic horror so you wont find him complaining. he really thinks any portrayal of zombies is fine as long as theyre scary enough. fast zombies, slow zombies, zombies that can climb or whatever the fuck those zombies in army of the dead are doing where they like perform rituals and have a buff zombie king with intelligence, he doesnt give af as long as it looks disgusting and horrifying.

as for characters...here's a bit of an unnecessarily long breakdown:

s1: he'd like shane at the beginning (he can get that he thought rick was dead so he doesnt fault him for screwing his wife), he'd def think glenn is a sweetheart and have a soft spot for him, he'd find lori annoying but not really care that much and he'd have conflicting feelings about daryl. on one hand, aggressive asshole's are kind of his fave, on the other, s1 daryl is the worsttttt. any other characters either dont stick out to him or they die too quick to be relevant.

s2: he'd stopped liking shane halfway through s1 for the obvious but now he's become insufferable and stu cannot wait for him to die (bc he knew it was coming, they couldnt stick with a loose canon like that), he also really cannot stand lori now and he finds dale to be increasingly annoying even if he is right about things like half the time. daryl is now his fave but glenn is a close second. he likes rick now too! he was neutral on him in s1 bc he was just kind of a good guy and stu likes more edge to his characters, but now rick is finally getting that. he thinks the new farm characters are nice enough but the only one that really stands out is maggie and he has mixed feelings on her but they lean towards positive. he doesnt like andrea but he doesnt hate her.

s3: stu has mixed feelings on michonne but thinks she's gorgeous and he fucks with the sword and how brutal she is so he hopes she sticks around. carl is growing on him, he likes that he's a bit cold compared to the other older characters. he's glad lori is dead as hell but misses tdog a bit even if he did fuck all. he likes carol!! she's not a fave but he's grown an appreciation towards her. hershel is okay, beth is probably his least favorite but he doesnt hate her. he thinks the whole governor plot is badass but he cannot stand the governor or merle as characters. andrea is really insufferable to him now. he doesnt care for sasha or tyreese but theyre like so irrelevant at the moment anyways. glenn is still his goat and so is daryl but his attachment to merle pisses him off.

i wont go past that bc ik ur still on s3 but just know he will have a major hard on for negan despite all the bullshit he pulls (and maybe even partially bc of it, that bat and all the murder does something for him) and he'd also love rosita <3

#asks #shit self #stonedstevie #i love combining my interests teheheh #stevie 🥦

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lunagb · 1 year ago

Text

A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x The Walking Dead fanfic)

BOOK 2 - A Road of Snow and Grime

Chapter 18: A Traitor's Life

Masterlist

Relationships: Daryl Dixon x Carol, Rick Grimes x Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes & Sophia, Jon x Andrea, Jon x Beth Greene

Summary: A month has passed since Jon Snow awakened on a highway outside of Atlanta and joined Rick Grimes and his fellow survivors. His memories of his death have returned and our alien world is beginning to make a bit of sense. Ever since the loss of the CDC, surviving in the apocalypse has been a daily struggle. The group is on thin ice. Supplies are dwindling. Hope is fading. The dead are walking. And their only chance for life may be a run-down farm, an old man and his daughters.

Chapter Summary: Jon grapples with his decision and Bowen learns a secret.

Time Frame: Farm Arc - Original Variation

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Bowen Marsh, Ghost, Mormont's Raven, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Sophia, Dale, Glenn Rhee, Andrea, T-Dog, Edwin Jenner, Shane Walsh, Beth Greene, Maggie Greene, Hershel Greene, Randall Culver,

Warnings: gore, vivid descriptions of dead bodies, child mutilation, graphic violence, death, murder, active combat, descriptions of armed warfare

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

Jon

It’ll do, I suppose. Jon ran his hand over the tree’s coarse, brown bark. It loomed tall. A hundred branches fanned in every direction. Roots as thick as a man’s arm snaked through a bed of hard, cracked earth. Tall, old and grand – just like a weirwood. Not that it’s like to matter. They won’t hear me and neither will he. Especially not him.

Jon knelt before the grand, old oak tree. One oak of many – of hundreds just like it. Its brothers and sisters formed the forest’s tree line. They gave the old tree a wide birth. As did the bushes and the shrubs and the grass. A grand giant out of place amongst its humble peers. Its leaves were green, not red. Some did have five fingers but, others had six and some had seven. None were shaped like hands. Its bark was brown and coarse, not white and smooth. But it was tall and old. Tall and old is the best I’m like to get.

Ghost watched the tree. His red eyes followed the canopy of fanned branches as they swayed in the muggy, summer breeze. Bloodbeak watched Jon. His scarred eye stared into his, unblinking. Jon had never seen the damnable eye blink. Not once.

Jon drew his dagger and got to carving the face. The brown, course bark parted without complaint. The wood it shielded surrendered to the will of his dagger’s point. Ghost watched him work, head cocked, eyes wide. His ear twitched with every scrape.

“You’re meant to be watching the woods, not me.”

Ghost cocked his head to the other side.

“Oh, very well then – just keep still, boy. Let’s see if I can’t make it look like you. You’re as close as I’m like to find here.”

Bloodbeak perched among the highest, thinnest branches. All at once the breeze vanished. The red morning light danced upon his sleek, black feathers and warmed the pale, exposed flesh of his scarred, unblinking eye. For once the raven said nothing at all.

Two slim ovals for the eyes, a lengthy triangle for the nose and an upside-down arch for the mouth. A child’s drawing stared back at him. Even Arya could have done better than this. Weirwoods looked grim and mighty and wise. The old oak looked like a sad lackwit.

Jon sheathed his dagger.

If it’s not to your liking, you can complain to someone who bloody cares. I’m not here to talk to you lot, anyways.

Jon closed his eyes and bowed his head. Most like, I speak to no one but myself. I’ve felt the cold embrace. I’ve seen what lies on the other side. But… in the small chance that I’m wrong or mistaken or saw a falsehood, I hope my words find you well, Father.

A muggy, morning wind whistled across the fields.

What I’ve done – or rather what I did not do – was it right? Did I serve my duty or did I serve myself? Marsh has turned cloak once. Who’s to say he won’t do so again? When things are hard. When things look hopeless. When it suits his benefit. He was a coward; is a coward. Not a man suited to times like this. He buries his head in the snow. He cowers before truth; before hard truths. A man like him cannot adapt to his circumstances. He is a drowning man; like to drag others down with him. Voices whisper these doubts to me, small voices but sharp too. Like needles, they prick me.

Yet, despite their incessant pricking, I know it in my heart of hearts that Marsh wasn’t mine to kill. Not anymore. Not after my brothers gave me justice. If I had killed him again, there would be no justice in it. What is a second justice if not a murder? I could not kill him. He wasn’t mine to kill. He wasn’t. I pray you agree, Father. These sorts of things; questions of life and death, of right and wrong – you always knew the answers. I pray that your blood has granted me the sight to see. If you were here, you would have scolded me just now. No doubt. Mayhaps, you are scolding me right now for what I do not say, for those I do not address, but… you did not know the old gods like I did, Father. If you had, you would have no words for them either.

Jon lifted his head. Sap wept from the corners of the old oak’s eyes. Amber rivers ran down its brown, course face. Ghost stared at the amber tears. Bloodbeak stared at Jon and said nothing at all. Not even a mutter. Jon clenched his jaw. It’s not Father. He stood. It’s them.

Your power extends beyond the weirwoods. So be it. That does not make me your pawn. Fuck off to your dead world.

He turned his back on the old oak and headed back to camp. The wall loomed high. The sun shone red. The muggy air reeked of rot.

Bowen

Bowen pulled at the t-shirt’s collar. Too tight. The shirt managed to squeeze him all over; especially his belly. And mismatched to boot. Fashion meant as little as swords but, it would serve to possess as few reasons to be disliked as possible. He had enough as it was. The icy stares and venomous glares – they all must surely be privy to his greatest sin. It was less than he deserved but even so, Jon Snow had granted him a second life. Best to make it one worth living. For however long this dying world allowed him. What sort of life was lived stooped in hatred and ill will? A traitor’s life. His blacks and leathers might have offered a solution to his appearance problem but, dying of heat didn’t seem like the proper way to honour Jon’s mercy either.

At the very least, the shirt and half-leg trousers were thin and allowed the breeze – as muggy as it was – to come and go as it pleased. Never did Bowen think he’d ever feel such heat again. Even after months of living in it, he found himself bewildered when his sweat didn’t freeze on his forehead. If, only for a moment. I must remember to thank�� seven hells what is his name? The one who gave me the clothes. With hair white as snow and a beard to match.

Lump lay in the corner of the tent. Will she help matters? The greatsword was near as large as he was. On a swordsman, she’d inspire trust and reliability. On him, she’d inspire mockery.

The tent flap flew open. Chris’s freckled face appeared. “They’re serving breakfast. You coming?”

“Aye.” Bowen considered Lump.

Chris pushed up his glasses. “Hurry, I’m hungry.”

“Hold on.” Bowen retrieved his dagger from the safety of its shelter beneath his cloak and slid it into its scabbard. Lump remained behind as he crawled from the tent. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the red, morning sun. “A bad omen,” he muttered.

“It’s just the sun. Sometimes it’s red. Sometimes it’s orange.”

“A red sky in the morning is a warning from the Crone, lad – of ill luck and hardships to come.”

“Right.” Chris rolled his eyes.

The boy’s youthful arrogance kept him from his faith. To not worship the seven – gods of a distant world – was one thing but, Chris believed himself above even his own world’s god. A god called God. Regardless of his uninspired name, to abandon a higher power was a fool’s errand. A man needs such power to keep him humble lest he wander too far from the trail of righteousness. As I once did. Chris, however, had not felt true power. He had not felt the Stranger’s cold embrace between worlds or the Mother’s kiss upon rebirth. He knew only what this world had taught him, and this world did not teach much of faith. In time, as he matured and this world healed, he would see true as all men should. He has too. It has too.

Bodies swamped a table made of… plastic. More bloody plastic. Plastic pavilions, plastic cups, plastic cutlery. Plastic this and plastic that. Is nothing in this world crafted by the hands of men? Only the food, it seemed. Well, by the hands of women. Real women. Not girls or savages. Real honest to gods women. As he and Chris claimed two free plastic stools, one of them plopped two bowls in front of them and then her arse on the stool beside him. Her smile almost made him forget about the incessant smell of rot that loitered all around.

“Bowen, right? And you’re Chris? Sorry for not finding a chance for proper introductions yesterday. My name’s Lori – Rick’s wife and Carl’s mother. The boy with the hat.” She offered her hand.

Bowen shook it. “Don’t apologise. It’s quite alright. We all had a lot on our minds last night.”

“Hello,” Chris mumbled before shovelling oats into his mouth.

“You’ll have to excuse him. I’m afraid, we haven’t had a proper meal in quite a while.”

Lori waved him off. “Oh, he’s fine. Boys – they never change.”

“This fine work must be your doing, aye?” Bowen gestured to the porridge with his plastic spoon. Every bowl around the table was filled halfway. They live surrounded by fields yet, they ration their food. Caution or necessity?

“Canned porridge. My speciality.”

It tasted of nothing and felt closer to bile upon his tongue than oats yet, a woman’s hands wielded a certain sort of magic. Bowen swallowed his heaping spoonful and pointed the spoon around the table. “I’m afraid I haven’t had to chance to learn names.”

Lori smiled and gestured across the table at a woman with short hair. “That’s Carol. The boy beside her ignoring his food is my son, Carl.” The lad had a chipper look about him. A good sign. Carol’s hair disconcerted him. Short, like a man’s. A strange custom for a strange land, or madness?

Beside the lad, a young lady with hair of gold tied taught shot him a withering look. “That’s Andrea. Ignore the scowl. She scowls more often than not nowadays.”

“Aye.” The scowl did not falter even as Bowen held eye contact. She is privy to my sin. Mayhaps they all are. Lori’s easy smile remained without a twitch or quiver.

A white-haired, wrinkled man sat at the end of the table. Two women sat on either side of him. They shared the same round faces and fair complexion. “That’s Hershel, the farm’s owner, and his daughters, Beth and Maggie. Beth is blonde. Maggie is brunette.”

“Ah yes, we’ve met. It’s thanks to him I have fresh clothes. I’ve been meaning to give him my thanks.”

“I’ll let him know you’re grateful.”

“Thank you.” Bowen nodded. “So, he opened up his home to you?”

“Yeah… he’s a kind man, helpin’ strangers like that. Is Chris your son?”

Chris choked on his porridge.

Bowen slapped him on the back. “I’m afraid not.”

Lori nodded and gestured to a savage-looking man whittling arrows at the table. Unkempt, tangled hair hung over sharp, rugged features. He looked half a wildling. “That’s Daryl. Best not to ignore his scowls. We picked him up some time ago, him and his brother. Found them wanderin’ the woods and gave them a place to lay their heads. Never been the friendliest folks but he’s been with us ever since.”

“And where is this brother?”

“Gone. Is your story a similar one with Tyreese?”

Good. “Did he find me? Aye. Helped me get my bearings after I, uh… after I-”

“Arrived? After you died?”

“Jon has spoken of our home?”

“He has.”

And of more, I wager. “And you believe him?”

“I’ve believed stranger things. You’ve been with them since the start then?”

“Aye, or since my start. I arrived a month or so after the dead began to walk to hear it told.”

“It must have been hard, surviving in such a small group.”

“Our numbers were a hindrance, aye. Tyreese doesn’t trust easily. No matter how many times I told him there was safety in numbers, he’d never listen.”

“He left people to die,” Chris muttered. “Good people.”

“But not you?”

“No, not me,” Bowen said.

“Really? But, you’re strangers, right? People who knew nothing about one another.”

Bowen winced. “No… Nothing at all.”

Lori gave him a shining look. “I see.”

Lori spent the next few minutes detailing the other members of the group from the dark-skinned man, Theodore, who they called to T-Dog to the brooding, once-leader, Shane. When all was said, they seemed decent people; most held to their God and most had a role to play. Even if they were essentially mere small-folk, Bowen could see the beginnings of something great around him. The Culvers could cause issues left unchecked but their leader had a strong look about him. Surely such a man could keep a fat fool and a few squalling children in line.

Lori left to attend to her motherly duties and Chris wasted no time grumbling. “He wouldn’t let me see her last night…”

“Give him time. She’s his daughter.”

“She’s my girlfriend. We were together for four months before the world fell apart. Four months. She loves me and she’d want me by her side.”

Poor lovesick fool. “Aye, I know, lad.”

“Snow!” The old bear’s raven fluttered onto the table. “Snow! Snow!” Death had had no effect on the creature’s lungs it seemed.

He approached the table flanked by his direwolf, bundled in his blacks and mail – a spectre of the past. Smiles and warm words greeted him as he sat, and a bowl found its way before him almost at once. The lad with the hat, Carl, broke away from his mother and rushed to his side. Jon Snow pushed the hat down over the lad’s eyes and whispered something that got the lad giggling. Not once did his eyes venture Bowen’s way. Plenty of others did though. Andrea and the doctor, Jenner glanced his way. Andrea’s scowl festered and a perplexed smile crossed Jenner’s lips. Were they privy to last night? Bowen felt sick. Had he been granted mercy only to have it dashed by a stranger? The whole camp could want him dead, Daryl, Andrea and even Lori for all he knew. It’s less than I deserve. Bowen’s hands trembled. It’s less than I deserve.

“Sorry to keep y’all waitin’.” However many pairs of eyes sent glares his way, but none remained to accuse him as the table’s undivided attention drew towards a tall man with a salt-and-pepper beard. He sat beside Lori at the opposite end of the table to Hershel.

“Come to make excuses, Rick?” Shane asked.

“If by excuses you mean answers, then yeah, I have.” Rick spoke the way you might to a lackwit child – slow and soft. Shane scowled and crossed his arms. Rick cast a smile upon the table of staring eyes. “Hershel, would you mind startin’ us off?”

“Of course.” Hershel got to his feet. The eyes shifted to the end of the table opposing Rick. “I’ve never been one for keepin’ secrets. How can we love our neighbours if we don’t trust ‘em? But, I kept a secret anyhow. Didn’t start off as a secret. Wasn’t ever intended to be a secret. However, a secret it became. So, to clear the air, let’s set things straight. We are out of basic medicine, that mean antib…” The kindly, old whitebeard spoke and spoke some more. Voices raised concerns and charges. But Bowen heard only noise. Out of medicine? They couldn’t be. Julie was safe. They’d said she was safe. How could she be safe without medicine, without the miracle treatments of this strange land?

“You said she was safe.” He must have spoken louder than he intended for a hushed silence swept across the table and every pair of eyes snapped to him. Even Jon’s, sad, sullen eyes. They were too much to bear.

“Safe! Safe! Safe!” cried the Old Bear’s raven.

“I did…” Hershel glanced at Rick. “And… well…”

“She is,” Rick said. “Or will be.”

“Liar!” Chris slammed his fist on the table. “You’re all liars! You said you’d help her! You said you could save her life!”

Bowen touched Chris’s back. “Calm yourself.” The rage deflated out of the boy. He held his head in his hands, tears brimming in his eyes. “What do you plan to do?” Bowen asked.

“There’s a town a short drive away from here full of all kinds of abandoned supplies. We’ll put together a small group and scavenge for medicine to replace what we’ve used up.” Rick smiled with his eyes as he spoke. “Julie’s going to be just fine, I swear it.”

“On your god?”

“On my God. On my wife. On my son.” Rick squeezed his wife’s hand and found his son’s eyes across the table.

“Fuck that. The little bitch is a goner.” May Culver sported a grin as Chris shot to his feet.

“Shut up! No, she isn’t!”

“Yes. She is. Y’all blind? She ain’t got a fuckin’ hand no more. Don’t get me wrong, her kind can take a lot of hell and all but, not that much.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Or what, little man?” James snapped.

“I- I’ll-”

“You’ll sit down, lad,” Bowen said.

“But-”

“Listen to the man, boy,” Sam spoke a little above a whisper. Some leader.

Chris gritted his teeth and sat, fists clenched. As the pack of fools laughed among one another, Sam did nothing. Even as the whole table shot him glares. Even as the fools mocked Julie’s name right beside him. Instead, he stared at the table.

“Got somethin’ to add, Sam?” Rick asked.

“A scavenge… a scavenge won’t work.”

“Why the hell not?” Andrea snapped.

May laughed. “Cause the mall’s overrun, bitch.”

“So?”

“So…” Sam met her eyes. “That’s the only place you’re gonna find any medicine. Everything else’s been picked clean. By us and-”

“Strangers.” James spat.

Sam gave a grim nod. “Y’all ain’t the first to run through these parts. People have been coming and going for months, taking what they will.”

“And you took from them,” Jon said.

Sam didn’t meet Jon’s eyes.

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Snow,” May said. “Ain’t enough to around no more, case you ain’t noticed.”

“Damn straight,” James said.

“Ain’t enough,” Pete said.

The three fools looked to the quiet one, Randall. “Dog eat dog,” he muttered.

“It was our town, not theirs,” Sam muttered.

“That stops now,” Rick said. “We find strangers, we don’t rob them, we help them.”

“We gonna foster the whole world now?” May asked. “We’ll run out of room eventually.”

“Y’all could always kindly fuck off. That’ll make room,” Daryl said.

“Right back at ya, arrow boy.” May grinned.

Andrea shook her head and waved her hands. “Hold on. Screw the mall. What about your stash? Surely you’ve got medicine.”

“Get your own,” May snapped.

“We found it fair and square!” James said.

“Fair and square!” Pete said.

“Fair and square…” Randall said.

“That girl’s going to die, you fucking monsters!”

May sneered and shrugged.

“We can’t give you any,” Sam said.

Andrea got to her feet. “You can and you will.”

May shot to her feet. “Try it, bi-” Sam clouted her ear. She clutched it and fell back into her seat.

“I already gave it all to you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Damn, right bullshit!” James said. “I know you ain’t go much sense Pa but there ain’t no way you’re that fuckin’ stupid!”

Sam extinguished James’s fury with a look. “Watch your tone, boy.”

“Why?” Rick asked. “We agreed on a third.”

“Same reason we don’t have none now. Was hardly any to begin with and I ain’t about to let women and children get sick.”

“No,” Andrea said. “You’re lying. Rick, let me check their stash.”

Rick weighed her words.

“Have I lied to you so far?” Sam asked.

“You said you can control them.” Andrea gestured to the Culver. “Look how well that’s gone.”

“I am controllin’ them.”

Andrea scoffed.

Sam scowled. “I ain’t a fucking liar. Go check the fucking stash, you won’t find nothing.”

“But, Pa!”

Sam raised his hand. James gave him a desperate look but received only a glare for an answer.

Rick nodded. “Go on, take a look.”

Andrea hurried off towards the Culver’s camp.

Pete bristled. “I’m checkin’ once you’re done, girl! If I find even a crumb missin’, it’s your ass!”

“Shut up, Pete. You could do with a few less crumbs,” Sam said.

Pete huffed and folded his arms over his potbelly.

“Is this mall our only option?” Rick asked. “Are you sure?”

“There’s a hundred fucking towns just like this one. Don’t gotta only search here,” Daryl said.

“A shot in the dark,” Jon muttered.

“The kid’s right,” Sam said. “If our town’s been picked clean, so has every other town around here. The mall’s a guarantee. No shot anyone’s stupid enough to go in there. You can see the dead fuckers from the street shambling about like a wall of fucking rotting flesh.”

“No one ‘cept us,” Daryl said.

Jon thumbed his chin. “How did this mall, as you say, end up like that?”

“It was a gatherin’ place,” Beth said. Her voice was small and soft. She stared at the table. “The TV said to go there. Probably the whole town listened.”

“But not you?”

Beth shook her head.

“Never trust a talking head. That’s where it’ll get you,” Sam said. “The place is locked from the inside. Got a big ol’ chain wrapped around the handles. Some bastard must have done it as shit was hitting the fan.”

Glenn shifted in his seat. “It’s thanks to whoever did it that we’ve got less walkers to deal with.”

“Yeah? We can tell them that. Sure they’ll agree with you. Might even let us waltz right in for a little shopping spree.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Maggie snapped.

“We haven’t decided on anything yet,” Rick said. “Something like this – this is a decision we all need to make.”

A decision for them all to make? He couldn’t mean a vote. Whatever it was, it got nearly every head nodding around the table.

“Always with the fucking voting…” May muttered.

“A vote?” Bowen asked. “For this?”

“That’s how we do things around here.” Rick nodded to Carol.

The short-haired woman scurried off to the house. She returned with a bowl, scraps of paper and a pen.

“Y’all know how this works. The paper and pen will pass around. Right down a yes or a no. Of course, you don’t have to vote but it makes things easier if you do.”

As the bowl, paper and pens made their way around the table, Bowen couldn’t quite believe his eyes. It was as if there were choosing a Lord Commander all over again, and they all acted as if nothing were amiss. Only Jon gave the bowl a disconcerted look. Just as this world was beginning to make sense, it always felt the need to throw something new at him.

The bowl arrived in front of him and Chris. “Even us?” he asked.

“Of course. You’re a part of the group now. You get a vote.”

“Good.” Chris grabbed the pen and paper. “I won’t let you let her die.” He scribbled down yes.

Bowen did the same.

“I’m going,” Chris said before the bowl had moved even one more space down the table.

“That’ll be Glenn’s decision, son,” Rick said. “If we decide to go at all.”

“I’m going and so is Bowen.” Chris looked at him. “Right?”

An army of the dead. Killer corpses. Death incarnate. “I-” Bowen’s skin crawled. “Well-” Chris gave him a desperate look – a pleading, pitiful, desperate look. The scared look of a boy. Bowen swallowed. “I will.”

“I get you want to help your friend.” Glenn wrote down his answer. “But, no offence, I need people I can trust out there.”

An out. A perfect excuse. No one would bat an eye. Jon’s stare bore a hole through his head. “No. We’re coming.”

“We’re going whether it’s with you or on our own,” Chris says.

“Let them.” Jon wrote down his answer. “It’ll keep as many people familiar with the wall at the wall as possible.” Jon gave Bowen a commanding look. This was his chance. A chance to prove himself. Far more than he deserved.

“Let’s finish the vote before we decide anything,” Lori said. She handed the full bowl to Rick.

“Right.” Rick separated the votes into two piles. Nineteen votes for yes. Three for no. “We’re doing this, then… fine – Chris, Bowen you’ll go with Glenn.”

“And Tyreese,” Bowen said. “He wouldn’t forgive us if we left him behind.”

Rick nodded. “And Tyreese.”

“And me,” Jon said.

“I’ll go too,” Sam said.

“No,” Glenn piped up. “Hold on, no. I’ll bring the other three but not you two.”

“Why the hell not?” Sam asked.

“Aye, for what reason?”

“Okay heroes, first of all, you have three broken ribs. You’re only useful if you can swing a sword. And as for you, Sam. You’re better suited here, making sure things run smoothly.”

Jon grimaced and stared at the table. “Aye… okay.”

“Who then?” Sam asked.

“Apart from Bowen, Chris and Tyreese, I’m taking me, Daryl and Maggie.”

“Hold on now,” Hershel said.

“God, Dad. You can’t say no for me. I’m not a kid,” Maggie said.

“It’s too dangerous, and besides, you ain’t never done anything like it before.”

“I have to! How many times have I gone out huntin’? Huh?”

“And look how well that turned out,” Andrea said. She rejoined the table.

Maggie froze, caught between shock and outrage.

Andrea flashed Sam her scowl. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Always do,” Sam said.

“Hershel,” Glenn said. “I need someone with medical experience out there. Preferably someone with two working hands.”

Hershel flushed. “Then take Doctor Jenner.”

Maggie joined Glenn’s side. “Didn’t you hear him? He said he needs people he can trust out there and, I don’t know if you’ve been payin’ attention lately, I’m the person Glenn trusts most nowadays. That’s what love’ll do.”

Glenn flushed and Hershel kneaded his brown. Hershel has the right of it. Women are not made to face such horrors.

“Fine,” Hershel sighed.

Maggie smirked and kissed Glenn on the cheek. It would seem that Daryl isn’t the only one with a bit of wildling in them around here.

“Well then, that settles that. Best we get to work. The wall ain’t gonna build itself.” Rick stood. “Glenn-”

“Hold on, brother,” Shane stood. “You ain’t gettin’ away that easy.”

“Excuse me?”

“What right did you think you had to keep that a secret?”

“It wasn’t a secret.”

“Like hell it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t. We only ran out yesterday. Glenn, Lori and I decided it’d be best to tell y’all after the workday so it wouldn’t weigh on your minds in the heat.”

“Yeah, man,” Glenn said. “We were gonna tell everyone.”

“It was never a secret,” Lori said.

“Call it what you will. It was a secret. You lied.”

Rick clenched his jaw. “Again, Shane, we were planning on telling everybody at the end of the day.”

“What’s all this we business, brother? You’re in charge ain’t ya? Every decision is your decision no matter how many people are involved. A leader needs to take charge of his decisions, not hide behind excuses all the damn time. He needs to be decisive.”

“Right… what’s your damn point, Shane?”

“My damn point is this, brother!” Shane looked right at Jon. “When I was leader, y’all would have known right away. Y’all would have known yesterday and y’all would have known two weeks ago. Two weeks. How often does Lori take a count, brother? Every few days. And not once did it ever occur to you to mention we were gonna run out of medicine?”

Voices raised as one to shout over one another.

“Shut the hell up, Shane!”

“When you were in charge?!”

“Look how that turned out!”

“Sit down!”

“Your time’s done!”

Jon’s fearsome glare spoke louder than any shouts. Rick looked about to burst but, a touch from Lori settled him.

Rick raised his hands for quiet. “Normally, I’d say we take a vote on it. But, after all that, it seems a bit redundant, huh?

Shane flashed the group a scowl. “Whatever.” He stormed away.

Jon

In front of the farmhouse, the scavenging party prepared to leave. Atop his motorbike, Daryl whittled arrows. In the pickup truck, Glenn and Maggie reviewed a map. And all Jon could do was stand idle as Bowen Marsh secured their supplies in the truck’s bed.

He was never much of a swordsman, Bowen Marsh. Could he count them? Could he organise them? Yes. But when it came to swinging one, the man may as well have taken a bread roll with him to battle for all the use he’d be. The greatsword made for quite a spectacle against his short, round figure.

Jon opened and closed his sword hand as the party made their preparations; as he stood idle and still. “No one would blame you. There’s no shame in it.”

Bowen secured a strap across the pickup truck’s bed. “And let him go on his own? Him? A scrawny boy? No.”

Chris sat in the rangerover, on the opposite side to Tyreese, two rows of seats apart.

“He has Tyreese.”

Bowen fiddled with the strap. A poor farce. His eyes gave him away.

“Glenn’s as sensible as they come and Daryl’s practically half-wolf. The lad’s in fine hands.”

“I’m going, Jon,” Bowen said barely above a whisper.

Jon crossed his arms. “I’m not your Lord Commander anymore. Far be it from me to tell a man where he may or may not go. But don’t go making a mockery of my mercy by getting yourself killed.”

“I… I won’t.” Bowen refused to meet his eyes.

“Good.” Jon tried to ignore Rick’s stare. He watched him like a hawk whenever he and Bowen were ever so much as in shouting distance of one another. “Do you know how to shoot?”

Bowen’s nose wrinkled. “Aye, I’ve more or less figured out the damnable things. It’s not something I can ever get used to. It’s like wielding a bloody lightning bolt. Unnatural it is. Bloody unnatural.”

“Aye, but useful.”

“I suppose…”

Bowen’s handgun looked like any other. They’d found it in a gutter, covered in grime, mud and blood. After Daryl almost lost his lunch when he fished it from the filth he’d refused to ever touch it again and yet, he’d made such a fuss when Rick gave it to Bowen.

“You want to give it to him?” The look Daryl shot Bowen could have curdled milk.

Glenn couldn't meet his eyes. “Yeah, man. If he’s coming with us, he needs one.”

Daryl spat. “Leave him in the car, then. Ain’t gonna be no use anyways, fat old bastard.”

“No. Everyone needs a partner out there – someone to cover their back. Without him, we’re an odd number.”

“Whatever… he ain’t my partner then. No way.”

“I’ll pair with Chris,” Bowen murmured.

And that was as much as Bowen had said about the situation. Death had done nothing for his cravenness it seemed. If anything, he was more meagre than how Jon had left him, if such a thing were possible.

Bowen gave the wall a bold look. “This was you’re doing?”

“My doing? No. Only my idea. The doing was everyone’s.” The rest of the group filled the air with a cacophony of noise; hacking branches, crashing hammers, whirring drills and a screaming chainsaw. All while he stood about idle, on his errand. Glenn wouldn’t let him swing a sword and Rick wouldn’t let him swing an axe. If they had their way, he’d spend most of his time scampering about, pretending to be useful.

Atop a tree trunk post, Sam paused the swinging of his hammer to shout a command at the lumber team.

“That man.” Bowen pointed. “What is his role?”

“First Builder, if you were to give it a title.”

“You say that as if he has no title.”

“He doesn’t.”

“No title?”

“None we use. He used to be a ‘site manager,’. I’ve come to understand they mean more or less the same thing.”

“Bizarre.”

“Aye. But, ignoring the strangeness, it’s proven useful. Those tools came from a building project he worked on before their world collapsed. Power tools they’re called. They’ve turned what should have been months of labour into mere weeks.”

“Should I even ask how they work?”

“Another time, mayhaps.”

Bowen smiled but, in the next breath, his meagerness returned. The smile shamed him. And so it should. To have shame as a constant companion was a lenient punishment.

“Your man…” Bowen’s voice hushed. “Rick, was it? Who was he before the collapse?”

“A sheriff. Some sort of law enforcer.”

“Who’s law? The king’s? Is a sheriff what they call a knight?”

“No. It’s something different. As far as I can gather, sheriffs hold no legal privileges. They swear no vows. Nothing like a knight. Closer to a gold cloak, in a sense.”

“I see… but he still wielded some power, aye? Even if he is of low birth?”

“Some. How much, I haven't been able to put together.”

“As much as… as much as you did, do you think?”

The question might have been bold if hadn’t been whispered and murmured. “You doubt him?”

“I don’t feel any way about him. I don’t know him. Do you trust him above yourself?”

“He makes them feel safe. Safety, even if it’s an illusion, is what they need right now.”

“But real safety? What of that?”

“You need only look ahead of you to see real safety.”

Bowen looked at the wall as he fidgeted with his hands. “Would that wall be there without you?”

“No, Marsh. It wouldn’t.”

“And… if a similar project were required and… and he hadn’t the strength to-”

“I’d ensure it saw completion.”

Bowen nodded. “Good. Good…” He stared at his feet. His hands trembled. “But… why risk it? What if he were to resist? Why not just-”

“Enough.”

“But, they respect you, aye? They’d follow-”

“I’m no power monger, Marsh. They chose him to keep them safe. They’re safe. That’s all there is to it.”

“Time to go!” Glenn shouted. “Bowen, you’ll ride with Chris and Tyreese in the rangerover!”

“Aye!” Bowen glanced Jon’s way. “I… before I go, again- I must say… thank you. For last night.”

“Speak nothing of it.”

“Aye, of course.”

“I mean it. Don’t ever speak of it to me again.”

Bowen stiffened. “Of course. Sorry.” He scurried off towards the rangerover.

“Bowen,” Jon called.

Halfway in the car, Bowen looked back at him. “Aye?”

“Don’t die.”

Bowen smiled. “Once was enough, I think.”

As they sped off down the road, kicking up rooster tails of gravel dust, Jon spied her glare. From across the farm, as she hacked branches from a fallen tree, Andrea looked as if she might kill him.

#fanfiction #fanfic #asoiaf #the walking dead #asoiaf fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #jon snow #rick grimes #ao3fic #ao3 #jon snow fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #the night's watch #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #horror #zombie #zombie apocalypse

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 2 years ago

Text

okay so after i saw the announcement of a stranger things animated show, i looked into it just for more context and found out that this year, a stranger things stage show opens in london, and as a british theatre nerd, i may have fell down a rabbit hole.

to preface, i have not studied drama since i was 16. i did not pursue further it as much as i wish i had. i have, however, seen many many plays and musicals, both amateur and professional. i know at least a little more than the average person.

so if youre remotely interested in hearing amateur analysis of what we know of stranger things: the last shadow, welcome:

"take theatrical storytelling and stagecraft to a whole new dimension"

so in one article, i found this quote. i couldnt find who said it exactly, just someone associated with the play.

i'm hoping, this is just marketing; i really hope its just marketing. because this feels a bit insulting to uh, a lot of people who came before. such as augusto boal who founded theatre of the oppressed or konstantin stanislavski or bertolt brecht or antonin artaud who founded theatre of cruelty.

i mention artaud because im expecting some elements from theatre of cruelty. if you look up any artaud plays or theatre of cruelty plays on youtube, youll probably get why.

but anyway, as you might have gathered, this hasnt inspired confidence in me. and i already wasnt confident because it is very difficult to translate film or tv to theatre, and vice versa. look at phantom 2004. i dont believe the duffers would be able to do this; this isnt even a knock on their writing, i dont think most writers could do this without practice.

and so i went to their website to see who else was involved

now is probably a great time to mention how inaccessible their website is. in the background of their website, there are small flashing lights all over the screen. theres no warning for this.

it literally triggered a migraine in me and i had to take my strongest medication for it. fuck you website designer.

(also, just gonna mention it here, i do like the poster and some of the website design, ignoring the stupid lights, but i cannot find the artist ANYWHERE on the website, which as an artist, fuck you)

anyway, first thing i did was look at who is writing it, and im in two minds about it. there are four writers credited: kate trefry, duffer brother 1, duffer brother 2, and jack thorne.

if you recognise jack thornes name, its probably because he wrote the awful harry potter play.

HOWEVER, hes actually quite a competent writer like 90% of the time. his plays tend to get at least 3 out of 5 stars. looking through the reviews, his best regarded plays are bunny, hope, solid life of sugar water, and his adaptation of let the right one in

that last one is very promising because he drew both on the book and film in adaptation. jack thorne does know how to adapt media into different mediums. he has also won an adaption award for his adaption of a christmas carol. his adaptation of the film after life has also be commended for being a good adaption.

this is not to say his work isnt without criticism. i mean, he wrote cursed child. he also has been criticised for slow pacing, shallow writing and one of his more recent plays, sunday, apparently had a "hello fellow kids" vibe. he is now in his 40s afterall.

so a bit of a mixed bag, but a good sign in terms of it not being simply terrible due to lack of understanding of medium.

i also have to mention that jack thorne is disabled and is an advocate for disabled folks in the dramatic arts. when he wrote the solid life of sugar water, he dictated that one character should always be played by a deaf actor. he does also write many disabled stories. his impact is a net positive.

(hes also frank skinners brother-in-law which is fun)

now, the other three writers have never written for stage, which uh, yeah, no, that does the opposite of inspiring courage in me. it is a very different process than writing for films or tv, and none of them have any writing credits for stage work.

on the poster, kate trefry is credited as the main writer which could go either way. shes not written much for screen. she has at least written stranger things episodes so shes not going into it blind.

honestly, i just hope they use jack thorne and his expertise more than they need to. hes the wise old man in their group and i really hope they listen to him and dont just try and do it all themselves.

now onto the director: stephen daldry. ive never seen his work live, but when i was studying drama, i really wanted to.

to give you an idea as to why, when david hare was working on via dolorosa, he had daldry as a co-director and when daldry responded no to hare asking if something was over the top, hare said "your top is situated some hundred yards above everyone else. ive seen your productions."

do you get why i want to see one of his productions asdfdesd his work tends to be very expressionistic and vivid. his directing style has been described as consistent stylised helming. hes won a lot of awards and he tends to get 4/5 stars at the very least on his works.

hes also helped to adapt the billy elliot movie (which is both fantastic and directed by him) to stage and it was fantastic.

hes also gay <3

the set designer is miriam buether. ive never seen any of her work live so i cant speak for the atmosphere it creates, but her setwork looks fine. shes versatile and doesnt need to go over the top with spectacle for her sets to look good.

in particular, i really enjoy her sets for earthquakes in london. the colour work there is *chef's kiss*

unfortunately, theyve kept it all very under wraps as to the tone the stageshow is going to take so i dont know how either buethers set design of daldrys directing is going to translate.

by combining them, i would expect a very expressionistic, very brightly coloured show, which, theres some cognitive dissonance round the corner.

also the premise is about young!hopper, young!joyce, young!bob and henry creel, with some kind of mystery. id expect a more naturalistic approach with this premise, but daldry isnt exactly known for that. so im in two minds.

however, one of his best regarded shows is his adaption of an inspector calls. ive only seen a naturalistic version of that and it very much reads naturalistic. daldrys was the opposite, even going as far as swapping out the fancy dinner hall for the blitz. so if anyone is gonna make it work, it would be daldry.

in terms of light design, thats jon clark. once again, ive never seen any of his work in person so im going off of photos but oh my fucking god i love his work with shadows. hes won many awards and he fucking deserves them.

sound design is the same. ive never heard a paul arditti sound design show in person and bootlegs dont have the best audio. hes award-winning, however, so it seems like thats in good hands.

one thing i was very interested about was how they were going to translate the upside down and the monsters. the show relies on cgi which obviously, you cant really do cgi on a stage; it would just look kinda shit.

their solution seems to be hiring two illusion designers.

i couldnt find much on the first, chris fisher. hes a member of the magic circle and hes done a lot of work so he seems accomplished.

the second one, im honestly kind of excited about. the second is jamie harrison who is the co-artistic director for a company called vox motus WHO ARE SO FUCKING COOL.

there is no mention of his partner in vox motus, candice edmunds, but that could mean nothing.

instead of trying to explain what vox motus do, im just gonna copy two quotes from their website:

"ours is a theatre of story-telling visuals, transformational design, magic, comedy, music, physical performance, puppetry, multi-media and most importantly thrills."

"we are drawn to stories that explore extremes of behaviour and taboos in the contemporary world: often unbelievable true tales that delve into the bizarre, glorious, exhilarating and macabre."

look up their stuff, its so fucking cool. there is also definitely some elements of artaud in their work. it gives me a lot of confidence for the show being enjoyable even if the writing is bad, because spectacle can go a long way.

i genuinely kinda want to go see this show now because i really want to see their work, and id get a chance to see a daldry play.

so like a tl/dr for this part: im not confident in the writing but i dont necessarily think itll be bad. i think the worst itll be is sufficient and mediocre, if they listen to jack thorne. i do have a lot of confident in the visual aspects and spectacle; even if the writing is shit, it will look good.

now im going to be an annoying disabled person and point out some accessibility stuff:

as i mentioned before, the website has small flashing lights all over the background. theres no warning for this. it triggered a migraine for me which was the best three options considering they could have also triggered visual disturbances in my eyes (aka seeing things that arent there due to my iih) or epileptic symptoms due to brain damage.

the theatre itself does have wheelchair access at the side of the building it also has accessible toilets. there is no onsite parking which does make it more difficult for wheelchair users.

they have said they will present captioned, audio-described and british sign language performances, but the dates are not yet set. they instruct you to keep checking . im a little intrigued about this and a little concerned considering its currently may 9th and it opens 17th november.

if you need accessible tickets, you need to have atg access membership. this is a third party company. to have this, you have to show paperwork or documents to prove that you're disabled which is often not possible for many disabled folks. i dont have a written diagnosis for anything besides my adhd diagnosis because i was diagnosed in person or over the phone. luckily, i receive pip so i qualify but its a ridiculous standard.

in the faq, theres a question about being aware of any potential trigger warnings; the answer to this is copy and pasted from the question above which asked about age rating and parental guidance, apart from them adding that there will be flashing lights in the show.

and finally some extra details:

there is a £3.80 transaction charge on top of ticket purchases

you cannot book over the phone

they are all e-tickets

currently, you cannot buy group tickets or student tickets, and you can only purchase a max of 6 tickets.

they are planning a weekly-lottery for late-release tickets, and this will be announced closer to the first show

there is not a confirmed runtime

they have no current plans to move the show outside of london

the age rating is 12+. this means under 16s must be accompanied by adults and under 5s are just not allowed in. not entirely sure how it works if youre age 6 to 11.

the most common ticket price i saw was starting at £45 (about $57). the second most common was starting at £75 (about $95).

there were some tickets starting at £20 (about $25).

i might actually buy a ticket and see it. i would have to save for it but i could do it and then tell you if its shit or not lmao

#stranger things #stranger things the last shadow #long post #kai rambles

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fumikomiyasaki · 2 years ago

Note

You could do💋 for any of our ships of you want

Interrupted kiss

Occupied in student council work and busy with Dragiselles business, Inessa sighed working herself through the papers in the Dorms own magic library... her pen circling as the Ice queen grew annoyed being distracted by her phone... she did so much work yet still she felt the distance between her and Dragiselle grew distant... maybe she should finally give up... lingering in this thought a familar face entered the room.

"Thalassa you need something?"

"Just taking some work load of you."

"Why? Its my work to handle. " Her tone was annoyed, mainly cause she didn't want to bother others.

"Thats also not the whole truth... some of it is the dorm leaders too... so its the dorms work."

"Tch... "

Inessa sighed as Thalassa sat next to her and worked with her.

"I ask again like I did before... you must have a bigger reason why you care so much about me than just me being the Vice leader."

Being direct about it Inessa saw her bright red face avoiding a gaze.

"You see... its cause I... like like you... but I am aware of your crush as well."

Something that left the Ice queen flabbergasted yet... all the feeling of worry, resentment and previous doubts felt fading.... maybe this was the better option than linger on an unrequited crush... and so she silently took her hand... looking at her.

"But... what if we try?"

"Huh?"

Inessa drew a little closer to her, both of their faces leaning more and more to another -

"GET BACK HERE YOU!"

Suddenly the library door bursted open and Stellaluna entered with Taron chasing after some new invention of Tarons. Quickly leaving the two girls in an emberassing mess withdrawing from another... with a sigh Inessa got up and freezed the invention. Scolding the both of them while Thalassa looked after her... face still red and in awe...

She left a note if they wanted to meet up later to continue where they left up for now... hoping that Inessa would take the invitation.

After class Carol was glad to meet up with Kaminari to spar again... since he trained her she slightly got better at fending of some of the more annoying and pushy students herself and it just felt to her like a safespace each time she visited him...

On that day he noticed however that she pushed herself past her limits the past days, getting not enough rest and with one block stopped her...

"Your body may be here but not your head, for now you should rest... the usual?"

She gave a firm nod... "Guess you are right, maybe a tea would do me well about right now..."

Sitting down, chatting a little and feeling a bit more rested, a smile returned on her face, one he loved seeing on her, warm welcoming, there was a reason many said looking at her it was like the embodiment of hopefull. Yet he did notice some small wounds on her legs.

"Let me look at this if you don't mind me."

"I-I... sure."

Her Face lit up red from how close he was treating her leg... she grew nervous, her heartbeat quick... untill eventually a sudden noise made her panic, tumbling lightly untill both tripped down to the ground... as she opened her eyes he layed on top of her leaning close to her face only inches away... however despite the emberassment none of them moved away... quite the opposite to Carol it was a good opportunity to lean in... but as she did the sudden noise returned and they got interrupted... the sudden noise being someone disturbing...

Gregory used one of his portals to stop by NRC and Seek her out.

"Urgh... what is it Greg?"

"Ya need to help me.... a surprise test is coming up."

"Can't that wait till later?"

"Nope."

Kaminari noticed her frustration especially cause she been robbed of a nice moment with him yet took her hand so she could calm.

"Its fine... we can spend some time later."

"Thank you."

And so she followed after Gregory in the portal... yet her thoughts still lingered back to that moment...

#twisted wonderland oc #twst ocs #twst oc #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland ocs #twisted wonderland original character #twisted wonderland #inessa winter #inessa x thalassa #carol ann #carol x kaminari

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deputygonebye · 1 month ago

Text

Nylon line knotted into an almost singular chain - woven and tangled - consumed more time than saved, but nevertheless, needed to be made right. Until the pads of Shane's fingers were numb, tenderized and softened at the tips, layers of the skin broken down, bound to break and bleed. Nails chipped and uneven in cut; dirt not yet washed by the lake waters still clung beneath, what was once white, then, turned a hideous gray. Knuckles sore, the constant bending and stretching of joints and muscles began subtle shocks of pain. Like small fires that burned across the forest just nearest Shane and Alice. Created by either human or Geeks undetermined; the signs that life ended, the signals that death rose. From pits in the ground, means for warmth and cooked meals, from the victories of nature over society, the ache in Shane's hands finally found their peace when the last knot was unraveled. Resolution in the final curve of his fingers; pinched between the forefingers and thumbs, under and above, pulled tight.

Silence passed, line for fishing finished and restored to new, next did Shane try at the rod. A slender slab of maple carved from tree just beyond the camp, thinned and whittled by Daryl when the hours grew boring, when the minutes moved by slow. Darked at the base - grip and butt washed of vibrance by the cloudy skies, the soils that hadn't been touched by sun since the dawn of time, the shade of yellow and green leaves - crude and plain. Free from the fancy, the most simple and pure of its kind, what had made all the difference between starvation and a full stomach. In good condition still, save for the rod tip; about to snap completely off, crooked at the peak. A quick fix that Shane was certain he could mend. Just needed a little love and a bit of duct tape, wrapped around and secured. A small task that his tired hand and fingers could handle.

Watchful of the fear that flickered within Alice's eyes, Shane grabbed the beige roll that sat on the other side of himself, upon a table once occupied by Carol, until the beckoning of her husband drew her away. A command said most cold-heartedly, the sort of talk that could drive Shane's blood frozen, halt his workings and have him consider to be no more a productive leader but rather a vigilante. Ed skating on the thinnest of ice; as the air that left his nose became heavy, a sigh that expressed more than words could, Shane did his best to distract himself. Focused on the tape and rod tip, listened to the birds and bees that fluttered around, noted Alice.

"No, Alice. We ain't. We can't ever go back."

Glance aimed at the tape that spun in loops, ever so was Shane's voice delicate and gentle. For the sake of Alice and the ears that eavesdropped; so that more insanity was not born into their daily lives, delusions and ideas of grandeur killed before they could be started.

"Alice, honey, this world, it ain't like what it used to be. It ain't safe. There's people out there who wouldn't think twice about doing bad things. They'd hurt and destroy anythin', anybody, who'd stand in their way. Ain't no good guys or bad guys, anymore. Just folks tryin' to live. That old world, the one you and I knew, what all the others in this camp knew, it's gone. We can't go back to that, Alice. It ain't there."

Shane added, the last of the tape loops done with, "but let me tell you somethin', you don't need to be scared. Like I said, Alice, all of us, we're gonna look after you, keep you safe. Can't go back to the old world, but here, here you'll be protected. Cared for, too. I won't let anything bad happen to you, you hear me?"

they lose so much, she hears, when the world comes to rapture. that those who were blessed had been risen from the dead, that their thirst for human flesh was simply a desire to spread god's word. oh! alice grows up in a MADHOUSE, doesn't she? they're impure, as people, you see. that's why they simply could not join the hordes. you had to search, within yourself. to find that true desire and true motivation of what you wished for in life, and then and only then! could you be exulted. alice, then, had played the role of their priestess, the girl who could see, the witch of the woods, or perhaps simply someone's forgotten child. who knew? all that matters is... everything changes all at once. alice, who hadn't found herself yet laid down by those agents of god, found herself wrapped up and pulled away from what home she knew. set free, all too suddenly...

into a BRAVE NEW WORLD.

and what had her time away done but taught her that she was ever curious of all that the world had to offer. there were so many here that were unanointed! but in their eyes, the world lives in a new frame, and alice, she shifts her thinking. why? well, simply because of course! because she was here, and in this land, this space, so full of WONDER, she meets new friends, her, the other orphans and misfits of the woods, they're plucked from their life and given new things... and alice, she's oh so determined! perhaps things are different, but couldn't they still live, oh, so truly to their hearts? now wasn't that something... as secure within chain link fences as they'd been out there, but, ah, hasn't she met the most oddly interesting people since?

shane's always been nice. helpful, the way she knows the elders could be too. eyes bright, for a life that still felt it to her. all doors and locks with shane, it was, but she takes to his attention and to his care all too happily, he always had something NEW to teach her, show her, tell her. alice, who's starved for information! finds it all too lovely, even though there are moments where it hits her, doesn't it? even in places like this, bleached warm by the sun. she wonders. what happens to the elders in the woods? the people she knew? the anointed that walk this earth out there? what happened to what had once been her solid ground? all these things that she might never yet again know. it stings. it aches.

"these past months have been a torment."

funny guy shane, he just takes it on the chin. alice blinking, that pause held. everyone talks as if what happened before, the life before, the life that was, wasn't... quite real. it's enough to make a girl go mad, isn't it? the thought of what didn't slip the way it ought to, into place. "what do you mean?" scared, oh, wasn't this the torment? the worry, the FRUSTRATION? "does this mean we're never going back?"

- @deputygonebye

#redemptioninterlude #Muse || Alice Liddell #Judge and Executioner || Post Apocalypse Era #Location || Atlanta Survivor Camp

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my-mt-heart · 3 years ago

Note

Caryl Daydream: Body Art

He was pulled from a mild thought (one that concerned Mr. Hinley's parched rye fields) with a milder creaking of his door, followed by a figure, a dim oil lamp in hand. Though enshadowed, it had the lines of a woman. He gripped the hilt of his knife with furtiveness and waited.

As the figure drew nearer, Daryl's eyes -they slowly blinked into the moon-coated darkness, to see none other than Carol. Their trip had led them to a tucked-away bungalow; retro looking, with two separate rooms for sleeping. And it looked charming, according to Carol. He had a sneaking suspicion that his longtime best friend had a fondness for vintage anything, really, and it suited her. He, himself, described her in his mind as having that 'touch' that could make any place a home, no matter how disheveled and deserted it looked. She could work wonders with a needle and thread; a bar of soap and vinegar, and create gourmet meals out of near scraps. It was from another time, altogether, that way of hers. And timeless, all the same. He remained reticent in telling her that, though. Settling instead for watching her as she scoped out a room for herself and tossed a "this one's smaller, I'll take it," over her shoulder at Daryl before disappearing inside.

It wasn't terribly unusual, them using separate rooms. Their adventures on the road afforded them lots of time spent "together", and some space for two loners with individual demons was to be expected. Daryl reckoned Carol's behavior had more to deal with giving him some space from her, though. It turned out she didn't leave all her insecurities behind in rugged, blue-ridge Virginia. He hadn't wanted her to, either. All of Carol needed to be packed up with the rest of their belongings, as they headed off to find something all their own. Wherever that was. No, he didn't want a sliver of her to remain with anyone or anything that didn't involve him. That wasn't him. Not even her "broken" parts.

She hadn't re-emerged from the lofty-looking room, and Daryl took that as a sign of her wanting to be alone and get off her feet. Maybe stretch out on her bed or crawl under its comfy duvet. His steps led him to the other room that appeared to be something out of a Cabin Living catalog, with its sanded furniture and spit-shine floors. An oil canvas of a cowboy with his missus overlooking a piece of well-set range, told Daryl that many things awaited him -them- out there.

It had been nearing one week since then.

Shrugging his pack off after another long day, he'd lain down, the perimeters having been secured -and that was hours ago, when the sun still had one eye open at them.

Now the hot, Pennsylvanian moon watched them through a window with a sash design and a flimsy curtain nailed over it by an even flimsier handyman.

All of Carol was now highlighted by its rays; the stars flickered behind her like rambunctious children. She was smiling at him and had the comforter she filched from the other room with her, wrapped about her figure and head. Daryl unfastened his hold on the knife just as stealthily as before, and let the weapon slip back into its holster.

"Thought you was sleepin'."

"A little while ago I was," she replied. "How are you?"

"Mm. Good," he readjusted a bit against the pillows and cleared his throat, whilst raising his right shoulder to relieve a kink in his neck. "You?"

"Me, too," but her voice faltered in the modest space between them. Daryl instantly righted himself, beginning to stand.

"Huck, again? He do somethin' to you?"

That would be Huck Hinsley, of Hinsley Farms. A man with a face far older than the rest of his body, and an ego the size of Texas to go with it, he was the lone operator of (according to him) the last handful of family-owned farms in the east country. Daryl imagined that gave him some pride -and certainly explained his arrogance. If one thought he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, they would've been wrong. Huck Hinsley was more liable to have been born with a twig between his gums. It was as native to his body as any of the other appendages that made up his impressive physique.

He was also the rightful owner of the bungalow he and Carol had found around a week thence.

The most pained cry ripped from his chest as he had drawn his rifle on Daryl, who countered with his crossbow. Shouting profanities and spewing out damnations on him, Daryl was certain the man had gone mad. Who sobbed bitterly while threatening an enemy they didn't know from anywhere?

He had about a foot on Daryl, but he was certain he could still take him if it came to blows. Huck's "hulk" form didn't seem to make him as coordinated as Daryl, so he scanned the room, waiting for an opening to take him down.

It never came to that. For Carol dashed into the room; her long-bow aimed right at him, commanding that he drop his target on Daryl. The advantage and dexterity clearly on their side, Daryl figured the towering man knew he'd had it. But once again, he had assailed Daryl's presumptions by doing the strangest thing he had seen in a while.

He'd removed his straw hat. And clasped it against his chest with both hands, his rifle forgotten.

Daryl thought he'd seen trembling coming off the man, but it was too slight to tell. He appeared stunned, though, rooted to the spot. Beads of sweat collected around his broad forehead; his Adam's apple poked out like a pig with a hernia, bobbing sparingly.

But it was his eyes that unnerved Daryl the most. For how sincere they were. No longer clouded over with rage. A strange fondness and reverence now resided in them, like the peace that comes after a violent rainstorm.

They know each other? Not likely, since Carol had never returned the man's strange salutation. She had, however, seemed struck by something about him; in him. She carefully lowered her weapon.

"Is this your place?" No response. They all looked like statutes posed in a house of dolls.

"She asked you a question," Daryl ripped out, fingers still curled tightly around the crossbow's trigger.

The man never looked away from Carol, but answered "Y-yes. It is." He had sounded criminally northeast American when shouting at Daryl moments ago, but now, a sort of honeyed Southern drawl replaced it. "Had it when I first married many moons ago, beggin' your pardon. Didn't mean to shout, frighten ya."

So the place was important to him? Understandable. But Daryl still couldn't fathom the way this stranger had gone from zero to sixty and back down again in record time. He suspected something changed the atmosphere, and it wasn't the heat of the sun, now trekking to the highest point in the sky, that had done it.

Carol blinked, glancing down the length of his body. And if Daryl knew Carol, it was to see if he was employing some odd tactic to regain the upper hand that she could alert him to. But she found none, and forsook her weapon entirely, stowing it away behind her.

"We're sorry," she started. "We didn't mean to intrude. The place was empty when we arrived."

The man gave a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, miss. It ain't empty no more." That placating way of his. An unmistakable mark of southern hospitality. Daryl felt all his muscles stiffen for some reason. "No needin' to be sorry, now. Can stay as long as you like."

"Nah, we're leavin'," came Daryl, crossing the length of the room to stand in front of Carol. He couldn't name it, but he felt that was where he belonged at the moment. Even behind him, Daryl could sense Carol furrowing her brows at him. "Like she said. Sorry 'bout that."

He had hoped that would be the final word, but for the umpteenth time, this large man who smelt of sweat mingled with whiskey, threw him off.

"Reckon you can't be gettin' far with them bad wires of dynamo on your motorbike," a look of surprise flashed across Daryl's face. He knew the spark plugs were failing on their bike? The man nodded solemnly, as though he heard. "Had a chance to look 'em over when I did my usual inspectin' of the area. I know that particular smell of gas comin' off it ain't cause your engine's faulty."

So he did have the advantage after all. Knowing the area, he recognized a foreign vehicle and also assessed its problem. He probably concluded, then, that Daryl and Carol would be unable to get very far without the bike failing them completely.

Daryl knew the spark plugs were dying; it was why they stopped here in the first place. And he had explained to Carol that they needed new ones in order to continue traveling safely. That day they had made a plan to scout the area for any cars or trucks or bikes (though less likely) that might resolve the issue. One day turned into a few and they still came up with nothing.

Until this strange man appeared.

Carol had gently patted Daryl's arm, as if asking for permission to speak. She didn't need it.

"We actually were looking for the parts off any abandoned vehicles in the area," she explained. "But we weren't successful. Would you be able to help us, Mister…" the man's eyes brightened.

"Huck Hinsley, miss." When Carol smiled at him, the man looked as though it touched him to his very being.

"I'm Carol. This is Daryl. We hope we have your forgiveness for trespassing on your property. Maybe there's something we could do to make up for it? A trade, perhaps?" Daryl kept his eyes on this huckster Hinsley, but narrowed them at Carol's queries. What was she suggesting, time in exchange for supplies? "You help us with our problem and we help you with yours?"

"Don't look like he got anything that needs doin'," Daryl countered, not wanting any unnecessary involvement with the man. But he just smiled, sort of toothy, his head tilted ardently.

"Reckon all of us got problems. The real bad kind." He had no idea what that could be referring to, but Daryl couldn't say he cared for the way Mr. Hinsley continued to stare at Carol. "Don't know where my manners got to these days. Pardon my rudeness." Only then did he nod at Daryl, finally acknowledging his presence since Carol entered the room.

But only for a moment. Then it was back on Carol. "Didn't know you had a lady present."

And that was four days ago. Or one repaired barn, three patched fences, four cleaned horse stalls, and eight, ten-foot long plowed and planted Rye rows, later. All in exchange for the parts they needed to get the bike running safely, again. That had been the agreement Mr. Huck Hinsley had offered in return for helping him fix up his farm about a mile up the road. They could even stay at this place for the duration of the agreement instead of with him in the farmhouse. Daryl had still been skeptical, but Carol eagerly accepted, rubbing Daryl's arm where neither man could see it.

The one stipulation was that Carol specifically not lift her finger to do any hard manual labor. She could, however, use the farmhouse's kitchen to cook the meals for that day and evening and perform general housekeeping duties, including the cleaning and re-stitching of some old-fashioned dresses inside a wooden chest in his bedroom closet. On the third day of their tenure there, Carol had approached Huck about planting a bean garden in the patch of tilled soil, flanking the house.

Man looked about ready to melt at her addressing him. Daryl felt his bowels burn with--

"Your eyes are red, Daryl," Carol touched Daryl's face, inspecting him under the moonlight, finding what she had been looking for.

"Eyes are always red," He avoided. They were. Between the wind pounding his face as they rode fast down the highway, and the early hours they rose to track food and cover miles, Daryl's eyes were always red. Carol shook her head, retracting her hand.

"Not this much," she returned softly. "And not this often."

"Yeah?" What consequence was it, really?

"You're tired, Daryl. You're not sleeping. Even less than you normally do. What's bothering you?"

"Asked about Huck," he diverted. "He do anythin'?"

Carol frowned, but not in anger. "No, he didn't. You always ask that. Ever since we met him." Gesturing to his slightly slumped form, as if that were her proof. "It's literally keeping you up at night." He shrugged with a pretended indifference.

"Don't trust him."

"Why not?"

"Just don't," he replied, turning his face away from her. His tone let Carol know he didn't care to explain what would classify as his reasons. Or rather, he couldn't.

So there was silence. The awkward kind that made one fidget in their seat or look around aimlessly for something to ramble on about, nervously. The long fringe of hair offered Daryl some invisibility as he glanced on Carol to see what she was doing, always careful to view how his words affected her. Or if she could see straight through him. Interestingly, there was a pursing together of her lips and a clutching of her fists around her mantle-blanket, before she slowly retreated from the room.

Daryl watched her go, pretending to be unfazed. But failing.

He was surprised when she returned -as the Black-Crowned night heron just completed two of its calling rounds- carrying a tray that contained food, covered with a linen cloth, which she placed without a word on his end table.

She must have wanted him to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Something that tasted like an apology, however, clotted his throat; something he wanted to voice, but wondered if that would make it worse -seeing as though he couldn't properly explain why he was sorry.

Carol came near him, again. Blanket still in place. She ran her eyes over all of him, before letting out a steadying sigh.

"What are you doin'?" He peeked up at her, sideways.

"Scooch," was all she said, sliding in beside him. A scent like flower petals entered his nostrils, filling his lungs, and he couldn't help the exhale that followed.

Sharing a bed was more common for them than sleeping separately. But Daryl gave a bewildered look at the way Carol was practically hovering over him, her palm pushing the curtain of strands from his face. She seemed to be searching for something there, and must have found it, because she pressed her lips to his forehead in a kiss.

".....?" Daryl could only gasp. What's she doin'?

The night heron stopped mid-call. "Carol…?"

"Relax," her voice was of a soothing quality. Therapeutic. "It's okay." She kissed just above his eye -where his scar was- before bringing both her hands up to massage his temples. Her fingertips were cool. Cooling. Like-

"That smell…" he voiced, recognizing it. The herbs Carol had planted all over Huck's garden. Her hands smelled of it, now. Just now? Was it there before? Why hadn't he noticed it? Had Huck?

"Peppermint," she answered deep into his ear as she continued her work on his temples. A shiver swiveled down his spine like descending a fireman's pole. "Do you like it? It's good aromatherapy."

"Aroma?....Therapy?" He winced at the pleasure she inflicted on him. What on Earth was happening? "...Why?"

"You work so hard everyday. All the farming and repairing you've done with Mr. Hinsley-"

"-Huck," Daryl cut in, his face moving with Carol's ministrations like putty, as she moved over to massage the delicate skin around his eyes. If she had noticed the brazen tone he'd used, she didn't mention it. Instead, she hummed in support. Their bodies vibrated in the prying light of the moon.

"He said you two work well together." She mused.

"No, we don't," he grunted in return. In his estimation they didn't, anyway. Not one of their grueling tasks had been completed without the man throwing demands over his shoulder at Daryl like they were hot potatoes.

And some of them were actual potatoes, too. Huck would chuck them backwards between his legs like some All-American football star from the 1930s; just ordering Daryl to collect the unearthed tubers in the burlap bag, and to stay behind him. He might have been a considerable deal younger than this Hinsley man was, but Daryl was no kid. They would get a lot more accomplished if he would just let him work independently.

Same was true with that damn barn of his. If Huck just let Daryl hammer along with him, instead of making him stand below to hand him extra pieces of plywood like a waterboy, the barn would have been repaired in half the time. And the sooner that was done, the sooner they could leave.

Only when Carol would step into view, could Daryl see the change in him. Sometimes she carried refreshing glasses of homemade iced tea or lemonade with her. Other times it was water and a midday meal. She always looked like a drink of water, though. The way he noticed how Huck would routinely lick the sweat from around his lips, and remove his hat for her in respect -and her, smiling genuinely in return- made Daryl the third wheel on that wheelbarrow they were using to haul around supplies on the farm.

And he felt his blood heating up, but not from Carol's hands.

"He's a kind man," accentuated Carol. "Maybe a little rough around the edges…" she let her hands travel up into his hairline, pulling and pressing on his scalp with the right amount of pressure that Daryl's eyes drooped sleepily, beckoning him to relax. Somehow he had developed a headache over this entire frustrating situation, and Carol's fingers in that area were creating a natural compress. "Nothing a little tenderness can't help soften up, though."

"The hell he need softenin' for?" As good as Carol was making him feel, it did little to abate the anger in him. "You ain't his maid."

That remark made Carol's hands pause in his hair. She moved her face to his before briefly nuzzling it. Having her this close for longer than an embrace was intoxicating. Daryl wanted to purr but didn't.

"I know I'm not," she whispered solemnly, dragging her nails down both his earlobes in repeated motions. The hairs on his neck stood up, liking it. "I just mean he's got his reasons. For being the way that he is."

"That his reason for lookin' at you so damn much?"

"What do you mean?" Now Carol had stopped all movement and focused on Daryl, whose own eyes were shifting about, in an attempt to find something safe (or safer) to look at. "Daryl?"

"Nothin'. Don't mean nothing." He said with haste, wanting to forget it.

Carol seemed about ready to comment when something flickered by the other window above their headboard, catching her attention. She noticed it and looked up at it, Daryl following her gaze a few moments later.

"A moth." Carol observed. The insect appeared to have been trying to get out, but couldn't. "Kind of big, too, isn't he? Is that a different breed of moth around here? Or did he just swallow half that curtain over there?" She asked half-seriously, as if Daryl would know. Insect breeds, classification, wasn't his area. But he squinted in disbelief at Carol not being able to recognize the most basic difference in this case.

"She." Carol peered back down at Daryl, as though she hadn't quite heard him.

"It's a female moth?" She tilted her head back at the creature, unsure of which signs she should be looking for to distinguish its sex. "Are the females usually the larger of their kind?" Daryl chewed on his lip a bit before deciding to answer.

"It's pregnant." Carol gasped, unabashedly fascinated.

"Really? How can you tell?" From Daryl's position, he had an upside down view of the window's ledge with the moth above him. He didn't know if that made it easier to spot, but he craned his neck further back and pointed with his chin at it.

"Its ass is, like, twice the size of a normal moth's." Carol gave a sound that told Daryl she comprehended. But then, she snorted.

"Spying on her bum and saying it's fat -don't you think she's self-conscious?"

Daryl's muscles rigidified beneath her, and he looked away from both Carol and the moth, slightly. Trying to think. He didn't know what made a female self-conscious. He didn't have a mother to teach him any of that by the time he was an adolescent. No way he would learn any of it Merle's way, either. Body parts were just that, weren't they? He didn't mean anything by it.

Carol's smile was flashing in his face like the high beams on an eighteen-wheeler. He narrowed his eyes at her, but wondered if he was just blushing.

"Don't mean it like that," he recovered with a mutter that made him feel pathetic. "Its belly is pretty big, too..." he added as an afterthought.

Carol, an idea having struck her, lifted the heavy blanket from her to reach for the linen cloth covering the tray she had brought in with her, earlier. Daryl stared with curiosity as he saw her rip off a small piece of fabric and place it near the moth's plump buttocks.

"What's that for?"

"Giving her some privacy," Carol said on an exhale, reaching over them to tuck the soft material where the moth had stopped flailing about against the glass. "Us girls have to look out for each other, right?" She had said to the nocturnal moth, and maybe that was what caused her to settle down a bit more and rest against the fabric; its bottom now completely covered. "There. Do you think she'll be okay?"

Daryl couldn't say. But he didn't see why not. "I'm sure nature will take its course."

Carol gave one more sympathetic look to the winged creature, her features contorting into something rueful.

"You know Ed wasn't there when I had given birth to Sophia, either." It was a dead note, like the ending of a tragic number in a classical arrangement. And the sentiment hit Daryl like a ton of grand pianos that played that life-snatching note. "I had her all alone, trying to drive myself to the hospital. Stuffing towels under myself, so my baby would have something soft to land on, upon coming into this world." She shook her head at the memory, and rubbed Daryl's sleeve absentmindedly. "But, you're right. If I was okay, our moth friend will be, too."

Daryl wanted to chastise himself for bringing up something that stirred up such awful memories for his best friend. But knew that Carol wouldn't take too kindly to that response, so he dropped it. Sighed and offered: "She wanted to meet you. Your little girl."

It wasn't much of a condolence, and he knew it. Still, Carol looked down at him, emotion stinging her eyes. As if that was the kindest thing anyone's ever told her. He wondered if it indeed was. To him, Carol deserved all the accolades and compliments one could give. But maybe, in this instance, a moment of silence was the highest honor. So he stayed quiet. She almost whispered: "I wanted to meet her, too. So badly." Then brought her head down to rest on Daryl's shoulder, and let herself sniffle.

A barn owl sang out from a tree canopy-ing the house and they laid together, enjoying the break in tension it offered.

"So," she mused in a mischievous tone. "If I were pregnant, would you be able to know it by the size of my trunk, too?" Daryl blanched.

It clobbered any thoughts he had been paying to the departed Sophia and the anguish her mother had gone through since. Now his facial muscles felt foreign, and too large for his own body to maneuver.

"Huh?" He answered, trying to backtrack his thoughts and coming up with nothing sufficiently controversial.

"Would you?" She actually wanted to know. It wasn't just her yanking his chain, as she was apt sometimes to do. When the mood hit her just right. Like the moon was hitting her hair just right now, giving it an ethereal shine.

Maybe it was her hair messing with his thoughts, making them less coherent. Because before he knew it, he had uttered an undramatic, "guess I could. Since that's where most of the weight on you would go." And immediately, he regretted it.

Carol had pulled back to stare into his terrified eyes, just as shocked as he was. It was like looking at his own reflection in a mirror. And the owl 'hooted' no more.

"You watch my ass, Daryl?" She quirked a brow at him. He couldn't read how she was asking that question; whether as a flummoxed female, or a disturbed equal or an offended friend. Over the years, he had certainly watched her. Watched over her while she slept or cleared hundreds of abandoned buildings. Watched her from afar as she canoodled with the king, and that Tobin fellow; watched her up close in that odd friendship she forged with Negan of all people. He watched her walk away. From him. From them.

He suddenly felt quite ill, having too much experience in that area than he was comfortable admitting. He wanted to open a window, let the stale air out. But was trapped beneath Carol, imprisoning him with that gaze of hers -and that query.

So he went tripping over his words, like a regular Jack-and-Jill. "I, uh- no. I, that's -meant that…'s just, I always watch you. All of you." He hoped that sufficed, however choppy. Carol was good about putting the pieces together. Understanding what he meant. He hoped she was doing that now.

But she hadn't said anything. Not a word. Even the silence was loud. Carol simply stared at him, nothing in her face giving away a thing about how she took his honest remark. His whole body burned under her gaze, wanting -needing- for her to speak, and say something to him. Even if it was critical. Or reprimanding.

"A lot of folks look at you," he tried again, attempting to iron his crumpled up voice out. "Back home. And out here. Huck does. A lot. Seen him doin' it a whole bunch of times. Ain't just me." He hated how defensive he sounded. Like he had a right to justify his actions by explaining it that way. He clicked his teeth, wanting to forsake himself altogether. Why couldn't the words just come together? Why couldn't they ever for him?

Carol remained silent, a concentrated gaze searing a hole into his head. He felt exposed then, as though she could see and read and hear every thought he had stored away about her in there. And confiscate it.

"Daryl, I-" she finally began, but Daryl cut her off so fast, his breathing came out in shallow spurts.

"You mad?" He wanted to, but could not help the fear, shading his tone a dark color. It contrasted greatly with the lightness in hers.

"Oh, Daryl," Carol breathed, as she brought her lips unmistakably close to his before saying. "I think that's pretty romantic."

He had only begun to process that familiar phrase, when the next thing Daryl had felt was her lips on his for the very first time.

I am so sorry. 😞 This is actually just a one-shot but it is too long. It is supposed to have a love scene between them too but maybe I did it wrong by writing too much? I tried to fix it. But my story pacing is not good. But I wanted to give this to you first before TWD starts again. If you don't think it should have it, I can just leave it like that.

Well HOLY GODDAMN as our friend Negan would say. Babe, don't apologize for your writing style. To me, it felt like I was reading an extended scene straight from the spinoff. The nice thing about writing fan fiction/ short stories is there's a lot more room for mundanity. Sometimes the excitement is in the smaller details and your work here is a perfect example of that. I loved the subtle allusions to Daryl's jealousy and Carol being coy, and I especially loved the payoff at the end. It works well as it is, but I REALLY want to read the love scene. Don't worry about the length. I guarantee it won't detract from the quality of the story.

#caryl #caryl fanfiction #twd #writers supporting writers

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twstinginthewind · 2 years ago

Note

💟 For Carol Punch

and maybe only if you wanna 😍 Joker and April

Kisses kisses kisses!

It was the evening after the overblot incident at the library, and Punch had only gotten up from his seat by Carol's infirmary bedside once or twice since she was brought there. She looked so small and pale among the pillows. It almost broke his heart.

He had already helped with changing her bandages earlier, and while she was resting, there really wasn't much that he could do. He had already repaired the broken frame of her glasses, and placed them on the table by the head of her bed. She'd need them when she woke... but when would that be? Some of the other students who had been involved in overblot instances gave varying answers, but they all seemed to give him the idea that Carol may still sleep through the rest of this day.

She made a little noise in her sleep, furrowing her brow. Punch stood up, almost as if he were ready to fight off whatever was disturbing her, but there was nothing there. Just them, as the sun settled below the horizon outside. She made another whimpering sound, and curled her fingers tightly around the blanket.

Punch drew closer to her, and ran a hand over her hair. "It's over now," he whispered, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. "You made it, you've won. You're still here, and you're safe." He leaned over, and placed a delicate, gentle kiss on her forehead. He could feel her expression relax. "It'll be all right. I'm here."

----

April liked being able to visit at Heartslabyul. It was a comfortable place, filled with interesting clutter and friendly people. There was always something baking in the dorm kitchen, and the gardens always seemed to be in full bloom. Despite what she had heard about the dorm leader being a bit hard to please, guests of the dorm were always treated kindly and with respect. And most of all, she got to spend time there with Joker.

Joker chattered on cheerfully as they sat in the lounge, nursing cups of hot milk tea. "... and I've been borrowing this really old romance comic series from my roommate. I know, I'm more of an action sort of person? But this one is really sweet, and the art is soooo pretty. You wanna read a bit while you're here?"

April took a sip and placed the rose-patterned cup into its saucer. "Maybe after you take me to see the flamingoes. I was wondering how you all managed to keep a flock of them on-campus, just for a game." She smirked. "What's it about?"

"Ah, well? It's about a girl, who makes friends with another girl at her school? But the friend has a bad reputation, and is worried about the girl getting affected by that, so she tries to cut her off? And then there's this guy who's in love with the friend, but he's soooo taken by the first girl when he sees her, but she doesn't wanna see him at all, because she's falling for the friend, and... well..." Joker blushes. "It's pretty. The art's fancy."

"Huh." April cupped her chin. "Sounds like it's pretty involved, huh? Why didn't the girl just sa— what's that???" She turned her head suddenly, as a closet door bursts open, and two boys in the dorm uniform fall to the floor.

"Joker, now!" yells the one with the dark hair, and April feels a sudden soft, warm pressure on her cheek.

"She did it!" shouted the other boy, the one with fluffy red hair, and the two clamber away laughing as April raises a hand to her cheek. She turns back to Joker.

"Was that..." April draws her hand away. Her fingers bear traces of bright red. Lipstick. The one Joker always wears. "Was that absolutely necessary?"

"Probably not." Joker's face was as red as the incriminating make-up. "But at least it worked...."

"You've been reading too many comics." April rolled her eyes. "Just like the one you're reading, coulda saved a whole lot of trouble if you'd just say something. It could have been on the lips."

Joker picked up her teacup. "Not in the lounge. Queen's rules, I'm afraid. It'd have to wait until we get to the flamingo pen." And they both grinned at each other.

#i'm sorry i went back to it but the overblot was on my mind #i'm also not talking about any manga in particular it just was kind of cute #twisted wonderland oc #punch carder #joker carder #friend's oc #carol ann #april richter #story #punch ❤️ carol #joker 💚 april

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fullscoreshenanigans · 4 months ago

Text

#while i do love the norman ratri theory / hc #specifically james bein his papa #matilda being norman’s mom is my favorite#mainly because . matilda #shirai please never ever reveal who the sister’s children actually are #bc if norman’s mom was someone other than matilda … it would be so over #but i think it’s like 99.9% matilda #because they were drawn together !! (via @sleepyhouzuki)

V compelling evidence (their noses, their brows, much to think about 🤔🤔)

#norman IS a ratri I will not accept anything else at this point #the dramatic irony shakespearean tragedy cycle of abuse-ness of it all is just. too good (via @hylialeia) --- #i Love the norman ratri theory #tbh i forget its a theory a lot of the time lmaooo #been thinking of a url to change to and norman ratri truther or smth like that was one of my ideas haha #maybe this is a sign (via @beachbunnymp4) --- I LOVE the demon world is under the ocean theory. It sounds so ridiculous, but when you look at everything it starts to make sense. Norman Ratri and Emma and Carol being related is not my favorite, but I like to believe those are very probable. (via @zazora) --- #Norman is a Ratri in some capacity - 👍 #(while being somewhat of a cousin of Peter and James though. one of his ancestors being of Ratri descent but not he himself lol) (via @officersnickers)

I'm not as big on James being his dad (opting for something more akin to what Snickers proposes; further propaganda here, here, and here) but we are all Norman Ratri truthers in this Chili's tonight 🤝

While I've mentioned before I'm glad they didn't do anything with it in canon because Norman already has so much going on with him when Shirai was rapidly chopping off story branches in the back half of the series, I always think of this post addition by @bon-nii because it is emphatically captures the sentiment beautifully:

Realest shit, and once he's aware of it he has to absolutely loathe it being one of the key components of it for me lol

#I don't really care for the 'x and y are biologically related' theories tbh because like. I don't care lol #But the others are fairly interesting #Leslie being Zazie would have been cool but Zazie is five years old it doesn't line up #I'm not really a fan of any of these theories I feel like they're grasping at straws hfjdjdj sorry- (via @darklight-owl)

's gucci dfkj in addition to seeing which fan theories I missed, I thought it was also an interesting way to gauge people's affinity for canon fidelity since that's what (most likely) drew people into the series initially, with potential sentiments of "I like the Emma and Carol are biological sisters theory because it would have the least bearing on the plot" to "I voted Leslie is Zazie because it would have been cool as shit," and everyone has a different tolerance of what strays too far for them (similarly, how far removed an AU is from canon before the characters stop being what you consider to be the characters and if that's a dealbreaker or not)

#The 'human character becomes a demon' one would be cool if we had an actual candidate #(Hey- no put season 2 down. I said put it down. Don't make me get the spray bottle) #I picked Adam being Norman but not in the way OP probably intended #I think Lambda might have been trying to clone the kids there and Do Things to them since birth to see what happens #But then again not sure if that lines up with the timeline either unless they took some dna sample from Norman before he was harvested #Unless he was given to Goldy Pond like. Right before Emma got there which is extremely unlikely (via @darklight-owl)

I think that fits into the all along category if I'm interpreting it correctly and we combine the clone theory and Adam = Norman theory, but I am tragically limited by the options limit kdsjf </3

But I think there's enough potential there that mucking up canon a bit would be worth it. (Also I say this all the time but the timeline for this series fucks me up so bad since canonically Adam and Norman could only have been at Lambda together for at max two months. What the fuck)

For humans turning into demons, the most common candidates I've seen are Emma, Norman, and Leslie.

#how to make me choose here because a lot of them are great! ^^' #Emma and Carol are (half-)sisters - 👍 #[Sister] is [Grace Field child beside Ray]'s biological mother - 👍 #voted for *Two other Grace Field kids besides Emma and Carol are biologically related* #Norman and Rossi being half brothers my beloved <3 #look at them and tell me I'm wrong #Rossi's so cute. I need more attention for him and what's the better way than to set him up with Norman as big bro? #some crazy theory - Jessica and Isabella either being half-sisters or cousins #(they look alike a lot I think) #making Ray and Gilda (my headcanon child for Jessica hehe) also related #their attitude your honor. please #another crazy headcanon of mine - Norman and Adam are somewhat clones. experiments. genetically worked on before inserted in a woman #(terrible wording I know) but so is Violet. she looks a lot like them I think and she's somewhat close to Adam. would be fun I guess? (via @officersnickers) --- #Tbh I think the theories where certain characters may be each other's half-siblings are my favorite ones #I like the one where it's about Emma and Carol specifically #Alright how about something a bit different since I also put in the fic I'm cowriting in #Matilda is Emma's biological mother #Mostly just from parallels in Isabella's side chapter #I think I did make a post speculating which kids belong to the 4 Sisters a long time ago (via @thathilomgirl)

If I could only choose one sibling connection between Emma & Carol or Norman & Rossi, I'd probably opt for the former, but with the latter pair both having white hair I've definitely seen that theory floating around too lol

I've never seen anyone put forth as Emma's mom besides Sienna though (mostly because of the hair rather than the irony of their contrasting personalities) so Matilda being her mom instead of Norman's is new. Same with Jessica as Gilda's mom, though I have seen Scarlet as either Don's or Phil's mom a lot.

(Chapter 175)

And I have seen people note the similarities between Norman and Violet before, but never that she was included in the clone shenanigans too, so that's a neat addition.

*Either all along or post-escape **Through being the reincarnation of James, one of his parents being a Ratri, or one of his more distant relatives being a Ratri

Really interested in the Other option as someone who came into the fandom after the series concluded and possibly missed some that were popular for a time and then dropped like a rock in the collective fandom conscience after a certain point.

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thewalkingdead-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Here’s Negan”

Imagine for the 22nd episode of season 10

Summary: Until they can find their way back to one another, both Negan and the Reader have to deal with the ghosts of their pasts and overcome present threats that try to rob them of their future in Alexandria

Leaves rustled underneath Negan’s feet as he moved through the thick undergrowth of the forest, only stopping as he watched Carol kneel down for a second to pull a dead rabbit out of its trap, the first success of this little hunting trip. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for getting me the hell out of there for a bit. I mean you may have noticed things with Maggie and I are a little bit tense”, he spoke up, clearing his throat as he thought back to yet another encounter with her earlier today during his reconstruction shift by the woodhouses. She hadn’t said anything, as usual, but if looks could kill, fuck, he’d be as dead as mutton right now. Carol only nodded as she got back on her feet, without looking just once at him as she kept on strolling. ”I don’t mind being lay little Negan for a bit but hell, there’s only so far I can go to get out of her way”, Negan started back up, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as they moved out of the darkness of the forest onto more open woodland that was covered with with a couple scattered bushes. He was trying to lead this conversation into a direction without directly going at it like a bull at the gate, hoping that this would give him better chances but Carol either didn’t want or didn’t get the clues he’d been throwing into their rather one-sided conversations since they’d stepped out of the gates of Alexandria. They still had a deal, and she still hadn’t done her part. A thick sigh left his lips as he looked over at her, before he started back up, for yet another, but more offensive try. “You know I was thinking maybe you put in a word for me”, he said, careful not to trip as he moved over the grassy, overgrow ground,”Let’s move things over at least kinda get the ball rolling. Given our recent history, I kinda figured you owe me that much, right?” Nothing. She didn’t say anything, not even the slightest peep and instead moved straight towards a shabby looking cabin at the end of the clearing, leaving him startled for a moment as he stared in between her and the small house. "You know this place?”, he called out as she kept walking, not turning back to look at him and instead just hummed in agreement. A small but frustrated groan fell from his lips as he sped up his steps to catch up with her, trying to figure out what she was up to and what that cabin had to do with it until she stopped right on its porch and let the door swing open for him to look inside. He should’ve known. Fuck he should’ve known that she hadn’t taken him on this trip here because of the goodness of her heart, she had a plan all along and that plan was to get him out of Alexandria. For good. “I see you went ahead and moved me in”, it left his lips with a scoff as he stepped inside the cabin and looked at the boxes that stood in the middle of the room, filled with his belongings while his leather jacket was thrown over a rocking chair right next to them. This was like a bad dream, a fucking bad dream that he just wanted to wake up from. ”I’m sorry. The council voted to banish you”, Carol’s voice ripped his eyes from the boxes and darted them at her as she shrugged her shoulders slightly She wasn’t sorry. Nor did the council vote to banish him. This was bullshit. He’d been right there when Gabey had told his wife about the council’s inactivity during his trip with Aaron, he’d been right there when he’d assured the both of them that no decisions would be made about him as long as they were gone. She was trying to feed him steaming hot bullshit. “What you want just isn’t gonna happen, it’s not possible”, Carol said, the tone in her voice pretty much the same as the one a nanny would use with a clueless, dumb kid,”I know it’s not what I promised but given our less recent history? It’s better than you deserve.” The corner of her lips quirked up as she looked at him, while a part of him was still not fully getting that this here was happening right now. For nearly two weeks he’d been living and working in Alexandria like anybody else, doing his part to build it back up without any problems. And now this shit was happening out of the blue, trying to tear the life with his wife from him that he’d just reached. Looking at the woman in front of him he furrowed his brows, trying to test the waters first and see what she’d do if he’d start to debunk these lies of hers. “Did the council really banish me or is this more of a Carol seizing the reigns kind of situation?”, he started, but instead of an answer, Carol merely started to smile, a condescending and nearly wicked look in her eyes as she tilted her head a little and looked at him before she strutted past him and pushed the dead animal into his hands. “It’s rabbits for you.” “You really didn’t think this through”, Negan called out as she moved to the door, louder now as he could feel the anger starting to boil slowly but surely up in him. This whole shit wasn’t just about his own ass, Carol was pulling his wife into this bullshit too and this was where he drew the line. She’d been happy during these last two weeks, so damn happy to finally gain a bit of the life she’d always dreamed of having with him and he wasn’t gonna let Carol ruin that happiness of hers merely because she thought it was her place to decide over his fate. “My wife’s part of the council”, he said, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips as he could see her stopping in her tracks,”If any decision like that would’ve been made, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d see her raise hell in that little makeshift church right now.” With that he could see her turning around to him, just enough to look at him, not more. “Oh and-”, he called out, snipping fingers in an overdramatic fashion,”When Gabey left with Aaron, he made sure to tell her the council’s inactive for the time being. There was no fucking vote.” She’d been busted, clearly and he could tell that she didn’t plan for him to pull out arguments like these, but much to his annoyance, it didn’t seem to bother her. The look on her face was the same, nearly indifferent, as if she didn’t care about it. “So if I’m supposed to stay here, what’s gonna happen with her?”, Negan called out as he stepped onto the porch, closing the distance as she shrugged her shoulders. “She’s gonna have to decide.” “She’s one of the only doctors left in Alexandria”, it left his lips with a scoff, the anger now starting to let his body tingle as the indifference in Carol’s voice nearly drove him wild,”She’s gonna choose me. You really wanna risk losing another doc just so you can pull your little solo act here?” “I know what I’m doing”, she just said instead of giving him a true answer, before she turned around to strut towards the edge of the clearing ,”She’s gonna find out. Then we’ll see.” “Carol”, it rumbled through Negan’s trembling chest, up his throat that started to tighten the more anger and desperation boiled up in him as he stepped down the porch. Trying to follow her, he took long steps over the overgrown ground, his heart hammering in his chest before Carol’s hand suddenly fell onto the hunting knife on her belt. “Goodbye Negan”, she called out as her hand wrapped around the knife’s handle to send him a clear warning sign,”Do not try something dumb and do not follow me back.” And with that, she vanished in the thicket of the forest, leaving him to stand there like an abandoned dog while his mind was torn on what to do now.

“How’s the book going?”, you heard Steve’s voice sound through to you as he moved back into the infirmary’s main room, merely some new towels in his hands as he strolled closer. “Pretty good actually”, you said as you nodded down to Negan’s anniversary gift and looked over the dried burdock leaf that he’d glued onto one side and your notes about the medical herb that were already starting to cover the page beside it, “Really starting to look like a handbook.” “Good, I can really use that. Your handwriting is much easier to read than those notes of Siddiq, the info is gold but wow, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a messier handwriting”, Steve said with a soft chuckle, though you could clearly still hear the same sadness sound through it you felt anytime you realized that your friend was gone. A bittersweet look fell between your notebook and Siddiq’s notes that laid right next to it, that had helped you on every step of the way to fill this book up. Slowly you started to nod, about to reply to Steve before a mixture of loud voices made your glance shoot up. “We got an emergency”, you could hear a voice call out, stressed and full of panic before you saw the reason for this turmoil that made your mood switch up from one moment to another. Hanging in between a group of four people that carried him as well as they could hung Carter, barely conscious while a large piece of metal protruded his leg that was covered in dark red blood. “He fell from a ladder on one of the broken pipes”, you could hear one of them say entirely out of breath as they pushed inside and the first thick splatters of blood fell onto the floor in the very moment you rushed towards them. “We need help, now.” Negan’s fingertips were digging into the worn down wood of the windowsill, his eyes staring out at the forest while his mind was running wild. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He didn’t wanna head back, run into Carol and find himself with a knife sticking into his damn back. Fuck knew what she’d actually do but he sure as shit wouldn’t risk it, not after the way she’d betrayed his ass just now. Sighing he started to walk through the shabby cabin, trying to find just anything to do with himself. There was no way his wife would be here anytime soon, even if she’d hear about Carol’s new plan as soon as she’d arrive back at Alexandria, and he highly doubted that. This place was still far out and he was stuck here now. “Fuck this”, he growled, kicking against the rocking chair that was still filled with his belongings even though he felt like a tantrum throwing toddler the moment his foot met the wood. He was fucking stuck here. Gulping thickly he moved in to take his leather jacket into his hands, run his fingers over the smooth leather as he stared down at it, gulping thickly as his eyes found the marks Lucille’s wire had left here years ago. Looking at them still gave him a bitter feeling. To this day he still didn’t know where she was, no idea what had happed to her after Rick had taken her from his patient’s room in the infirmary. He had no clue if she was somewhere locked away in Alexandria as his wife still hypothesized or if she’d really fallen off that wagon during a weapon transport as Michonne had tried to sell him once...he didn’t know. Gulping thickly he ran his fingers over the marks, thinking back to the last time he’d held her on that goddamn hill that had decided over his fate and merely the memory of it kicked off another range of thoughts. Could they have brought her back there? Was that a possibility? He’d made up his theories over the year in lonely moments down in that cell, without taking any of them all to serious to not let them fuck with his head but the more he thought about it now, the more it seemed like an actual possibility. Rick had always been a nostalgic fucker, he could see him going back there and placing his Lucille at the place he’d slashed his throat and ended the war only to tie up loose ends, only to put some kind of symbolic end to it and give himself another piece of peace after Carl’s death. He could give it a try, right? Just to keep his mind occupied and pass the time until he could make any other decisions for his future. If his wife would even arrive here today, she wouldn’t do so soon, so even if it would just keep him busy instead of actually bring his bat back, this was worth a try, right?

Blood, so much blood. For way too long if felt like you only saw red everywhere you looked. Carter’s leg, the bandages, the cot and the floor until you finally saw Steve’s blood covered hands handing you the last bit of tape to secure the edge of the thick bandage that was wrapped around the leg, marking the end of this ordeal. it took yet another while until you were sure that Carter was stable and the next shift started that finally displace you before you could wash the blood off your hands and stumble outside, plummet down onto the bench that leaned against the wall. Sighing thickly propped your elbows onto your knees, trying to get yourself to realize that you were done for today and were allowed to relax now before you saw Steve moving outside, two glasses of water in his hands. “Thought we could use a bit of a refreshment”, he said, a tired tone in his voice as he stretched one of the glasses towards you. “Thank you”, you mumbled with an exhausted smile, taking the glass from his hand before he let himself fall next to you and sighed deeply. “God I’m glad our shift is over now”, he said, relief swinging through his voice as you took a sip of your water and leaned back against the cushion of the bench,”Can’t wait to go home, eat some dinner with Daniel and then take a big nap.” “Mhmm...sounds like a good plan”, you said, taking another gulp of the water before a small chuckle fell from your lips,”Negan and I found have that DVD collection in our house and honestly, I just wanna out whatever in that console, plunge down on the couch and just shut my brain out.” A sigh left your lips, exhausted but content as you already looked forward to the moment you’d be able to cuddle up against him and switch this bench for the comfy couch. ”Just relax and watch some kinda show, even though I’ll probably fall asleep while I’m at it tho”, you mumbled, a soft yawn leaving your lips as you heard Steve humming in agreement. ”I like that plan too”, he said as you glimpsed over at him and saw him throwing you an exhausted but cheerful look,”Think I’m gonna have to lend one or two DVDs of yours some time, we’ve been rewatching the same stuff for way too long now.” ”Well you’re always welcome to stop by and take a peek at ‘em”, you chuckled, moving in to take your last sip while a small laugh fell from Steve’s lips. “You bet!” With his hands tightly wrapped around the handle of the shovel he’d luckily found in the back of that cabin, Negan found himself standing on the side of the hill, digging into the soil over and over again. There were already holes scattered all around him, with none if them leading to Lucille, nor any clue about her. A thick sigh fell from his lips as he turned his head towards the sound of a walker groan in the distance, faint and barely audible but he could see that dirty fucker shuffling at the foot of the hill, awfully slow and thankfully lonely. That asshole wouldn’t be a problem for him for a while. Turning back around he squinted his eyes slightly, keeping them from being dazzled by sinking sun that started to vanish behind the hill’s top, before his eyes fell on the glimmering glass window that was still hung up on the tree, just as it had years ago, still missing the same shard of colorful glass that Rick had used to slash his jugular with. With a thick gulp Negan looked back down, not all too excited about the memories that started to flood his mind all over again, so instead of spending another moment thinking about the events that had happened here, he dug his shovel back into the soil, hoisting a large piece out of it before a disappointed sound fell from his lips. Again, nothing. “Fuck this”, he growled to himself, staring angrily at the ground below him. Why the fuck was he even so upset? Chances were low that she was actually here, he knew that and still he found himself frustrated. Clearing his throat he strolled along the hill’s side, a little further upward as he gave himself three more chances and then he’d head back to the cabin. Chance 1? Nothing, he just split a poor damn rainworm in half. Chance 2? Nothing again, hole was as empty as a dumb fuck’s head. Chance 3?...still, nothing. “Fuck”, Negan spat out, his hand tightening around the handle, a frustrated groan falling from his lips as he angrily slammed the shovel’s edge into the soil. But instead of the usual shuffling sound, a dull one echoed through the air, letting him flinch and shoot his glance down into the grass as his hands went back to work lickety split. This could be anything, fucking anything but this could also be...it was her. It was really her. The barbed wire peaked out of the grass, slightly detached from the wood that was laying there in the ground, just enough dug out for him to clearly see the bat “Holy fuck”, Negan chocked out as he started to carefully rise her out of the soil, his eyes turning wide as he let the shovel fall and leaned down to carefully pick her up. “Ricky you nostalgic fucker”, Negan mumbled, though his throat was already tightening as he glimpsed down at the bat that had once brought him through this world. He couldn’t believe his eyes for another moment while his thumb ran along the worn down wood that had once been smooth and shiny. He could feel his nose tingling slightly as some tears blurred his view, the mere feeling of holding the bat and the view of her in his hands enough to overwhelm him for a moment. “Oh my-”, it left his lips as he gulped the thick lump in his throat down, turning the bat softly in his hands to get a good look of her. Nature had taken its toll on her, but the bat was still the same, it still gave him the very same warm and safe feeling after all this time. It was still her. A small sniffle let his lips as he stared down at it and felt the heaviness of the emotions she carried wash over him, nearly putting him into a bubble of memories before the groaning of the walker that had shuffled at the hill’s foot earlier got louder. Turning around he saw the dead asshole stumbling closer up the hill while a small grin grew on his face as he rocked Lucille in his hands and held her up like he’d done it thousands of times before. “C’mere fucker”, Negan mumbled, adjusting his posture a little before the walker reached him and he swung Lucille up before rushing her down in a smooth but harsh motion, right against the walker’s skull. A groan fell from his lips as he could see the walker starting to sink to his feet, just as he lunged out one more time and bashed Lucille into the rotting skull, but instead of the squelching sound of flesh, a dull one drowned it that made his heart sink from one moment to another. “No...no”, he gasped, staring down at his broken bat....at his broken Lucille. She hadn’t only lost her top part, she was split down her length, only held together by the rusted barbed wire at this point and his hands that started to tremble more the longer he looked at her broken parts. One moment ago he’d been basking in the joy of finally finding her again and now, now he could feel the lump in his throat growing again as he stared down at the broken bat. From joy to grief in one moment, from relief to regret in the other. “Fuck”, it left his lips with a defeated sound, his eyes welling over with tears as he could feel a dull, pressuring pain spreading over his body, tightening its grasp on him as he fell to his knees and felt the first tear rolling down his cheek as he weighed the broken Lucille in his hands. Could this day become any worse?

The sun was already starting to vanish behind the skyline of the trees as you finally found yourself heading towards Negan’s workplace by the walls, ready to pick him up and just get yourselves home. ”Hey”, you called out with a tired smile as you finally reached the woodhouses and could see Barbara and Daniel still working outside, though you couldn’t spot Negan yet. ”Hey, is Carter doing fine?”, Daniel asked as he stepped from the porch of the house, leaning himself against the wall as you gave him a quick nod. ”Yeah, took a bit but we’ve got him wrapped up now. He just needs to rest”, you said as you moved closer over the grassy ground and nodded towards the cabin’s door. ”Negan’s inside?” ”Nah”, Daniel said, shaking his head as you glanced confused at him,”Went out with Carol a couple hours ago to hunt. Saw her back around here earlier though, he’s probably already at your home.” ”Ah okay. Thank you”, you started to nod again before you made your way back to the road, not questioning that hunting trip all too much though it surprised you a bit that Carol had decided to take him along with her, mostly because she’d been avoiding the both of you during the last while. Instead of waisting your thoughts any longer on the trip you hurried down the street, just eager to get home, relax and hear Negan talk a bout his day. Finally, you moved up the porch stairs of your home, already trying to peek inside and see if Negan was standing by the stove and cooking something but as you stepped inside, you found the living room and kitchen empty. ”Negan? I’m home”, you called out, moving towards the hallway as your only remaining guess was that he had simply just showered and didn’t hear you yet up in your bathroom or was so exhausted that he’d laid down for a quick nap. Moving up the stairs who tried to hear if you could hear him moving around, but instead of footsteps or a rustling sounds you heard nothing but complete silence. “Negan?”, you quietly asked as you opened the door of your bedroom, a part of you nearly waiting to see him sprawled out and snoozing on the bed but as you moved inside, your confusion got doubled. The bed was completely empty, the same way you’d left it this morning but your closet stood open, the bunch of shirts and pants that usually laid stocked up next to your clothes gone. ”What the-”, it fell from your lips, cut off by your confusion as you moved towards the closet and looked at his Negan’s nearly empty spot. Not all was gone, a bit of his clothes way left, some boxer shorts, a couple white shits and some sweatpants but that was it. More confusion flooded your head with every second you stared longer at the opened door, trying to piece the parts of this puzzle together even though you didn’t even have merely enough of them to make sense of this. Negan wouldn’t leave, that was an option that you could exclude from the very first moment on but you still didn’t know what to think and what Negan’s absence and his missing clothes meant, before it slowly started to trickle down on you and a bitter suspicion washed over you. If anyone had to know something about this, it had to be the last person he’d been seen with. Feeling your heart starting to hammer in your chest you rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet as you moved down the hallway and back into your living room. Your eyes were roaming over the room as you hurried through it, as if they were trying to pick more pieces to this puzzle on your way out and from one moment to another, they did. Next to the vase of flowers on your dinner table laid a folded up piece of paper that you hadn’t even noticed when you’d first stepped back into your home, a piece of paper that looked like a map as soon as you got closer. Still filled with confusion and tension you grabbed it, unfolding it with quick movements only to feel a wave of nausea wash over you as soon as you saw the cross that marked a spot on the paper and the note underneath it that confirmed your suspicion. “Negan has been banished from Alexandria. Marked spot shows the cabin’s he’s residing at from now on.”

Nausea, anger, fear and desperation turned into a toxic cocktail within your body as you found yourself rushing down the street, clasping tightly onto the map while your eyes were fixated at the brownstones in front of you, blending out anything and anyone else on the road. Your breath was heavy, your body trembling and nearly cramped up with suspense while the growing anger made your body heat up to the point that made it feel like it was on fire while you stormed into the first brownstone’s hallway, heading up the flight of stairs with heavy, fast steps towards Carol’s apartment. She’d done it again. A fucking solo act. You just knew it. And this time she’d gone way too far and she’d pay for that. Banging against the door of her apartment you could feel the side of your hand starting to heat up as it met the wood over and over again until you finally heard footsteps inside that finally stopped right in front of you and the squeaking of the opening door echoed through the staircase. “What is this?!”, you snapped the moment you saw her face, holding up the map in your hand as you glared at her,”What the fuck did you do?” “I did what I had to do”, she said, the tone in her voice indifferent but firm, not at all bothered by your reaction as if she’d already known that you’d come to her place earlier or later. “Are you kidding me?!”, you called out, feeling your voice starting to tremble as the anger within you started to become more and more the longer you had to look at her. “This wasn’t a situation that could stay the same any longer”, she merely said, in the very same tone as before ,”i did what was necessary to not let it escalate.” With that, she tried to close the door on you only for your flat hand to push harshly against the wood, letting it flip open again as you could feel it boiling within you. First she pulled this shit, then acted as if what she was in the right and now she tried to fob you off. “No, no you didn’t”, you snapped, moving forward to push into her apartment so she couldn’t even try to close the door again ,”Your job was to hold up to your end of the bargain. You told me you’d do it.” “Things don’t always work out the way we want them to”, she said, a lecturing tone in her voice, almost as if she was talking to a child instead of an adult,”You should know that by now.” Staring at her you could feel your whole body tense up, could feel an anger seeping into your body that you hadn’t felt before, an anger that got you worked up, an anger that was fueled by the frustration of unfairness over the years, an anger that was emotionally loaded with your urge to protect your husband and the life you’d just gained. The life that was threatened by the reckless act of the woman in front of you that looked at you with an indifference that drove you wild. “You fucking bitch”, you spat out, your self control starting to leave your body as you closed the distance between the both of you and could hear your trembling voice starting to become louder. “You’ve had Negan do your goddamn dirty work, risk his damn life and kill that skinfreak and instead of doing the goddamn bare minimum of laying in a good fucking word for him you had the goddamn audacity to go into our home, go through his stuff and lead him outside under a goddamn pretext”, you yelled out, heavy breaths shaking through your chest as you glared down at her,”You took the fucking easy way out! Like always.” “I did him a favor”, she dared to say, so firm and cold that you could feel the suspense in your body starting to skyrocket,”Maggie would have killed him at some point if I wouldn’t have brought him outside.” “Stop with that fucking bullshit!”, you snapped, stepping closer towards her as she still didn’t even flinch once,”You did yourself a favor. Maggie won’t do shit to him, not on my watch, nor if you would’ve done your part of the deal. You just did this shit so you don’t have to show some responsibility for your actions for fucking once.” “I stand with my decision”, she said the moment your voice hushed, a condescending smile starting to spread over her lips as she tilted her head and looked at you,”And I will not change it. We all have to deal with our own shit and so do you.” There’s this certain moment when anger gets so intense it puts a person into a trance, the type of anger that swallows someone up, puts a bubble around them and turns them from a seething volcano into one that is seconds away from erupting. And right now, that was happening to you. You couldn’t see clear anymore, your view a blur, the map fallen from your hands that were balled so tightly your knuckles turned white while your head was clouded with rage that just needed one little more push to kick you off the eruption. And Carol gave that kick to you, with one small sentence. ”And considering what he’s done in the past he got better than he deserved.” A dull but loud sound echoed through the air as your fist meet her jaw, fast and hard enough to make her stumble back for a moment while your hands were already wrapping around her throat, not tight enough to choke her but tight enough to get a hold on her to push her into the nearest wall. “Considering what he’s done?!”, you screamed, your hands still wrapped around her throat as you glared wide eyes down at her,“What he’s fucking done?!” For the first time she didn’t say anything, her eyes were staring into the emptiness, unwilling to meet yours at first before your grasp tightened just enough to finally make her look into your face. “He saved our fucking asses. He did the shit you couldn’t get done!”, you yelled, your voice still trembling, near before breaking and only held up by the anger that had finally found its valve,”All you’ve done lately is get people killed!” For the first time since you’d stepped into this apartment you saw a stirring in her eyes while your own started to fill with tears, blurring your glance as your voice kept screaming at her. “Stop with the fucking solo acts! Fucking stop ruining the lives of everyone around you!” Just then you slowly started to come back as the anger started to become replaced with the fear and sadness that simmered underneath the rage. Your hands fell of her throat as you stepped back, staring at your shaking right hand whose knuckles were flushed in a bright red from the lunge you’d taken at her. Sniffles started to fall from your lips as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, your emotions still so strong that they were keeping your whole body under control. “I’m sick of this”, you felt it rolling quietly from your trembling lips as more tears fell from your eyes and the build up frustration got the best of you. For a moment there, you were almost scared of yourself, of how much that anger had taken hold of you, of how it had pushed through your usual levelheadedness, something that hadn’t happened quite like this before but you’ve just had enough, of the constant fears, of the constant playing with Negan’s life and the hypocrisy that you had to face from the same people over and over again. You weren’t sorry for what you did. You were actually glad you’d finally put her in her place. Sniffing you looked back up, gulping thickly as you saw her leaning against the wall, staring at you at you, an odd mix of coldness and shock in her eyes as you reached for the map on the ground and glared one last time over at her. “I will come back with my husband and you’ll hold up to the end of the deal or I swear to god I’ll raise hell.” Fire was burning in the small fireplace of the cabin, lightening up the room that was becoming darker and darker with every passing moment. The flames ate away at the chops of wood, its warm light illuminating up the glass in his hands that was filled up with some whiskey he’d found tucked away in one of the counters. Shuffling over the small stool by the fire he tried to get as comfortable as he could, huffing to himself as his eyes swayed from Lucille that laid propped up against the wall next to the fireplace over into the flames. How the fuck did he get to this point? Where exactly did he go wrong to end up sitting here on that fucking hard stool that made his ass hurt, staring into the flames while the only thing that was there to keep him company him in these moments was that damn whiskey in his glass?

The sun was already gone and the dusk was starting to flow into the night when you found yourself walking away from Alexandria, a small backpack buckled around your shoulders and a hunting knife in one hand, the map in your other. Going out now was dangerous and you knew it but you couldn’t care less, nor did you have much of a choice. Staying was no option, you had to find Negan, better earlier than later and make sure to reverse whatever Carol had brought about. Fuck knows what else she’d told him that she might have withheld from you. You were still on edge, still completely filled up with tension that kept a tight hold on your body while you did your very best to stay focused and not run into a group of dead fucks. A shivering breath fell from your lips, turning into a cloud of steam the moment you breathed it out as you could feel the cold of the approaching night starting to sneak up on you, slipping underneath your jacket while your cold hands were clasping onto your knife. Moving up you flipped on the small pocket flashlight that was dangling on one of the belts of your backpack and moved the map to make sure that you were still following the right route. Squinting your eyes your glance roamed over the paper, trying to get a grip of it before you folded it back up, switched the flashlight off and slowly moved down the blacktop to follow a narrow, nearly overgrown path into the forest, hoping that the moonlight would be enough to guide you. Step by step you found yourself halting and looking at the map, catching your thoughts and worries feeding away at your concentration that in turn fueled the frustration that was still reigning within you. By now, you should have already reached the stream that ran closeby the marked spot on the map, but neither did you hear flowing water anywhere near you, nor did you know exactly anymore if you were on the right track. “Shit”, you grumbled to yourself as you stared at the map, half mad at the whole situation, half mad at yourself for not getting your shit together before the sudden sound of groans made your glance shoot up. In a knee-jerk reaction you shut the small light back off and reached for a tighter grasp on your knife, looking around yourself before you caught a group of six or seven walkers wandering through the woods. Squeezing your mouth shut you tried to stay quiet, avoid attracting the dead as you slowly stepped back, trying to let the shadow of the trees shield you from being spotted before you heard a loud crack as a dried branch broke beneath your shoe. “Damnit”, you whispered to yourself, gulping thickly as you watched the walkers turn their head towards you, snarling as they spotted your figure and started to stumble into your direction. There was no way you could take them on now without putting yourself too much at risk, in the middle of the night, with your head filled up with emotions that worked against your concentration and an exhausted mind that was trying to press in on you whenever it possibly could. This was not a fight you should take on, not now. Turning around you started to move further into the dark, trying to put distance between yourself and the dead to hide out behind a tree and wait for them to pass. The thick undergrowth made it hard for you to move quick and made you more careful to not trip and get yourself into even bigger problems. With every step it felt like you could hear the groans continuously echoing through the dark while your heart started to speed up again and pumped against your chest, so loud you could nearly hear it pounding in your ears. Glimpsing behind yourself you couldn’t see them anymore, enough for you to figure that they wouldn’t be able to see you either and with a bunch of more steps you moved to your left and rounded the nearest, thickest tree to brace yourself tightly against its stem to be out of view for the dead. Gulping thickly you tried to keep your fastening breath under control as your eyes kept on roaming over the dim lit forest, your position not allowing you to see any of the walkers but instead only hear them as they started to come closer. The groans got louder and louder, mixing with the sound of their shuffling steps as you kept your body tightly pressed against the tree and tried to calm your heavy breathing down, telling yourself that this was all you had to do until you could go back to searching for that damn cabin. For a moment, you could feel yourself tense up again as you heard them starting to pass you, merely a bunch of meters past your spot before their groans slowly started to become quieter, and were only a quiet sound in the distance a small while later. Finally, you allowed yourself to let out a thick sigh and close your eyes for a moment, trying to get your concentration back on and continue your search for the cabin. Pushing yourself away from the stem you moved forwards, trying to figure out how far you’d moved from your original spot as you walked as quietly as you could back into your old direction, still holding tightly onto the map and your knife before a gasp left your lips as you felt a cold hand grabbing your ankle and a low, nearly inaudible groan echoed through the air. The sudden grasp was harsh and strong enough to make you lose your balance and fall to the hard ground, a painfilled groan falling through your lips as the fall made a stinging pain rush up from your rump up your back. Panicking you glanced up, watching as a severely decayed walker tried to peel itself from the spot by the tree it had grown attached to, its nearly entirely destroyed jaw hanging from its skull along with its rotting tongue that kept it from making sounds any louder than a hum. “Shit”, you growled, kicking towards the dead to make it lose its grasp on your ankle while it suddenly lunged towards you as it detached itself with one last push from the moss overgrown tree. Gasping you could feel it landing above you, its dead hands grasping you as it tried to snap forward, its disgusting stench rising up your nose as you could feel your survival instincts kicking in and mixing with the built up frustration, as well as with the anger and the distress Carol had brought over you earlier. Glaring into the dead eyes of the walker you rushed your knife up, aiming for its head as you’d done it with thousands of walkers before, but instead of seeing the blade dig into its skull, the walker’s arm reached up in the very same moment and made the blade sink into its flesh while it kept on snapping at you. From one second to another the frustration filled your whole head again, fueling the rage that had never truly calmed down within you as you let out a frustrated groan and pushed the dead with all your strength off of your body. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole”, you growled out, ripping the blade out of the dead’s arm as you kept it caged beneath you, hearing its snapping sounds in the very moment you let the blade rush down with all of your strength into the rotting skull. But instead of stopping there you could feel the tension and all those pent up emotions taking you over, clasping onto you as as they filled your head and made the knife stab over and over again into the walker’s head while emotion fueled memories rushed through your head. The constant fear to lose Negan while he was gone, the happiness you’d felt to finally get a life with him you’d always wished for and now, having it nearly torn away from you again just because one fucking person would rather go on and try to fuck up your lives all over again instead of doing the bare goddamn minimum she’d promised to do. And now, instead of being cuddled up on the couch with Negan in your home, you were in the middle of the dark fucking woods, trying to smooth out the fucking disaster Carol had kicked off again, with no fucking clue where you actually were, hanging over a fucking walker that had nearly tried to kill your ass. Over and over again your knife rushed down into the skull, your mind anywhere but actually here, as pants erupted your whole body and made you shake while your heart pumped up your throat. And just then as you pulled your knife once more out of the destroyed skull you realized that you were crying again, sobbing actually as you fell back off the dead onto the ground and stared at what you’d just done. ”Fuck”, it left your trembling lips as you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears while more hot tears streamed down your face and blurred your vision. Sniffling you looked up at the stars to calm yourself down and avoid looking at the defaced corpse beside you, letting your glance move from one star to another as your heart and your breath finally started to slow down again. And just then, just as you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears anymore, you could suddenly hear the soft rushing of flowing water nearby that made you prick up your ears. Scrambling to your feet you moved up and followed the sound, hoping that this wasn’t a sick game your mind was playing with you. Brushing your tears off your face you moved closer, step by step and careful to not get yourself into any other tricky situation until a burden seemed to fall right off your shoulders as you peeked through the trees and finally saw the flowing water glistening in the dim moon light. You’d found it, you’d fucking found it. And now, you just needed to find Negan. Time passed and he still didn’t have an answer to his questions and he knew deep down he’d never truly get them. A shivering breath fell from his lips as he stared into his emptying whiskey glass, closing his eyes for a moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gulped thickly. Maybe his wife wouldn’t even show up today here anymore, maybe something happened that made her stay longer at the infirmary and she didn’t even know yet about this whole thing. Regardless of what had truly went down she wasn’t here, and it was starting to eat away at him, just the bare thought of what she must feel as soon as she’d find out. She deserved that life they’d been living lately, that life that could come as close to that apple pie life as a life in the damn apocalypse could. She deserved every single part of it, regardless of it was merely being able to wake up in a warm, cozy bed in the morning or to lay outside in the garden to watch the sunset turn the sky into a ray of pretty colors without a worry in the world. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was on his way to pull the woman he loved once more into his misery. Shivering and clasping onto his glass he found himself glimpsing at Lucille, at the barbed wire and the broken wood that broke his heart all over again. He hadn’t been able to give her the life she deserved to live, and now the same thing was about to happen with (Y/N) too, all over again. Maybe he just didn’t deserve to have his happy end. He’d been such a fucking asshole, such a goddamn fucking asshole that never deserved for Lucille to put up with him the way she did after everything that had happened after he lost his job. He could still way too vividly remember the anger he’d felt after that asshole had gotten him fired, that goddamn asshole from that bar that had provoked him, snarled at Lucille and then came at him so he’d simply lost it and beat him into the ground. He could blame that fucker all he wanted for provoking him, for coming at him, for making him lose his job at the school, for suing him and making his Lucille pay for the fucking hospital bills because he couldn’t anymore, but he couldn’t blame him for the decisions he’d made after. Losing his job and being put on prohibition for this bullshit had made him fall into a deep hole, one that he hadn’t been able to crawl out from, one that had turned him into a fucking undeserving bastard. A bastard that hadn’t known how to get back on his feet. A bastard that had gone as far to cheat on his wife with her goddamn friend just to make himself feel appreciated in some sick way. A bastard that hadn’t gone to pick her up from her MRI because he was busy fucking said friend. A bastard that needed to see her throw the chemo brochures right onto the table in front of him and tell him she had cancer to finally turn his life around. He was still ashamed of himself, so fucking ashamed of the things he’d done back then and nothing, nothing that he’d done after had made him feel like he’d been able to make up for the shit he’d done before. Sniffling, Negan found himself shifting over the stool, his eyes filled with tears as he stared at the bat and felt his trembling fingers fumble on the glass in his hands, trying to distract himself from the memories that started to flood his head and torture him. He’d fought like hell to make up for the shit he’d done, he’d fought like hell to keep her going as this hell of a world had broken loose in the midst of her treatment, finding bag after bag for her chemo and teach himself how to administer it. He’d tried to keep her spirits high and brought her this bunch of wigs he’d found on a run in an abandoned shop, he tried his best to keep their generator going and free of the dead so they could watch movies even if killing walkers freaked the shit out of him back then, he’d tried to sing their song to her and hold her in the freezing nights that made her nausea usually worse. He’d tried to be a good husband. He’d tried to be the man she deserved and not give up even when things had taken their turn for the worse and that fucking generator had shut down in the middle of the night and made them lose the last bags of useable chemo supplies. He could still remember their last conversation that day, how she’d told him that she’d known about his affair all along, how she’d known that he’d stopped and never talked to her again after her diagnosis, how she wanted him to know that he’d made up for it and that he could stop pushing himself now. He could remember how she’d asked him to stay, how she asked him to give up searching for new chemo supplies and just be with her when she went. He could remember how she told him that it was time for him to move on without her and instead, do her fighting for her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her and he couldn’t bear letting her go. So he went out again. It took weeks of searching until he found the medical RV of Laura and her father, and it took yet another run in with a fucking gang of biker pigs until he could finally drive home with the chemo bags and bring them too her only to find out that after everything, he’d been too late. She was already gone. ODed, with a bag over her head, a belt around her neck that tied her to the bed so she couldn’t lunge at him and “Please don’t leave me like this” written over the door. She’d killed herself while he was gone, while he was gone out there searching for supplies when he should’ve just listened to her. She shouldn’t have died there with that fucking plastic bag over her head, she should’ve been able to fall peacefully asleep in his arms and drift off into an eternal sleep. And after everything, he couldn’t even go through with taking her down, he just couldn’t bring himself to dive a knife into her and instead he ended up trying to stun his grief with alcohol until he took the last resort and set his home on fire, hoping it would take her down and fulfill her last wish. He’d always wanted to make things better with (Y/N). From the moment on he found himself falling for her he wanted to make sure that he’d make things right this time and again, he’d failed. He didn’t get to give her the life she deserved, instead, she was stuck with him for years in that cell, giving him more than he could ever give her back and each time he thought about it, it felt like god played a sick game with him. Here you go have a second chance at love, but beware, you won’t be able to do things right now either. This fucking cabin, this fucking situation was the living proof of it and he didn’t know how to cope with it, how to cope with the fucking possibility that he was part of the reason their life would be destroyed again after it seemed like they‘d finally been able to settle down into a more peaceful life. Wincing Negan could feel himself erupting in more tears as he felt the empty glass fall with a dull thud from his hands onto the wooden floor, echoing through his head as a whimper fell from his trembling lips as his mind drifted to something that had whirled through it far more than once during the last weeks. Something (Y/N) had said to him after he’d melted down and asked her how she’d been able to fall in love with him back at the start, something Lucille had said to him when he’d asked her in tears how why she’d put up with him even after everything he’d done. “I already saw the man in you that you are right now”, were (Y/N)’s words, so hauntingly similar to the words Lucille had told him this one night that it made a shudder run down his back any time he thought of it. How in hell did he deserve for two women to fall in love with him and see something in him that he’d never been able to grasp? How did he deserve for those two women to love him so deeply they’d stick with him through anything and never lose their faith in him? How the fuck did he deserve that? Sniffling, Negan looked into the flames, the fire only a blur of red and orange before he reached up to brush the tears off his cheeks and run his hand down his face to keep himself from losing it entirely. Trembling he dried his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, sighing deeply as he glimpsed back at the fireplace only to flinch up in the very same moment as he heard the squeaking wood door open behind him and heard the voice he’d been dying to hear for hours. “Negan?” Your voice was faint and careful as you said his name and stepped into the cabin, watching as Negan turned around from his spot by the fireplace with a relieved but still startled look on his face. “Hey”, you could hear him say, his voice strained and thick with emotion as he stumbled towards you and just then gave you a chance to see his slightly reddened eyes, the exhausted look on his face and the slight wetness that was still daubing his cheeks. But before you could say anything he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tightly into his embrace, cradling you against his chest while his trembling body pressed up against yours. You only hugged him back without saying anything yet, cuddling into him to finally feeling his warmth enclosing you after the turmoil that you’d been through until you’d finally found this place. And then slowly, very slowly Negan started to loosen his grasp on you, before he backed just enough away to look down at you and run his glance over your face, as if he was trying to check if you were fine. “Are you okay?”, it instead fell from your lips as you reached up to softly stroke over his wet cheek, a worried look pressing in over your face as he slowly started to nod. “I’m much better now that you’re here”, he mumbled, leaning in to press a soft, nearly delicate kiss over your lips before a small sniffle left his lips and you glimpsed for the first time away from him and through the room that was only enlightened by the small fire. Carol had truly given her all, putting two full baskets of Negan’s belongings into this cabin, along with his leather jacket that hung over a rocking chair by the windows and something else that suddenly caught your eye, something that leaned against the wall by the fireplace and nearly made you believe your mind was playing tricks on you. “What-”, it left your lips as you stared at the bat, furrowing your brows in utter surprise as your glance stayed stuck on it,”Is that Lucille?” A soft sigh fell from Negan’s lips as grasped your jaw gently, just enough so he’d get you to look at him before he gulped thickly and nodded towards the spot by the fireplace. “Let’s just sit down for a moment, okay?” Mere minutes later you found yourself sitting on a small stool next to Negan by the fire, listening to him as he talked about how this day had played out for him. How Carol had lead him into the woods, how he had gone back to the hill of the war to see if he could find Lucille and how she broke just mere moments after he found her. From moment to moment you could find your eyes hooked on the broken bat, still not quite believing that she’d been there all this time while you’d searched all of Alexandria for her, so confident in the thought that they’d actually hid her somewhere around town. “When did you find out?”, you heard Negan say, ripping your glance from Lucille and back at him. “Around sunset? I was longer than planned at the infirmary”, you said, gulping thickly as you shuffled a little over the stool below you,”Carter fell on a broken pipe and we just...we just took some time until we had him all fixed up and then when I wanted to go pick you up from the woodhouses...Daniel told me that you’d gone out with Carol to hunt earlier but that he’d seen her around again.” A thick sigh fell from your lips as you glanced down for a moment, shrugging your shoulders softly before your eyes met his again. “So I guessed you’d already be back home and when I got there I just found our closet open, with some of your stuff gone and that damn map on the dinner table”, you mumbled, nodding towards the map that laid along with the backpack next to your stool. “I didn’t take off right away”, you added, letting out a huff as the mere thought of it put some new tension right back onto you,”Paid Carol a visit before and I just-...I lost it.” With that, Negan’s brows perked up, half curious, half worried as you sighed quietly and shrugged softly. “I may or may not have punched her and pushed her into a wall...by her throat.” “You did what?”, you heard Negan say, something that could even come close to a chuckle fell from his lips as he still looked with perked brows at you, clearly waiting for you to go on. “Wouldn’t say I’m proud of it... can’t remember the last time I blew a fuse like that-”, you said, stopping yourself as you could feel yourself getting worked up again though you surely didn’t want that to happen now all over again,”But the things she said-...how she said them. She smiled into my damn face while she said it, so fucking demeaning and full of ignorance...I just-” “Yeah, can imagine that”, Negan said as soon as your voice broke off, nodding as he clenched his jaw slightly ,”Pulled the same attitude here.” “And then she said on top of it all that you got better than you deserve with this cabin here and it just clicked”, you said with another sigh, before a thick gulp travelled down your throat as Negan reached out for your hand to take it into his, squeezing it softly as you could feel your emotions starting to well up again. “After everything, you deserve so, so much more”, you said, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand while you could see Negan’s eyes softening,”You deserve the damn world.” With that, his reddened eyes started to fill back up with tears and a thick gulp travelled down his throat as his hand grasped yours tighter and a small sniffle fell from his lips. “You do, Baby...you do”, he choked out, trying to keep his voice up by all means as his glance feel in between the bat and you, his eyes blurred with tears as you shuffled closer towards him,”You do. Lucille did. And I-...I don’t know how I got so lucky to hit the jackpot twice.” It didn’t take more than that for your emotions to get the best of you again and fill your eyes with tears as well and boil all those feelings that had whirled through you back up, while Negan shook his head as the first tears fell from his eyes. “I just-...you put all these years up with me being in that damn cell, you went through so much pain because of me and for all these fucking years I couldn’t give you the life you deserved till those last two weeks happened and now whatever we just got is gone again and I-”, he sniffled, his voice thick with emotion as he shook his head and glanced at the bat, “I couldn’t give Lucille the life she deserved, I couldn’t even keep the world and that fucking cancer from hurting her and then-” Tears kept falling down his face as his eyes were hooked on your intertwined hands, sniffles falling from his lips as his grasp on your hand got a little tighter. “And then when I fell in love with you I just-”, he winced, a shaking breath falling from his lips as he gulped thickly,”I vowed to myself to protect you and take care of you no matter the fucking cost. I just wanted to finally make things right and instead I fucked everything up all over again.” You only shook your head, unable to say something as a thick lump started to grow in your throat again and you could feel yourself hurting just listening to him. You’ve had these type of conversations before but this time, with these circumstances it just hurt so much more to see him beating himself up. “All I want is give you that damn apple pie life. In that house, with movies every damn night, with dinners together, and someday with kids that can run through that house and play in that backyard and drive us crazy...and it fucking destroys me that I can’t..that I’m the fucking reason you can’t have that.” “That’s not true”, you shook your head as you felt the first tears roll down your cheeks, “We can have that and we will, also because you ripped your ass off for it. You’ve always bent over backwards to make me happy.” A shivering breath fell from your lips as you moved in closer, trying to ensure that he was looking at you as you reached out for him and cupped his face softly with your free hand. “Just because things didn’t always work out the way we wanted them to doesn’t mean that you made me any less happy and I don’t ever want you to think again that you failed at that...You’ve been the best husband I could ever wish for. I need you to finally believe me when I say that”, you choked out, sniffling as you gave his hand a soft squeeze,”Just as much as I need you to finally believe the things Lucille said to you. She told you you made up, you made sure to make her last months as peaceful and happy as you could within this hell of a world...so you don’t deserve to keep on beating yourself up about it.” Negan choked up as you referred back to the things he’d once told you, still holding on to you as you looked with tearful eyes at him. “I just need you to realize that as long as I got you I’m happy, no matter where we are, no fucking matter if it’s in a cell or a nice home.” You made sure to keep his glance, trying to make sure that your message reached him before your thumb swiped softly over his skin while you tried to swallow down the bigger lump that was growing in your throat again. “I’m so proud of you...I’m so damn proud of the man you’ve been for me for all these years”, you said, smiling through the tears at him as another sniffle fell from your lips and your eyes glimpsed at the bat for a short moment,”And I know she’d be too.” Tears glistened in Negan’s eyes as a shivering hum rumbled up his chest and he grasped your hand tighter, just as you kept on fighting against that lump in your throat to bring out the last thing you needed him to hear. “So we will take your things first thing in the morning and walk back to Alexandria and settle back down into that home where we two belong”, you said your trembling voice almost breaking off as you leaned in closer to him,”No one is going to take that away from us again. Not Carol, not Maggie, not anybody.” Slowly, Negan started to nod, reaching up to take your hand from his cheek to press a kiss over its back while your eyes fell on the bat that still leaned against the wall. “We can take her with us, y’know? Find a nice place in the house”, you said with a sniffle, only to slowly see Negan starting to shake his head. “I think...I think I need to say goodbye”, he mumbled, gulping thickly as his eyes roamed over the broken bat before they fell back on you,”She wanted me to move on without her and do her fighting for her...so I’m finally gonna do that...I’m gonna burn her and then..fuck then we’ll walk home and I’ll keep on fighting for our future. I think she’d want that too.” Slowly, you started to nod and felt Negan press another kiss over the back of your hand, still holding onto you, still shivering as he stared at the bat while it started to dim on you that this was something he had to do alone. He had to say goodbye on his own. So slowly, you moved up from your spot on the stool, loosened your grasp on his hand and instead leaned down to press a kiss onto his forehead while our hand caressed softly over the side of his face. “Just call for me when you need me back in here”, you mumbled as Negan visibly got tense before he started to nod, but still kept a hold on you for another moment, as if he needed your closeness a little longer to prepare himself. As soon as his grasp loosened and you knew he was ready you quietly moved out of the house and let yourself fall onto the porch’s stairs, where you soon heard Negan’s voice rumble through the air, still filled heavily with emotions but firm enough to not break as he spoke up. “I’m sorry that I left you...I was a coward. I couldn’t face the pain of losing you so I ran away...and then I made myself not feel anything because I didn’t want to feel the shame...I’m sorry that you went out like that, I should have been there. I’m sorry that I named a stupid baseball bat after you...and I’m sorry for the all pain I put you through...I still miss you”, you heard his voice say, so clear that you could hear him forcing himself to keep going even though he could barely hold himself back, so filled with emotion and pain that it broke your heart all over again. “I promise, I’m gonna do your fighting for you”, you heard him say, breaking at the end before the sound of rustling wood could be heard and you knew that he’d laid her into the flames. Only seconds passed until you heard him calling your name, the same shivering tone stuck in it as you hurried back into the cabin and watched him standing by the fireplace, with tears in his eyes while Lucille laid within the flames that slowly ate away at her wood. He was gulping heavily, new tears already falling from his eyes as you moved in to hug him tightly and felt him wrapping his arms back around you within mere milliseconds. “I love you, so much”, he mumbled into your hair, cradling you against his body while sniffles fell from his lips and trembles still shook through him. “I love you too”, you mumbled back, cuddling against him as he held tightly onto you and didn’t dare to loosen his embrace just once before another sniffling sigh fell from his lips. “I hope Lucille’s up there in heaven and has found someone who makes her just as happy as you make me”, Negan mumbled shakily into your hair, cradling you closer as you nodded softly against him, so touched all over again that you felt new tears welling up into your eyes. “I’m sure she has”, you mumbled, only able to bring these few words out before your throat tightened and made you voice break off again while Negan rocked you gently in his arms, keeping you safely locked in his embrace until the world finally started to feel at peace around you. Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life as soon as you’d walk through Alexandria’s gates, defying any of Carol’s plans, defying anyone that still doubted you, defying your past to pave your way to the future that you both wanted. You would keep on fighting for it, side by side like it you’d always done, and how it would always be. You and him, an unbeatable team.

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jodiereedus22 · 4 years ago

Text

Mirage

A/N: Here I am, posting! I don't even want to know how long its been since I posted anything, I am so sorry, motivati9on has been hard to com by. but I have a piece for you now! thank you @crossbowking for the amazing support and I want to thank @fxlminare she got me motivated to do this piece, she is amazing!!!!

I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Word Count: 2165

You awoke suddenly to the sound of your alarm going off, you rubbed your tired eyes as you rolled over to switch it off.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, for some reason you were confused, and you didn’t know why - maybe you had a dream last night and couldn't remember it.

You shrugged it off, turning your head to the side, seeing a soundly sleeping Daryl. His chest rising and falling gently, his hair draped over his face making his closed eyes hard to see, you smiled to yourself, the alarm clock had always been for you, Daryl could sleep through anything.

You gently got out of bed, putting on a robe and headed downstairs, you had a lot to get ready for today – but first, it was time to get breakfast started.

You started with the bacon, then some eggs, then got started on the pancake batter when you heard footsteps behind you and suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, placing kisses on your neck.

“Hmm, somethin’ smells good,” Daryl said in a sleepy gruff voice, you groaned as he kissed your neck some more, holding you more tightly.

“Why did I wake up to a cold bed?” Daryl asked, whispering in your ear as you tried to concentrate on cooking the breakfast.

“Well someone has to get up around here, or nothing would get done,” you joked, laughing as Daryl went over the top kissing you more.

“Eww, that’s gross!”

“Do you have to do that over breakfast?” Your son said as he and your daughter walk into the kitchen.

“Lucas, Mia, you want us to stop? Go set the table,” you bribed your kids as you laughed, and Daryl let go of you to help.

You finished cooking the breakfast and served it up. Sitting and eating, laughing with your family.

You took a moment to look at your families smiling faces, realising how lucky you were to have such a perfect family.

As everyone finished up their food you got to cleaning as everyone else went to go get ready, giving your children kisses as they headed up the stairs.

Daryl came down first, dressed in a blue button-down shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, black jeans and nice black shoes.

“Looking good Mr Dixon,” you admired, your eyes travelling up and down his body as you bit your lip in approval.

Even after all his time and 2 children together, Daryl getting embarrassed was always the sweetest and endearing thing, as he looked at you with a blush upon his cheeks.

You walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“I'm gonna get ready. Will you get everything into the car? Everything is in the fridge.”

Just then Mia and Lucas came bounding down the stairs.

“Well look at you both, all dressed up and clean,” you smiled walking up to them, placing a kiss on both their foreheads.

“Can you both help daddy put everything in the car while mummy gets ready please?” you asked as they got to helping Daryl load the car.

You headed to your room to get ready, you put on a simple floral dress that landed just above your knees, you put on some flat sandals knowing you were going to have to play with the kids at some point. You put on some simple light makeup, knowing anymore would make you melt in the Georgian heat.

Coming down the stairs you could see the hustle and bustle of everyone getting everything in the car, popping in and out of the house, picking up random items to pack into the car when Daryl stopped dead in his tracks, staring directly at you.

Daryl stood there in silence, in awe at your beauty as a blush came across your cheeks at the look in his eyes.

“You look pretty mommy,” Mia exclaimed coming up to you, wrapping her arms around your middle giving you a nice big hug.

“Thank you sweetheart,” you thanked her, hugging her back and leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head.

“You really do Mrs Dixon,” Daryl walked towards you, the same look of awe in his eyes as he took you into his arms. You placed your arms around his neck, your hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, smiling and staring back into his beautiful Georgian blue eyes.

“Oh really?” you teased.

“Really,” Daryl leaned down and captured your lips with his, closing your eyes, getting lost in his kiss, Daryl’s kisses, no matter the reason for them, were always perfect, they were a balm for your soul.

You got interrupted by Lucas making disgusted noises behind you.

You and Daryl looked at each other with smirks on your faces, finding your sons embarrassment amusing.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get going?” you called out to everyone as you call clambered into the car.

The journey was short, sharing laughs and admiring the countryside, you were there in no time.

As soon as you stopped the kids jumped out of the car, heading to the garden where they could hear the other kids having fun, as you went to the trunk to grab all the food to take inside.

“Here, take this, give it to Rick,” you handed him a bottle of wine, knowing he was eager to see his best friend.

He took the bottle of wine, placing a kiss on your cheek as he made his way into the party.

You and Daryl had been friends with Rick Grimes for a very long time, and every year he hosted a BBQ for everyone with his wife Lori who was now pregnant, and their son Carl.

Carol always came with her daughter Sophia. Maggie and Glenn came with Maggie’s sister Beth and their father Hershel. T-Dog and Andrea also joined.

Everyone had a great time at these, everyone brought food and drink, some brought things for the kids to play with, it was a great catch-up session for adults and a fun time for the kids.

You made multiple trips from the car to the kitchen until everything you brought was set up. you then made your way outside to greet with everyone, finding Daryl with Rick you walked over to join them.

Standing next to Daryl he placed an arm around your waist as you looked around the party seeing your kids playing with Carl and Sophia, being so close in age, it was always lovely to see them having such fun together.

You did your rounds, catching up with everyone, having a laugh, sharing food, drinks and stories, enjoying yourself.

You thought to yourself how lucky you were to have such an amazing family in Daryl and your kids, but also an amazing extended family in everyone else who was at the party.

With the party in full swing, you went inside the house to grab some more food, looking out the window onto the beautiful fields and trees that surrounded Ricks house, when you saw a figure from afar, he was walking funny, like he was drunk. It filled you with a sense of dread, but you had no idea why when gunfire in the house drew your attention in panic.

Running in the house, you saw all the kids sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing? You asked, slightly panicked.

“Watching a movie,” Carl answered. You looked at the tv to see them watching some kind of zombie movie with guns going off every minute.

“Come on guys, its summer, go out and play,” you said with a sigh of relief, your dread dissipating slightly.

“You can watch it another day,” you said as you walked up the tv set and turned it off, herding the kids back outside to play.

But that man outside, stumbling around, still set you on edge.

You went back to the window to see where he was, but he was nowhere to be found, it's like he had just vanished in thin air, considering the space around Ricks house is fairly open.

You took a minute to pause, taking in a breath, you decided to shake it off and go back into the party and enjoy yourself.

So, you tried to do just that, you carried on your afternoon with everyone but in the back of your mind there was still this creeping feeling, it felt like you were being buried alive, the weight slowly getting heavier on your chest.

You tried to concentrate on the here and now and what was happening around you, knowing there was no rational reason for you to be feeling this way when Daryl calling your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head from the group of people you had spaced out on, having a glance around the party trying to pinpoint Daryl, when you saw him talking to Carol.

You broke away from your little group and headed in Daryl's direction.

“Did you call me?” you asked Daryl as you reached him and Carol.

“No, why?” Daryl answered, causing you to furrow your brow.

“Ya a’right?” Daryl asked placing a hand on your arm in a gentle, loving way.

“Yh, I'm just … I’m,” you stuttered not knowing what to say, confused at the chain of events, confused at your feelings.

You started walking backwards away from Daryl when a wave of heat came over you, starting to make you panic.

You turned away from everyone for a minute, trying to catch your breath.

When you turned back around everyone was staring at you. Everyone was silent, no one said anything as they stood motionless, staring without blinking in a disturbing manner.

You then realised they weren’t wearing the same clothes, they were dirty, covered in blood, holding weapons. Rick looked as though he had a colt python, glancing over at Daryl as he held a crossbow.

The more you looked the more familiar it felt, but it still didn’t make any sense. It didn’t fit.

You tried to blink away the feeling, taking a second to close your eyes, steading yourself, but when you opened your eyes it was like nothing has happened and just like that the party went on, all back in their own clothes, no weapons in sight.

The confusion sent you dizzy, the colour drained from your face. What was happening?

“(Y/N) … (Y/N),” you heard Daryl calling out your name, but as you looked over to him, his lips weren’t moving.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)! Wake up!” you heard Daryl again when a huge wave of dizziness came over you as you stumbled backwards.

Your body started falling to the floor, but you never felt yourself meet the floor instead you found yourself sitting up, gasping for breath in a bed that you recognised and a face you recognised as Daryl's, but you weren’t in a lovely clean, bright house.

You were in the prison, you remember now, everything came flooding back. You had gotten ill; you must have fallen unconscious.

“Hey, hey, you’re back, you’re okay,” Daryl reassured you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Yh, I'm fine, it’s just, I had the weirdest dream,” you told Daryl.

Even though you were still alive, and Daryl was right by your side, you couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that your dream wasn’t real. Remembering the world how it was now, the dead rising, the hunger, the death, you would have given anything for your dream to be real.

Daryl climbed in bed with you as you told him all about your dream in as much detail as you remembered.

“Two kids huh?” Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

“Yh, Mia and Lucas. It’s so weird to talk about them, they’re not real, they don’t exist. But they felt so real,” you said with sadness in your voice.

“Hey,” Daryl got your attention, placing a finger on your chin to turn you towards him.

“Just because it ain’t real now, don’t mean it won’t be one day,” Daryl revealed, making you smile.

“You think so?”

“Yh, in the future, maybe we’ll find a better place than this. It could happen,” Daryl revealed.

This was a complete surprise to you. You knew Daryl's past, you knew his childhood, children were something you thought Daryl would never be able to bring himself to have - out of fear he’d turn into his father.

“You want kids?” you asked surprised.

“I didn’t’ think I did, ‘til I met ya,” Daryl confessed.

“I love you so much Daryl,” you told him, snuggling deeper into him, enjoying his warmth, his scent.

“I love ya too (Y/N),” Daryl reciprocated, holding you tight in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of your head as you both drifted into a peaceful deep sleep, both dreaming of the future you hoped one day you could both have together.

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lunagb · 1 year ago

Text

A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x The Walking Dead fanfic)

BOOK 2 - A Road of Snow and Grime

Chapter 2: Transfusion

Masterlist

Relationships: Daryl Dixon x Carol, Rick Grimes x Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes & Sophia, and basically a friendship tag with Jon Snow & Everyone else except Shane.

Chapter Summary: Jon and the group journey down a highway in search of shelter and supplies. Along the way they encounter death, decay and walking corpses while all the while, an ever-increasing horde chomps at their heels.

Time Frame: Farm Arc - TV Variant Adjacent

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Ghost, Mormont's Raven, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Sophia, Dale, Glenn Rhee, Andrea, T-Dog, Edwin Jenner, Shane Walsh

Warnings: gore, vivid descriptions of dead bodies, child mutilation

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

The Stag screamed bloody murder and bolted off into the green abyss.

“Carl, no!” Rick screamed.

The walker wailed. Black blood gushed from a mangled stomach. Unaffected, it stumbled towards Rick with reaching arms and clawing hands. Rick bellowed a guttural cry, charged and slammed his knife’s blade through its eye. Rot sprayed. Their bodies collapsed in a heap. Rick rolled off the corpse and scrambled across the dirt and leaves on all fours. Rage gave way to sobs as he knelt beside Carl. Jon pitied him but forbade himself to rage or sob. Instead, he drew Longclaw and watched the green abyss. Silent and still. Fear turns a man’s mind to porridge.

Carl stared at his father. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. “Dad?” Carl whimpered. Tiny hands pawed at a mangled, gushing stomach. Blood bubbled between his fingers in slow, pulsing waves.

“What the hell?!” Daryl pointed his crossbow at the green abyss. “Who the fuck is shootin’ at us?!”

“JENNER!” Rick bellowed, fierce and panicked.

Jenner blinked at Rick. Still as stone.

“Jenner,” Jon soothed, cool and calm. “The boy.”

“R-right. Right! Fuck!” Jenner scrambled to Carl’s side, drew a knife and cut away the boy’s bloodied shirt.

Glenn ran to Daryl’s side and raised an empty pistol. “Show yourself! You’re outgunned!”

The brush came alive with rustling leaves and snapping twigs. Jon drew Longclaw and stood at Glenn’s flank. Ghost crept forward, fangs bared, fur puffed. The tip of a rifle poked out from the brush, followed by a head of tangled, silken brown hair and a face drained of blood.

Emerging, the woman stammered. “I-I didn’t-” Her words caught in her throat as she laid eyes upon Carl. Her rifle lowered.

Glenn lowered his pistol and took a step back.

Daryl charged, crossbow raised. “Stupid bitch!”

“Back off!” The woman raised her rifle.

Daryl froze. Their eyes locked, unblinking. The woman’s trigger finger trembled.

“Enough,” Jon said. He lowered Longclaw. The woman was no threat, only her fear.

Ghost slunk between Daryl and the woman. Daryl cringed away from the direwolf. The woman’s eyes bulged.

“The fuck is that?” She yelled. Her legs threatened to topple her, tangling in their scramble to get away.

Jon touched Daryl’s shoulder. A stiff, trembling greeted him. “Relax. She’s no threat.” Not like that anyway.

Daryl huffed and snapped on his heels. Glaring at her, he paced back and forth behind Jon and Glenn.

“Jenner, speak to me. How is he?” Rick pleaded.

Carl’s shirt lay in a heap of soggy, crimson scraps by Jenner’s side. With crimson hands, Jenner combed over Carl’s stomach. “The bullet shattered. Three fragments. All hit the stomach. He’s bleeding fast.”

“Oh god!” The woman covered her mouth. She stepped past Ghost. Tears brimmed in eyes locked on Carl. “I didn’t think it’d go through. I was only trying to- I wasn’t aiming for him. Oh god!”

“The fuck else you aimin’ for, bitch?! Sure as hell weren’t him!” Daryl pointed to the fallen walker. “You think the brain’s in the stomach?!”

The woman blinked at Daryl, whimpered then began to sob.

“Daryl, cool it, man,” Glenn hissed.

Daryl cocked his head at Glenn and took a step towards him. Jon got between them and spoke in a steady, low voice. “The boy’s hurt. Carrying on does naught to change that.”

“I don’t feel hurt,” Carl murmured.

“You will soon,” Jenner said. “Rick, your coat.”

Without question, Rick handed over his coat. Jenner bound Carl’s stomach, tying the coat’s arms tight.

“What do we gotta do?” Rick seized Jenner’s shoulders. His knuckles whitened. “Tell me what we gotta get to save him and I’ll get it, all of it, just tell me!”

Jenner shook him off. “He needs a doctor. A proper one.”

“My dad’s a surgeon!” The woman blurted. “He can help! We live on a farm just beyond the woods! I can take you to him!”

Rick scooped up Carl. “You take me to him. NOW!”

The woman gave a frantic, jerk of a nod and bolted off into the woods. Rick chased after her. Reaching branches snagged Carl’s hat from his head. Thick underbrush swallowed it. Jenner tripped on it as he chased after Rick. Daryl and Glenn made to follow. Jon stopped them.

“You two head back. Tell the others what happened.”

“Glenn can go. I’m goin’ with.” Daryl shouldered past Jon.

Ghost stepped into his path, fangs bared. Daryl stopped.

“Both of you. Who knows how many of the dead that shot has drawn this way? I won’t have one of you running through miles of woods on your own. Take Ghost, too.”

Daryl huffed and turned away. “Fine.”

“Glenn, keep them calm. Lori, especially. She’ll want to come after us. Don’t let her.”

“Keep them out of the woods. Got it.” Glenn nodded.

“Get them working on clearing the graveyard. I’ll come and get you when Carl’s safe. I’d rather drive our people to wherever this place is than risk the woods again.”

Glenn holstered his pistol and drew a knife. “Ghost, take us south. Back to camp.”

Ghost blinked at Glenn then looked at Jon. Jon nodded. “Show them, boy. Make haste.”

Ghost made like the wind back the way they’d come. His paws made no sound, even as he ran. Glenn and Daryl stampeded after him, weapons raised and ready, leaving Jon on his own. The smell of battle lingered; salt, steel and rot. A flutter of black wings erupted from the green abyss and landed on the fallen walker’s face. “Haste!” The raven cawed. It pecked a hole through the walker’s cheek and gobbled down a chunk of rot.

Jon snatched Carl’s hat from the undergrowth and raced after Rick. The raven remained. He caught Jenner in an instant. Underfoot roots and stones harassed the doctor’s each step. No time. Jon barrelled past the doctor. A calm cool washed over him. A coolness he’d felt before. The cool that had given him the strength to kill Quorin Halfhand, to behead Janos Slynt, to command the Night’s Watch and to say his vows beneath the weir-wood all those years ago. And now, the cool gave him the strength to put aside the fear of the boy’s death, so that he may see with eyes clear of fear’s fog. Fear turned a man’s mind to porridge, after all. Strength, if anything, would see Carl survive.

***

If running through the forest took a lifetime, running across the fields took an age. Carl had been as still as a statue and stiff as a board through the forest, watching the trees pass by with glassy eyes. Pain made itself known among the rolling hills of golden wheat as fits of wailing and thrashing. The boy’s body gave out around the time the white farmhouse came into view. He hung limp from his father’s trembling arms, still and silent.

Rick crumbled alongside his son. When the boy was still, Rick ran on sturdy, surefooted legs and cradled his son in arms cast of steel. When when the boy wailed and thrashed, Rick stumbled on trembling legs and wrangled the boy in the arms of jelly. And when the boy limped and fell silent, Rick tripped with each step as he hugged Carl with quaking arms. Tears stained Rick’s face, smudging his oily skin with a month’s worth of unwashed grime. Yet, despite it all, Rick put one shaky leg before the other and ran with all his might towards the white, farmhouse. Jon could only commend the man. A lesser man would have given into grief and fear. Each step Rick took gave Jon a queer sort of hope.

The farmhouse waited for them across the fields, nestled among a sea of golden wheat. A grand, wooden structure painted white from top to bottom. It sat in the middle of a gravel yard, protected by little more than a crude wall of rusted, scrap metal. The rickety palisade stood waist-high. A child could scale it. A strong breeze could topple. The strength of a horde would eradicate it. Within the walls of rust and scrap, a barn and stable stood sentry atop a stubby hill. All was silent. All was still. The same as every other place they’d come across since leaving Atlanta; abandoned and void of life. Except for a single, blonde-haired girl. She gawked at them from the house’s terrace with panicked, bovine eyes.

“Not much further now!” The woman flung open a gate in the rusted, scarp metal fence.

Too clean. While tangled with twigs and leaves, the woman’s brown hair shone. While dirt-smudged, her face lacked the grime of weeks without bathing. Too eager. She’d helped them at once. No questions. No suspicions. The house could be a trap. That, or the woman lacked in wits. Jon wasn’t sure which was more of a threat. He kept a firm grip on Longclaw’s direwolf pommel. I should have brought Ghost.

As soon as Jenner stumbled his way through the gate, the woman slammed it shut. They all sprinted across the gravelled yard. The blonde girl continued gawking at them. Up close, she looked twelve or so.

“Beth!” The woman pointed at the house. “Get dad, now!”

Beth whimpered and bolted inside the house screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!”

As Rick headed a charge up the terrace’s rickety stairs, an old man flung open the front door. His wrinkled brow wrinkled further and he spoke with a soft, sternness. “Maggie? What is this? Who-”

“I shot him!” The woman, Maggie, shouted.

The old man blinked. “Say again?”

“Please!” Rick gasped for a breath and choked on a sob. “Help him!”

“Three GSWs. Non-fatal but they’re bleeding fast,” Jenner said, huffing and puffing as he scrambled up the stairs.

The old man’s eyes widened, darted from face to face then hardened. “All right, everyone inside now!” He snapped on his heels and marched inside.

Rick and the two daughters scrambled after him. Jenner followed. As did Jon, with a firm grip on Longclaw’s hilt.

Rolling his sleeves, the old man began barking orders as he marched through the house. “Maggie, my full kit! Beth, painkillers, coagulants, grab everything! Towels, clean sheets, alcohol, in here!” The old man’s voice retained a steady, softness even as he yelled. The kind of voice suited to a Lord. He flung open a door to a bedroom and ushered Rick inside.

Maggie shouted at Jon and Jenner. “Bedrooms and bathroom are upstairs! Get the sheets and towels! The kitchen’s down the hall on your first left! You can find the alcohol in the cupboard! Top shelf!”

Jon looked at Jenner. “I’ll go up.”

“R-Right!” Jenner sprinted down the hall with Maggie at his heels.

Jon rushed up a staircase, gripping Longclaw’s hilt. They’d separated them. Swift and efficient. There could be anything waiting for him at the top. Yet, Jon ran up the stairs all the same. He unsheathed Longclaw and shouldered his way into a bedroom with pink walls, poised to strike. No one was waiting for him. A fluffy, pink blanket clung to a large bed. Stuffed, soft animals huddled atop. Jon sheathed Longlcaw and tore the blanket out from the wall. The stuffed bears fell to the floor. Underneath the blanket, Jon found white sheets. He discarded the blanket, tore the sheets off the bed and bundled them in his arms. Now, I've occupied my arms. I’m defenceless. Jon barged back into the upstairs hall and found a bathroom of spotless white tiles at the end. Four towels hung on racks. Jon grabbed them all and added them to the bundle in his arms, all the while juggling Carl’s hat.

Jon rushed out into the hall. No one was waiting for him. He charged down the hall, past all its closed doors. No one leapt out at him. He hurried down the stairs. Jenner whisked past him with several liquor bottles bundled in his arms. Together, they rushed into the room holding Carl. Life had been drained from the boy. Skin, once flushed pink had become as pale as Ghost’s fur. Eyes so often dark and sharp stared without emotion or purpose at the ceiling. Unblinking like those of a doll.

Jon and Jenner dumped their sheets, towel and liquor at the foot of the bed. Carl’s hat became tangled among them. The old man held his ear to Carl's chest while his daughters rummaged through a bag of oddities. Rick held a folded pillowcase against Carl’s stomach. Blood seeped through it.

The old man snatched up a towel and forced it beneath Rick’s hand. He pointed at Jenner. “You, they tell me you’re a doctor.”

“Only a virologist.”

“And I’m only a vet. Come here. You’ll assist me.”

Jenner grimaced then hurried to the old man’s side.

Rick’s face dropped. “A-A vet? She said you were a surgeon.”

“I am.” The old man looked at Jenner and pointed at a kit of plastic tubes, needles and all sorts. “You, set up the IV.”

Jenner snatched up a plastic bag full of water from the kit. “They call me Jenner.” He plugged a plastic tube into the bag.

“Hershel.” Hershel dabbed a piece of cotton in wine and rubbed it against Carl’s arm.

Beth smiled at Rick across the bed. “Don’t worry. My daddy’s the best pet surgeon in all of Georgia. Your boy’ll be just fine.”

Rick nodded but his face was a mask of stone.

“What’s the boy’s blood type?” Hershel asked as he twisted a needle onto a little plastic pipe.

“A positive,” Jenner said. “Rick’s a match.”

Hershel glanced at Jenner and Jon then gave Rick a sullen look. “Maggie, take over for him will you?” Hershel took the plastic tube from Jenner and plugged it into the needle. “Beth, take over for Jenner.” Hershel stabbed the needle into Carl’s arm. Beth took the bag and held it high. Its water flowed through the tube into Carl’s arm.

Maggie put her hands between Rick’s on the towels. Rick relinquished the towels. Jenner grabbed a new plastic tube. Hershel prepared a new needle.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked. The preparation of needles and talk of blood, he liked naught.

Maggie looked at him as if were stupid. “A blood transfusion.”

“Rick’s giving Carl his blood, Jon,” Jenner said. “It’ll stop him from bleeding out.”

Jon shook his head. “No. That’ll weaken him. I’ll give the blood.”

“Jon, it’s fine,” Rick said.

“It isn’t. You need to lead your people.”

“Jon, you can’t,” Jenner said. “You’re not A positive. And neither am I.” Jenner connected a plastic tube to an empty bag.

“The father it is then,” Hershel said. He plugged the plastic tube into the needle and stabbed it into Rick’s arm. Blood began to flow through the tube into the bag.

“Jenner, you were wrong about the wounds being non-fatal,” Hershel said.

Rick sat up. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

Jenner shook his head. “No, I checked them. They’re only surface level.”

“Two of the fragments are lodged in the muscle, yes. The third’s gone deeper. I can’t tell how far. But it risks breaching the large intestine.”

“I could’ve sworn-”

“If it breaches he’ll go septic. I gotta remove it but my kit ain’t got the equipment to cut him open.”

“What do you need?” Jon asked. “One of our men assured us the town has clinics. Jenner and I can scavenge them.”

Hershel nodded. “A GP clinic and my vet. I need a nasogastric tube, an endotracheal- oh, Beth get me a pen and paper, will you? I’ll make a list. It’ll go by quicker. Jon was it? Take the IV bag. Make it two pieces of paper, Beth. I’ll draw them a map.”

Jon took the bag from Beth and held it high. Beth raced from the room.

“Can we afford to wait?” Rick asked. “How far’s the town?”

“Half an hour away. We’ve got the time, though. Abdominal gunshot wounds take a long time to bleed out.”

Beth burst into the room and handed Hershel a pen and two pieces of paper. He scribbled down a lengthy list and handed it to Jenner before drawing a map on the other. Jon gave the IV bag back to Beth and examined the map. It was crude but discernible all the same. The, ‘GP,’ as it was labelled, was located in the heart of the town. While the, ‘Vet’, was on the edge of town to the south right by the highway.

“Dad, the doctor should stay here. I’ll go instead,” Maggie said.

“No. You ain’t ever seen this equipment before.”

“I have. How many times I have helped you in the operatin’ room?”

“I need your help here. Jenner’ll know the equipment.”

“Really? The virologist’ll know what surgical equipment looks like?”

“I do actually.” Jenner held up the list. “I worked alongside surgeons for my work. I’m familiar with all of this.”

“What about the horses?” Maggie snapped. “We ain’t got time to teach them to ride. Unless you wanna have them run into town?”

Considering the circumstances, an inappropriate excitement struck Jon at the mention of horses. “I’ve been riding horses all my life. I’ll make haste, even with an inexperienced passenger.”

Maggie gawked at Jon as if he’d told her the moon was green.

“It’s settled then, you’re staying.” Hershel locked a stern gaze onto Jon. “If the boy wakes up while you’re gone, he’ll wake to a special kind of hell. All the thrashin’ and writhin’ could rupture him. Don’t dawdle, son.”

“I don’t plan to. I assure you.” Jon folded the map and tucked it inside his jeans pocket.

“Good.” Hershel turned his gaze on Beth. It softened. “Help them saddle a horse. One that’s brave and fast. I’ll take this.” Hershel rose and took the IV bag from her.

“Nessy then.” Beth nodded. She looked at Jenner. “Follow me.” As she made her way past Jon, she avoided his gaze.

Swift like the wind, Beth rushed for the door. Jon and Jenner hurried after her.

“Watch each other’s backs!” Rick called after them, straining his voice.

“Bring the coat rack with you on your way back, Beth,” Hershel said.

“You needn’t worry!” Jon shouted back.

“Okay, daddy!” Beth said.

Their boots crunched across the gravel yard as Beth led them to a stable. The old, familiar musty smell of horses warmed Jon’s nose. Beth ushered them past stocky workhorses, slender mares and even a weathered mule. At the end of the stables, a stallion, bulked by muscle awaited them. Flames blazed in his eyes. He flared his nostrils and snorted hot breath in Jon’s face. A gentle stroke of Beth’s hand smothered the flames in his eyes. His coat was brown and speckled white; flecks of snow on a muddy field. Beth grabbed a saddle from a nearby iron peg and Jon aided her in saddling the magnificent creature. Jenner stood idle, looking out of place. Once Nessy’s saddle was in place, Jon fastened the stallion’s leading rope across his chest with a hardy knot. Only when Jon could be sure the rope wouldn’t fall during the ride did he mount the stallion.

“Thank you, Beth. For this and all your father’s done,” Jon said.

Beth looked off to the side and fidgeted. “Sorry, my sister shot that kid.”

“An accident. Don’t concern yourself.”

Beth's eyes met his for a moment then darted down in the next. Jon forbade a grimace to show. Such meekness would not serve the girl well in this world. He prayed that she found strength before death found her.

“Jenner, make haste.”

“R-Right.”

Jenner took a step towards Nessy. Nessy huffed. Jenner grimaced but approached all the same and placed both hands on the saddle. He stared at it with eyes unfamiliar.

“Put your foot in the stirrup, step up into it like a ladder, take a hold of me and swing your leg over,” Jon said.

“Don’t hesitate or you’ll fall,” Beth added.

Jenner took a deep breath, stepped into the stirrup and clutched Jon’s shoulders. After a brief pause, he swung his leg over and plopped down into the saddle. He teetered, but wrapped his arms around Jon’s chest, avoiding a fall.

“What is that?” Beth asked, pointing at Jon’s belt.

“What is what?”

“The bear.”

Jon touched Sophia’s sodden and stained, once-pink bear.

“Is it the kid’s?”

“No. It belongs to another child.” Jon freed the bear from his belt and held it out to Beth. “Clean it if you can. She’ll be in need of it these coming days.”

“I will. I promise.” Beth took the bear and hurried to the enclosure’s gate.

As she swung the gate open, Jon seized Nessy’s reins. “Hold on tight,” he warned Jenner.

Jenner’s arms squeezed Jon. Jon’s legs squeezed Nessy. They both lurched as Nessy bolted out of the stables. He galloped down a long gravel path towards an asphalt road baking beneath Georgia’s summer sun.

***

Asphalt took to a horse’s hooves like no other surface ever had. Nessy raced Jon and Jenner down a highway that cut through fields of golden wheat and shaggy, green grass. Sunlight danced upon the fields, transforming the land into a patchwork of gold and green silk. Pine’s sharp, sweet smell swarmed Jon’s nose as the highway plunged into a forest of towering trees. Sparks spat as Nessy’s hooves slashed the road. Wind howled in Jon’s ears. He leaned into it, hunching. Swift like an arrow. Every inkling of speed could be the difference between life and death. Jenner crushed Jon’s stomach with a fearful grip. It mattered naught. Jon rode Nessy hard. Too hard. Nessy whinnied and slowed to a trot, panting and snorting. Jon cursed, snapped the reins and dug his heels in. To no avail.

“Bloody, lazy horse! Run, damn you!”

Nessy huffed and chomped his bit. The muscles in his neck tensed, hard as stone. His tail snapped back and forth. Jon, fearing a buck, relented to the stallion. Jenner sighed and let go of Jon.

“At least you’re happy,” Jon snapped.

“Better we’re slower than dead.”

“Every moment we delay Carl creeps closer to death’s door!”

“Tell that to the horse.”

Nessy shook his head and snorted. Jon’s hands trembled as he clenched the reins. Every second nagged at him, pecking his head with a persistent throb. His scarred hand ached. Fire burned in his chest.

“Take a deep breath, okay?” Jenner said.

“Do not belittle me.”

Silence. A long silence. Long enough to let a coolness trickle through Jon’s veins. The flames dulled, the ache shrunk and Jon felt a fool.

“I apologise. That was curt of me.”

“It’s fine.”

More silence. Nessy’s hooves clopped as he took up a canter. Jon let the stallion be and took the deep breath suggested to him. Coolness washed over him like a gentle spring breeze. It flowed from chest to head and trickled all the way to his feet. Fear turns a man’s mind to porridge, you know that, bloody fool.

“This family we’ve come across, what do you make of them?” Jon asked.

“They seem genuine enough. Good people for sure. But…”

“Speak your mind.”

A brief silence.

“They’re… They’re weak.”

“I agree. We show up with an injured child, utterly desperate and they jumped to our aid. No questions. No suspicions. It all stinks of nativity.”

“And Hershel was too skittish about sending his daughter out here. I can’t help but wonder what’s waiting for us in town.”

“Nothing good, I imagine.”

“It’s all too elaborate to be a trap, right? We’re not gonna walk into an ambush are we?”

“No. If shooting Carl had been some kind of rouse, they’d have ambushed us in the house while we were all separated.”

“True.” Jenner sighed. “Good.”

Jon took note of the landscape. The highway was a narrow one, more of a road than a highway. A mere two lanes, separated by double yellow lines. Towering pine trees flanked the road on all sides, forming a ravine of leaves and trunks. Buildings sat far off down the road as mere specks. Jon retrieved the map from his pocket and reviewed it. Judging by a crossroads they’d recently passed, the buildings in view were the outskirts of the town. A little huddle of buildings nestled on the shoulder of a proper highway. Among them was Hershel’s Vet.

It was a straight shot to the buildings and the only cover or vantage points were the trees. Jon had confidence in his tree-climbing abilities. But the trees were as tall as Winterfell’s turrets and he was no Bran. Climbing them to scout from afar was too great a risk. They didn’t need any more injuries to deal with.

“Best we leave Nessy a fair distance away. Tie him up out of sight and approach on foot. If the place is overrun, we retreat and strategize from afar rather than risk the dead spooking Nessy. I’d rather not be thrown into another horde by another spooked horse.”

“That’ll be slower,” Jenner said.

“Better that we’re slower than dead.” Jon grinned.

Jenner chuckled. “True.”

As Nessy cantered, Jon and Jenner rode in a pleasant sort of silence for a while. A united silence rather than a fractured one.

Jenner broke the silence with a soft voice. “Jon… What I’m about to say isn’t me talking down to you, okay?”

“Okay…” The doctor’s tone left Jon wary.

“You’re allowed to be upset about what happened to Carl.”

“Upset? I can’t catch bullets. I was too far away to stop the boy’s foolish charge. Carl getting shot was cruel luck, not any sort of failing on my part. What do I have to be upset about?”

“Our group’s only children are fighting for their lives. It’s a normal thing to be upset about when the world was stable, let alone now. Hell, I’m upset.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“Once all is settled, I’ll feel what I have to feel. You should do the same. Letting it all fester inside you will cloud your judgement. You know as well as I that impaired judgement puts us and everyone else in danger.”

Jon picked out the right words for a response. Jenner spoke the truth, Jon knew. But it was a truth already privy to Jon. He sees me falsely.

“Jenner… when times are desperate, boys go off to war. I’ve seen more boys die than I can count. I am more than capable of dealing with such grief.”

“I-I, uh… sorry. Sometimes, I forget the sort of things you’ve lived through.”

“Do they strike you as forgettable?”

“No. It isn’t that. It’s just… well… when I see you, I don’t always see Jon Snow, the Lord Commander.”

“What else is there to see?”

“A teenager.”

“I’m eighteen in two moon cycles. Even by your land’s standards, that’s practically a man.”

Jenner chuckled. “Something you’ll realise as you get older, Jon, is that everyone younger than you is a child. I’m thirty-eight. To me, Daryl’s a child. I’m sure to Hershel, I’m a child.”

Jon huffed. “Folly. The mindset of fables.”

“No.” Jon heard a queer smile on Jenner’s lips. “There’s a certain beauty to it.”

“Fables and stories are often beautiful.”

“It means that we’re children all our lives. From the moment we’re born to the day we die.”

Nessy’s neck softened and his breathing calmed. Jon dared to squeeze with his legs. Nessy huffed but took up a steady gallop all the same. The threat of a bitten tongue put a stop to Jenner’s prattling.

***

They left Nessy far from the road, tied to a towering pine and crept off in the direction of the town. Jon had done his best to teach Jenner to creep. Toe then heel. And yet, Jenner had all the stealth and grace of a drunken giant. The silence of the forest only exasperated the problem. Jon despised the lack of sound, it felt unnatural and uncanny. Like a dream; unreal and fabricated. A nightmare more like. The silence didn’t last. But the noise that replaced it made the hairs on the back of Jon’s neck stand to attention. A constant drone. Faint at first, like a whisper. Low and dull. But as they reached the edge of the forest it grew ever so louder, a little above speaking volume. Death’s stench burned the back of Jon’s throat. Jon and Jenner hid behind a tree at the forest’s edge each, as still as stone. Jon centred himself with a deep breath and peeked out at the huddle of buildings.

Empty. The pavement; the gravel parking lot; the buffer of grass; the four-lane highway; the windows of the buildings. All empty. All silent. All still. A police car had crashed through a storefront but it lay as silent and still as everything else. Festering rot smeared the length of the highway and fat, black flies swarmed the rot. Their buzzing wafted through the air as a low, dull drone while the rot’s stench lingered, ever-present.

“All clear,” Jon said, wary.

“You sure?” Jenner whispered.

“Outside is at least.”

Jenner peeked around his tree and wrinkled his nose at the abandoned lot. “It’s not right. There should be at least one or two. There’s always some.”

“We’ll find them inside, most like.”

Jenner’s face paled.

“Let me lead the way,” Jon said. “We stick to Glenn’s rules. Like always. I’ll take care of the walkers. You watch my back.”

Jenner stood a little taller. “I am capable of killing walkers, you know.”

“Are you wearing chain mail? Do you have a sword? Are you trained in melee combat?”

Jenner’s silence spoke volumes. Jon drew Longclaw. Jenner drew a knife. Together, with Jon leading the way, they crept beyond the treeline and along the gravel lot. Jon kept a careful eye on the windows of the stores and the alleys between the buildings. Thick layers of grey dust caked the windows. Shadows stalked the alleys. To see through the windows would be to see through walls and Jon hadn’t a pair of magic eyes. Instead, he kept a careful eye out for moving shadows beyond the dust. And honed his ears for shuffling feet or gurgling hisses. Walkers lacked for a sense of stealth. Well, most anyway.

Hershel's Vet sat at the end of the row of shops, marked by a sign of a grinning dog. Jon put toe in front of heel as he approached the Vet’s dusty, glass door. Jenner lingered behind half a dozen paces. The doctor knew the protocol as well as Jon did. Glenn had only drilled it into them half a hundred times. One man opens the door. The others stay back, ready to run. Always know the route of escape. Jon checked over his shoulder. Escape was a straight shot across the gravel to the trees or across the grass buffer to the highway. He scanned the windows one last time. No shadows. He seized the door’s handle and inched it open then waited. One heartbeat. Two. No sounds. Jon gave Jenner a nod, readied Longclaw and skulked inside the Vet.

The open door breathed light into a void of black, revealing two dormant lurkers lay together in a corner. Two corpses, still as statues with their backs to the light. Jon froze. The smallest of sounds would alert them. Glenn’s words rang in his head. Scan everything before entering a building. Threats are everywhere. Never assume you’ve found them all. Jon scanned the shadows. A decrepit door of peeling paint lingered to the right of the entrance, open ajar. Other doors littered the far wall of the lobby. A hall plunged into the building’s right. The lobby was an open space full of rows of seats with rotting, foam cushions. Jon scanned the rows. No corpses were hiding among them, as far as he could tell. Jon took a silent step out of the Vet and held up two fingers to Jenner. Jenner nodded and readied his knife.

Tap. Tap. Jon rapped Longclaw against the door frame. The lurkers took up a unified gurgling hiss as they got to their feet. They shambled across the lobby, arms outstretched, hands clawing. Jon took several steps back and readied Longclaw for a sweeping swing. The dead exited, side by side, yellow eyes locked on Jon. They wailed. Longclaw silenced them. A clean, two-handed slash split both their heads from ear to ear. They collapsed and oozed black blood onto the gravel. Jon and Jenner waited a dozen heartbeats. No other corpses made themselves known. Threats are everywhere. Jon tapped Longclaw against the door frame again. Tap. Tap. Another dozen heartbeats later and still no corpses.

“Three doors. One hall,” Jon whispered. “Lobby is clear.”

Jenner nodded and together, they entered the Vet. But, the moment Jon stepped foot inside, the decrepit peeling door flew open. It slammed into Jon’s side, staggering him. A man burst from the room and cracked a black club against Jon’s temple. The word spun and blurred. The floor slammed Jon’s back, forcing the air from his lungs. Longclaw skittered from his grasp. A gurgled screech pierced the air. The man pounced on Jon, like a wolf. Without thought, Jon raised his arms. Teeth shattered themselves on the chain mail of his forearm. The yellow eyes of a corpse gazed into Jon’s, mere inches from his. Black blood poured from a mouth broken teeth down Jon’s arm. The corpse, dressed in a sheriff's uniform, scraped at Jon’s chest, shredding its fingernails on the chain mail beneath Jon's shirt.

“Stay back, Jenner! I’ve got it!” Jon reached for the dagger on his belt with his free arm.

Yellow eyes snapped to his hand. The corpse screeched and flew off of him, scurrying to its feet. It snatched up its black club and held it with both hands. Jon froze. Corpses couldn’t move like that. Is this a man after all? It certainly eyed him like a man. Its yellow eyes narrowed and it turned, pointing its shoulder at Jon, making itself small. A fighting stance. Jon glanced past it, to Jenner. Jenner looked as bewildered as Jon felt; wide of eye and pale of face. The thing screeched, spluttering black blood and rushed Jon. With both hands, it cleaved its club at Jon’s face. Jon caught the club in both hands. The thing tried to pull away but Jon was stronger. He kept a firm grip and buried his boot into the thing’s stomach. Black blood sprayed as its arm tore from its socket. It staggered back, screeching and wailing. Jenner bellowed and charged. He drove his knife through the back of the thing’s head. It limped at once and collapsed like a puppet without strings.

Huffing and puffing, Jon and Jenner stared at each other. The buzzing flies droned.

“You bit?” Jenner asked.

“No. The mail stopped it.” Jon snatched up Longclaw.

Jenner sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What the fuck was that thing? It had a weapon…”

“I noticed.” Jon got to his feet.

Jenner shook his head and stared at the felled corpse. “That’s impossible.”

“Clearly not. We can discuss it later. We’re not done here.”

“Oh. R-Right.” Jenner swallowed and readied his knife.

Together, they cleared the rest of the Vet. Four rooms and a hall. All empty. Behind the decrepit, peeling door, rusted filing cabinets filled an office. They contained only paper. A second door connected the office to the hall. At the end of the hall, in a room labelled, ‘DR. Greene,’ they found cabinets full of supplies. Jon rattled off meaningless words from Hershel’s list as Jenner searched. Jenner found every item. Plastic tubes, bandages, little blades called scalpels, metal clamps and all sorts of bizarre instruments. Jon packed everything into Jenner’s backpack.

Only when Jon read the final item did Jenner stop.

“How the hell does he expect us to bring a respirator back on horseback? Give me the list.”

“What’s a respirator?” Jon handed the list over.

“Helps you breathe.” Jenner scanned the list then folded it.

“And its big, I assume?”

“Tall and heavy. Unless Nessy comes with a trailer, Carl’s gonna have to breathe on his own. Let’s go.”

Jon took Jenner at his word and handed him the backpack. Jenner shrugged into its straps and they headed down the hall. As Jon rounded the corner from the hall to the lobby the barrel of a shotgun greeted him.

“Do as you’re told. You don’t die.” A fat man with a dirt-smudged face prodded the barrel against Jon’s chest. He bore a hollow gaze into Jon. Behind the fat man, a skinny lad that looked about fifteen stood at the Vet’s entrance. A tattoo of two lightning bolts marked his cheek.

Jenner stood in Jon’s peripheral, in the hall and out of sight.

“Kneel. Toss away the sword. Strip down.” The fat man prodded Jon’s chest again.

“As you say.” Jon knelt.

As quiet as the man could manage, Jenner crept through the office’s door. The door creaked as it opened. Jenner’s feet scraped as he sneaked.

“The hell was that?” The fat man pointed his shotgun in Jon’s face. “You got friends here, kid?”

“No. Just me. I haven’t cleared this place out properly yet, though.”

The skinny lad snickered. “Yeah, 'cause we got the jump on you.”

“Shut up, Randy,” the fat man hissed.

“Fuck you, Dan.”

“Quiet.”

The lad obeyed. Silence. With his shotgun still pressed to Jon’s head, Dan peeked around the corner into the hall.

Randy eyed Longclaw and pointed a revolver at Jon. “Drop it.”

“As you say.” Jon placed Longclaw on the ground, within reach.

He glanced down the hall. Jenner had had the sense to shut the door behind him. Dan clicked his tongue.

“Randy, get the sword. Get up, kid. We’ll do this outside.”

Randy lowered his revolver and stepped inside. “That thing re-”

Jenner flung open the decrepit door, cracking it against Randy’s head. Randy staggered and shouted. Jenner tackled him. They fell to the floor. The revolver flew from Randy’s hand. Shouting and cursing, Jenner and Randy wrestled for Jenner’s knife

“The fuck?!” Dan took his eyes and gun off Jon.

Quick as lighting, Jon snatched up Longclaw. Fire blazed in his chest. He thrust Longclaw through Dan’s back. A crimson geyser erupted from the wound. Dan croaked, dropped his gun and went limp. Jon pulled Longclaw free. The corpse collapsed.

“No!” Randy screamed.

The lad raged and wrenched the knife from Jenner’s grasp. He slashed open Jenner’s face. Jenner screamed. Randy threw him off and bolted out the door. Jon gave chase. But as Jon barrelled out the door, Randy had already mounted a strange vehicle with peddles. Frantic as a startled mouse, the lad peddled for the highway faster than Jon could hope to run. He shouted curses over his shoulder.

“You mother fuckers! You’ll pay!” The lad sobbed as he shouted.

Jon let the lad go and returned to Jenner. Pain accosted the doctor’s face as he cradled his wound. Jon moved his hand away, revealing two flaps of skin where once had been a cheek. Blood pooled in Jenner’s mouth and a crimson curtain flowed down his jaw. Jon feared for the man’s tongue. Jenner grunted, swatted him away and covered the cheek. He flung off his backpack and tossed it to Jon.

Jenner spat blood. “Stitches,” he gurgled.

“Right.”

Lunwin had sewn Jon’s wounds as a boy. The painful practice had seared into his memory with each stab of the needle. He found a kit inside Jenner’s backpack. The needle was metal rather than ivory. The stitches were some strange silken thread rather than wire. Regardless, it functioned the same. Jenner hammered a fist against the ground as Jon sewed the wound shut. Lunwin’s stitches had always been straight and evenly spaced. Jon’s were coming out at mismatched angles with varying gaps between.

“Hold still,” Jon hissed.

Jenner glared at him with venom in his eyes. Once Jon had tied off the stitches and cut the thread with his dagger, all fell still and silent. The buzzing of flies droned. It was then, as the fire dulled in his chest and coolness washed over him that Jon realised he’d killed a man. The fat corpse lay face down in a crimson pool, lifeless and still. It’d been a while since Jon had killed a man. Not since the wall. It’d been easier back then. Not that it was ever easy. But still, Jon nary thought about the men he slew once they were dead. He’d assumed they were at rest, in some great beyond. The cold embrace had taught him otherwise. He found himself staring at the corpse once known as Dan. Jon’s stomach churned and he averted his eyes.

“Is your tongue intact?” Jon asked.

Jenner nodded, holding his cheek. “Who the hell taught you stitches?” He gurgled, muffled.

“Lunwin.” Jon stood and offered Jenner his hand. “In a sense.”

Jenner grasped his hand. “He did a shit job of it.”

Jon helped Jenner to his feet. “You’re more than welcome to do them again, yourself. Now, stop talking before you tear them.”

Jenner scowled but kept his mouth shut.

Jon returned the needle and thread kit to the backpack. As Jenner swung it over his shoulder, Jon sheathed Longclaw. “Has that revolver got ammo?” He asked.

Jenner snatched up Randy’s revolver and opened it. He nodded and held up three fingers.

“Good.” Jon opened Dan’s shotgun.

Two rounds inhabited the chamber. Jon tried not to think about the man’s last moments as he scavenged a hatchet from his belt. The look of terror frozen on Dan’s face made that hard. With their new weapons and scavenged surgical equipment in tow, Jon and Jenner hurried back to the woods. Jon put aside nagging thoughts of the fat corpse once known as Dan. He forced them away, beating them down into the dark recesses of his mind so he could focus on what mattered. Carl. Saving Carl. Saving him from the cold embrace.

***

Thick summer wind lashed Jon’s face as Nessy galloped down the gravel path of Hershel’s farm. Jon kept Nessy’s gallop steady for Jenner’s sake as much as Nessy’s. Jenner clung to Jon’s shoulder with one arm while he held his weeping cheek. Tremors rattled the doctor and weakened his grip until Jon could barely feel it. If the ride back had taken any longer, Jenner would have fallen for certain. Beth spotted their approach from the terrace. Waving her arms she raced down its steps and into Nessy’s path. Nessy skidded to a halt before her.

Beth screamed. “What happened?! Is that blood?!”

Jon looked at his hands. They were crimson. Dan’s blood. And Jenner’s. Before he could answer, Beth, screamed again. “Jenner! Your face!”

“Some men tried to rob us. They came off worse I assure you,” Jon said.

Beth stared at him, horrified. But only for a heartbeat. She shook her head, hardened her face and let loose a flurry of words. “I’ll take Nessy! You head inside, Daddy’s waitin’ for you, he’s ready to go! Did you find it all?”

Jon dismounted. “We did. Did Carl wake?”

“No, he’s still sleepin’, thank the Lord.”

Jon untied Nessy’s leading rope from around his chest and handed it to Beth. Jenner dismounted and Beth’s eyes widened.

“Lord, did you stitch yourself, Jenner?”

Jenner grunted and gestured to Jon. Beth blushed.

“Oh… I’m sure you were in a rush, Jon. But anyways, you come with me, Jenner. I’ll stitch you up proper.”

Jenner spat blood. “Can’t,” he gurgled, wincing as he spoke. “Surgery.”

“You can’t be in there with a cut like that. Daddy and Maggie know what they’re doin’. Let them handle it.”

Jenner gurgled an incomprehensible protest. Jon tired of all the time wasting. He snatched Jenner’s backpack off his shoulders. “Go with the girl, bloody fool.” He marched towards the farmhouse.

Inside, Jon found Hershel and Maggie at Carl’s bedside. Strange light-blue robes and white mouth masks garbed them. Carl lay as still and quiet as Jon had left him. The flush had returned to his cheeks and his skin was cream rather than milk. But his eyes still stared a glassy stare. A tall rack stood by the head of Carl’s bed. From it hung the IV bag and the bag full of Rick’s blood, connected to Carl’s arm by plastic tubes. Rick was absent from the room. Sophia’s bear sat on Carl’s bedside table, as pink as a peaceful dusk, right beside Carl’s hat with the golden star.

While Maggie knelt beside Carl, applying pressure to his stomach, Hershel noticed Jon.

“Did you find it all?” His mask muffled his voice.

“Aye, we did.” Jon placed Jenner’s backpack on the bed. “Everything except a respirator.”

“That’ll do. Good work, son.” Hershel looked past him.

“Where’s Jenner?” Maggie asked, wary.

“Alive,” Jon said, hearing the unasked question. “Beth’s treating him. Some lad opened his face from ear to mouth.”

Hershel nodded. “I’ll make do with only Maggie, then. Can’t risk him contaminatin’ anything. You neither, son. There’s a shower upstairs. Best you go wash up. You smell like death.”

Jon stayed where he was. “Where’s Rick?”

“Upstairs. Restin’ in my bed. It took a lot of out him, givin’ blood, as malnourished as he is.”

Jon relaxed. “Aye. Okay then. You have my thanks, Hershel.”

Hershel pulled on a pair of blue, rubber gloves. “Thank me later, son.”

As Jon made his way from the room, he couldn’t deny that Hershel had had the truth of it. Death’s stench stalked his every step. The taste of salty steel loitered in the back of his throat. A wash would do him good. But later. There were more pressing matters. Jon discarded Dan’s shotgun on a table as he crossed the living room. Beth had sat Jenner down on a couch as she cut Jon’s crude stitches from his cheek. The doctor clenched as stiff as a board as Beth cut and unlaced each stitch.

Wooden boards creaked as Jon ascended the stairs. Now that all had more or less settled, Jon saw the house as it truly was for the first time. Grime matted the carpets. Chips and cracks littered the walls. A musty aroma lingered everywhere. Mould made camp in the corners of ceilings. It’s all held together by a thin, rotten thread. At the top of the stairs, he found a door along the hall open ajar. Beyond it, he found Rick out of bed, standing by a window.

“You should be resting,” Jon said, entering.

Rick faced him with sunken eyes and the face of a ghost. “You’ve got blood on your hands.”

“I’ve noticed. Why don’t you sit? Gather your strength.”

Rick shook his head and faced the window again. “Glenn’ll bring the others here. I know it. I’ve gotta be ready for them. Lori’ll need me.”

“Lori’s capable of managing a dozen stairs. I can’t say the same for you.”

Rick said nothing. Jon joined him at the window. The house stood only two stories tall. Yet, Jon could see for leagues across the rolling hills of patchwork fields.

“This place could be good for us,” Jon said. “Fertile soil. Plenty of room. Easy to defend. It’s everything we’ve been looking for.”

“It ain’t ours, though…”

“It isn’t… what do you make of them?”

“They’re good people. Strong too.”

“Good, yes. But naive.”

Rick shook his head. “They’ve got pure hearts. Somethin’ we could use in all this.” Rick sighed, stepped away from the window and sat on the bed. He ran a dirty hand through dirtier hair. “We’ve been losin’ ourselves out there. Death surrounds us no matter where we go. I hardly recognise us anymore. Myself most of all. A little girl lost her arm today. Maybe her life. My son’s shot, about to be cut open by a pet surgeon and here we are, talkin’ about fertile soil and people’s strength. What the hell are we comin’ to, Jon?”

“We’re surviving.” Jon stood over Rick. “For now, that’s all that matters.”

Rick stared at Jon’s hands. “That’s not walker blood, is it?”

“Two fools tried to rob us. We came out better. A lad cut open Jenner’s cheek. He got away. I stopped the other.” Jon touched Longclaw’s direwolf pommel. “Jenner’s fine. One of Hershel’s girls is patching him up.”

“You killed him?”

“The man, yes. The boy escaped.”

Rick dodged Jon’s gaze to look towards the window. His hand rested on his hip, on his empty revolver.

“They had guns,” Jon continued. “A shotgun and a revolver. Both loaded. The first ammo we’ve come across in weeks. Ask Jenner for the revolver ammo. It’s best you carry a loaded gun. This as well.” Jon slipped Dan’s hatchet out from his belt and thrust it into Rick’s hands. “Your knife’s been blunt for a few days now. A leader needs proper weapons. It’ll remind the others that we still have strength. They’ll need that after a day like today.”

“You’ve killed before, haven’t you?” Rick whispered, looking at the carpet.

“I have.”

“How many?”

“More than I’d like.”

Rick squeezed the hatchet’s handle. “So have I. Before all this. The last day before all this. For me at least.”

“The man who put you in a coma?”

“No. Shane shot him. Apparently.” Rick spoke in a slow, quiet drawl void of light. “No, I shot his brother. A kid. About Glenn’s age. Shane told me that I stayed awake for most of the ride in the ambulance but I don’t remember it. No, the last thing I remember, was the look on that kid’s face as he realised a bullet had gone through his throat.”

The cold embrace haunted Jon’s memory. He fought it off, banishing it from his mind and sat beside Rick on the bed’s white sheets. “It never gets easier. We do what we must. For the good of others.”

“Would you have killed him?” Rick asked. “That kid. If he hadn’t of escaped, would you have killed him?”

“Yes.”

The roar of engines cut through their conversation like a hot knife. Rick slipped the hatchet beneath his belt, strained, stood and shambled to the window. Jon joined his side. Outside, he saw Daryl racing down the gravel road atop his motorcycle. The jeep, RV and range rover trailed behind him at a fair distance. Behind Daryl sat Glenn with one hand holding Daryl’s shoulder and the other a map. He looked at the house with a grin, scanning it the way he scanned spots for scavenging. His eyes found Jon and Rick in the window and his grin broadened. He shouted something unheard at Daryl. The rugged man revved his bike, leaned forward and sped ahead.

Rick turned from the window and hobbled for the door. Jon stood in his path.

“Rest. I’ll bring Lori to you.”

“Move or knock me out. Those are your options.” Rick stepped around Jon.

Jon followed. “That can be arranged.”

“Try it.” Rick hobbled through the doorway.

Jon chuckled and followed him down the hall, shaking his head. “At least let me help you down the stairs, bloody fool.”

Rick gave him a defiant look but once he arrived at the top of the stairs his face softened. “Fine…”

Jon took his arm. “I swear, you’re as bad as Carl sometimes.”

Rick chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

As Jon helped Rick down the stairs, Beth rushed to meet them.

“Who is that out there?” She asked with queer excitement.

Jon helped Rick down the final step and relinquished his arm. “Our people.”

“My wife’s among them.” Rick hobbled for the front door.

“Has the surgery begun?” Jon asked.

Beth nodded. “Daddy and Maggie are workin’ at him as we speak. I’m sorry but your people will have to wait out here. Even the mother. Daddy needs to focus and keep everything clean.”

“We’ll keep them calm, rest assured.” Jon looked past Beth for Jenner. The doctor remained seated on the couch, drenched in sweat and plagued by fatigue. A row of neat stitches travelled from the corner of his mouth to lobe of his ear. Jon decided to let him rest and headed after Rick with Beth in tow.

Outside, Daryl pulled up before the terrace with Glenn. The rest of the column lagged behind, still a ways off. Glenn leapt off of the bike and rushed the terrace’s rickety wooden stairs.

“Is Carl, okay?” he shouted. “Is there really a doctor here?”

“There is,” Rick said, supporting himself on a white wooden beam.

“A pet surgeon named Hershel. He says the lad’ll be fine. They’re in surgery right now,” Jon added.

“A fuckin’ vet?” Daryl asked, climbing the stairs.

Beth eyed Daryl the way a mouse might eye a bear.

“Surgery? For real? … Out here?” Glen asked, deflating.

“I-It’s no danger, really. A fairly simple procedure,” Beth said.

Glenn blinked at Beth as if seeing her for the first time.

Daryl looked Rick up and down, wrinkling his nose. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Carl needed blood. I’m fine,” Rick said, still leaning on the beam.

“He will be, once he rests,” Jon said.

“Shit, man,” Glenn eyed Jon’s hands. “You’ve got blood on your hands. Her too,” Glenn gestured to Beth. Jenner’s blood stained her hands.

“Doctor Jenner got hurt, but he’s okay.” Beth smiled.

Daryl squinted. “How?”

“It matters not,” Jon snapped. “It’s dealt with. How is Sophia faring?”

Daryl’s face darkened. “Not good… she’s run a fever. Been havin’ fits.”

“Seizures,” Glenn added, glum.

“Any other symptoms?” Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. “Naw, she ain’t turnin’”

“Turning? Do you mean-” Beth asked.

“Bitten? Yes,” Jon said. “I cut her arm off though. That’s what’s causing her grief.”

Beth’s face dropped. “Y-You did, what?”

“Cut her arm off.” Jon tried to ignore Daryl’s glare.

“Have… Have you cleaned the wound? Bandaged it? Is she lyin’ someplace comfortable? Did you tie off the arteries?” Beth rushed to the edge of the terrace and stared at the approaching column.

“No bandages. We had to make do with shirts. And I don’t know what an artery is,” Jon said.

Beth shook her head and faced him with a stern look. “That won’t do. When she arrives, bring her to my room. She can have my bed. I’ll bandage her proper and Daddy’ll treat her wound.”

Daryl stepped towards her. “You will?” His voice wavered.

“I will. Are you her family?”

Daryl stepped back. “What? No- I only-”

“We all care a great deal for the children,” Rick said.

Moist eyes whisked away any sternness from Beth’s face. “She’s a kid?”

“She is.” Jon moved past them all and descended the stairs. The column had arrived.

The three vehicles kicked up a great billow of dust as they sped into the gravel lot. They halted in a loose huddle before the farmhouse. Every door flew open and the group erupted from their vehicles. Lori headed the charge for the house. Rick hobbled down the stairs to meet her.

“Rick!” Lori cried. “Where is he? Where’s Carl? Is he okay?!”

Rick opened his arms and grunted as Lori ran into them. He held her tight, clutching her to his chest. Tears moistened his eyes. “He’s doin’ just fine. A surgeon’s takin’ care of him right now. He knows what he’s doin’.”

Lori sighed a long, shuddered breath, squeezed Rick then pulled away, her face a mask of stone. “And these people. Can we trust them?”

“We can.” Rick smiled. “They’re good.”

Lori’s eyes darted across Rick’s face. Her scowl dropped into a frown. “What’s the matter? Why are you so pale?”

“Your husband gave his blood to save Carl’s life,” Beth stepped forward, fidgeting.

Lori whimpered. Tears flowed. She hugged Rick tight, threatening to topple him. The rest of the group watched on. Dale and T-Dog smiled warm smiles. Andrea’s brown knitted as she eyed Beth. Shane scowled at Rick and Lori. Suddenly, all their eyes went to the ground. Ghost padded between them. His red gaze was a sight for sore eyes and Jon found himself smiling. He dropped to his knee, levelling his eyes with the direwolf and ruffled his fur.

Beth shrieked. “What is that?!”

Ghost stared at her with lazy eyes as the rest of the group chuckled.

“A friend,” Jon said, smiling. “Good work, boy.” His crimson hands matted Ghost’s fur, only adding further to the grime of travel. Jon decided to keep his smile and turned it on Lori. “Take Rick back upstairs, would you? He needs rest.”

Rick scowled at him. Lori scowled at Rick. “That he does.” She grabbed his arm and marched him back up the stairs.

Jon stood and turned his smile on the others. “What Rick says is the truth,” he announced. “Carl is going to be okay. These are good people here. Carl’s in good hands.” Jon prayed that what he said was the truth.

“Good!” The raven flew over the group’s heads. It landed on Jon’s shoulder and stared at him. “Good!” It cackled.

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