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Are we allowed to know the coping mechanisms/vices? Also Juliette and Val already have me in a headlock, I can already tell I'm going to get betrayed/fucked over at some point
I absolutely can anon! And I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of any betrayals 🥰🥰
MC’s coping mechanism is a habit MC has developed because of events prior to the start of the book. The coping mechanisms are as follows:
Drugs: MC has been turning to drugs to feel good, to bliss out on a good high for a few hours and pretend that nothing exists but them and this high
Alcohol: MC has been turning to drinking, partying hard enough to have a sloppy good time, blackout, and then forget all kinds of things
Physical fighting: MC has started getting into fights, they want to hurt and be hurt, to fight out that adrenaline and come home with bruises and bloody knuckles
Hyperfixation (specifically on academics): MC has become so obsessed with studying that it’s sometimes all they can think about. For days. No sleep, little food, few cares in the world other than intensive studying
Each MC will choose one coping mechanism, which will play an important role in their story. However, all the coping mechanisms will show up throughout the course of the book because MC isn’t the only one feeling the need to cope…
#anon#ask#writer maggie#coping mechanisms#Juliette and Val also have ME in a headlock so that’s fair
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Okay. I see the fandom panicking and even starting to destroy itself...
For the ones who still love GO and would continue to love it as they always did but is judged because of ONE☝️ person's actions that might or might not be true, know you're safe here and I wouldn't judge you for loving GO despite Neil's accusations.
Because you gotta keep in mind that this show AND book are also Terry's. And you have to keep in mind that Neil wasn't alone in that project. Think about all the people that worked on the show, whether it's the crew or the actors. They're absolutely innocent, so why would you spit on their work as if they were guilty too ? Of course none of them would support Neil's actions if it's true, that doesn't mean we have to throw every poster or book or drawing or delete every fanfic or even stop writing fanfic because of this as if everyone were in the same boat.
These accusations are about Neil and Neil only and I would find it kinda sad that this story would be thrown away despite Terry had worked on it too, despite it also was in his memory. Ofc, if it's true, it's obvious Terry wouldn't be okay with it either but does that mean a story fully achieved and their characters have to be condemned with Gaiman ? Mostly when now, a lot of illustrators, writers and animators made it their own ? Mostly when it somehow saved many people's lives ? Mostly when this book or show had made people laugh and cry ?
This fandom is stronger than that.
Let's not mix everything.
Would you find it appropriate to talk about GO to the victims ? Obviously, no. For the sole reason that it's not. the same. thing. We have to put things back in their places. GO is GO, harassment and s*xual aggression are what they are. And it would be incredibly disrespectful to mix both.
So, my point is. Don't be ashamed to love GO despite what's happening. Don't feel guilty for supporting a show while you don't support the author. Don't let the fandom die because of one person's actions when there's so many people who worked on it almost just as much. I understand you're upset, I understand you'd think it might be hypocritical to love a show with the creator being accused of horrible things. But make the difference.
And I can assure you, if Neil is not guilty (and if he is, I hope the victims will get justice and Neil will have what he deserves) I'm pretty sure that he's not thinking about Good Omens at all right now, but just thinking about sorting this out and clearing his name as every innocent person would need to do so.
So, whether the truth is hurtful or a relief, let's keep the GO fandom going. For if it's hurtful, we will make Terry's story alive for his and many people's sake, and if it's a relief, we would have been doing things right by not jumping into conclusions.
Either way, you're welcome here and you're safe with me. Keep loving. Spread some joy. Don't let Neil's possible actions stain a wonderful story that is not only his own ❤️
#terry pratchett#michael sheen#david tennant#jon hamm#maggie service#nina sosanya#quelin sepulveda#doon mackichan#frances mcdormand#mark gatiss#derek jacobi#anna maxwell martin#ned dennehy#sam taylor buck#adria arjona#jack whitehall#michael mckean#miranda richardson#shelley conn#david arnold#claire anderson#kate carin#peter anderson studio#there is so many more#writers#illustrators#animators#good omens#aziraphale and crowley#good omens will live.
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I wrote a spec script for Good Omens.
This past week, I was out to coffee with a friend of mine and we got to talking about writing (as we often do). She has more of a television/movie background while I have more of a theatre background.
In the midst of our discussion, she brought something called a "spec script". When asked what exactly that was, she explained (at least in terms of television), it's an unprompted and uncommissioned script written for an already established show. The purpose is to help demonstrate a writer's ability to match the style, format, and voice of a show they didn't create.
Immediately, I said, "That just sounds like fanfiction!"
(Obviously, it's not, but I enjoyed the parallels nonetheless.)
So, of course, I had to write a spec script. (Season 3, episode 1 of Good Omens.)
Let it be known that I did not do this in the hopes of joining the writing team as I know Neil has that MORE than covered. I just did it for fun, but I'm really proud of it and I hope you head on over to AO3 and take a look at it.
Probably too many swear words. Probably too much AziraCrow too quickly. Probably too blasphemous. Definitely wonky formatting.
But I had fun! And that's what fanfic is all about.
#archive of our own#ao3 author#ao3#screenwriting#crowly good omens#good omens fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#writers on tumblr#good omens#creative writing#fanfic#fanfiction#aziracrow#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#good omens 3#neil gaiman#terry pratchett#michael sheen#david tennant#miranda richardson#maggie service#quelin sepulveda#spec script#playwrights#playwright
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I want to go home, but it’s not a place—it’s a feeling of knowing it’s over, and that you are safe. It’s no longer waiting for hope; it’s knowing that you are at peace. It’s no longer cupping the future in your palms, watching it fall through the gaps between your fingers. It’s knowing that you’ve reached the end of the tunnel, enveloped by light, clean, and free.
#poetry#my writing#writing#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#spilled words#spilled poetry#spilled writing#words#love poem#new poets society#poem#poesia#poets corner#poets on tumblr#original poem#nightmare critters#writers and poets#baba chops#poems on tumblr#maggie mako#yarnaby#rabie baby#writing life#on writing#writers#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#writing inspiration
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I had a weird dream and crack ship was born
Frowny: Oh…yeah she seems. Nice. Dogday? Where are you going?
Dogday offscreen running away as fast as he can.
I don't even remember the dream but I remember the ship.
I need possible ship name. Ideas? Right now I'm thinking Chocolate Rain lol.
Gametoons is so bad. But I somehow someway had a liking for Frowny Fox (and maybe some of the other forgotten critters)
I also wasn't satisfied by how i drew Maggie in my last comic. That's what I get for trying to draw her from memory and not just...looking up a picture. So I tried again. I like this design a lot more.
A short oneshot fic under the cut. At the last minute I changed it to be Christmas themed which is why the picture isn't Christmas themed.
The Day Frowny Realized Maggie Wasn't Just Scary
The outdoor mall was chaos. With the holidays right around the corner, critters flooded the square, scrambling for last-minute gifts and bargains. Stalls were crammed with shiny trinkets, festive treats, and decorations that probably cost twice as much as they should. Frowny hated this. Crowds made his fur itch, and the pressure of picking the perfect gift didn’t help.
He was here for a Secret Santa gift exchange, and the name he’d drawn—an acquaintance who loved puzzles and had a mild obsession with coffee—had him stumped. He hovered by a table of mugs, frowning at one shaped like a sleeping squirrel. It was cute, but not too cute, right? He didn’t want to send the wrong message.
Just as he reached for it, something slammed into his side, sending him stumbling into the stall. A sharp hiss of pain escaped Frowny as he caught himself on the edge of the table.
“MOVE IT, BUDDY!”
Frowny turned, his tail bristling, to see a yellow gecko in ugly brown pants rushing through the crowd, shoving critters out of his way like a hurricane. Before Frowny could even get a word out, the gecko shoved another critter. This time, the wrong one.
Maggie Mako.
Oh no.
Maggie didn’t budge. Didn’t even sway. She turned her head slowly, towering over the gecko like a tidal wave about to break. Her grin was wide and full of teeth. “You wanna try that again, pal?”
The gecko froze, his cocky energy deflating immediately. “Uh… my bad,” he stammered, his eyes darting for an exit.
“You shoved someone else, then bump into me? Oh, you’ve got guts. Let’s see if you like keeping them inside.”
The gecko's yellow scales turned white. “S-s-sorry ma'am! D-didn't mean to—uh—yeah, I’ll just—”
“Scram,” Maggie growled, crossing her arms. That was all it took. The gecko bolted, nearly tripping over his own tail as he disappeared into the crowd.
Maggie rolled her shoulders and went back to considering some very ornate holiday cookies, looking more annoyed than anything. “Some critters. That's what I thought.” she muttered, dusting her hands off.
Frowny, who had been standing frozen with one paw still clutching the squirrel mug, finally remembered how to breathe. He adjusted his scarf and was about to slink away unnoticed when Maggie turned, catching him mid-stare.
Her grin softened with recognition. Less teeth, more playful.
“You okay, Foxy boy?”
It took a second for Frowny’s brain to catch up. Maggie had just defended him. Maggie, the big, scary shark woman who could probably bench press two wagons full of pumpkins, had stepped in for him. And now she was looking at him, smiling, as if she hadn’t just terrified someone out of their scales.
“I, uh…” His left ear flicked nervously. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Maggie stepped closer, her shadow falling over him like a blanket. “You look a little pale. Well, paler than usual.” She smirked, her tone teasing but not unkind.
Frowny wanted to say something clever, but his brain had short-circuited. Instead, he noticed something odd: Maggie didn’t seem scary in that moment. She seemed… safe. Yes. safe, strong and confident, but not in a way that made him want to hide. In fact, it was kind of… nice?
And then it hit him. It wasn’t just nice. It was attractive. Hot even? Did his brain really just go there.
Oh no.
Maggie arched a brow, waiting for a response. When none came, she leaned down, eyes twinkling. “What’s the matter, Foxy? Catnap got your tongue?”
Frowny’s ears burned. He yanked his scarf higher over his face. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. Bye.” The words came out in a rushed jumble as he turned and awkwardly strutted away, his tail puffed up like a bottle brush.
Maggie blinked after him, then laughed. “You’re welcome!” she called, shaking her head. “Weird little guy.”
Meanwhile, Frowny ducked behind a corner, clutching his chest like his heart was about to escape. What was that? What was that?! He’d spent weeks avoiding Maggie because she was terrifying, and now, after one incident, he was—no. No, no,no. This wasn’t happening! He did not have a thing for Maggie Mako.
…But her smile had been kind of nice. And her strength had been… really nice. Pretty smile, very white cheerful teeth that didn't frighten him like they'd used to.
“Oh no,” he muttered to himself, ears flat. “This is bad.”
It was the beginning of the end. Or maybe the start of something good? No of course not! Or maybe it could be? Frowny wasn’t sure yet. He just knew he was doomed.
#smiling critters#smiling critters au#poppy playtime#popply playtime au#dogday#frowny fox#maggie mako#nightmare critters#nightmare critters au#fanfiction#writers on tumblr#artists on tumblr#fanart#oneshot#gametoons#critter cross au#critter crossing au#merry christmas#christmas#putterpenart
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My dears🩷 Do you remember my GO fanart Double Affair? Well, the talented aurora_orphic on AO3 is writing a fic inspired by it!✨
READ IT HERE!✨
I literally devoured this first chapter!🌹
#good omens#good omens fic#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic writers#ineffable husbands#ineffable husbands fanart#double affair#immaculate#aurora_orphic#good omens fanart#good omens fandom#aziraphale#crowley#good omens maggie#good omens nina#aziracrow#azicrow#digital art#heohlart#good ineffable omens#good omens fanfic rec#good omens art#good omens alternate universe#good omens au#good omens double affair#good omens immaculate#good omens ao3
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𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧
Glenn rhee x reader
Word count:3752
Warninig: fluff, dead, blood
Pt2 , Pt3
You ran as fast as your legs would allow, stumbling up the stairs while trying not to fall. Behind you, the growls and gasps of the creatures—those who were once your neighbors—roared loudly, almost deafeningly. The upper floors offered no solace; the walls were splattered with blood, silent witnesses to a recent massacre. The air was thick, heavy with death and despair, and each step brought you closer to the unknown, to a possible trap or, perhaps, an unlikely salvation.
By the time you reached the fifth floor, the situation had become even more macabre. Two of those monsters, turned into insatiable predators, were devouring the mangled body of someone you had likely known in life. Horror gripped you; a scream formed in your throat, but you stifled it by covering your mouth with a trembling hand. You knew that the slightest noise could condemn you. There was no time for mourning or compassion. There was only one mission: survival.
Desperately, you looked around for an escape. The growls were getting closer. With no other options, you slipped into an apartment with an ajar door. Once inside, you moved cautiously, your hands gripping the small knife you carried, a pitiful defense but at least something to make you feel somewhat protected.
The living room showed no obvious signs of violence, except for some bloodstains that extended into the bathroom. You took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest, searching for anything that might be useful. After a few minutes, you had gathered a small stash: cans of food, soda crackers, snacks, and water. It wasn't much, but it could make the difference between life and death. As you rummaged through the drawers for something more useful, a particular sound startled you.
The sharp cry of a baby broke the silence, coming from one of the rooms at the back. You stood still for a moment, trying to convince yourself that you had imagined it, but the crying persisted. You knew ignoring it wasn't an option. With hesitant steps, you moved towards the source of the sound, stopping in front of a door decorated with a small heart-shaped sign bearing the name "Alice." You pushed the door gently, revealing a pink-painted nursery, filled with drawings and toys scattered on the floor.
In the center of the room stood a white crib, and there, wrapped in blankets, a baby cried inconsolably. Her little face was reddened from the effort of crying, seeking attention, company... protection.
"Damn it," you whispered, this time with more resignation than fear. You looked around, hoping that at any moment someone—perhaps the baby's mother—would come running through the door. But no one came. Anxiety gripped your chest. You knew leaving little Alice there was a certain death sentence. The baby's cries already resonated as an open call to the monsters prowling the building.
With no other options, you took the baby in your arms. Her crying was desperate and incessant, and each passing second made you imagine that the things outside were drawing closer, attracted by the noise. As you rocked her gently back and forth, her sobs began to calm. Her tiny hands clung tightly to your shirt, and gradually, the crying turned into soft whimpers until, finally, it ceased. You sighed with relief, but the tension didn't fully dissipate. Every second was crucial.
You left the room with stealthy steps, Alice wrapped in your arms. The silence of the apartment was oppressive, and the feeling of being watched never left you. Keeping your gaze upwards, you walked down the hallway, vainly searching for any sign of life in the other rooms. But there was nothing. The place seemed deserted.
The bathroom, however, caught your attention. The door was locked, but through the gap beneath it, a faint beam of light filtered in. Something or someone was on the other side. You approached cautiously and pressed your ear against the wood, and horror overwhelmed you. A low, menacing growl resonated from inside, followed by a rasping sound: claws scratching the door.
You instinctively recoiled, fear freezing your blood. Whatever was trapped inside was not human. There was no doubt. Those creatures had reached this place, and surely whoever was locked in there would find a way out soon.
You quickly considered your options, aware that you couldn’t stay. The building was no longer safe, and probably neither was the city. Chaos was spreading like an uncontrollable fire. There was no alternative but to flee before nightfall made the streets even more dangerous. The creatures became more active at dusk, and the cover of darkness would only increase their numbers.
With trembling hands, you found a larger bag and filled it with essentials: supplies, some clean clothes, and everything you might need to care for your new companion, Alice. You fashioned an improvised sling and secured her gently against your chest. Her calm breathing contrasted with your own racing heart.
Leaving the building was easier than you had imagined. The creatures were scattered, hunting on other floors or in the streets. Moving with stealth and determination, you made your way to your car, parked not far from the main entrance. With Alice secured to your chest, you quickly got in and started the engine.
Three weeks had passed since you left the city. Those days felt like an endless nightmare. The first two weeks had been particularly exhausting: the roads were blocked with abandoned cars and wandering corpses, and you had no choice but to continue on foot. You walked through forests, taking shortcuts when you could, though it only heightened your paranoia. The constant crunching of leaves under your feet, the distant sounds of the infected, and the ever-present danger of being surprised kept you on high alert.
Dealing with Alice was another challenge. The baby cried incessantly, her relentless hunger forcing you to stop more often than you would have liked. Sometimes, you could only pray to find a safe place to rest. Sleeping was not an easy option; every nighttime noise, every shadow moving in the dark, was a potential threat.
As you pressed on, the physical and mental exhaustion began to take its toll. You wondered how much longer you could keep going. Alice needed more than you could offer alone. However, as if some higher power had heard your silent pleas, things changed the day you encountered the group.
It happened while you were exploring an abandoned house, desperate for food or diapers for Alice. Hunger and exhaustion were becoming unbearable, and each step felt like a burden. Entering a dusty room, the air thick with humidity and mildew, you were struck by the emptiness. The weight of reality hit you hard: there was nothing. You leaned against the wall for a moment, struggling against despair.
That’s when you saw him: a rugged man with a face hardened by life, holding a crossbow with an unsettling firmness. You had no idea how long he had been there, watching you. Instinctively, you stepped back, raising your hands in a gesture of surrender. The cold steel of his gaze pierced through you, and fear took hold. You were cornered, unsure if this encounter would mean the end.
The man did not lower his weapon but took a step closer, studying your every move. “Are you from the city?” he asked in a deep, authoritative voice. His tone made it clear that he was used to taking control of situations. His eyes quickly scanned the space behind you, as if expecting someone else to emerge from behind you. But he saw nothing.
The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and for a moment, you thought your legs might give way. You could only nod, hoping it would be enough to placate him. The man kept his gaze fixed on you, evaluating, measuring every detail.
“Are you alone, or is there someone else with you?” he asked again, not softening his tone. Before you could answer, a second man appeared in the room. He was younger, with Asian features, and seemed to be with the first, as the latter showed no surprise upon seeing him. The younger man carried another weapon, though his posture
“There’s no one with me,” you managed to say, your voice trembling as you tried to stay calm. But at that moment, you felt Alice shift in the carrier, as if she was about to wake up. The faint movement of the baby immediately caught both men’s attention.
The younger Asian man slowly lowered his weapon, his expression softening as he assessed the situation. There was something in his gaze, perhaps empathy, or maybe just exhaustion. The crossbow man, however, did not immediately change his expression. His eyes dropped to the small bundle against your chest, and for a moment, the tension in the room became unbearable.
“Is that… a baby?” the young man murmured, incredulous. It seemed he hadn’t seen something so small and delicate in a long time.
You nodded once more, unconsciously tightening your hold on Alice, trying to protect her as best as you could. “Yes… it’s just her and me,” you replied with more confidence than you actually felt.
“What’s your name?” asked the young Asian man, his voice softer than the armed man’s.
“My name is Y/N, and she is Alice,” you answered, feeling a slight calm beginning to settle inside you. You gently stroked Alice’s back, trying to keep her calm. Still, you couldn’t ignore the discomfort caused by the young man’s continuous gaze.
“I’m Glenn, and this is Daryl,” Glenn introduced himself, taking a step toward you and extending a friendly hand. Although you appreciated the gesture, you opted to keep your distance, your survival instinct still on high alert. Glenn noticed your hesitation and lowered his hand, not offended but maintaining his friendly tone.
Daryl, however, had not entirely lowered his guard. His crossbow was still ready, though now aimed at the ground. The tension in his jaw and the coldness in his eyes kept you on edge. The air felt dense, heavy, as if something could go wrong at any moment.
Glenn placed a firm but calm hand on Daryl’s shoulder, trying to ease the situation. “Calm down, she’s not a threat. Look at her, she’s alone with a baby. Let her breathe.” His conciliatory tone managed to soften Daryl’s stance a bit.
Daryl exhaled slowly and finally lowered the crossbow completely, though not without issuing one last warning. “Alright. But I recommend you get out of here before nightfall. It’s not safe to be out in the woods at this hour, especially with a child.” His tone made it clear that he was giving advice rather than making a threat.
You nodded quickly, aware that you didn’t have many options left. The sun was beginning to set, and although you had survived until now, you knew you couldn’t keep going alone for much longer. The city had been hell, and now the forest was proving to be just as dangerous.
“Listen, Y/N,” Glenn interrupted, his voice much softer, almost a whisper. “We have a camp not too far from here. It’s not much, but it’s well-protected, and we have supplies.” His eyes, which had been cautious before, now reflected something more. Empathy, perhaps. “You don’t have to keep wandering alone. You could stay with us. Alice would be safer there.”
His words resonated in your mind. The offer seemed too good to be true, but desperation was beginning to take over. You glanced at Alice, feeling her small, warm, and vulnerable body against yours, and realized you could no longer afford to keep testing your luck. The walkers outside would show no mercy, and you knew you’d soon run out of strength.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” you said, unsure. Although Glenn’s offer seemed sincere, something inside you still doubted. You had seen the worst of people in recent days, and distrust had become second nature.
“You won’t be a problem,” Glenn replied with a kind smile. “There are more people at the camp, and we’re all in this together. We can’t promise you an easy life, but we can offer you safety and some peace. At least, for a while.”
You looked at Daryl, searching for any sign that the proposal was genuine, but his expression remained impassive, as hard as a rock. However, by not objecting to Glenn’s offer, he seemed to be giving his tacit consent.
Finally, you nodded, letting a little relief seep into your thoughts. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”
After what felt like hours of walking, you finally descended a hill and before you was a scene that, in another time, would have been a mundane sight: an improvised camp with cars and a trailer. However, now, amidst the chaos, it represented a refuge, a possibility of rest, and perhaps, safety.
Glenn turned to you, noticing your exhaustion. “We’re almost there. It’s better than being out there, believe me.” He smiled, a mix of relief and concern in his gaze. Daryl, for his part, kept his distance, still vigilant with his crossbow ready, though he had stopped aiming it directly at you. He seemed to trust Glenn more than the situation.
As you emerged from the dense forest, the camp Glenn had mentioned became visible through the trees. With each step, your legs felt heavier, and the sweltering heat made sweat trickle down your forehead and body. Glenn briefly stopped to check that you were still following, offering a supportive smile, while Daryl, in his own way, stayed alert, his crossbow always at the ready.
Finally, you reached a small clearing in the forest and turned left. That’s when you saw it: the camp. Just as Glenn had said, there was a trailer blocking a slope, and next to it, a smoldering campfire. Near the campfire, a picnic table and several chairs formed an improvised circle. A bit farther away, several tents were grouped around a small path cutting through the vegetation. The place looked humble but safe.
You had taken only a few steps when a burly man with an expression of both alertness and distrust approached quickly. “What’s going on, Glenn?” he asked in a deep, firm voice. He was Shane, who seemed to be leading the group at that moment.
Glenn raised a hand to calm him. “Everything’s fine, Shane. She’s from the city. She’s alone… and has a baby.”
Shane cast a quick glance at Alice, his expression softening slightly before turning back to you. “Alone, you say?”
“Yes, we checked,” Daryl interjected, finally lowering the crossbow but not taking his analytical gaze off you.
“Well, it’s better to talk to the rest,” Shane said in a less aggressive but still firm tone. “Lori and Carol are with the kids; maybe they can help with the baby.”
You observed several people engaged in various activities. Two blonde women, one clearly older than the other, were sitting and cleaning what you assumed were freshly caught fish. Further along, a dark-skinned woman was resting next to a burly man with a serious expression, who was relaxing in one of the chairs near the campfire. On top of the trailer, an older man with a fishing hat kept a calm watch from his position, holding a rifle firmly, as if he might need it at any moment. To your right, you noticed a Latino man and another taller man wearing a cap, checking a couple of cars.
Glenn, who stayed by your side, gave you a reassuring glance before speaking. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group.” He took a few steps forward, guiding you toward a pair of women sitting at an old picnic table.
“Hi, girls,” Glenn greeted with his usual friendly tone. “I want to introduce you to Y/N.” He made a hand gesture indicating for you to come closer.
The tall woman with brown hair, holding her son on her lap, looked up with a warm smile. “Hello,” she said as she stood up kindly. “I’m Lori, and this is my son, Carl.” She extended a friendly hand towards you, her smile genuine, as if trying to offer you some of the peace you were missing at that moment. You shook her hand in return.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
Glenn then turned to the woman next to her, who had a more reserved appearance but a calm presence. “And these are Carol and her daughter, Sophia,” Glenn continued, pointing to the little blonde girl playing with a rag doll.
Carol looked up with a discreet but warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said softly, while Sophia looked at you with shyness, hugging her doll a bit tighter.
Lori noticed the small sleeping bundle in your arms, and her face softened even more. “Is that… your baby?” she asked delicately, as if trying not to invade your personal space.
The question gave you a pang in your chest, and you felt a brief wave of sadness. You shook your head slowly, looking at Alice with tenderness. “No… I’m not her mother.” The words came out in a whisper laden with sorrow, reminding you of how much Alice had lost in such a short time. “Her parents… are gone.”
Lori didn’t press further or ask more questions, understanding the pain implicit in your answer. She simply nodded with a slight smile that aimed to be comforting. “She’s very cute,” she commented gently. “You’re lucky to have her with you.”
After a brief silence, Glenn took charge of the situation again, now that everyone had been introduced. “Well, let’s see if we can find a place for you.” He gestured for you to follow him, leading you to the area where the tents were set up.
Walking together along the path between the tents, Glenn gave you a smile. “You know, we don’t usually get many visitors. I think Daryl thought you were here to steal our fish,” he joked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.
You returned the smile, grateful for the attempt to ease the tension. “Well, if I ever get to that point, you’ll know I’m desperate.”
Glenn chuckled and nodded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t mind if it’s for survival. Although, in that case, I’d offer you one myself. I work hard to keep us stocked,” he said with a wink.
As you arrived at a small cleared area, Glenn stopped in front of his tent. “We don’t have a tent for you yet, but you can use mine until we sort something out. Don’t worry, I can sleep in the trailer, there’s enough space,” he offered without hesitation.
You gave him an incredulous look, grateful but also a bit embarrassed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
Glenn made a casual gesture with his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve slept in worse places than the backseat of a car. Besides, how often in life can you say you were a gentleman and offered your tent to a lady?”
You smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed with his sense of humor. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have met a gentleman in these times.”
Glenn returned the smile, apparently pleased that his joke helped you feel more comfortable. “You know, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re a small community, but we take care of each other. And now that you and Alice are here, that includes you two as well.”
You felt deeply grateful for his kindness, something that already felt rare in such a shattered world. “Thank you, Glenn. It really means a lot.”
You entered the tent, grateful for the brief moment of tranquility. You knelt on the ground, observing what was in the small space: a sleeping bag, a backpack, and a couple of neatly folded clothes on one side. It was simple but cozy, and at that moment, you realized how exhausted you were. You sighed as you unfastened the harness holding Alice and gently placed her on the floor so she could move and stretch.
The baby, always restless, took advantage of her freedom and began to crawl around the small space. Despite the circumstances, seeing her curiosity about the world brought a small smile to your face. “You really need a good bath,” you commented softly, as if the little girl could understand your words. Alice, of course, simply looked at you with those lively eyes, emitting a babble as she smiled, completely oblivious to the harshness of the outside world.
With a clumsy but determined movement, Alice crawled back to you, raising her little arms as if wanting to be picked up. “Again?” you murmured, lifting the little one and holding her against your chest. “I’ve spoiled you too much, haven’t I?” you said with a slight laugh, as Alice rested her head on your shoulder, her small body immediately relaxing in your arms.
You gently stroked her back, feeling her breathing calm and steady. The need to protect her enveloped you strongly, like a silent promise you had made without even realizing it. This new place, this camp full of strangers, represented a risk, yes, but also an opportunity. An opportunity to find a respite, at least for a while, so that both of you could regain your strength.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Despite the initial distrust and the evident dangers of the outside world, these people seemed, at least, more human than what you had encountered before. Glenn had been kind, and the others had shown no signs of rejection. There was a certain sense of community in the camp, a spark of hope that seemed hard to find in these times.
#the walking dead#writers on tumblr#glenn rhee x reader#glenn rhee#carl grimes#rick grimes#daryl dixon#maggie rhee#one shot#fluff#negan smith#lori grimes#for you#baby#rosita espinosa#twd daryl#twd negan#twd x reader#twd rick#twd#twd daryl dixon#twd glenn#carol peletier#michonne grimes#rick x michonne#twdedit#twd carl#twd carol#twd cast#twd headcanons
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Maggie Nelson, Bluets
#maggie nelson#bluets#writers and poets#writing#literature#poetry#excerpts#lit#literary quotes#essays#nonfiction#quotes#blue
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𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: okay so I'm making this post because I found ... this audio on youtube (it's sfw dw) and it really made me want to write about the reader as this badass bitch who Negan absolutely adores. Otherwise, I find it really difficult to write for Negan in this timeframe. But the audio made me ... goddamn fall in love.
Warnings: at the end there's blood, and a knife - not used in violence though.
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
ENTP
Slytherin
Evil Neutral > Chaotic Neutral
4 of Wands Reversed
Gemini Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Scorpio Rising
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・He had found you in one of the only secluded places there were at the Sanctuary
・Then this voice came out of nowhere, a voice you know well, one you had ... fantasised about for a while
・But outwardly, you pretended that you were doing this just to get by
・However, you had learned a lot from the people around you, from Negan, but mostly from Michonne when you were with her group
・It was long history. But eventually, your ideas didn't align with Rick's. And to the dismay of Michonne and yourself, you decided to leave.
・It hurt. You had friends in Rick's group, you truly did. But they followed him blindly. Just how Negan's group followed him blindly.
・But all your family had died, there was no one left you had to look out for. To love. Rick didn't even leave his kids in your presence alone. Just because of your ideologies - that maybe there is no right or wrong anymore.
・And then Negan killed Glenn, and Abraham and so many others and you felt so lost.
・But somehow, anyway, you ended up at the gates of the Sanctuary.
・It had been a month in and you were finding difficulties left and right.
・No one accepted you, no one wanted to trust one of Rick's group. They thought you were sent here to spy on Negan. But you did everything to prove yourself.
・And as time went on, you saw Negan's bravado.
・And ... you liked it. Even when it came down when two were together, you still liked his charm. The way he thought. But you could also see the hurt from his past. And how that influenced how he acted today.
・The words he spoke made you tingle, they made you blush (although you concealed it so well that Negan couldn't see it.)
・And when he was pouring his heart out to you, you tried to keep a straight face. Not let him see how you truly felt. Because if you did, then you would have nearly body slammed him to the floor and kissed him until you both couldn't breathe.
・Knowing that the leader of the Sanctuary, THE Negan, wanted you and only you - made you feel ontop of the world.
・And then he did something that you didn't expect.
・He made everyone assemble inside.
・And announced that you were his and only his and then he was only yours.
・That even though the war between Rick and them was still happening, Negan wanted someone solely to himself.
・In other words, Negan's personal life was just as important as the war ...
・When he made all his subjects kneel, and kissed you on the lips, you felt a rush of ... power. Of ... royalty, authority, control.
・It made you buzz.
・When it was just the two of you again, and Negan brought up the wedding, you nearly died.
・Had this been a joke? You thought so, but when you brought up your hesitancies, Negan looked at you with pure shock.
"Hell baby, I know you don't want to hear it, but these past few weeks, I've been giving you test after test."
"What? No you haven't, I would have notice-"
"That was the point, they weren't supposed to be noticeable baby."
"Negan, I - I honestly don't understand."
"Baby, you passed every single one of them. And I know you are the one for me. The only, one for me."
・Even before the apocolypse you never thought you would get married. You never thought someone would want you in that way.
・But apparently your strengths, the things that others saw as weaknesses - was what Negan loved.
"Okay, to make it even though, Mr Smith," you looked up at him with mischief in your eyes. The type of mischief that could breed chaos.
"Hmmm?" Negan said with a raised eyebrow, mirroring your smile.
"I want you to undergo a test." Your voice was light, airy, innocent.
"Anything for you, sugar," he nearly growled.
𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾🔞𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒅𝒏𝒊!
"Knife." You demanded and he pulled the one from his boot. The one he had his closest confidant clean and sharpen every morning.
・He passed it over to you without hesitation.
"Hand," you flipped yours out and he put it over your own.
"Repeat after me," all your words contradicted your eager face. Firm and strong, it excited Negan. But he kept that in.
・You looked at the shiny blade for a moment and admired it. Not too big, not too short, the perfect size for this.
"With my blood, I devote to you my love," you said, and waited a moment for Negan to do the same.
・He readied his throat and looked you straight in the eyes. His were glistening, and yours, gleaming.
His voice was deep, low, "with my blood, I devote to you my love."
・Without taking his eyes from you, you sliced the blade over his palm and did the same to yours.
・It stung, and blood wept from the wound. Faster than you had inticipated.
"And as we merge our blood together, we are now forever bound."
・You saw a hint of his eyes bulging, but only for a second.
・This was it. The final test to see if his words wrung true.
But his gaze flicked back to yours and nodded, "and as we merge our blood together, we are now forever bound."
・You clasped your hands together and let the blood mix.
"Blood of my blood," you whispered. Kissing the back of his hand.
・Where once held a smile, now had a stoic face. Knowing that now you truly were his one and only wife.
・Negan's eyes met yours.
"Bloof of my blood," he growled and leaned over the table to kiss you.
・Your hands stayed linked like that for nearly thirty minutes. Neither wanting to break free.
・An hour after you both decided you could let go. Negan went and sat in his chair, slapping the chair beside you.
With a beer in hand, he said, "I can't believe my wife's got me doing witchy shit," and he gave a chuckle.
"Husband," you said while grabbing the knife and walking over to the seat beside him, this isn't just "witchy shit, it's witchcraft." And then you licked the blood from the knife.
#witchthewriter#negan smith#negan smith headcanons#headcanons#negan x reader#the walking dead#twd#twd headcanons#twd x reader#witch the writer's headcanons#maggie smith#rick grimes#daryl dixon#negan#negan headcanons#lucille#the walking dead reader insert#reader insert#twd fanfic#twd daryl#maggie greene#glenn rhee
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"Poetry - and writing in general - is a solitary vocation. But I have never felt alone in it. I am not alone in it now. Look, you're here, too.
Maggie Smith, Keep Moving: The Journal: Thrive Through Change and Create a Life You Love (via Whiskey River)
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"Bluets", Maggie Nelson
#writing#writers and poets#writerscommunity#writers on tumblr#creative writing#literature#writers#writer things#quotes#women writers#bluets#maggie nelson#self pity#despair#the portrait of dorian gray
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RO's height?
Of course my dear anon
Theo: 6’1”
Val: 5’3”
Juliette: 5’9” (but she slouches so she looks 5’8”)
Oliver: 5’8”
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it’s just me and the other 3? vinylatte authors against the world
#ao3 writers learn to tag background ships properly challenge impossible#maggie/nina#vinylatte#maggie and nina#ngl im kinda sick of wlw being reduced to background characters even when they in canon were important to the plot#good omens
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I have GOT to get my shit together and write the stupid ya novel I have inside me
#just got an ao3 comment that made me self conceptualize as a writer again#I could be ur maggie stievater… bad tumblr blog and all
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All of the depressed, anxious, over ambitious women have all been promising. But me? I’m a lost cause.
#poetry#my writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#spilled poetry#spilled thoughts#spilled words#writing#writing inspiration#writerscommunity#writers and poets#writing prompt#love poem#poem#poems on tumblr#poets corner#poets on tumblr#new poets society#original poem#poesia#nightmare critters#baba chops#maggie mako#yarnaby#rabie baby#sylvia plath#virginia woolf#susan sontag
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Snippet Sunday
have a little sanctioned violence :)
🩸🩸🩸🩸
Velur holds his shoulders back as he struts down the hall, chin high and a glare pinned on Maggie. “Haven’t put her down yet?” he jests. “You’re wasting your time keeping her alive.”
“Watch it,” Anzurin warns, his own anger winding its way through his tone. “Are you –” he starts to ask, but as soon as Velur steps past the threshold into the office, Magdalena snaps.
She shoves Anzurin’s chair into the desk, pinning him for only a split second, but it’s enough to keep him from being able to grab her as she launches over the desk and slams into Velur. Rather than going for a bite or a scratch, she drops her shoulder and rams it into his chest. The hit knocks him to the ground, and she wastes no time in kicking him hard in the ribs. Just as his kick did to her, hers sends him sliding across the floor, a yelp leaving his cursed mouth as he slams into the doorframe. She manages to land one more kick to his shoulder before her arms are pinned to her sides and she’s lifted off of the ground entirely.
Magdalena doesn’t even fight to get loose, satisfied to watch Velur squirm in pain on the floor. She spits on him too, just for good measure.
“Magdalena, don’t spit,” Anzurin coos calmly in her ear, despite his rapid heartbeat against her back.
“What the fuck, Anzurin?” Velur spits as he stands. “Punish her! Fucking kill her.”
“No,” he scoffs. “I can’t even really get mad at her, because if I’m honest, Velur, I gave her permission to kick you.“
🩸🩸🩸🩸
#to be fair#velur kicked maggie first and he broke her rib#so anzurin told her she can do it back to him#(he was mostly joking but maggie took him seriously)#xena talks writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writing#writerscommunity#other writers#snippet sunday
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