#additional tags:

[aemondseyepatch]

Lewis Pullman as Bob in Thunderbolts (2025)

[steampoweredstrawberry]

I think I love Anders so much as a character because there's this honestly hilarious disconnect between how the writers felt about him versus how he and his actions function within the world he was created for.

Because by Inquisition we have everyone and their mother telling us how much they dislike him, how much they don't support what he did. The only exceptions being a serial killer whose only characterization happens within his madman scribblings on a copy of Anders' manifesto and Solas, who wouldn't go to bat for Anders by any degree, but he at least understood why he chose to do what he did.

And that's well and good at telling us that Anders is a bad person who did bad things, but when you look past what characters are saying about him and at the actual world building and lore, the games are positively screaming that he was correct. None of that is more obvious than how he mirrors Andraste in some very concrete ways.

It's kinda funny to me, you know? Just how obvious the comparisons are, while the game itself is like "IGNORE THE CHRISTLIKE FIGURE BEHIND THE CURTAIN".

[randoflurker]

Haircut-pretend with wigs

I wonder if Doey could create clay "hair" with his power

[trans-hakuri]

Happy Kagurabachi Sunday Eve, to all who celebrate!

[coacoacbyers]

Mileven shippers show rec!!

///AN: The following post contains sarcasm and is critical of the beliefs and expectations certain milevens have for season 5 (such as them being married and having children as teens). It is intended for a byler audience. +spoilers for obx s4\\\

Y’all should really try outerbanks, I think you would love it. Especially the main couple Sarah x John B.

There’s some nice teen pregnancy in there for y’all. I know how important that is to you.

And the couple unofficially get married during a traumatic situation where they don’t know how long they’ll have left together (ring any bells? The world ending in stranger things set the perfect grounds and mood for the mileven wedding if only the authors weren’t such cowards). There’s no waterfall, but it happens on a boat!!

Additionally, for the most extremist milevens (representing a very small portion, don’t worry, I know. Most milevens I actually do quite respect), the boy who’s been a victim of abuse and involved in a love triangle (perfect stand in for Will), though he wins the love triangle, he does actually die. Good riddance! (rip my fav character)

-edited for typos-

[15nein]

when you lost your girl and your man but you still got power and title ❤️

[spadesartblog]

Small follow up to the Lightbulb drawing!! II2 17 is coming out today too HYPE!!!!

[svtellify]

Dear Supporter,

I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔

I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊

Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑

https://gofund.me/b141d50f 🔗

boosting this so more people can share and donate!! please help out eman!

[rekrap2-yeahjaron-fanblog]

rekrap2 + yeah jaron. reblog if you agree.

the name's mod is eloise, a latin dummie who uses any pronouns and truly loves these two fellas! follow me on my main, i do funny stuff -> here.

i just created this fanblog because these guys deserve so much more!!! you know, just two handsome and cool guys. boys being bros!

so yeah, tags are down there, they'll keep being updated as time progresses:

rekrap2, yeah jaron -> just posts where parker or jaron are seen

melon duo -> posts where BOTH of them are seen

rekrap2 art, yeah jaron art -> fanarts people make for parker or jaron

melon duo art -> fanart people make where they draw both of them

rekrap2 writing, yeah jaron writing -> people writing about parker or jaron! can be headcanoning posts, au posts, and fanfic posts

melon duo writing -> people writing about them both! (same rule applies here)

rekrap2 screenshot, yeah jaron screenshot -> any posts that are screenshots of them on videos, or in other places on the internet like discord messages, youtube comments, etc.

melon duo screenshot -> just read what's above... you know the thrill.

rekrap2 meme, yeah jaron meme -> any posts that are intented to be silly as heck.

melon duo meme -> any posts that are intented to be goofy as hell BUT we have parker + jaron TOGETHER!!

invisible melonheads clips -> clips of either rek and/or jaron!

eloise talks -> it’s just me talking!!! hell yeah

there's a lot of other stuff to be added, so meanwhile, eloise is going to work on that! remember we can talk about the characters and the irl ppl too in this blog, so be respectful...!

don't be a weirdo, PLEASE. read their boundaries if possible! (ctrl + f to search for their boundaries)

[soranamiwk]

Soranami week!

Starting on November 5 to November 11 ,2025.

Rules:

-Tag me and use the ‘sornami week 2025’

- late submissions are allowed

-create any content: written work, art work, appreciation post, anything want to do!

Comment if you have any questions about anything on this post, I will make edits along the way.

Thank you!

[i-like-anything-water]

Step by step guide to redeeming your girlfriends

Plot, basically: Canon! Chloenette meets Reverse! Chloenette. Dedicated to @generalluxun ! Thank you for the motivation, I will now make them go through Scooby Doo levels of chasing and mystery solving (coughs identity reveal coughs)

Chapter One: Is it kidnapping if I thought we were dating?

The sky has visibly darkened during lunchtime. It wasn't the normal rainy sky though. People were scrambling to get inside or find cover as it was most likely an akuma attack. It was strange, however, that the signal never went off nor were there any explosions nearby. There wasn't even a ridiculously dressed villain with their monologue about getting revenge and obtaining the miraculous.

It was quiet. Suspiciously too quiet.

A bolt of lightning flashed on the darkened sky, the dark purple color leaving a web like structure in its path. Okay, that definitely was not normal.

Chloe was sure it was another Akuma and judging from the last one Ladybug and Chat Noir had to face, they were getting ridiculously more strong as time passes. Which doesn't worry her. After all, Ladybug never trusted her completely to wield another miraculous again so why give a damn about her anymore.

The world shook and she unconsciously switched on her TV to the news.

Nadja was reporting on the strange phenomenon currently happening while the purple lightning continued to flash and leave even more intricate patterns.

Chloe pursed her lips in thought. Ladybug had already enlisted a lot of new (temporary) heros since they faced off against Shadow Moth. She won't be outnumbered or lacking in minions if ever.

She sighed, frustration starting to bubble inside her, "Everything would be easier if she would just let me be Queen Bee!"

"You've got a point," a voice said from behind, "but Queen Bee is rather distracting during battles, 'no?"

Before she could scream at the sudden intrusion of a very familiar looking person, she was swept off her bed and was falling down from her balcony, a set of familiar and ridiculously strong arms wrapped around her securely.

Shit.

She was tapping her foot impatiently, the sound echoing against the room they were in. Claw was leaning by the wall, his knowing glance darting from her to the other occupant of the room who was very much unconscious.

"You scared the shit out of her. You have such a lame type in women," he casually tilted his head, narrowly avoiding a metal ball to his face. Rolling his eyes, he stretched out his muscles earning a disgusted sound from his partner and a laugh from him.

"Careful, your softness for her is showing," she scoffed, her arms crossed as she looked at the blonde. "I am not soft, you fucking piece of vomit."

"I told you, my hair is not that damn vomiting emoji! The shade is different!"

"Whatever," she walked to the unconscious blonde and with a soft tug, managed to lift her head up to a more comfortable position. She looked peaceful, her mouth slightly parted as she let out soft snores.

Even in a different universe, the sight of her still made her go speechless.

Which got her confused. This universe's Chloé looks very similar to her Chloé, just with more yellow than soft pink and white, so why,

"Why is she taking so damn long?" She hissed as Claw shrugged, who was looking down at his manicure and let out a 'tsk'. He needed to get an appointment, soon.

"Maybe because you're not together in this universe," he supplied after a moment, "maybe you're in love with me instead."

"That's one of the worst things you've ever said to me and I want to strangle you right now."

Claw shivered, "Agreed. Agree to never speak about that again."

A figure sighed as she shut her bug phone. Gazing at a familiar tower, she idly wonders if she should wait for them to arrive or continue searching for the person she needs. Deciding to do the latter, she jumps off the roof into the night sky.

Ladybug almost crashed into the hotel room, Chat Noir not far behind. After getting a call from a very distraught mayor and with the sky turning an unusual purple, she had a sinking feeling it was another powered up Akuma. This Akuma hasn't showed their face yet, but Chloé's disappearance was alarming.

"She's not here," she whispered after quickly darting inside the suite. Chat Noir voiced his affirmative and gave her a worried look, "The Akuma must have already taken her but..." Chat frowned, "Unless it had a personal vendetta against Chloé, it's unusual of them to stay hidden."

Ladybug sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Notes: It's divided because the author hasn't decided if this should be a short, fluffy funny fic or dive into possible 'getting therapy from yourself of a different multiverse because it's like talking to one of the voices in your head'. Enjoy!

[aemondseyepatch]

Your Monster (2024) | Karma

[ectogeo-art]

I wrote a little Garashir fic for @whumptober 2023, day 6! It's partially about Julian getting beaten up mercilessly by Jem'Hadar and it's partially about various ways in which sentiment can be an absolutely devastating form of weakness for both Julian and Garak <3

Prompts used: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.” | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

Summary: While imprisoned by the Dominion in Camp 371, Garak and Julian get caught stealing medical supplies and are swiftly punished.

[snowydeskset-ao3]

Martin was having one of his bad days. It seemed there were more of those than not, recently. --- Martin and Peter have a talk. A missing scene to insert... somewhere in early s4. Title from Claw Machine by Sloppy Jane.

[lilbarnsey]

Beneath The Surface

AO3

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three: Winter's Grip (Flashback)

"The cold wasn't just in the air—it was in their bones, in their silence, in the way survival had stripped them down to nothing but breath and instinct."

The landscape was quiet. Too quiet.

Snow blanketed the dead world, muffling the sound of their footsteps as they trudged along the desolate road. The cold bit through their clothes, seeping into their bones despite their best efforts to layer up. A steel-gray sky loomed overhead, thick with the promise of another snowfall.

Genevieve adjusted the rifle slung over her shoulder, her fingers stiff from the cold as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. Beside her, Michonne moved with practiced ease, katana strapped to her back, scanning the tree line for movement. Andrea walked slightly behind them, crossbow in hand, shifting it every so often as if to shake the numbness from her fingers.

They had been walking for hours. Their bodies were exhausted, their stomachs empty, their patience thinning. Finding shelter was a gamble; most houses were already picked clean, their walls either burned down or defiled with walker-infested corpses.

The wind howled through the skeletal trees, but nothing else stirred. No birds, no distant groans, just silence.

Too quiet.

Michonne was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t like this."

Genevieve exhaled, her breath curling in the frigid air. "Yeah, well, I don’t like a lot of things these days."

Andrea snorted, though it lacked humor. "You and me both."

Michonne shot them both a look, her expression unreadable but firm. "I mean it. We haven’t seen a walker in miles. That’s not normal."

Genevieve shrugged, adjusting the weight of her rifle. "Maybe they finally all froze to death."

Andrea scoffed. "If only we were that lucky."

Their pace slowed as they came upon an old abandoned gas station, its rusted sign barely visible under the frost. Snowdrifts had swallowed most of the structure, leaving only a few broken windows and a collapsed awning visible. It looked looted, like everything else.

Andrea shifted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "Maybe we should rest for a bit. Find somewhere out of the wind, at least."

Genevieve hesitated. Rest sounded good. Too good.

But before she could reply, the snow beneath her boot shifted.

It was subtle, just the slightest give beneath her weight. But then—

A decayed hand shot up through the snow, curling around her ankle in an icy grip.

Genevieve sucked in a sharp breath, her instincts kicking in as she jerked her foot away. More hands burst from the ground around them—walkers, buried beneath the snow, frozen but not dead.

They had stepped right into a trap.

"Shit!" Andrea yelped, stumbling backward as a skeletal hand clawed at her leg.

Genevieve barely had time to register the horror before one of the buried walkers lurched upward, its face split open from frostbite, eyes milky-white and unseeing. It gnashed its teeth, lunging for her.

She reacted on instinct. Her knife was in her hand before she knew it, the blade driving down into its skull. The walker gurgled, but its frozen body made the stab harder than expected.

More were rising.

Michonne was already moving. Her katana sliced through the air with lethal precision, severing the heads of two walkers as they clawed free.

Andrea raised her crossbow, fingers trembling, but missed her first shot. Another walker grabbed at her, and she barely dodged in time, falling hard onto her side.

"Andrea!" Genevieve lunged, kicking the walker off of her before driving her knife deep into its temple.

The snow beneath them churned as more walkers emerged, sluggish but persistent, their brittle fingers reaching for anything warm, anything alive.

"We need to move!" Michonne shouted, her breath ragged.

Genevieve hauled Andrea up, her heart pounding. "Go, go!"

They ran—their legs burning, their breath coming out in frantic puffs of steam. The cold air slashed at their lungs, but they didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

The only sound was the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet and the distant, hungry groans of the dead.

By the time they spotted the old convenience store, their limbs were numb, their bodies shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline.

The building was a shell of what it once was—windows long shattered, shelves overturned, looted clean by survivors who had come before them. But the walls were still standing.

Without hesitation, they slipped inside, barricading the door with whatever they could find—an old counter, a rusted metal rack.

Genevieve leaned against a shelf, panting, hands still trembling from the cold and the fight.

Andrea groaned, rubbing her wrist. "That was too damn close."

Michonne didn’t respond. She just stood by the door, katana still gripped tightly in her hands, listening.

For a long moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing.

Then—unexpectedly—Genevieve let out a soft chuckle.

Andrea frowned. "What the hell’s funny?"

Genevieve shook her head, a tired grin creeping onto her face. "Nothing. Just… this world really doesn’t let us catch a break, does it?"

Andrea snorted, collapsing onto a nearby counter. "Yeah, well… if we don’t laugh, we might just lose it."

Michonne, silent as always, actually let out a quiet smirk. It was fleeting, but it was there.

The store smelled of dust and rot, its corners shrouded in darkness. But then—

Andrea’s eyes widened. "Holy shit."

Genevieve looked up, immediately on edge. "What?"

Andrea reached into the shadows, her fingers brushing against something small. When she pulled it out, her face split into a grin.

"Twinkies."

Genevieve blinked. "You’ve gotta be kidding me."

Andrea grinned wider, shaking the box like it was the last treasure on Earth. "I thought these things were extinct."

Michonne raised a skeptical brow. "I’m more surprised no one took them before us."

Andrea didn’t waste time. She ripped open the box and tossed each of them one.

As they each held the plastic-wrapped pastries in their frozen fingers, a moment of surreal silence settled over them.

Genevieve peeled open the wrapper, the artificial scent of preservatives hitting her nostrils. Then she paused.

Andrea’s grin faded as she squinted at the Twinkie in her hand. The golden sponge was discolored, slightly shriveled—far from the nostalgic treat they had all imagined.

Michonne pressed her lips together, flipping hers over in her palm. "How long do these things actually last?"

Genevieve sniffed it once, then made a face. "Apparently not forever."

Andrea hesitated, then gave hers an experimental poke. The cake barely gave under her touch, stiff like stale bread. "You think it’s still good?"

Genevieve and Michonne exchanged a glance.

A long beat of silence. Then, in near-perfect unison—

They all dropped the Twinkies.

Andrea groaned, running a hand down her face. "This is just cruel." As she is wiping her hands with her sleeve she grumbles, “I take it back. Nothing good is left in this world.”

Genevieve laughed—really laughed, despite everything. Despite the cold, despite the hunger, despite the fact that death was always around the corner.

Michonne exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. "Let’s just hope whoever looted this place left something that won’t kill us."

Andrea huffed but didn’t argue.

The laughter faded, replaced by the hollow quiet of the abandoned store. The three of them stood there for a moment, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on them. The Twinkies lay discarded on the dusty counter, a reminder that even small victories in this world were often cruel jokes.

Genevieve sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright. Let’s not waste time. We need to find something edible before we pass out."

Michonne was already ahead of her, moving toward the aisles with her usual sharp-eyed focus. Andrea groaned, pushing herself up from where she had slumped against the counter. "God, I hope we get lucky. If I have to eat another can of mystery meat, I might actually start rooting for the walkers."

Genevieve snorted, stepping over a toppled display rack as she made her way toward the shelves. "If it's edible, I don’t care what it is."

"That’s because you weren’t the one who ate the last can of ‘beef stew’ that turned out to be mostly gelatin and despair," Andrea muttered.

Genevieve smirked. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

Andrea shot her a glare before kicking at an empty soup can on the floor. It clattered against the wall, echoing in the dead silence.

They split up, each searching different parts of the store. The shelves were mostly barren—looted long ago. The only things left were torn packaging, broken glass, and the occasional rodent droppings. The deeper they went into the store, the colder it felt, the shadows stretching longer as the weak daylight barely reached past the front windows.

Michonne rummaged through what was left of the snack aisle, finding nothing but stale crumbs and a half-eaten bag of chips that had been chewed through by mice. She held it up with a deadpan expression before tossing it aside. "Disgusting."

Genevieve sighed, checking under the counter for anything useful. "Whoever hit this place did a damn good job stripping it clean."

Andrea opened a mini fridge near the cashier’s desk, then recoiled with a grimace. "Jesus Christ—nope. Nope. That’s death. That’s actual death."

Genevieve glanced over as Andrea slammed the door shut, pressing a hand over her nose. "That bad?"

"Let’s just say if you were hoping for old soda, all you're getting is a science experiment in liquid rot."

"Good to know."

Michonne stepped over a collapsed shelf, making her way toward the back storage room. "The real supplies would’ve been kept back here."

Genevieve and Andrea followed, their footsteps slow, careful. The door to the storage area was ajar, a gaping darkness beyond it.

Andrea nudged Genevieve. "Ladies first."

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "Coward."

Still, she went in first, her rifle held ready as she peered into the shadows. The storage room smelled of mildew and old cardboard, but it was mostly intact. Metal shelves lined the walls, some still stocked with long-forgotten inventory.

Jackpot.

Michonne stepped past her, brushing dust off a row of canned goods. "Some of these might still be good."

Andrea grabbed one and examined the label. "Corned beef. Expired two years ago."

Genevieve took another can, squinting at it. "Baked beans. Smells… fine?" She shook it next to her ear. "Still sloshes, so it’s not solid. That’s a good sign, right?"

Michonne took it from her and turned it over in her hands. "If it’s not bulging, it’s edible."

Andrea wrinkled her nose. "That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement."

Genevieve smirked, stuffing a few cans into her bag anyway. "We don’t get the luxury of being picky."

Andrea sighed dramatically, but she still helped gather what they could. They found a few other canned goods—green beans, pears, even a dented can of ravioli that Andrea held up like it was the holy grail.

"I haven’t had pasta in months," she breathed, clutching it to her chest.

Genevieve chuckled. "Try not to cry over it."

"Let me have this moment."

They kept searching, checking boxes, kicking aside debris. Near the back of the room, Genevieve spotted a plastic crate and pried it open. Inside were a few bottles of water, still sealed. "Hell yes."

She tossed one to Andrea, who caught it and immediately popped the cap, taking a long drink. "Oh my God. I swear, even water tastes better when you think you’re gonna die of thirst."

Michonne raised a brow. "You weren’t dying of thirst."

"Let me be dramatic."

Genevieve chuckled, stuffing the rest of the bottles into her bag. "Alright, we should get going before we overstay our welcome. If there’s food here, someone else might come looking for it."

Andrea’s smile faded, her grip tightening on the ravioli can. "Yeah. Good point."

Michonne glanced toward the door, nodding. "Let’s move."

They made their way back through the darkened store, their bags just a little heavier, their stomachs still empty but no longer hopeless. The world outside was still frozen, still dead—but for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like it was completely against them.

The winter wind bit through Genevieve’s coat, making her shiver as she pulled it tighter around herself. "Fuck… it’s cold," she grumbled under her breath.

"You're telling me," Andrea muttered, rubbing her gloved hands together. Her breath fogged in the air as she let out a sharp huff.

Michonne, as usual, stayed silent, eyes scanning their surroundings with quiet vigilance. The only sound from her was the soft clink of chains dragging as she led her two pet walkers forward, their dead weight trudging through the snow.

As they moved away from the convenience store, Genevieve spotted a faded, half-buried sign peeking out from the snow:

"JERRY'S CASH 4 GOLD – WE BUY AND SELL ANYTHING"

"This way," Michonne called out, barely glancing back before heading toward the pawn shop.

Genevieve and Andrea followed, stepping cautiously through the shattered doorway. Snow drifted in, carried by the wind, swirling around their feet as they entered.

Michonne secured her walkers outside, chaining them to the metal bars of the pawn shop window before stepping in after them.

The air inside was stale, thick with dust and the faint metallic scent of old blood. The dim interior was cluttered with toppled shelves, empty display cases, and broken glass glinting in the low light.

Andrea and Genevieve moved in tandem, weapons at the ready, sweeping the floor for any threats. The shop seemed deserted—until their eyes landed on a door in the back.

The wood was smeared with dark, dried blood, handprints streaked along the surface like something—or someone—had clawed at it from either side.

Andrea stiffened. "Bad idea?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.

Genevieve’s grip on her weapon tightened. "Yeah…" Her voice was barely audible. "Let’s just—block this up. Just in case."

She didn’t wait for an answer, already dragging a broken metal shelf across the floor, the grating sound making her wince. Andrea quickly joined in, helping her shove it up against the door, wedging it into place.

A tense silence followed as they stepped back, eyes fixed on the door as if expecting it to move.

Nothing.

Genevieve exhaled through her nose. "That should hold."

"Hope so," Andrea muttered.

Behind them, Michonne was already setting up by the front window, peering out through the cracks in the boarded-up glass. The night was closing in fast, and with it, the cold.

Whatever was behind that door... they weren’t planning on finding out.

For now, this place would have to do. The cold still seeped through the cracks, but at least the wind wasn’t biting at their skin anymore. The place had been picked clean—empty glass display cases, shelves half-toppled over, and a layer of dust over everything.

Michonne had taken up a post by the boarded-up front window, keeping watch through the narrowest of gaps. Andrea rummaged through the aisles, checking under shelves and behind counters for anything the last looters might’ve missed.

Genevieve, however, was focused on securing their shelter.

She had dragged an old, heavy wooden bench in front of the door, reinforcing it with a tipped-over metal shelf. It wasn’t much, but it would slow down anything trying to get in. Afterward, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself and dropped down near the entrance, resting her back against the counter.

She’d be the first line of defense if anything—or anyone—tried to force their way inside.

Andrea gave the room another once-over before sighing. "Not much left here. Unless either of you needs an old wedding ring or a dusty-ass guitar, I’d say looters beat us to anything useful."

Genevieve let out a dry chuckle, stretching out her legs. "Figures. I guess sentimental junk isn’t high on the apocalypse survival list."

Andrea sat down across from her, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "You know, if we ever find a safe place again… a real one, not just some four walls and a death trap… I think I’d kill for a decent bed. A real one. With pillows. And blankets."

Genevieve exhaled, a small, tired smile forming. "Yeah… I miss that too." She leaned her head back against the counter, staring up at the cracked ceiling. "I miss… knowing I wasn’t gonna wake up and have to run for my life. Just waking up and taking my time getting out of bed, knowing my dog was curled up next to me."

Andrea looked over at her, her expression softening. "Charlie."

Genevieve nodded, her jaw tightening slightly. "Yeah. Charlie."

A silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Andrea’s lips twitched into a small, nostalgic smile. "You know… that dog was something else. I still remember when you first showed up at the camp with him, back when we had that little spot outside Atlanta. He wouldn’t leave your side for anything."

Genevieve chuckled, though there was a sadness behind it. "Yeah. He never liked anyone getting too close unless I said it was okay. I think he scared the hell out of some people at first."

Andrea snorted. "Scared? Please. That dog had a heart of gold. He was probably the only thing keeping us sane back then." She paused, rubbing her hands over her knees. "You never found out what happened to him, did you?"

Genevieve shook her head, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of her sleeve. "No. We got split up when the farm went to hell. I looked, but… he was just gone."

Andrea nodded slowly. "I still think he made it. If any dog could survive this world, it’s Charlie."

Genevieve swallowed, her throat tight. She wanted to believe that. Hell, she needed to believe that. "Yeah… maybe."

Another silence fell, this one tinged with something unspoken.

Michonne, still by the window, finally broke it. "We should rest while we can. We leave at first light."

Andrea exhaled and shifted to get comfortable. "Yeah, yeah." She shot Genevieve a look. "You sure you wanna sleep by the door?"

Genevieve just nodded. "Someone has to."

Andrea didn’t argue. She just shook her head, muttering, "Stubborn as ever."

Genevieve smirked slightly but said nothing. Instead, she pulled her rifle closer, keeping one ear open for any sound beyond the boarded-up walls.

Outside, the wind howled through the streets.

Inside, the three of them sat in the dim, cold pawn shop, trying to pretend—for just a moment—that they weren’t alone in the world.

And somewhere out there, past the frozen wasteland of the dead… maybe Charlie was still surviving, too.

[spadesartblog]

Trying to get out of the long art block that has been lasting for 3 months please work please work anyways HERE’S LIGHTBULB!!