#and decided to keep it like a kitty. In the middle of apocalypse

[wujekfoliarz]

Now, dont get me wrong - "old crazy man with a monsterous female(-coded????) pet" IS a vibe, but

I dont think the gender of Doctors Pseudodog ( cutscene one) was confirmed (it was referred to with masculine pronouns in Polish voiceover, and the languages have similiar basics, such as genders associated with words) so it is a "do what you want"

But if you imagine it as a male pseudodog, you can imagine the fact that the only possible straight (crack) ship in OG trilogy is two mutated dogs (wolves). Let that sink in....

[phanboyo]

Half Zombie AU 🧟‍♂️

Did the Fentons accidentally create a zombie virus? Probably, but it only became a problem when Danny went down into their lab without supervision and knocked some stuff over. And yes, their samples got a bit mixed up and he definitely cut himself on some of that glass, but no way is he going to tell his parents, he wasn't supposed to be down here anyway. He kind of just cleans up as best as he can, makes it look mostly how he found it and hopes his parents' overworked sleep deprivation keeps them from noticing.

He sleeps through most of the next day, has some wild fever dreams, and wakes up in the middle of the night starving. The raw hamburger meat in the fridge smells amazing actually, and before he even realizes what he's doing he's eating fistfuls of it with the thought that it'd be even better if it were still warm.

Yeah, he's not okay. He's pale, eyes bloodshot, his heart barely beats, and his blood is the wrong color. He doesn't heal as quickly and his pain is dulled. But his sense of smell and hearing has heightened, his strength too.

He can usually control himself enough not to literally attack and eat people but man is it distracting when their hearts start pumping harder and faster. Gym class sucks a lot more. Someone's cut starts to bleed and he has trouble looking away. Yeah, this probably isn't puberty.

Things are normal enough for a bit, with Danny trying to figure out how to deal with his hunger and pretending that Everything Is Fine, but eventually a proper zombie outbreak occurs. I can't decide if it happens when the Fentons' research samples are forwarded from their home lab to an offsite one with other scientists, or Danny finally loses control and bites someone. Either way, Vlad is patient zero and the resulting infected aren't like Danny, they're full-on zombies. Welcome to the apocalypse! Good thing the Fentons are low-key doomsday preppers!

I'm thinking Johnny and Kitty are survivors, maybe Shadow is a pet zombie that he's trained to some degree, someone he knew before he was infected.

Danny is obviously immune to it, he's already kind of infected, and will unfortunately turn other people into zombies if he's not careful enough (how do you think he figured that one out?).

A decent amount of characters probably die pretty close to the start of the outbreak. Maybe Lancer goes down protecting his students, maybe Jack makes a clumsy mistake that leaves him infected and decides to go out in a blaze of glory before he turns. idk

[lovelyknives18]

Tragedy (or how to stop the apocalypse)

Word count: 2,692

Chapter 2/?

Title: Help! I'm being haunted by a dog

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61513879

Still plagued by the beast she encountered, April wasted no time hurrying back to her sanctuary. Home.

April steps inside the building, and up to where her home is on the apartment floor. Knowing she'll most likely have the place to herself until either her father's shift at the hospital is over or until her mother comes back from her job teaching ballet on the upper east side. At least she has her cat, Jenkins. She opens the door and enters, immediately being greeted by the meows of her calico cat, Jenkins. He leaps off of a couch and rubs against her leg, purring as he senses her presence. "Hey, kitty. How's my homeboy doing?" She cooed down at the calico. Setting her backpack down on the couch, April turns the TV on to drown out the silence as the sounds of various commercials play out while she takes her shoes off, until a particular one catches her attention.

April remembers seeing it from time to time in the past, but now the words catch her interest. "Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night?" April looks back as she says to herself. "What the?" After the first man spoke, the second one spoke next. "Do you feel feelings of dread in your basement or attic?" Now April was really interested as she kept her focus on the television.

The third man continues speaking, each question further catching April's attention as she leans closer to the television. "Have you or your family ever seen a spook, spectre, or ghost?"

"Oh come on, please get to the point." April practically sits in front of the TV, throwing her shoe off somewhere in the background. As the ad continues, the fourth man finally gets to the point.

"If the answer is yes, then don't wait another minute. Pick up the phone and call the professionals. Ghostbusters!"

"We're ready to believe you!" Those words echoed in April's mind, Ghostbusters. She had heard of them before but didn't think too much of it, since it is New York and a lot of strange stuff happens. She sees the number flash across the screen and takes note of the location in the background. "They operate out of a firehouse?" April thought, quickly brushed the idea off and switched the channel. "I must be losing it." And she left it at that

Later that night, as April laid in her bed. Her peaceful slumber was interrupted by what she saw. Tossing and thrashing around, those same blood, red eyes and sharp teeth flashed through her mind. then the demonic voice she was sure to never forget. "𝘡𝘜𝘜𝘓!!!"

"AHH!" April shot up from her position, clutching her chest as she could practically feel beads of sweat against her skin. Laying her head against her hands, she sat there for a minute till she calmed herself. "What was that... Thing?" April creeped out of her bed, and into the hallway. Quietly tiptoeing till she accidentally stepped on Jenkins tail, as the poor feline yowled but thankfully didn't wake her parents up (surprisingly) "Sorry, Jenks." April sat down on the couch, and saw the same commercial again. This time she decided to take the chance.

April grabs a notepad and pencil from her backpack, quickly jotting down the phone number as it appears on the screen. Her curiosity is piqued further as the background of the ad changes, showing the exterior of the firehouse where the Ghostbusters operate from. She jots that down too, still intrigued by the fact that they're based in a former firehouse. After taking note of everything on the ad, she keeps hold of the notepad and stands up, determination set on her face. With a determined stride, she swiftly walks back to her room. Picking up her rotary snoopy phone, quickly dialing the number she scribbled down previously. A little bit goes by before the phone is picked up

...

Janine was just getting ready to leave when the phone rings. "This job never ends, does it?" She said to nobody in particular, sitting back down and picking it up. Sounding slightly bored yet professional as she answers the phone.

"Hello, Ghostbusters. How can we help ya?"

April hesitates for a moment, before composing herself as she picked up the landline and walked back and forth. "Yeah, hi. I saw your guys ad and decided to call. Um, I think I might have found out my principal and teacher are a part of a cult and I was chased by a demon dog. And there's a secret chamber under my school and I'm really freaking out right now." She rapidly explained, as the woman on the other end seemed used to these kinds of calls.

Janine remains unfazed by April's frantic explanation. In fact, her response is laced with a hint of amusement and nonchalance, as though she regularly hears similar stories.

"Okay, okay. Slow down. You said somethin' about a secret chamber and a demon dog?"

"Yeah! I-it had horns and its eyes were glowing red. It chased me out of there and back to the library. There's a fake bookshelf that's like a way to open it. Which I should say the door is a freaking bookcase in my school's library!" April breaths rapidly as she tries to calm herself. "I am so sorry for sounding like a crazy person." Janine on the other end remains calm, still sounding mildly amused. She's heard stranger stories.

"Relax, kid, you ain't soundin' too crazy for a New Yorker. We've dealt with our fair share of weird stuff. What's your name, sweetie?"

"April, April Morris" She calmly explained, before realizing that the cord was now wrapped around her... She'll deal with it later. "I forgot to mention that there's a dark, creepy, dank room and staircase you have to go down to even get there."

Janine nods along, writing down the details still seemingly unfazed by April's increasingly wild claims. "Well, April, April Morris. That does sound like quite a situation you've found yourself in. Now, about this secret chamber in your school, are you sure you're not jus' makin' it all up?"

"I'm not making this up, seriously. I saw it." April said, struggling to untangle herself. "All right, all right. Well, how about this? Are ya able to swing by for a chat tomorrow? We're always happy to take a look at any spook-related problems." Janine offered, still skeptical about the claims but can tell April was being genuine.

As April still works to unwind the cord around her, she thinks it over. She definitely has time after school, maybe? "Uh, yeah I can, I think I can find the place." April confirmed, finally breaking free from the cord's grasp. "Yes! OOOP-" Various thudding and crashes could be heard in the background. On the other end, Janine rolls her eyes, slightly amused by the situation.

"All right, then. Come on by our headquarters. We'll be here until late tonight. I'll make sure to tell the boys to expect ya. It ain't too hard to find us. Just look for the old firehouse. You can't miss it."

"I'll be there, thank you." April thanks the woman on the other end and hangs up the phone... what was her name? She takes a deep breath, thinking that she'll go back to sleep and this whole thing will turn out to be nothing but a dream. But her mind keeps flashing the beast. Glancing over at the Polaroid facing downward, April reached for it. Turning it around to get a closer look, it was real. It looked like a dog, well dog-ish. Almost grey but brown, claws that probably put the jaws of life tools to shame. And those glowing red eyes, even in the still image. April swore that it was still staring back at her. Then it happened, the same voice she heard in her dream.

𝘡𝘜𝘜𝘓...

What did it mean? Was it foreshadowing, was she having a spiritual awakening or was it God's actual name... There's no way, not with it sounding like some amateur garage band.

The next morning...

April heads out of the apartment, making her way through the streets of New York as the sun rises and the city begins to take on a different vibe. The city lights up with life, and the sounds of people living, going on about their own adventures begin to fill the air. She follows the directions given to her, making her way to the old, firehouse-turned-headquarters of the Ghostbusters. April looks down at the address she wrote, and up at the building. Stepping forward, She walks through the garage and over. The lobby of the old firehouse is filled with a combination of high-tech equipment and a hint of chaos. Various gadgets, screens, and wires lay scattered about. April approaches the front desk. "Hey, this is the right place right?" She caught the attention of an attractive yet somewhat stern-looking woman with her hair in a chin length bob. Janine looks up from the computer and gives April a quick once-over before responding.

"Yeah, you've come to the right place. You're here to see the Ghostbusters, ain't ya?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm April. We talked on the phone?" April kicked her feet against the floor, trying to calm her nerves. This is actually happening, she's not having some weird dream.

Janine recognized April's voice from the phone call last, and a small smirk appears on her face. "Of course. Wait one second. I'll let the boys know you're here." She reaches for the intercom, connecting to the rest of the building. Egon Spengler, Ray Stantz and Peter Venkman are currently working in the main lab of the Ghostbusters HQ. The room is filled with miscellaneous clutter, various gadgets, and a fair amount of slime scattered about. Egon is working on a complex device, his face deep in concentration. Peter is lounging on a chair, feet propped up on a desk with a Playboy magazine while Ray is tinkering with some new invention. The intercom buzzes to life and the woman's voice comes through, catching their attention. "Hey, boys? There's a kid here to see you about some ghost shenanigans."

Egon looks up from his work, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Ray, who has been tinkering with a new invention, stops and looks up when he hears the intercom. Peter, on the other hand, who has been lounging with a Playboy magazine, groans and lowers it from his face to look up as well. "You know? I actually kinda miss when there wasn't any ghosts." The three scientists exchange glances before Egon speaks up.

"Bring her down." April listens to the voice that spoke through, hoping that it was just an error. "Doesn't he mean up?" She asked the woman, gesturing upwards with her head.

Janine cracks a small smirk, amused by April's reaction. She responds, her tone still professional yet somewhat teasing.

"No, they're down in the basement. Come on."

With that, the woman from the desk stands up and gestures for April to follow her. She leads April over, guiding her down the basement level of the firehouse.

They walk over to the far right, over to the door and down a staircase. "Why did it have to be in the basement?" April whispered to herself. Janine glances back, hearing April's whispered comment. She lets out a tsk sound and responds in a slightly teasing but bored tone.

"Cause dealing with supernatural shenanigans ain't for the faint-hearted. Besides, I think the boys prefer having some space between their work and their... recreational activities."

As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Janine leads April into the main room of the basement lab, the three Ghostbusters look up, their attention directed towards the newcomer. Egon gazes at April through his glasses, an air of curiosity and intrigue in his eyes. Ray, always more warm and friendly, offers her a genuine smile. Peter, on the other hand, lowers his newspaper and gives her a sly smirk, his eyes giving her a once-over. "This is the kid who called last night about her ghost problem, I leave it to ya." And with that Janine climbed back up the stairs. "... Hello," April slightly waved, as she walked into the lab. She steps over, "I need some help with- Ah!" As she goes to speak her hand almost knocks over a device on the table. Egon quickly notices April's fumble and instinctively catches the device with one hand before it can fall. He then gives her a stoic nod in acknowledgment before setting the device back down on the table. "Woops?" Ray, ever the friendly presence, chuckles at her near-accident. Peter, however, can't help but crack a smirk and comment.

"Careful there, kiddo. We wouldn't want you knocking over our gizmos before we even hear what brought you here."

"I am so sorry for almost breaking your... Whatcha-ma-call it." April looks back at the PKE meter she almost knocked over, she tried to think of what to say. "What exactly is it?"

Ray, standing nearby, notices April looking curiously at the PKE meter. He can't help but chime in with a friendly explanation.

"Oh, that's our PKE meter. Short for Psychokinetic Energy meter. It helps us detect any paranormal activity nearby. It's our main tool for finding and identifying ghosts. Very handy to have on."

April slowly nods her head at the information, before taking another step forward.

"Could it, i don't know. Possibly detect a demon dog? Specifically one under a secret chamber in a high school?" The three Ghostbusters exchange glances amongst themselves, intrigue now clearly etched on their faces. Egon raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued as he adjusted his glasses. Ray looking equally intrigued.

Peter cocks his head in curiosity and speaks up, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "A secret chamber? This oughta be interesting."

"Yeah, it's kinda a long story." April sits down in one of the chairs, as she explains what she witnessed and found. During her recounting, April tries not to take too much notice of how Egon is examining her. Maybe he's checking to make sure she's not a ghost? She was feeling completely normal when he got closer to her face.

"I tried to talk to it like a dog, but it just said "There is no dog, only Zuul." I got the bookcase closed again and I didn't really know what to do after I got home. I can't even sleep with" The name Zuul, brought back memories from twelve years ago to the three Ghostbusters. There's no way Gozer might be trying to come back. Is there?

As April describes her encounter, the three Ghostbusters' expressions shift from intrigued to slightly ominous. Hearing the name "Zuul," Egon's eyes widen slightly, and Ray's smile drops. Peter's smirk vanishes, replaced by a frown.

"Hold on, lemme get this straight. You said it said... 'Zuul'?"

Ray can't help but butt in, his voice filled with concern. "Yeah, that's a rather ominous phrase. It's definitely not a response you'd expect from a typical demon dog... or any dog, really."

Egon's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, his expression growing serious. "That doesn't sound good. It might be connected to something we dealt with in the past. Something 𝘣𝘪𝘨."

"Oh come on, this again? You'd think the prehistoric bitch would get the clue, but can't say I blame her. Just can't get enough of us." Peter chimed in, responding with his 'unique' outlook. "I'm sorry, but what happened before?" April stutters, as Peter drags his chair up in front of her. Sits down against the back, preparing to retell the previous event from years ago. Of course with some dramatics.

Peter begins his tale, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Well, buckle up, kiddo. Back when we first started this little venture of ours, we were hired to deal with a nasty ghost problem in some high-rise apartments. Long story short, it turned out to be a whole lot darker than expected."

Sorry I'm a little late with uploading the second chapter, and for my blues brothers one. I'm trying to find a way that works with my posts so 🐻 with me.

[minusgangtime]

The apocalyptic kitty crew batch 13 bios:

“Everything will be fine..I’m sure of it..”

Name: Sadie

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: unsure

Bio: Sadie has stayed inside the house the entire apocalypse. She’s pretty much the same as she always has been..with one difference..her hope..is wavering..anytime someone asks her if they’re gonna be ok,though she said “yes” that was a lie,she’s deeply unsure that everything will be ok and lies to herself that everything will be ok..there have been days where she considered..suicide..cause she feels no one will miss her..she only holds them back..

“Don’t try to bribe me,I know all your tricks. NOW EAT BULLET HELL!”

Name: janko

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral

Bio: for months,she observed the infected behaviors,so when the crew were allowed to fight,she was ready. She wields two of picos spare Uzis to take care of infected,at first they hurt her ears,but she learned to deal with it. She uses her knowledge of the infecteds behaviors to not only dodge them. But also not fall for their manipulation. When she’s inside,she behaves like she normally does. Lively and sassy as ever.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone AGAIN!”

Name: taffy

Age: 20

Status: healthy (cured from corruption.)

Feeling: neutral

Bio: in the early-ish days of the apocalypse,taffy’s friendly nature was taken advantage of. A corrupted infected lured her away and corrupted her,though fortunately,she was saved. Since then,she had been testing out her new corruption powers. When the crew were allowed to fight,she jumped in to help. Using her corrupted powers,she takes care of any infected with ease. When not fighting,she is just as friendly as she’s always been.

“Heh..I know..pretty ugly right?..”

Name: jewel

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: insecure

Bio: in the middle of the apocalypse,jewel was ambushed by zombies,getting bit in the leg and her eye torn out. She had her leg chopped off to prevent herself from getting infected. As a result,now she uses emeralds crutches to move around,since he says he dosent need them anymore. Jewel now is unable to see herself other then freakish or ugly,other then that,she acts mostly the same,though she’s more soft spoken now.

“Hey kids!~ I got you some gifts!~”

Name: Brutus

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral

Bio: when the crew were allowed to help fight against the infected,brutes decided to do something different. Brutal when he goes out,dosent come back with food,but with toys and plushies for the kids,to keep them entertained and happy,and in high spirits. Seeing his family happy,gives him the fuel to keep him optimistic and gives him the energy to get up everyday.

“Alright,alright,time to get serious.”

Name: crunchie

Age:20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral/sturn

Bio: through the apocalypse,crunchie has stayed inside,still remaining as his cheery self. However,when he goes out to get supplies,he gets serious,being as calculated and sneaky as he can to get past infected when getting supplies.

“Hm? Oh,hey..what’s up?..”

Name: Charles

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: lonely

Bio: through the apocalypse,Charles had stayed inside..however,seeing how everyone was struggling,despite wanting someone to talk to,he didn’t bother anyone..so nowadays,he just stays in his room,just doing stuff on his phone,only occasionally coming out to get food.

“I just..I just wanted to things to go back to the way they were..”

Name: spot

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: longing

Bio: despite being as old as nearly everyone else,spot has a more childish mind then the others,meaning when the apocalypse hit,he didn’t know how to process it,to this day he still dosent. He constantly longs for the days of old,just wanting to feel the sun,feel safe and secure,and like nothing could go wrong..he stays cooped up in his room from being sad so much that he sometimes forgets to eat or drink.

“Don’t misunderstand,I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Name: Everest

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: cold

Bio: when the apocalypse began,as Everest saw how it changed everyone,with him helpless to stop it,his emotional state eventually faded out. When the crew were allowed to fight,he took the opportunity. Rather than the others,he simply fights with his bare fists,seemingly not caring if he gets infected or dies. He’s become so used to the horrors of the apocalypse he isn’t even phased by blood anymore. When not fighting his emotional state is clearly falling apart,while he still behaves like he would normally,at time he would be cold and distant to his own family.

“Listen,your family is just going through a hard time..give them time,just know no matter what,they always will love you.~”

Name:toasty

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: exhausted

Bio: through the apocalypse,toasty has tried his best to remain in high spirits,however,he realized the kids might need more support at some point,they must’ve been so scared..so he would gang out with them all the time,he let them dress him up,play plushies with him,and when they were upset,he’d comfort them. Though this takes a toll on him,having to constantly tell himself,everything will be ok,as a way to cope and make the kids belive everything was gonna be ok..he’s emotionally exhausted from putting in a happy face,but feels like he can’t stop. After all,if he does..what will happen to the kids?..

-mod shelby

(I'm glad half of them are okay but Sadie considered WHAT- Ó.Ò)

[yourdeepestfathoms]

We All Still Die (part one)

[The Walking Dead/Zombie Apocalypse AU]

Word count: 2181

TW: Blood

-------------------------

-Fresh-

Aragon isn’t really awake yet. She never is until at least her second cup of coffee, and she hasn’t even had one. She doesn’t have that luxury anymore, really. 

She’s having a hard time getting her eyes to focus in the prickling grey-orange sunlight bleeding down from the setting sun, but it certainly looks like there’s a man near that tree up ahead, crouched down on all fours, gnawing at a leg.

A human leg. Definitely. It’s still wearing a sneaker. And a sock.

The man gnawing on the human leg suddenly stopped chewing, as though some sound had disturbed him. He slowly looked up from his meal. His eyes didn’t blink, and they seemed to be too large for his face. His mouth hung open. Drool and blood trailed down his chin.

She heard about the outbreak in London. Of course, at the time, she hadn't thought it was as serious as the eleven o’clock news made it out to be. They get hysterical about everything. A couple of inches of snow, and it’s THE SNOWPOCALYPSE. She can’t really be blamed for putting their ZOMBIEPOCALYPSE warnings in the same category. Boy who cried wolf, right?

But it seemed the newscasters were at least a little right, because it’s been half  a year since the disease went viral and there’s a zombie chowing down on a human leg just a few yards away from her.

Damn, she really missed her coffee machine.

She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, and a herd of at least ten more zombies came staggering around the bend in the woods. They were covering ground pretty steadily. Faster than most would have expected.

The zombie with the leg saw them coming. He rose from his crouch, teeth bared, leg in hand. Some of the zombie herd moved towards him (herd? is that the right word? maybe a flock? a decomposition of zombies? an infestation, perhaps? anyway.…) and they start a messy tug of war with the leg, mostly using teeth.

Others look around for different prey. One goes for a squirrel. Some seem to be eyeing the tree Aragon was sheltered in, though she’s covered by enough leaves that she doesn't think they can actually see her.

Still, this is really not good. The herd may not be that big, but they’re closer to her camp than she would be comfortable with. She would have to take them out quietly and carefully without attracting anymore that may be lurking around.

And then, there was a gunshot.

One of the Walkers crumpled to the ground from a bullet in its knees. The others whipped their head around to the tree where the green-clad gun wielder was perched precariously with a pistol in hand.

  “Anne!!” Aragon barked in frustration.

The woman, Anne Boleyn, leapt down from her tree and sliced off the nearest Walker’s head with a sword she had apparently stolen from a museum when the world went to shit. She flashed a smile at Aragon before going for another.

Good grief. Well, at least she could count on Cleves to listen to orders.

  “Take that, you stank ass BITCH!!”

Nevermind.

Cleves stabbed her machete deep into the skull of a Walker that was missing its right arm. She yanked it out with a glorious spray of dark red blood, then whipped around to embed the blade into the temple of a second, piercing its brain and killing it once and for all.

Aragon sighed heavily, watching the two idiots slash away at the Walkers. While their method of attack was effective, it was dangerous and very loud. The whole point of the rule “no call outs” was to keep from attracting any other zombies. Same for using guns unless they were absolutely needed. Not that she expected Anne and Cleves to ever understand that when they were paired together. That was exactly why she was basically having to babysit them on this scouting and hunting trip.

With another sigh, Aragon raised her crossbow, aimed, and put a bolt between a nearby Walker’s eyes.

  “Bullseye!” Anne cried, throwing her arms up in the air. “Good job! Ten points to Catalina!”

Aragon exasperatedly rolled her eyes. “Will you--” Her breath caught in her throat. “ANNE, BEHIND YOU!!”

Anne whipped around and screamed as a Walker lunged for her, hands grabbing, eyes rolling, teeth snapping, ready to take a bite out of its prey--

--but then something smashed into the back of its knees and it tumbled to the ground. Much stronger jaws clamped around its head and ripped off a large, dripping chunk. Parts of the brain came with it.

  “Eyy!” Cleves cheered. “Good boy, Pixie!” She rubbed the top of the brown and white pit bull’s head. “Good boy! Such a good boy!” She shot a smirk at Anne. “Once again, Pixie saves your ass.”

  “Oh, pssh,” Anne said dismissively. “I knew it was there. I was letting him take it down for me! To motivate him!”

  “Uh huh,” Cleves nodded and then laughed.

Aragon climbed down from her tree and approached the two. They both were already prepared for the lecture she had sitting on her tongue.

  “We go for the head, Anne,” Aragon said. “You know that.”

  “I do.” Anne nodded. “I’m just a shit shot.” She gave her gun to Aragon, who confiscated it with a sigh. “But hey! Look! We got them all, and with no bites!”

  “I know,” Aragon said. “There was a lot this time. The most I’ve seen in awhile.”

  “I’m sure it’s okay,” Cleves said. “We can handle them.”

Aragon looked at her, then nodded. She scanned the area quickly.

  “We should be heading back,” She said. “Anne, you still have the rabbits, right?”

Anne held up the five hares she had tied to her belt. “Yup.”

  “Good. Let’s get away before anymore muertos show up.”

  “Muertos,” Anne echoed as Aragon led them back to the camp. “Is that really what we’re calling them?”

  “Or Walkers,” Aragon said. “That’s what most people call them.”

  “Is that ‘dead’ in Spanish?” Anne said. “Muertos?”

  “It is.”

  “What’s it in French?” Cleves asked.

  “Morte.” Anne answered. “What about German?”

  “Tot.”

Anne laughed loudly. “We are definitely not calling man-eating zombies ‘tots’!”

  “You asked!”

It wasn’t long before their camp rose up from the thicket. The ski lodge was a safe haven up on the hill, an island cloud of heaven above a world turned to hell. It’s been their base for three months now, when the group first reconciled, and Aragon was hoping to keep it that way.

Firelight could be seen glowing from the cracks between the boards put up against the windows. The planks were a necessity, as they had all seen Walkers easily smash through glass. Whether wood would hold against the strength of the undead was unknown as of right now, not that anyone was eager to find out.

A young woman was up on the abandoned ski lift when they arrived, but instead of keeping watch with her sniper rifle, she had her head buried in her journal, writing away.

  “Cathy, what have I told you about writing while on watch?” Aragon said.

  “It’s...an efficient use of my time?” Cathy guessed with a mischievous grin.

  “It distracts you,” Aragon corrected. “And writing in the dark no less.”

Cathy squinted up at the sky. “But the sun is just starting to set!”

  “Ah, ah,” Aragon tutted. “Come on, now. Dinner is going to be made soon. You can take a break for now--although you’ve technically already had one.”

Cathy and Anne giggled.

Aragon walked into the ski lodge, the bell on the front door signaling their arrival. The smell of roasting meat wafted throughout the building, meaning Maria had already started cooking. A soft tune from a record player set a sort of ease upon the base.

  “They’re back!” Kitty squealed, leaping up from the couch. She ran over and hugged each of them, then gave Pixie a vigorous petting. “No bites?”

  “No bites.” Anne said.

Kitty nodded in approval, then went back to petting Pixie.

  “How was it out there?” A sweet voice like an angel’s asked.

Aragon looked forward and couldn’t help but smile when she saw the woman walking over to them. Jane always managed to make her heart flutter and her knees feel weak, no matter if it was the first or hundredth time she saw her that day.

  “Fine,” Aragon said. “We ran into some muertos, but nothing we couldn’t handle.” She decided to keep out Anne’s shitty shooting and the loudness of their process of killing the Walker. She kissed Jane, then leaned down to kiss her stomach as well, eliciting a giggle from her girlfriend. “And how are you both?”

  “We’re splendid,” Jane said, gently rubbing her belly. She was currently four months into her pregnancy and if Aragon wasn’t worrying about the Walkers, then she was worrying about that. Jane found it incredibly endearing.

  “That’s good,” Aragon smiled. “I’m glad Jane Jr. isn’t causing her Mama any trouble.”

Jane laughed loudly. “Jane Jr.? Really?”

  “Yes! Named after the greatest woman on earth!” Aragon proclaimed.

  “I didn’t realize I was a mirror,” Jane mused, making Aragon’s ears flame red.

  “GOD, you two are SO GAY.” Anne yelled loudly before kissing Cathy passionately.

Aragon rolled her eyes in amusement. Jane laughed again, then sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace. Aragon sat next to her, carefully rubbing her stomach.

  “It’s not going to jump out and bite you.” Jane teased. She took Aragon by the wrist and moved her hand to rub the bump more firmly. “They won’t feel you if you do it so softly.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Aragon said.

  “You won’t, silly.” Jane nudged her. “Oh, and by the way, we are not naming them Jane Jr.”

  “What?” Aragon gasped in horror, making Jane laugh again. “Jane Jr. is a perfect name!”

  “But I’m Jane.” Jane said. “Besides, what if it’s a boy?”

  “Then we name him Ezekiel or something.” Aragon replied breezily.

  “Absolutely not.”

They both laughed. Such an action was sometimes hard to do in the middle of an extinction of the human race, so Aragon always cherished these little moments they were able to have.

  “Dinner!” Maria called.

  “Coming!” Aragon called back. “Here, let me help you up--”

But Jane was already on her feet. She smiled at Aragon fondly. “You gentlewoman.” She said. “But I’m not helpless.”

  “Just taking precautions!”

They walked over to the dinner tables, where everyone was already seated. Anne was retelling her amazing victories in the forest to Cathy, Maggie, and Kitty, while Maria was passing out bowls of stew and Cleves was refilling Pixie’s food and water dishes. Aragon and Jane sat down.

  “It smells amazing, Maria,” Jane said.

Maria smiled. “Thank you! I try my best with limited supplies. Those hares will make an amazing breakfast tomorrow, by the way.”

They all began to eat, savoring the meal, as they did with all of the ones Maria cooked. Food was getting harder and harder to come by nowadays, so they all made sure to be grateful with whatever they got to eat.

Cathy was the first to finish and went out to the balcony to scout the forest below for a moment. When she came back, her features were firm and forced, but her stride was fast, like she was anxious to get away from something.

  “There’s a Walker out front,” She said, and that was enough to send everyone into a panic.

  “What?” Kitty squeaked, cowering in fear.

  “How many?” Aragon asked.

  “One, that I could see,” Cathy answered. “But it’s pretty dark out there.”

  “I’ll go check it out,” Anne said, removing her sword from its sheath on her back.

  “I’ll go, too,” Cleves said, then whistled for Pixie to follow her.

  “Be careful!” Aragon called after them.

Jane went around to Kitty and hugged her. Aragon noticed that the poor girl was shaking- she always had a more intense fear of Walkers and Aragon wasn’t sure why. She just assumed it was from Kitty’s young age. Being eleven in the zombie apocalypse couldn’t possibly be easy.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Jane murmured sweetly. She pulled Kitty into her lap and began to rock her soothingly. “Cleves and your big cousin are going to take care of it, okay?”

  “B-but what if they--”

  “Shh,” Jane kissed Kitty’s forehead. “They’ll be just fine. Anne is as tough as nails, you know that? She would never leave you alone, I promise.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Aragon noticed Maggie shifting anxiously. She looked as worried for her best friend as Kitty was. Aragon walked over and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  “O-okay,” Kitty whispered, then nodded. “Y-you’re right. Nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.”

And then Cleves and Anne burst through the front doors, eyes wide, faces pale, and a limp child clutched in Cleves’s arms.

  “Jane!” Anne cried, “Get your medical supplies!!”

[arks-self-ship]

I’ve mentioned before I cannot stop thinking about Nighty cause my brain is like “holy fuck we’ve been together roughly 6 years” so here’s a rough timeline of us

Please note this is our world life, and is very different from my real life and my experiences have been different. Some pieces have changed over the years to fit who I am (especially with my transition). Some details will vary on occasion but Nighty is the only one who I have an actual guideline for us

(Huge lore dump below)

2014- first meet, I was new to the institute and wasn’t really good at fighting and had trouble making friends with everyone. Kurt asked for my help setting up a prank on Jean cause I happened to be walking by and we started talking and found out we shared an interest in games and listened to a lot of the same music. Ended up being good friends and I started hanging out with him and kitty quite a bit, but wasn’t real close with the rest of the team because of how shy I was. Already knew I was a guy and had hormone blockers and a binder, my uniform had a compressor which was a lot safer and ended up wearing that under my clothes sometimes instead. Wasn’t yet ready to cut my hair to short yet. Depression had started before I even joined the team and was dealing with a  lot of personal stuff. The professor had helped me change my name legally before even joining which was nice

2015- Starting opening up to the team and getting closer with everyone and made some friends at school who were Kurt’s friends but didn’t really have any friends of my own yet. Was getting a lot better at fighting and getting a handle on my powers, and discovered I could use emotional energy to create real bursts later in the year. Started getting really into my art around this time too. Kurt was apparently starting to question his sexuality too but tried not to think about it. Came out to Kurt that I was trans at this point, later in the year told Kitty too. 

Around the middle of the year Kurt kissed me for the first time, we had just been hanging out in my room laying on my bed talking honestly about ourselves and having a nice conversation about our lives. I was caught off guard and didn’t kiss back and he panicked and teleported away. It was a couple days before we really had a chance to be alone and I kissed him back finally, and we ended up talking for a long time about what this meant for us. We ended up being like “We’re still best friends, but now there’s some new stuff to that”, and Kurt wasn’t ready to come out yet so we dated secretly and only Kitty knew. Kurt identified as Bi for a time while he sorted out his feelings but ended up realizing he was just gay late in the year. I was still ace but knew i was bi-romantic

2016- The Professor was really helpful and said he would help pay for any transitioning I wanted to do, as long as I did my best on the team and in school. Ended up telling the rest of the team one by one that I was trans, not everyone really got it but they were supportive and nice about it. Really started to get better at my powers and finally cut my hair real short and had a mohawk for a bit until I settled for an undercut later in the year. Made some friend’s of my own who tended to be the “scary kids” but were actually super chill and played a lot of video games. Ended up getting top surgery as soon as I could.

Same year mutantkind got exposed to the world and I had trouble going back to school with that going on and my depression hit hard, but Kurt was there to help. My new friends thought it was super cool I had powers tho and were a nice support system

Early in the year we had accidentally gotten caught kissing by Toad, who I ended up making him swear to secrecy under the threat of beating the shit out of him. Turns out, he was gay too! So as long as he didn’t tell anyone about us we wouldn’t tell anyone about him, but we ended up on pretty decent terms with him later on. Later though R/ogue borrowed Kurt’s powers in a fight and learned we were dating, but she also promised not to tell anyone. We were also pretty sure Logan, the professor and Jean all knew but weren’t sure (they did)

2017- Pretty chill year, until towards the end where me and Kurt got caught kissing at school by a kid we didn’t know and the news spread through the school really fast. It was really rough on him, but I ended up bringing him into my new non-mutant friend group cause they were mostly queer too. The team learning about it was… awkward to say the least but they we’re pretty chill about it. Because of this Kurt ended up coming out to his parents when he went home for Christmas that year right before he came back. It was rough at first and they didn’t really get it but were the awkward kind of supportive. I mean their kid was already blue and teleported, being gay wasn’t that shocking.

Me and Kurt had gotten really serious around this time, and were talking about our future together, but we were avoiding talking about college because we were scared we’d want to go separate places and long distance was really scary

2018- Senior year was rough for both of us, my grades were doing terribly and the depression didn’t help and everyone knowing about us being together and being mutants was really not helping. If we didn’t have each other I don’t think we could have made it through it, and I probably would have dropped out. I barely graduated but only because Jean helped tutor me and secretly some of my friends did some of the work for me so I could focus on things that were more of a priority. Graduating was so nice, but I suffered severe burnout that summer, and did nothing almost the entire time. Kurt also got an upgraded holowatch at this time that didn’t constantly break on him and was way more durable. I also figured out how to make the emotional energy take shape, easiest things are simple objects and its usually weapons (Swords, bats, bow, ect)

A couple things with our relationship did happen though, that Christmas I went to go meet Kurt’s family. They were super nice, but really awkward and it was nice to get away for a bit. While we were there we ended up finally talking about college and our plans. I knew I wanted to learn psychology and Kurt still wasn’t sure of his plans, but we ended up deciding to do the community college to get our general classes done first and that would buy us more time to figure things out.

2019- Took a gap year together and ended up traveling together across the country in a van. It was a great way to de-stress from everything and finally get a break from being superheroes too. The whole thing brought us a lot closer and Kurt tried to propose at one point while we were traveling, I ended up saying no but in a more of a “Not yet” kind of way, because of how young we are. We talked about it, and agreed we would get engaged when we were a bit older but we kept the rings as promise rings for that one day when we would try that again. We also ended up getting our hair streaks not long before we went back to the institute as a surprise for everyone, plus we thought it was cute.

Please note that the continuity of if there is a virus in this AU shifts based on what I’m feeling for the day cause sometimes I wanna daydream about going out 😔

2020- oh my god this year has been crazy, we started college together and finally being able to be out has been so nice. Or it was until ya know… we got hit with a plague (yup we have that here too) and have mostly been doing classes online which is a shame. We were both looking forward to campus life and being locked in the institute all the time is a nightmare, especially with all the new students that we’ve been roped into helping teach… But hey, hopefully things will be getting better soon!

2020 revised- This year has been wild, there’s so many new kids at the institute now! The professor keeps roping us in to help teach. Being back on the team though is super nice! Although we do have a new member, Laura, who Logan just apparently brought out of nowhere even tho she was the girl who attacked us a couple years back? She’s kinda odd but she’s trying her best (I think…). College has been interesting, some of my friends ended up moving away but some stayed in town which it’s been nice having classes with them.

Some things have stayed the same in both versions tho!

Kurt’s birth mom (M//ystique) has finally been working to turn over a new leaf. She’s definitely not a good guy but she’s not working with the bad guys anymore? Which i guess is progress?? She’s been trying to reconnect with Kurt and R/ogue, it’s been slow cause R/ogue doesn’t want anything to do with her really but Kurt’s talked to her a few times and they’ve gotten lunch a couple times. I guess after the apocalypse thing it kinda made her think about things, and then Kurt and me being gone for so long kinda made her really reconsider things.

It seems most of the brotherhood is still in town tho, which has caused some problems and they have a couple new members too which has been… a problem. M//agneto has been laying low though, which has been nice so the brotherhood hasn’t done anything to bad.

Being back at the school is kinda nice though, I missed being around my friends and luckily the school has had renovations and expansions so there’s more rooms and the senior/core team rooms have their own bathrooms! Which, holy shit is so nice…

Who knows what the future holds for us, but as long as we’re together I know we’ll be fine

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Deacon St. John || Guardian Angel with a Sniper

A/n: In many of these stories, you'll have to imagine Sarah doesn't exist. That was difficult to say because I actually enjoy her relationship with Deacon and he has her name tattooed on the side of his neck.

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

***** Prompt: While annihilating Marauders in an ambush camp in Belknap, Deacon is saved by an unknown sniper. Curious as to who was watching over him, he searches for the mysterious person. *****

~3rd Person POV~

"Bunch of rapists and murderer. Not a single one of you is making it out alive," Deacon mumbled as he concealed his presence in shrubbery near the outskirts of the ambush camp. He held his crossbow tightly as he snuck up to the camp. Trudging up a dirt path, he dove behind a stack of logs before a man on patrol spotted him.

When he turned his back, Deacon emerged from his cover and shot him in the back with a bolt. The marauder groaned as his body collapsed and took a final breath before dying. As he moved deeper into the camp, he killed more men and women. What he failed to to notice was the man with a machete sneaking up behind him. His footsteps went unnoticed as Deacon was solely focused on what was in front of him.

The marauder raised his machete and swung it down. Before the sharp blade made contact with Deacon's head, a bullet whizzed through the air and pierced him in the skull, killing him instantly. The drifter turned around and cursed under his breath as he watched the man's body crumple to the ground, blood oozing from the hole in his head.

Turning his head back to the camp, Deacon witnessed the remainder of the marauders fall one by one. Whoever was killing them was rather skilled and had a silencer attached to their rifle, annihilating the assailants left and right in complete silence.

Deacon followed the line of fire when he witnessed the person kill the last marauder. He was cautious and slightly frightened when he emerged from his hiding place, wondering if he had been saved on purpose or the sniper had missed him by accident. Judging by their accuracy, he leaned more towards the "save" option. Looking up, a glint if silver caught his attention. "There you are." Curiosity took over and Deacon couldn't wait to see who had taken out an entire ambush camp with only a sniper rifle.

On the cliffside overlooking the marauder's encampment, Deacon discovered where the person had been laying in the dirt. "Damn," he groaned, seeing he missed the mysterious sniper. When he turned around, he glanced down and identified an imprint of a boot in the dirt. He kneeled down on one knee and examined the print further. "Which way are you going, huh?"

He followed the trail down the slope and into an old, tattered building. He climbed through a window and crouched beside the door, listening to someone talking to themselves.

"How many more times will those assholes keep returning?" The person huffed in annoyance. "I'm wasting precious ammo here..."

Deacon peered out the bathroom door, spotting a woman with (h/c) locks. He couldn't tell what she was doing because her back was turned to him. Slowly, he crept out of the deteriorating bathroom. His eyes bore into her back and failed to notice the Can by his foot. He kicked the small object, alerting the woman.

The woman spun around with her sniper locked and loaded, aiming the firearm at him. When she recognized Deacon, she lowered her gun. "You're the man who infiltrated the camp."

Deacon gradually stood up fork his crouched position, raising his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "Most people try to avoid marauder camps, but you're clearly not most people."

"Yeah, well," she sighed. "They're a pain in my ass and this is the third time they've returned to this camp. It a little difficult getting around when they're breathing down my neck. Guess seeing all the dead bodies of their fellow members doesn't send a message at all. Either that, or they're dumber than they look."

"Sounds like you're acquainted with them," Deacon remarks, keeping his hands up as he took a single step towards her.

"Was. I left once I found out they were raping and killing people. They still keep tabs on me and I decided to return a favor or two."

"By killing them."

"Exactly. You gonna complain about my morality? Because if you are, I'm calling you a hypocrite right now," she smugly grinned. "I saw you take out some of them. Saved you from one, too."

"Which I am grateful for," Deacon stated.

"You can lower you arms. I'm not gonna shoot you," she chuckled. "By the way, name's (Y/n)."

"Deacon."

"A pleasure to meet you, Deacon. You don't see many nice faces this far from settlements. All you run into are Rippers, Marauders, and Freakers. By your attire," she said, glancing down at his outfit. "You're a drifter."

"You can tell just by my clothes?" Deacon remarked with a scoff.

"No. I knew the moment I saw you through the scope. Normal people don't go out of their way to kill marauders. They just avoid them all in all." (Y/n) flung the rifle across her back.

"How much?" Deacon suddenly asked.

The woman's eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"If you help me take down another camp, I'll pay you."

(Y/n) hopped up onto a table and crossed her legs as she stared into Deacon's eyes. "I'm no gun for hire, but I'll make you a deal. How 'bout this: we take out the camp and you just pay me back by giving me a ride to wherever I want."

"You've got yourself a deal, (Y/n)," Deacon responded rather cheerfully. "When will you be ready to go?"

She snatched up a small makeup pouch and placed it in her coat pocket. "Right now. Lead the way, Deacon."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<

Arriving at Bear Creek Hot Springs, Deacon and (Y/n) dismounted the motorcycle. They spotted a single sniper, which made the woman grin. She placed a hand on the man's back and patted it. "Leave the sniper to me. I'll cover you." She spun on her heels and began searching for a good vantage point.

Deacon hid out of sight, staring up at the enemy sniper. When he saw the woman collapse and drop her rifle, he knew (Y/n) had worked her magic. Moving forward, he made his way through the encampment.

While the marauders were busy in searching for the hidden sniper, Deacon was able to take them out one by one. Among the marauders was a rather large and burly man. He dove behind a large bolder, preventing (Y/n) from getting a good shot. Deacon tried to sneak up behind the man while he was searching for the sniper, but he turned around before he could drive the blade through his skull.

The brute elbowed Deacon in the face, incapacitating him for a few seconds. In the small time frame, he knocked the drifter to the ground and reached for the machete strapped across his back. He shouted as he swung the blade down, but it abruptly stopped a few inches from Deacon's face.

The marauder pinning the drifter down gurgled and coughed up blood before another bullet pierced his skull.

"Holy shit..." (Y/n) breathlessly sighed as she lowered her weapon, watching Deacon kick the corpse off him. "Are you alright?"

"Y'know," he groaned as he got to his feet, placing a hand over his bloodied nose. "This is the second time today you've saved my ass."

The sniper smirked, resting her firearm across her shoulder. "I did say I would have your back."

Deacon winced as he messed with his nose. "Glad to see you stuck to your word."

"Sit," the (e/c)-eyed woman demanded, nodding towards a picnic table. The drifter did as she commanded and sat down. (Y/n) pulled out the makeup pouch from her pocket and unzipped it. Inside were bullets, gauze, a few bandaids, and a small bottomless of rubbing alcohol. Deacon was quite surprised to find what was truly inside the pouch. (Y/n) noticed his gaze and snorted with laughter. "Did you really think I had makeup in there?"

"Not gonna lie—I did," he answers honestly.

"Makeup in the middle of the apocalypse? Even if I did, there's no way in hell I would waste such a luxury while hunting Freakers and Marauders. I wouldn't even spare an ounce of foundation for Rippers." (Y/n) pinched the bridge of his nose and wriggled it. He winced from the small wave of pain. "You're lucky. Your nose isn't broken."

Deacon waited patiently as the woman tended to the cut on his nose and wiped the blood escaping his nostrils. She took a bandaid out of the pouch once she cleaned the cut and placed it over it to prevent anymore germs from attacking the open wound. "There. It's a shame I don't have Hello Kitty bandages. I know you'd wear it proudly," she teased, placing the rubbing alcohol back into the makeup pouch and sealing it.

Deacon rolled his eyes with a groan at her comment. He chose to not acknowledge it and stood up. "A deal's a deal. But..."

(Y/n)'s smirked drooped into a frown. "I don't like the sound of this..."

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm still gonna need your help," he exhaled. "For now, we're headin' to O'Leary Mountain. We've got a safehouse there."

"Uh, "we"?" She questioned.

"Boozer and myself. He's like a brother to me."

This was the first time (Y/n) had heard Deacon's voice rather gentle. He didn't strike her as a man who could speak highly and gently about someone else. Under his gruff exterior was definitely a man who cared deeply for others. She couldn't help but smile warmly. "To O'Leary Mountain, it is."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<

Upon arriving, the duo were greeted by a rather buff man tattoos on his head. "Where the hell have you been, Deek?"

"Making the roads safer to travel," Deacon replies as he hopped off the bike while (Y/n) remained.

The unknown drifter eyed the woman with a wary gaze, unsure of what to think of her. This was the first time Deacon ever brought someone to the safehouse of his own free will. "Who's this?"

"This is (Y/n). She's been helping me take out the ambush camps."

Said woman dismounted the bike with a gentle smile. "You must be Boozer. Nice to meet you."

Boozer wasn't sure how to feel about the mysterious woman and turned to Deacon. "Can I talk to you alone?"

"Jesus, Boozer, fine," Deacon huffed in vexation as he followed his fellow drifter up the steps of the watchtower.

At the top, Boozer looked down upon the woman who respected them by staying by the bike. "You trust her?"

Deacon flung his arms on the metal railing, leaning forward as he watched (Y/n) rummage through her makeup pouch. "Listen, it's thanks to her that I don't have a goddamn machete lodged in my skull. She could've sniped my ass by now, but she hasn't."

"She could be waiting for the perfect opportunity," Boozer retorts vehemently.

"Christ, Boozer! Not every damn person out in the shit is after us! She had my back while I infiltrated the ambush camps. She had plenty of opportunities to put a bullet in my head, but she didn't. Whether you like it or not, she's helping me."

The air between the two drifters became dense with silence. Boozer weakly glared at his partner in crime. "I hope you know what you're doing, Deek."

"I do," the man responded with a hint of anger towards Boozer's doubt in his decision.

Not wishing for the awkward and tense silence to return, Boozer questioned Deacon's plan as he was curious to what he planned on doing next with (Y/n). The bounty hunter told him how they'd take out the ambush camps in the Cascade region in the upcoming days.

Knowing he couldn't change his friend's mind, Boozer sighed in defeat. "Alright. Do what you gotta do, but make sure watch your back. You may trust her, but I don't."

"I always watch my back, Boozeman. You worry too much," Deacon remarks. Boozer rolled his eyes before entering the watchtower and crashing onto his bed with a grunt.

Down in the ground, (Y/n) meandered over to a platform that overlooked the mountainside. The setting sun slowly descended beyond the horizon, the warm and vivid rays still gripping ahold of the forest below before vanishing from sight. She enjoyed the warmth of the beautiful rays until they were replaced with darkness. The sniper didn't realize Deacon had joined her until she heard his boots scuffle against the wooden platform.

Not even sparing him a glance, (Y/n) crossed her arms and kept her eyes glued to the horizon. "Not only do you have an impressive safehouse, you've got a beautiful view. It's almost like the world hasn't been torn to shreds." A cacophony of groans from nearby caused her to sigh in disbelief. "And the moment's ruined..."

Deacon had become quite interested in the woman standing beside him and had questions he wanted to ask her. "So, who is (Y/n)?"

The woman giggled lightly at the sudden question. "I was a marine biologist in Orlando. Now, I'm a woman with an itchy trigger finger."

"You're a little far from home, don't you think?" Deacon chortled.

"I was visiting my parents when the outbreak occurred. I tried to leave and head back to Florida, but those NERO assholes wouldn't let anyone leave. Lo and behold, here I am."

Deacon was a little hesitant to ask his next question when he heard about her parents. "Where're your folks now?"

(Y/n) glanced down, eyes plastered to the splintering wood below her. "Dead."

Taking a few steps back, the drifter rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit, I didn't—"

"You didn't know, Deacon. No need for an apology. They died only a week after the outbreak. We were hunkered down in their house in Marion Forks when a few Swarmers broke into the house while we were sleeping. They ended up breaking through the window in my parents' room and... tore them apart within minutes. I was able to escape while they were occupied with eating my parents." (Y/n) spun around to face the drifter, bring her bottom lip before releasing it. "You're lucky to have Boozer. My parents were all that I had left. And now, they're gone. Gotta admit—I'm kinda jealous of how close you and Boozer are."

Deacon was in disbelief. He couldn't believe (Y/n) had no one else in the world who cared about her or her well-being. He wasn't good at trying to comfort people, but he wanted to try and reassure her. When he opens his mouth and no words came out, he sealed his jaw.

(Y/n) cleared her throat, regretting how she made the atmosphere between her and Deacon tense and awkward. "You should get some rest. We've got quite a busy day tomorrow."

"We've, uh—we've got a spare mattress in the watchtower. You're free to use it," Deacon explained.

(Y/n) offered him a weak, forced smile. "Thanks. I'm gonna stay down here for a little while longer."

Deacon tugged on the rim of his backward facing cap. "Suit yourself."

(Y/n) watched the drifter wall up the two flights of stairs and enter the watchtower before redirecting her gaze to the shadowy scenery before her. Her hand gravitated towards her collarbone, grabbing the chain hung around her neck. She gripped the two rings threaded through the silver chain tightly. One was her father's wedding band and the other was her mother's diamond ring. A tear trailed down her cheek and she immediately wiped it away. "Dammit..."

<—————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

The next morning, Deacon woke up to the sound of Boozer mumbling incoherently to himself. Running a hand across his face, the man sighed. "What's goin' on?"

"(Y/n)'s gone," Boozer plainly states, emotion void from his voice.

"She's probably just wandering around," Deacon said, blowing off Boozer's words as he left the watchtower in search of the woman. "(Y/n)?" He glanced around the safehouse, wondering where she could've run off to. By the state of the spare mattress, he knew she hadn't used it.

Suddenly, the sniper's head popped out from behind the shed. "You need me?"

"Uh, no. Just... wondering where you were. Boozer thought you ran off."

At hearing their conversation, Boozer left the watchtower. He stood beside his only friend in this hellish world, crossing his arms as he eyed the approaching woman. "Guess your guardian angel didn't give up on your crazy ass."

"Last time I checked, guardian angels don't carry around snipers on their back," Deacon stated.

"Yours might."

Deacon glanced at Boozer with a raised brow in silence. He turned his gaze to (Y/n), who seemed more dirty than yesterday. He also noticed the small bags forming under her eyes. "You didn't sleep. Why?"

"Too busy doing some reconnaissance. On the road, you said you were unsure of where the camps were located in this region. Goods news," she smirked, revealing a map of the Cascade region. "I've been able to pinpoint two."

Deacon took the map, analyzing the red circles on the piece of paper. "How'd you—"

"One word: smoke," she grinned triumphantly as she interrupted him. "I had to climb a tree to get a better look of the area. I... may have fallen while I was climbing down and landed in a pile of mud."

A deep chuckle of amusement came from Deacon as he handed the map over. "You're one hell of a strange woman."

"I'll take that as a compliment." (Y/n) snatched the map out of the drifter's hand and gestured to his bike. "Shall we?"

Deacon didn't see a reason in waiting any longer. "Let's get going."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

A year had passed since Deacon encountered (Y/n) and asked for her help. He never thought their partnership would last this long, but he found himself always asking her to tag along on missions for Copeland, Tucker, and Rikki. They faced Marauders, Rippers, and plenty of Freakers in their journey through Oregon.

Deacon and (Y/n) were currently in Lost Lake Camp. Rikki had dragged the drifter off, needing to talk to him in private. The sniper sat by a gazebo, listening to the guitarist create a melodic tune with his guitar and singing along. She leaned forward and reminisced in He peaceful moment. It had been nearly two years since she heard any form of music or even a simplistic melody. Even the birds stopped singing after the outbreak.

"Hey, you ready to head out?" Deacon's voice sliced through the tranquil atmosphere.

(Y/n) frowned slightly due to the beautiful moment being ruined as she got to her feet. "Yeah. What did Rikki need?"

"Bounty hunt. Seems we'll be hunting down some asshole named Ken Greene. Bastard shot a woman in camp and stole her wedding ring before making a break for it," Deacon explained.

"Stole a wedding ring? Why kill her over something that small?" (Y/n) questioned, a single brow arched in confusion.

"It doesn't matter why. We're gonna find his ass and kill him. Rikki wants us to bring back the ring as proof."

The woman grinned, tugging at the strap across her chest. "Let's hope he runs. I do enjoy a thrilling chase."

The partners departed from Lost Lake Camp and headed to Camp Pioneer. It wasn't a long ride and they arrived ten minutes later. Deacon decided to hide his bike when he heard the jubilant laughter of many men and women close by. (Y/n) separates from the drifter and searched for a vantage point. It was difficult finding a good spot due to there being no cliffs or plateaus that overlooked the camp. "Damn. Guess the bushes will do."

The sniper laid down in a throng of shrubbery beside one of the cabins and peered through the scope atop her rifle. She observed the cackling individuals gathered around a campfire. Dead bodies were scattered throughout the camp, turning the pure, white snow crimson. (Y/n) wasn't sure which man was Ken, but she and Deacon would make sure not a single one of them left Camp Pioneer alive.

Without hesitating, (Y/n) aimed at a woman and pulled the trigger. Her body collapsed, blood pouring from the bullet hole in her chest. The corpse alerted the remaining drifters gathered around the fire. They scurried around in search for cover with their weapons drawn. Through the scope, the sniper spotted Deacon sneaking up behind one of the drifters and slicing her neck. He moved on to two more men while (Y/n) terminated another man and woman poking their heads from cover in front of the restrooms.

Unbeknownst to the woman, a figure snuck up behind her and discovered her hiding spot. The man used his bare fists to punch (Y/n) in the back of the head. She cried out in pain, but the blow wasn't enough to knock her unconscious. She swiftly spun around, dropping her sniper and kicking the enemy in the shin. He grunted and delivered another punch. This time, his fist slammed into her face.

(Y/n) searches for the knife Deacon had given her a few months ago, but before she could grab it, the man grabbed the chain around her neck and yanked her up. The force broke the chain and he grinned when he saw what was once around her neck. "Oh, where'd you get these treasures?"

"Give them back," (Y/n) growled.

"How 'bout this." He pulled out a pistol, aiming at her head as he admired the wedding rings. "I keep the rings and you get to—"

Before he could finish his sentence, (Y/n) kicked the man in between the legs. He whimpered, dropping the rings and the firearm. She pounced on top of him, punching him over and over in the face. Blinded by anger, she hadn't realized he stopped breathing and continued her storm of punches.

"Hey! Hey! (Y/n), stop!" Deacon shouted as he finished off the last man and ran over to her. His yelling fell on deaf ears as she proceeded in beating the enemy. He kneeled beside her and grabbed her hands before she could deliver another punch to the dead man's face. "He's dead, okay? Look at your hands."

(Y/n) glanced down at her bloodied hands, noticing it was a combination of hers and the man's. The adrenaline pumping through her veins blocked the pain in her hands and she didn't even feel the cuts and bruises on her hands until she calmed down. Her eyes widened as she tore her hands out of Deacon's and searched through the thin layer of snow covering the ground. "The rings... Where're the rings?!"

Deacon glanced around and grabbed two rings off the ground by his foot. "You mean these?"

The woman snapped her head in Deacon's direction and peered down into his palm. "Yes! Oh, thank god..."

"Whose are these?" The drifter questioned as he handed the rings over to her.

"They're my parents' wedding rings." (Y/n) held the jewelry close to her chest. "Were you able to kill Ken and grab the ring he stole?"

"You beat me to it." Deacon plucked the diamond ring off the dead man's finger and held it up to show his partner. He glanced down one last time at Ken with a scoff, admiring (Y/n)'s handiwork. The man's nose was shattered and twisted in the wrong direction. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes were out of alighted. "You really did beat the shit outta him. Never knew you had it in you."

"Neither did I." The moment (Y/n) stretched her fingers, she hissed in pain and regretted moving them. "Ah, shit..."

"Hold on." Deacon fished around in his pockets until he found gauze. "Give me your hands."

(Y/n) held out her trembling, bloodied, and bruised hands. Gingerly, he wrapped the white fabric around her knuckles and fingers. It didn't take long for the white to turn crimson.

"Addy'll have to take a look at your hands when we get back to Lost Lake." Deacon placed the remaining gauze in his pocket and went to grab (Y/n)'s sniper from the bushes.

"Could you hold on to these for me?" She asked, holding out her parents' wedding rings.

"Yeah." Deacon took the jewelry from her and placed them in his pocket.

The woman stood up and followed Deacon to his motorcycle. As she hopped on behind him, she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. With every little movement of her hands, she could feel immense pain surge through them. "Fuck... I shouldn't have beaten him to death..."

Deacon huffed with laughter. "Lesson learned."

<——————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

"What did you do—punch a rock?" Addy inquired as she inspected (Y/n)'s hands.

"Something like that..." She mumbled in response.

"You should see the other guy," Deacon scoffed.

The doctor didn't question any further and searched around the infirmary for the antibiotics, hydrogen peroxide, and gauze. Finding what she needed, the woman placed them on the bed beside (Y/n). "Not gonna lie," she began, dousing the gauze in hydrogen peroxide. "This is gonna hurts like hell."

(Y/n) gritted her teeth in pain the moment the gauze made contact with her open wounds. She flung her head back, desperately trying not to yell at the top of her lungs. She glanced to whee Deacon stood and saw he was gone. "Where'd he—Ah! Addy!"

"Sorry, but we can't these cuts to get infected. Your lucky you didn't break your hands. It'd be a little difficult to do your job if your fingers were broken." Addy finished wrapping the woman's hands and grabbed the bottle of antibiotics. "Take one of these before you sleep. I didn't any sign of infection, but I just want to be sure. The pills will also help with the pain."

"Thanks, Doc," (Y/n) smiled gently.

"No more punching or shooting until you're completely healed, understood?"

"But what if—!"

"Understood?" Addy's voice held a dark undertone.

(Y/n) sighed. "Fine..." Glancing up, she locked eyes with Addy. "I can at least walk around, right?"

"All I'm telling you to do is avoid anything and everything that will aggravate your injuries, (Y/n). Walking isn't one of those things."

"Then how the hell am I gonna eat?" The sniper groaned.

Addy smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure Deacon would be glad to help you."

"Ha ha, very funny, Addy. Nice to know you have a sense of humor." (Y/n) stood up and made her way to the entrance of the infirmary. Before the door closed behind her, she thought she heard the doctor say something under her breath but decided to ignore it.

(Y/n) waltzed to the docks where the kitchen was located. A few men and women greeted her as she walked past them. Reaching the edge of the dock, she gazed out at the still, crystalline water. In the distance, she spotted a few Swarmers wandering along the banks of the lake.

"Wondering where you went."

The woman jumped slightly at hearing Deacon's voice from behind her. She peered over her shoulder at the drifter. "Shit, Deek, you gave me a heart attack..."

"Turn around," he demanded.

(Y/n) did as she was told and spun to face him. Deacon held something in his hand as he wrapped them both around her neck. She felt something cold touch her skin as he latched something behind her neck. He pulled away and the woman glanced down, lifting one of her sore hands and brushing her fingers gently against the metal. "A new chain. Where'd you—?"

"I, uh... I asked Rikki if she knew where I could get a necklace chain."

(Y/n) threaded one of her fingers through both her parents' wedding rings, making sure to not aggravate her impaired hand. "Thank you, Deacon." She flipped her gaze back to the water, silence befalling them. When she remembered what Addy said, she turned back to face the drifter. "There was something—Deacon?" The woman noticed he was staring at her with a scramble of emotions in his eyes. Her brows furrowed in confusion as to why he seemed so out of character at the moment. "You feelin' alright? It's like you're somewhere very far from here."

"Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

By the nervous tone in his voice, (Y/n) knew he was lying. "Yeah, and I'm the Queen of the England. Now tell me what's bothering you. We've been friends for a year now and I can read you like an open book. Somethings bothering you and I won't stop pestering you until you tell me what it is. It'll make you feel better if you get it off your chest." The sniper glanced down for a split second with a sigh. "God, I sound like a therapist..."

"Fine. You wanna know?" Deacon snapped back, which unfazed (Y/n) because she already knew he wasn't fond of people prying. "It's you."

"Me?" (Y/n)'s eyes slightly narrowed at the revelation. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

Deacon paced back and forth while scratching the back of his neck. He remained silent, refusing to answer the woman's question as he wasn't sure how to respond. Suddenly, he came to a stop in front of (Y/n) and sighed. "Fuck it."

(Y/n) wasn't sure what was happening until Deacon placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her towards him. He placed his lips against hers in a hungry and needy kiss. Due to how much force he put in the kiss, the woman placed her injured hands on his arms to keep herself from falling backwards.

They heard someone walking towards them and Deacon pulled away from (Y/n). Turning around, he saw a smirking Addy watching them. She held up a bottle of antibiotics. "You forgot something in the infirmary, (Y/n)."

"Uh, yeah," the woman sighed. "Thanks, Addy."

She went to snatch the small bottle from her, but the doctor retracted the pills. She leaned forward and whispered to (Y/n), her smirk widening. "What'd I tell ya?"

The sniper grumbled in response. "Just give me the damn pills..."

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Puddle Jumper, Ch1

Genre: sci-fi fantasy, wlw, series

Words: 3.2K

Summary: A young woman starts seeing a mysterious figure in the nearby puddles, it’s only a matter of time before she goes looking into them

CHAPTERS: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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CHAPTER ONE: MARNY ISN’T DEAD

When I was seven I lived in a place with no rain. Dry as dust and thirsty as a man lampooned in the pacific, I thought Arizona would never end. Skies as blue as uncut blood, land bathed in brilliant bleached light from one corner to the next. It was the third place I ever lived, a small tiny condominium with five neighbors and no outlet mall for twenty miles.

All the houses in the town had three things in common: the color beige, tiny blinking wall lizards, and an oblong pool in every backyard. Some of the pools were even filled, those were the people you wanted to make friends with but I never was very good at making friends. You could lose them too easily, upset them too thoroughly, lose them, lose them, lose.

It was a barking hot day in late August when I Arizona become more of an enigma than just the heat and grungy pool bottoms.

It was August and I stare at one of the Arizona house lizards, with it’s muddy green stripes down its back and tiny little hands clinging to our wall. I pinch my lips together and wiggle my fingers, it’s thin scaly body mocks me. My mom always told me to leave them alone- more would just take their place. I’m not very good at letting things go.

I follow the lizard, watching it waddle and blink across my bumpy living room wall, I huff a deep breath, trying to get up the nerve to make a dive at him again. “This isn’t your home,” I hiss and scowl at the thing. “Go make a tiny lizard home outside, shoo.” He doesn’t listen.

The house was empty, my mom had given up forcing me to go to school that day in particular since I managed to kick and scream at the door so much. I was eight, I could stay home alone for just a day. A stalk a lizard along the living room wall and bite my bottom lip so hard it cracks, sweet beads down my brow. I meet the lizards eye and we size each other up, only one champion could arise. 

I tense.

“Boof!”

I only jump slightly when a loud bark erupts off to my left.

“Boof!”

I frown and turn around to face our small reddish-brown terrier mix, he stares blandly back at me. He was seven-years old at this point and still hadn’t learned polite conversation.

He was more of a ‘constant screamer’ than the conversational type, I scowl back at him.

“Shush, Rusty, I’m working.” I straighten my shirt like I had seen my dad do last year, right before he left for the office each day.

“Boof, boof, boof!”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the wall, “at least try and eat the lizard. It’s bringing disease!” I didn’t know that, but neither did Rusty.

He goes to the door and scratches at it, “Boof, boof.”

I put my hands on my hips, “It’s so dang hot, Rust, you’ll start panting and whine to come back in,” I wag a finger, “silly boy.”

“Boof, boof-” His eyes are focused on something outside, I don’t check what it is.

I try to reason with him, “it’s just the sun boy.”

“Boof, boof, boof, boof,” he yaps non-stop.

“Fine, fine!” I say hotly and turn toward the sliding glass door, I didn’t know what he was looking at at the time. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I open the door and shoo him out into the dry scraggly grass and empty blue sky.

He’s gone in a heartbeat, Rusty was a good dog. He never complained when we took our long road trips with few bathroom breaks, he always put his small head on my lap when I cried.

He didn’t go streaking off into the neighbors yard as fast as a bullet, he didn’t go running out into nowhere. But my mom always said no matter how well you know an animal they’ll still be a whole other world to you. They don’t think the same.

Rusty did take off like a speeding bullet.

I stick my head out after him and for a moment, just a moment, I think I see him falling, falling and falling straight into the neighbors shallow pool.

But that can’t be true.

I dash outside and yelp at the painful spiky dry grass hitting my soft bare feet and go jumping and yelping toward the pool, “you silly dog.” I chastise when I get to the pool, but, of course, it’s empty.

I stand there for a very long five minutes.

We spend the next few days with ‘lost’ posters and circling the town in my mom’s brown corolla.

Perhaps if I had known better I wouldn’t have lost him. I was a responsible child, that’s how I documented it. I didn’t think of my mother’s wrath or the spanking I’d get, I bit my lip and didn’t think about how we could possibly lose a small terrier dog on a street with only five people.

I cry and keep looking for our small terrier mix for three months, right up until the neighbor girl just tells me my dog is dead. That’s just what happens to pets she said, she lost her hamster last year just like that, it’s how it was.

I cry again, I was a big crier, my mom said I’d never get a boyfriend if I kept that up, but maybe she was telling a joke or nursing one of her famous headaches, I don’t know.

When I was 28 I lived somewhere with only rain and sky the color of rumbling grey mush, it was all rain and streets with no sidewalks, and I this time I had hope Marny wasn’t dead.

-------

I’m 28 and it’s a damp fall day with no hope of sun in sight.

A light drizzle wets my cheek and clings to my clothes like a chilly dust sprinkling the earth. The rain isn’t heavy enough to demand an umbrella, but it does send a chill into my bones. I wish I’d worn some more sensible shoes, but I don’t want to go back now.

The neighborhood is silent all around me, crawling with it’s own faceless quiet. I stare around, searching for even the tiniest movement.

I cup my hands around my mouth. “Marny!” I call in a sing-song voice.

Nothing, just the hush of a neighborhood full of overworked young adults and a nuclear family that always made their kids go to school each day (unlike some people).

My sneakers make an uncomfortable squishing sound as I step out of the grass and onto the driveway. I stare right, left, right again. Still nothing.

Other than a bird squawking tunelessly in the distance, it feels like I’m the lone survivor of some nuclear apocalypse. Well, that’s Thursday afternoon for you.

I walk down the street, shoes squishing with every step, stopping at each house to check their gardens and bushes.

I pause at end of the road to hike up my too-loose jeans. Marny rarely leaves the street but I decide to check anyway. She doesn’t know the rest of the neighborhood well, and might have gotten lost. That could explain why I haven’t seen her in days.

My street is about halfway down a steep slope with the neighborhood entrance at one end, beside the cemetery, and the park at the bottom. I remember when I first got here and rode my bike down this slope, crashing into the fence at the bottom. There’s a slight ache in left hand where I skid on the slick street and rammed into the metal, Julie called it ‘over-enthusiasm.’ I called it getting rid of my new bike.

I sniff and remind myself I am an adult that does not resent inanimate objects, I skirt the fence anyway.

“Marny,” I call again, this time a little more weakly.

The road is empty as I begin the slow climb up to the neighborhood entrance. The cemetery is damp and full of uneven patchy ground, annoyingly mundane for a place dedicated to dead bodies. If Marny is sleeping here again though I’ll still be glad I checked, even though I was starting to frown deeply. I would check the benches, and then the park, and then I’ll break out the ‘lost’ posers. Something twinges inside me at the thought.

I sigh and hike up my pants again. I need either a belt or a smaller pair of pants, but I’m lucky to get to the grocery store these days, much less Goodwill.

“Marny,” I call, mindless of anyone who could be listening. “Marny! If you don’t come out right now I’m going to eat all your tuna Meow Mix! Don’t think I won’t.”

I wouldn’t eat it of course. I’ve tried it, and it tastes worse than you would think. Very filling though.

The cemetery is small plot of land that blends mutely into the surrounding area, my friend once asked if I minded living by a dead person plot, but it never really stood out in my mind. 

Wild green grass, a collection of crumbling headstones, and a single willow tree that rose in the middle like the citadel of a long forgotten city. No one has been buried here in decades and not not even the local goth kids wanted to bother the Sue’s and Paul’s of the bland graveyard.

Marny likes to come here and sunbathe on the stone benches, ignoring the world and showing her belly to the light. Of course, she’s not here either. I check the hedges along the rear.

“Here kitty!” I call.

A raindrop falls through the air, landing on my nose. I wipe it away with my sleeve.

“Please not today,” I growl at the sky as if it will change anything. I don’t know what I expect of Portland weather.

When I’m sufficiently sure that Marny isn’t in the cemetery itself, I turn toward the muddy creek on its outskirts. I’m starting to get a sick feeling in my stomach, it wasn’t like her to disappear for days. In fact, it wasn’t like her to not be in plain sight giving me hard looks that asked: where is my dinner? And, why aren’t you wearing pants? Where is cat God now? Because, actually, I might be her.

But Marny wasn’t here.

I squeeze my eyes shut and block out the memory of a sharp thwap to the buttocks all those years ago. I take a deep steadying breath, “I’m an adult,” I reassure a ghost of myself, “I can take care of… things.” I spit the last word and keep walking.

I find the road and sturdy cement bridge leading toward the park just a skip away from the cemetery itself. I grit my teeth as the raindrops start to pelt my back, I wasn’t going back. Not quite yet. I survey the park, I check the neglected tables under the gizbo, I only collapse a little bit when despair starts to sink in.

“Marny,” I say softly this time and I’m almost crying. “Goddammit,” I’m making frantic little circles in the park, whistling and calling like a madwoman, “Marny! Marn! Please,” I’m running buck wild back across the bridge when I hear it.

Crystal clear and echoing like a feather-light tap on the shoulder. It hits me like a familiar pop song half-heard, the lyrics just out of reach.

A meow.

“Marny?” I pause, calling softly, “are you there?” Hope lifts like a little buoyant balloon in my chest.

I cross the bridge and I squat in the grass, peering around.

“Meow,” I hear it again and perk up, it’s behind me, I walk back across the bridge.

The sound rings through the silent air, piercing and clear. It’s not a distressed sound. It reminds me more of the one she would use when she wanted out, or wanted to come in the bathroom to watch the facet water.

“Meow.”

I turn in a slow circle, trying to locate the source. I peer over the railing into the creek. The only thing running under the bridge is a thick grey sludge. I wrinkle my nose.

“Meow,” she calls softly.

It sounds like it’s coming from the road. I head out into the street and stop. She’s nowhere to be seen.

“Come on girl!” I call. “Come on Marny.”

There it is again. While before it was distant, this time it’s right next to me. I freeze, standing on the bridge and shifting in place, I look down.

A pair of yellow-green eyes stare back at me. I blink, the world turns in reverse and the whole sky was bleeds red.

“What?” I say out loud to no one in particular.

It’s my cat. It’s Marny. But... it isn’t.

I stare into the puddle, only barely an inch deep, and Marny stares back at me. I glance around. It’s clearly not a reflection. My cat is in a puddle. My ten-pound monster cat is an inch-deep puddle.

I squat down to get a closer look. It’s clearly her, splotchy calico pattern and soft doe-eyes, long white whiskers and overly pleased look on her face, everything.

I don’t know how long I sit there, the rain soaking my hair and dripping down my back. A car roars by and I don’t lift my head to even glance at it.

Perhaps I could have flagged them down and asked ‘are you seeing this?’ Or ‘ubduh duh dah?’ as a more likely question I could get out right now.

Marny stares at me, I stare back, she yawns widely- like this is just a normal day at the office for her. I examine her through the flat circle of water.

It’s only then that I notice the gloved hands wrapped tight around her body, thick black things that are just visible in the image. There’s something else inside the puddle. A person, or a monster, or something, and they have my cat.

The unseen being shakes Marny, as if waiting for me to take her.

I bite my lower lip, and wonder if this is really happening.

They shake her again and Marny squirms in place, looking displeased.

I have to take the cat. I have to reach into the puddle and pull my cat out. I have to reach into a one inch deep puddle and pull out a ten pound cat that should not be able to physically fit inside.

I reach out hesitantly, curiously, like I’m nine again and about ot burn my fingertips off on the stove just to see if I can.

I take a deep breath, preparing to defy my better judgement and not just go check into a local nut house. I reach for the puddle.

“Don’t touch that,” a voice booms from somewhere close-by.

I lose my balance, falling backward into the wet pavement and hitting my tailbone roughly. “Ow!”

I rub my ass quickly and then look back into the puddle with my teeth bared, my mouth falls cleanly open.

A stranger stares at me out of the puddle, all flared nostrils and bushy eyebrows.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the stranger spits.

“What?” I say slowly.

The stranger glances in both directions. “Turn this damn thing off,” she barks at someone I can’t see and adjusts a pair of goggles perched on her short spiky brown hair. I notice a thick red scarf around her neck. “What?” I repeat.

The image in the puddle starts to flicker, she lifts her chin and the color starts to bleed out of whatever I’m seeing.

“Hey!” I yell, “Wait wait,” the colors begin to melt and disperse into ripples, “you have my cat!”

The image disappears like a mirage in the desert, and I’m left, soaking wet and utterly alone. The puddle lay empty, as if I hadn’t just lost my mind (and perhaps my cat) in one single moment.

I take a second to think about Rusty and what my mom would possibly say. Probably something about not crying.

--

It takes me ten minutes to pick up a nearby stick and poke the puddle, curiously tapping on its surface and waiting for a tentacle to come out of it or figure to announce ‘Yer a wizard Lori.’ Nothing but a few ripples arise.

“Well dammit,” I scratch the back of my neck and I swear I hear another mew. But it takes another ten minutes for me to realize that nothing new was going to rise out of the water.

It takes me five minutes to walk home and put an ice pack on my bruises where I landed on my ass.

It was a long Thursday and even longer evening as I stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. Work would call soon and ask if I was coming back yet.

I’m dozing, a computer open in my lap with several google searches open starting with ‘Top tests for your mental health’ and pages called ‘Is God Contacting you? Take this quiz and find out!”

My consciousness is scattered to the breeze when I hear small, tiny, scratch at the door. I start awake, knocking ice pack down to the floor and sitting up straight.

Another push comes at the door.

“Rusty?” I squint at the door and pause, “Marny.”

I run to the front door to rip it open, a cool breeze hits my face and I stand listlessly in front of an empty perch. 

And then another soft mew arises behind me.

When I turn around I see a plump, round, calico cat sitting on my kitchen counter, she’s twitching her tail and blinking at me.

“Marny!” I say her name like a curse this time and fold my arms over my chest as if I plan to ask her what she think she’s doing. She loudly asks for diner in reply.

“What do, how did you, ugh.” I pull at my long black hair and go stomping back over to her. “I hope you have a good explanation for all this young lady.”

“Mrrrrow.”

I ruffle my hair, “that’s what I thought.” I shake my head and reach under the counter for her dish. I push down any other feelings.

She had probably been sleeping in my closet this whole time. Or under my clothes pile from yesterday. Or anywhere not a watery 1-inch puddle on a random bridge.

I’m ready to keep chewing her out and then push my nose into her butter soft fur and inhale, but then, of course, I notice something stuck in her collar.

My eyes go wide, “what have you been…up to?” I furrow my brow and reach slowly, hesitantly, toward a thin white piece of paper wrapped around her orange collar. I poke it.

I exhale, “it’s just paper.” I shake my head and delicately remove it from around the band. It feels strange and soft in my hands, but I ignore any shifting in my stomach as I slowly unroll it.

I frown decidedly at five simple words: Stop. Sending. Us. Your. Cat.

“I’m not sending her anywhere,” I argue with no one, I turn my chin sharply up, “You hear that?” I yell at the ceiling, “she just gets out sometimes.” I grumble and try to shake sense back into my head, I go to toss out the piece of paper.

The neighborhood kids could be very strange I decided. I throw it out, get out the meow mix and lock the doors twice that night. The memory fades like the image in the puddle itself.

That is until the next time Marny disappears.

[nanuri169]

Candy Shop Chapter 4

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Summary: Alexis is the leader of a small, but thriving community, hidden deep in the woods. It seemed that the people living there have found a small, fragile understanding of peace. How long can a quiet life last when Negan finds them and shows interest in what the small colony has to offer?

Chapter 4:

The giggling that came from Kitty as she enjoyed riding around on Negan's shoulders annoyed Alexis to the edges of sanity. She was far from covering her disapproval in the leader of the Saviors even coming close to her child. And now Kitty had a crush on him. Amazing.

When they entered the farm house, two of his men followed them. Alexis remembered them as being Dwight and Simon, Negan's front row men. While Simon miserably failed to hide a grin while he watched his leader playing around with the little girl on his shoulders, his mustache moved by every twitch his lips made, the reddish blonde guy next to him looked around cautiously, nearly nervous. He looked like was about to pull off some crazy shit, which made Alexis even more tense. That guy could do whatever he planned everywhere else, but not in the middle of her home.

Alexis snippily explained the purpose of every room, but Negan didn't even seem to listen, as he was busy joking around with Kitty. Of course the little girl loved it and the brutal leader turned to a little boy from one second to the other.

"What do you say, Sy? Wouldn't I be a fucking amazing daddy? Maybe I should really leave something inside one of my wives the next time we have a big time screw session."

He laughed while he fixed Kitty on his hip, his gloved hand thankfully holding her securely.

"Language."

Alexis hissed, but Negan didn't even bother to shoot her a glance.

"Another rug rat cursing like a sailor and barking orders? Hell no."

Simon and Negan both leaned their heads back to laugh heartily. Dwight and Alexis on the other hand just shared a look, definitely having less fun. But it told the young woman more about the relationships in here. Simon was the only one who wasn't shitting his pants to speak up to Negan, he actually joked around with him and seemed to share his vulgar humor. Still, he sure as hell knew where the borders laid. Negan was in charge, the unquestionable boss. Dwight didn't seem comfortable around his leader. His nervous habits gave him away and he never spoke, only when he was asked something and even then very sparsely.

Alexis continued walking, not bothering if the men were done with their laughter. She shortly knocked before she opened the door to the most precious room here.

"This is the nursery. Katherine will stay here now."

She put sharp emphasis on her daughter's name and looked right into the pale blue eyes that matched her own so much. It kept Kitty from daring to argue, she knew that look on her mother's face. Alexis took her from Negan's arms and handed her to the younger woman, Sharon, that was looking at her leader and the men she brought with her with fear.

"Keep her inside. I mean it."

Her voice left no questions. Sharon flinched, looking even more frightened by Alexis' tone. Turning on her heels, she pushed Simon and Negan out of the room and led them towards her office. Negan whistled impressed.

"You're even more scary than I thought. Keeping your people in check by frightening them, even though you're freakin' tiny, impressive."

She shot him a glare and sat on her desk after letting the three men in.

"We're here to discuss matters of interest, so shall we?"

Alexis said annoyedly, still mad that Kitty behaved so trusting towards the stranger men. As if she hadn't taught the girl better.

"What, don't you want some guys for back up in here? I'll always let my guys have a say in shit like this, you know?"

Cocking an eyebrow, she tapped her foot impatiently.

"How generous of you. But I prefer to work alone, thanks."

Negan stepped forward and took a look around the room, swinging Lucille by his side lazily, while Simon took a seat on one of the stools in front of Alexis. The right hand man had already noticed this predatory gaze Negan eyed the other leader with. He knew this look, he had seen more often. For example on Dwight's wife and her sister. Actually whenever he wanted a woman and they weren't easy to get. Negan hated if he didn't get what he wanted, so this girl was in serious trouble. But Simon had to admit that from what he caught glimpse of, he liked that one. She was good at what she did and was one of the few people that wasn't immediately intimidated by Negan. Alexis stood her ground and it was admirable.

"So, Lexi, what kind of shit do you need?"

Negan looked out of the window and enjoyed the nice view to the forest. Horses could be seen farer away, it actually looked pretty peaceful. It could easily make one forget that it was the fucking apocalypse.

"Not much. We're quite good on the basics. Well, food is always a matter. Guns. Antibiotics. Some blankets."

She decided to be truthful with him. If this should work in any way, she needed to be. Even if she hated to give some information away.

"Guns, you say. Well, we have many."

The tip of his bat touched her shoulder and lightly scratched down her leather jacket onto her forearm. Alexis showed no reaction to the provocation.

"...But why should we give them to you? How can I be fucking sure that those blow job lips of yours spill nothing but lies?"

He had walked around her, Lucille now resting against her leg.

"We have an agreement, Negan. You always make it seem as if we just profit from you, but I sure as hell have many things you want, too. I feed most of my people by stuff we plant on our own. How about someone who can show you how to do that efficiently? Isn't that a fair exchange for some guns?"

Negan looked over his shoulder to Simon who smirked lightly.

"I told you she's likable."

The leader grinned as he spoke.

"...Deal. For the rest we need to scavenge. I'll pick ya up tomorrow. Bring two of your men."

"Fucking amazing how you leave me any say in this."

She looked up to him provokingly.

"Do you have a to freakin' be somewhere, doll? What is it? Getting your nails done? Shopping? Girl's night? Oh wait, no, I forgot, it's the apocalypse. Bet your calendar isn't that full."

Negan stated sarcastically, annoyed by her constant habit to question everything he says.

"Fine. Are we done now?"

She spat and Negan chuckled.

"So eager to see us leaving? Not yet, darling, you haven't fulfilled the second part of our bargain. You know, the riding part."

He moved his hips in an explicit way, to which Alexis rolled her eyes. She stood up and pushed him backwards so she could walk past him.

"Well then, hurry."

...

"Oh the holy fucking fuck, this is goddamn amazing, why the hell hasn't anyone told me how much fun this shit is?"

Negan had the brightest, pearly grin on his face since the moment he mounted the horse. His booming voice clearly irritated the usually quiet mare, but thankfully she didn't spook. Alexis just rolled her eyes at the salve of curse words.

"Can't you for once shut your cake hole? Horses are sensitive, they don't like if a loud dickhead on their back shouts around."

Annoyed, she continued to walk next to the horse. She held the reins in her hand as she didn't trust Negan to handle it all at once. He obviously struggled to hold the balance with his long, lean body.

"Did you just say cake hole? Freakin' Brit."

Alexis spared him a look.

"Yeah. Can you please concentrate? I don't want to pick up your gangly ass from the dirt."

Now she fired his unbounded ambition. He growled lightly at the insult.

"I'm not gangly. I can show you how un-gangly I am, darling. Why don't you hand me the damn reins and step aside?"

The young woman tried hard to hide her amusement at his childish behavior, but she just shrugged.

"Don't complain about me not warning you afterwards."

She handed him the reins. He probably already noticed that this was a bad idea when his hands left the horn of the saddle, but of course he was too stubborn.

"Yeah, I don't need to get walked around like a freakin' kid. Can't be that hard."

Negan sure as hell wouldn't think that for long. Alexis chose the most quiet horse she had, but he still was an inexperienced rider and had no clue how to use his legs and the reins to lead the horse properly.

The second she stepped aside, he did the worst thing possible: To stabilize himself, he closed his legs tightly and of course the well taught horse took it as a sign to go faster. She fell into a slow trot, but of course it took Negan off guard.

"Whoa! Easy, buddy!"

He lost control more and more by the second while the mare continued to trot towards the other horses on the meadow. When he finally had the idea to let his legs loose, the horse stopped all of a sudden and the exact thing Alexis had predicted happened. His feet slipped out of the stirrups and he fell down like a limb meat sack, landing on the ground with a thud followed by a groan coming from Negan.

Alexis strutted towards him, hiding her smile with her hand. Negan laid outstretched in the dirt and cursed under his breath, but he was obviously not hurt. Just his ego took some deep hits.

"Don't you dare say a word."

He mumbled and then Alexis couldn't hold it back any more. Her head fell backwards as the most genuine laugh escaped her throat. She hadn't laughed in quite a while and she couldn't stop. Negan couldn't help but notice how angelic it sounded. It was infectious.

"I really had to fall from a fucking horsey to make the woman laugh. Seriously, that tells a lot about how screwed up you are."

After a while, the laugh faded into a giggle and she held out her hand to help him up.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

His gloved hand clenched around her forearm and Alexis pulled him up. Negan quickly cleaned his jeans and leather jacket off the dirt.

"I'd bash your pretty head in if you'd even think about spilling it."

He finally let go of her arm and Alexis immediately turned to her grazing horse and loosened the girth of the saddle and took the bridle off. She ignored his joking threat.

"Well, next time simply listen to what I say and it won't happen again."

Without hesitation, she handed him the heavy saddle to carry back to the barn.

"You sure as hell know that I'll have a problem with that."

Chuckling, she walked beside them through the knee high grass.

"Your problem, not mine."

When they reached the stable, Alexis brought the tack to its usually place and then picked up the bats they left up here. She threw him Lucille and he easily caught her, instinctively letting his hand glide over the weapon's smooth surface.

"Will you let me say goodbye to your little girl? She's cute as hell."

Alexis took a deep breath and made the mistake to look into his mischievously glistening eyes. He was telling the truth, he really liked Kitty. Negan may be a cruel asshole, but hurting kids wasn't his style.

"Fine."

Rolling her eyes, she walked back towards the farmhouse with him and peeked inside the nursery.

"Kitty, say goodbye to your new...friend."

The last word she said through gritted teeth as she saw her daughter happily hopping towards her, smiling brightly at Negan. Well, these two obviously had found each other.

"Goodbye, uncle Negan!"

Kitty lisped a bit when she spoke his name, but it made it even more adorable. Her toothy grin struck something in Negan that everyone, including himself, thought was long dead.

"See you soon, cutie."

He ruffled the girl's hair and spared a grin at Alexis before he walked out of the farm house, leaving the community for today.

Alexis hugged her daughter tightly and watched the group leave through the window. She took a deep, relieved breath, tension falling off her shoulders. But she had to admit that this little incident early surely broke the ice between the two leaders.

Tag List:

@greengellybean

[beet-rootesoupevodkabanya]

Post-apocalypse military AU.

The beginning of the end XD. Of course nobody died for real. As a true fairytale it’ll end up fine. Actually it’s still raw... FML. I never stayed up at night even for exames or anything... Snow King can be proud. For his bday I do. X3

Sound of shooting stops accidentally. But now tinkling silence isn't an evidence of the end of the battle or at least of a break. It means only that one more line is over. Nothing to hope on. They are locked here. Not so many. Less the 200 people. Last examples of experienced fighters. Of the 1st breed. Ones who still remember and realize the world before the catastrophe. Enemies could never do it by themselves. But... No connection to other Bases or Safe Zones. Blocked channels. Blocked information supports for using air armor. Emergency ways to escape locked from outside... It's too obvious. Safe Zone thrown them away. To die and let the piece agreement happen. Снежный Король sits on the windowsill. Video security system allows to watch what's going on on other floors. He clicks the lighter and inhales the smoke. The stream of death... General widens the picture. Koshey team. All dead. Through blurred monitor it's still rather obvious. They all did as decided on a short urgent meeting in the beginning of this fight. Killed as many attackers as they could until ran out of cartridges. And left 4 bullets. One for every teammate. Nobody here is going to get captured anyway. Red cloud on the floor. She tried to grow up her hair because her lover always had long and was curious. Now it's almost beautiful. They lay on the floor hugging each other. Bloody carpet is a continuation of Mila's locks. The 4 of them are tangled in her red cloak. The Black Shark could be enough to win even in this unpleasant situation. But it was found broken badly. Traitors weren't able to make it work. This weird thing was unspeakably moody. And could literally kill anyone but Sara who ever tried to drive it. So they simply torn away and took with them some parts. All vans and other heavy technique were out of patrol.

[Good work, fucking piecemakers. Now wait until they invade and ruin that fragile illusion that U call stable daily life.]

Yuuri rushes in. Stupidly giggling and shrugging the blood away from his sword. The ceremonial weapon that isn't supposed to be used in battles... Shere Khan smirks licking the blade of the knife. What are they so agitated about?.. It wasn't even necessary to get into this (meaningless according to the situation) close combat. Werewolf (actually werebear if to be exact) reads his usual cards on the table. No, not tactical. Tarot cards. He frowns and raises eyes on commander. In normally calm beastly depth burns silent panic. It's not a fear of things that happen here. It's about something he reads on the desk. - Sir... They can't say anything. Or better to admit - they can but... I'm unable to read it. I see... But don't understand. - And I don't understand this... - the voice of Snow King is quiet. He wipes the wall with a white bandage. The air around is gloomy because of terminal fire and explosions. The bandage stays clean. General's statement could seem inopportune. But his subordinate knows too well they both are talking about the same phenomenon. - Ask them... - General closes eyes for a moment in strange hopeless hope. - Is it possible we all are dead or something... And the world around us is an illusion. Lieutenant Altyin looks at cards and bitterly waves his head. - Then only one explanation... The physical characteristics of our world had changed. I mean globally. In planetary measures. Or even more... Well... I guess it's better to die without seeing what other gameplays the ecosystem prepared for us... - Victor shrugs shoulders, smiling with a kind of lost expression. He has not enough reasons for this theory. But he feels it, knows by blood and cells. Like he knew where to step and when to shoot in a battle. The knowledge that became sharper day by day. Yuuri leans to his Snow King from behind. His blood-stained hands sneak under the t-shirt. He doesn't ask questions but the black, half-blind abyss of his eyes radiates excitement. As if he is in hurry to share as much happiness with his Yuki no Kami as it's possible for the rest short time. - Sir... - Werewolf's intonations are almost begging. - Sir, promise me... Promise us. U will be...careful... - Eh?! Something funny about our old man there? - Major Plisetsky sits near, wrapping an arm on Beka's shoulders. He snorts but they all know he is worried. Capitan looks in green eyes, intertwining their fingers. Then turns to commander: - Cards say U are surrounded by the love. U're loved, admired... U're the chosen one always. And in our situation this is the last thing that is logical to appear in a prediction. But damn it... I don't even see the death in your future... I see the throne of the world. And I understand nothing... Yuuri sneaks under commander's arm, clinging to him with a puppy-like sound. He doesn't say anything but Snow King knows his sudden fear too well. He caresses boy's lips with a thumb: - We will die together. Today. Here. He explains it reassuringly and a bit tiredly. As an adult talking a child not to be scared of the thunderstorm. Yuuri nods and nuzzles Snow King's shoulder giggling.

The explosion chain is very close.

Снежный leaves the monitor. It's not important anymore. The four of them are the last experienced martials able to go on line. But whatever will happen to the Safe Zone isn't their problem now. He smiles at his teammates. Shortly and bitterly: - Time to go... General takes out the glock. The only one that keeps 4 sacred bullets. No right for a mistake. He nods to Angry Kitty. It's like a selfi. One click and a moment will be kept for the eternity. No time to say a lot to each other. And no need to. Deep inside they all know. Shere Khan grins and winks to Snow King while Beka is suddenly distracted with something on his cards left on the table. (Is it even important what's said there?) Grabs his collar and pulls his friend and partner for a kiss. First real one for them both. Оборотень falls into thin but unexpectedly strong arms staring in green ponds and trying to say something through the tight lean of warm lips.

Bang.

Bang.

Snow King drops the hand with the gun. - Always in vanguard... Шустрый засранец. / Fast little shit. - He mutters it with a short snort. These two had no time to fall on the floor. Yuuri catches them both and puts on the sofa. (He is fast. He became faster during years here.) They lay the way they often did. The way nobody would believe if to say or show a domestic picture. Beka laying on Yurio's shoulder. Kitty always was more a protective and Beka - a supportive one in their tandem. Snow King often laughed at Yurio that they're kicked out from an another fairytale - Beauty and the Beast. And the Beast here is of course Shere Khan. Kitty fizzed and hissed but obviously liked the idea until Оборотень began to mutter that he isn't a decent Beauty even if he is ready to wear a golden dress for his precious Beast. "But it will cause blood from your eyes, believe me..." And Yurio bit and kicked him and yelled: "U are beautiful, fuck my life! I fucking know better." Beka himself mostly laughed that they are more like a forest Witch and Ivan-tsarevich who was tamed by her. Victor often corrected: "Not just tsarevich. More like Иван-дурак/Ivan the dumb..." And Kitty yelled and sniffed until one day he finally resoluted: - Yes, tsarevich, because the son of the King. Yes, дурак, потому что весь в мать/ because like mother, like son." Yuuri fell on the floor laughing first. After some time Beka began to giggle. And only in the evening the realization hit their King too. And he set on the balcony with a cigarette muttering: - Сообразил бля, пизденыш... / What an idea, little shit...

Bullets went through heads but the blood streams down from the wounds, soaking the coach. It's not obvious yet. And seems as if they can wake up any moment. Снежный gets up, walks close and touches the pulse. It's not necessary, but he can't leave it unchecked. Even if everything is obvious. Yurio seems aggressively glad even in his death. He is still short and thin like a girl. He always cursed and promised to grow taller then his commander. He won't. They won't get to know if he would grow tall for real or would stay being this tiny grace. Yuuri cups General's face and smiles. Gently and possessively. Like noone but him ever could: - We'll keep up with them. Snow King sloppily nods pulling his boy closer. The unclear thought is tossing somewhere deep into the brain. But all that hurry, explosions and endless shit don't leave it a chance to be formed. Is it something Beka wanted to say? Anyway there's no time to think about it anymore. He caresses Yuuri's cheek, looks into black abyss and forgets everything. They have less then a couple of minutes. - I'm sorry, малыш... What else to say?... The boy clings to his General with a happy laugh. Rises head looking from beneath and smiles. Mischievously. And playfully. He wants to say he was happy for all these years with him. He was overwhelmed with love to this man since early childhood. Since the first time he saw this the most beautiful face ever. He admired the winter seeing him in every snowflake. Снежный Король filled his entire existence with the meaning and multiple colors even if for others it seemed to the monotonous white. Kay knows better than anyone: only the white keeps all other spectrums and shades. Only in arms of his King and in the middle of the winter desert he felt on the right place. Of course the boy has no time or even suitable words to express it. But Snow King will understand. He always reads it through touches. Yuuri hungrily leans to these soft and tender lips: - I love U. I always wanted to die with U and from your hand. What's more can I wish for? - Stupid kid... - sighs General. It's not obvious from the side but this patronizing tone is flirty. Yuuri, his shy, anxious, naive berserk always was weirdly protective. But not of that annoying type of countless fans who dreamed to see him broken to have a chance to pity him. No. It always was a different protectiveness. Reliable and loyal like walls of your own home. He became the Ivory Tower locking his Sow King in a trap he would rather die then leave. The boy clings closer and deepens the kiss, sneaking under the t-shirt. Sly sparkles in a black abyss become only brighter: - What I really regret - that we don't have time to make love now. I'd be happy to die like this. Victor smiles, digging fingers into dark silk and bites his lip. Yuuri moans, scratching his back under black fabric. Splinters of the northern sky are sad. But tender: - I love U, Kay. Cold steel touches boy's temple. Yuuri smiles leaning to it with that very euphoric expression he always had melting in Snow King's caress.

Frosted finger slowly presses the trigger.

So familiar, so loved body turns into a heavy doll falling into arms of it's master. Victor slowly lays his boy on the floor near the windowsill. They often set there in winter hugging each other and sharing one cigarette in a stupid hope the smoke will be blown away into the open window. Legs are heavy... Too heavy to go with Yuuri to the better place. And... It's fine like this. The entire world drowns into a crimson mist. It begins from boy's temple and wraps his King and everything around into the tightest embrace without a way to set yourself free. But he never ever wanted to get out of it anyway. General Snow King checks up the heartbeat in Yuuri's chest. Silent. He leans to still warm but motionless lips, blindly turns on the final countdown on a self-destruction system. And presses the trigger, aiming into silver locks. Snow King falls on the chest of his Kay. Blood stained lips of the boy still keep a shadow of a smile.

[geekade]

Geekade Top Ten: Neil Gaiman Long Form Fiction

It’s a great time to be Neil Gaiman. His latest book, Norse Mythology, debuted on the New York Times’ bestseller list. American Gods, based on the novel of the same title, debuts on TV next month. And a filmed adaptation of Good Omens is finally in development at Amazon, with the author at the helm. So what better time, then, to celebrate some of his work? Neil Gaiman is a God among book geeks, considered by many, myself included, to be their favorite author. Any entity with so passionate a fan base is bound to be extremely sensitive about a ranking concerning said entity. So it is with great trepidation that I approach this task and ask you all to remember that, while I am doing my best to be objective here, at the end of the day, these are my opinions. I am as entitled to them as you are to yours. Let’s not fight, let’s just love Neil Gaiman and every word that comes out of his brain.

Categorizing Gaiman’s work is tough because his oeuvre is so expansive and varied. I had to limit this somehow and the easiest way was to eliminate his children’s picture books , which I HIGHLY recommend. They are all charming and fun, gorgeously illustrated, and provide excellent alternatives when gift-giving that most parents haven’t seen before and will be glad of the breath of fresh air. I always give Blueberry Girl or Instructions at any baby shower that requests a book instead of a card. I’d say even if there are no children in your life, if you love Neil Gaiman, you’ll enjoy looking at these and possibly donating a copy or two to your local library. In the same vein, his short fiction is out. I am also excluding Norse Mythology by the logic that a retelling is a different animal than long form fiction. (Also I haven't read it yet...sorry). On the other hand, I have decided to include some of his longer juvenile fiction and YA work to round out the list because YA writing is as legit as any work of “adult” fiction. Fight me. Sandman is also in here; although it is a graphic novel, there is enough writing there to qualify it as long form fiction. Also, this series is a gateway drug for many comic fans becoming Gaiman fans; it’s too important not to include. As the man himself wrote, “Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.” So, here we go.

10. Fortunately the Milk - FtM is definitely a juvenile book, but in a much longer form than a picture book. This grand tale, suitable for middle grades readers, tells of wild adventures a Dad gets caught up in, all while out on a mundane errand like buying more milk to go with breakfast. The set up is relatable enough to children to be believable and the fantastic and funny mishaps Dad encounters will crack them up and keep them reading. It’s an excellent way to introduce young readers to the work of a parent’s favorite author.

9. Stardust - Stardust is a love story, Gaiman style. Its most masterful achievements are the fantasy world of Faerie and the rich, non-traditional characters. It provides a lovely twist that flips a traditional fairy tale narrative on its ear. It’s more lighthearted than most of his other works, which isn’t to say it isn’t good, but it is a bit out of his lane. Additionally, many readers find the lead character Tristan grating, thus knocking it this far down on the list. But on a list of works of this quality, good things fall to the bottom. Still very much worth the read.

8 - Coraline - This is Gaiman’s take on a parable, warning of the dangers of wishes. It is at the same time for kids and not for kids. It’s a young adult story, I suppose, but appeals to older adults as well. Gaiman’s guilty many times over of writing unique, realistic children and  putting them in strange and creepy circumstances. He walks the fine line between condescension and understanding, making the characters relatable while still reminding us, often painfully, of our own youth. This story ranks here only because it is a good, but not the best, example of his ability to do so; it’s a rating of the story against other of his stories, not on its own merits, which are excellent.

7 - Ocean at the End of the Lane - Like most of Gaiman’s work, this is a beautiful, dark work of genius. It’s a captivating story of long-forgotten memories unearthed by a visit to a mysterious place from the narrator’s childhood. It’s a book to read to remind you what it’s like to be a child, encouraging you to revisit unexplained, mystical experiences of youth from an adult perspective. As one Goodreads reviewer aptly put it, “In short, it is a Neil Gaiman novel.” It’s not his best or best-known work, but it’s definitely representative of him. It makes a good recommendation for readers who don’t know, but are interested in, his work and for those who know some of his work, but are unfamiliar with this fairly-recent release.

6 - Anansi Boys - This not-quite sequel to American Gods tells the story of Fat Charlie and Spider, children of a deceased God and brothers who never knew each other in their father’s lifetime. Gaiman’s talent for taking a small part of a larger story and blowing it up into its own narrative is part of what makes him such a master. This novel is an excellent example of his ability to create rich worlds and fully fleshed out characters. It also shows off his knack for incorporating mythical elements from oral storytelling traditions of cultures other than his own. It’s a fun, fast read, not quite up to the caliber of some of his greater works, but that’s hardly a criticism.

5 - Neverwhere - This is a great work of modern urban fantasy with possibly Gaiman’s most relatable protagonist, an office worker thrust into a fantastical world beneath the streets of London. It’s a story most of us would imagine (or have imagined) ourselves in, written as only Gaiman can and a world we want to spend far more time in, even after the story is over. As a standalone story, it’s a good entry point into the author’s work, but reader beware, it will leave you wanting more.

4 - The Graveyard Book - Yes, this children’s book is placed awfully high up on the list, but it has won some of the most prestigious awards in literature (notably the Hugo award and the Newbery medal) and quite deservedly so. For one thing, Nobody Owens is a phenomenal protagonist and for another, this is just such a remarkable, fun, exciting story as only Gaiman can tell it. It has the potential to become scary at just about every turn, but thanks to the author’s humor and talent, it never really does. This is truly one to be enjoyed by readers of ALL ages and for that reason, it deserves high placement in the NG canon.

3 - Good Omens - It gives me serious pain not to rank this number one. Not only is it my favorite of Gaiman’s books by far, it is my favorite book, period. But this is a list of his best books, not my favorites, not to mention it’s a co-write with beloved, recently-departed fantasy author Terry Pratchett. Still, if you’ve missed out reading this one, and I find even many diehard fans have, do yourself a favor and correct that IMMEDIATELY. This book is as insightful as it is hilarious. It is a foundational book for me, in terms of my sense of literary appreciation, my humor, and my religious belief system. It’s a tale of the apocalypse gone awry. You can bet your ass I got some serious side-eye when I introduced it in my 10th grade English class as my favorite book, which is kind of the best praise I feel I can give for it and if you understand what I mean, then this book is for you.

2 -Sandman series - If you haven’t already wanted to hang me up by my toenails because you disagree with my opinions,  you’re probably about to. This series is...not for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. It’s great. It’s a masterpiece in the field of the graphic novel. But that’s a medium I’ve never been a huge fan of and I suppose that’s why I never connected with it. The fact that I believe it should be ranked this highly in spite of that missing connection speaks to its outstanding quality. If you love Gaiman, you probably love this series and I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. But I can’t give it the top spot because it’s not what he does best.

1 - American Gods - This is what he does best. This is storytelling at its finest. This is Gaiman, pulling from legends of old, seasoning them with his dry British wit, crafting a fascinating tale, setting it in a universe that sits just kitty-corner to our own, and drawing his audience in, such that they don’t want to leave, even after the last page is turned. It’s no wonder that fans have been clamoring for an on-screen adaptation for years, one they’ll finally lay eyes on next month, and heaven help the show’s creators (see what I did there?) if they fandom doesn’t approve. If you’ve been living under a rock and have therefore never read any Neil Gaiman and you’re wondering what his best, most representative work is? Look no further.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to disappear to an undisclosed location and stay off social media for a month to avoid the wrath from holders of differing opinions. I know not everyone will agree with me, but if we’re all talking about, celebrating, and reading books by our favorite author, that’s really the most important thing, right?

[embracetheapocalypsewithme]

Embracing the Apocalypse, Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Summary: Negan has impure thoughts about a certain green-eyed cutie, but battles away the urges with spaghetti. Lying to yourself is easier when you're carbo-loading.

Word count: 1,494

Warnings: Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, Comic Negan being Comic Negan, oral sex, and inadequate pasta.

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: 8.5 out of 10

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Part 16: That Escalated Quickly

Part 17: Well Fuck Me Gently with a Chainsaw

Part 18: Shards of Glass

Part 19: Donkey Heaven

Part 20: Morphine Dream

Part 21: Promises to Keep

Part 22: Are You a Killer?

Part 23: That the Hill You Want to Die On?

Part 24: Keeping Up Appearances

Part 25: Bird on a Wire

As always, you can read it below the cut, or by clicking this lovely link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/20855636

Tags: @unicorn-blood-splatter​ @negans-dirty-girl​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @negans-network​ (If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!)

 Part 5: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

When he had opened the door to the janitor’s closet, Negan had expected to catch one of the Sanctuary’s citizens in the act. Which act, he wasn’t entirely sure. Fucking? Smoking? Drinking maybe? 

Finding Rebecca hadn’t been quite the scandalous conclusion he had hoped for, but he couldn’t necessarily say that he was disappointed either. Her eyes were bloodshot, making their green colour appear even more brilliant. 

Were those tears rimming the corners? She had claimed that her allergies were acting up, but he thought he detected a faint whiff of bullshit in the air. As they spoke he began to analyze her mannerisms, looking for any indication of the issues “Doctor” Krouse had mentioned earlier. He found none. 

Her tone was jovial and even a little bit playful. She seemed relatively at ease, even teasing him about his name again. He watched her walk away for the second time that morning, enjoying how her hips swayed back and forth before his eyes. 

Her comments about “the man upstairs” going down on her had conjured up some fun images for his brain to contemplate. Most of them were of her perched on the edge of his bed, bare legs spread open for him as he knelt before her and teased her clit with his tongue. He could almost hear her moans as he felt another pang of arousal hit him, this one even stronger than the last.

(bet she tastes sweet like honey)

(damnit, you idiot! stop this shit! you can’t)

As she neared the end of the hall, he noticed Rebecca’s pace slow. She stopped dead in her tracks and stood rigidly, her whole body tense. He considered for a brief moment that maybe she was going back into the state she had been in when she arrived at the Sanctuary. He had no clue how this shit worked. Did people just pop in and out of being catatonic?

After what felt like a very long time, but had probably only been a few moments, her body relaxed. He thought that he heard her whisper, “Oh, fuck me!” to herself, but she was far away and it was hard to be sure.

(wishful thinking probably) 

Her shoulders raised and lowered as if she had taken a deep breath. She resumed her journey, turning around a corner and out of sight.

(weird. but nothing too strange. probably forgot something in her room. maybe she’s not as fucked up as brad thinks)

He shrugged and turned in the opposite direction from where Rebecca had gone. He had business to attend to.

The remainder of his day consisted of meetings with scouts and scavengers, debriefings with supervisors, and planning sessions with the Saviors. He had forgotten how many details there were to go over just to keep the place running on a basic level. There were supplies to find and infrastructure to maintain. 

Now that they had to barter fairly, rather than shaking down the nearby communities for half of their shit, it was all that much harder to keep going. Every day was like an eternal struggle just for the basic necessities, and he was at the centre of it all, orchestrating every detail. By the time dinner rolled around, Negan was equal parts exhausted and hungry, but opted to get reacquainted with his bed before even thinking about food.

His private room still bore many of the decorations that had been there during his first stint as leader: deep red chairs and a sofa, a four-poster bed with dark sheets, bookcases, and a fireplace. Sherry hadn’t bothered to change everything after taking over, it seemed.

(could it fucking be that she didn’t actually hate my taste in everything after all?)

He kicked off his boots and sat on the bed before deciding to lie down for a moment. He just needed to close his eyes and rest. A nap would be perfect. He would tune the world out for a while, and then he could deal with dinner.

But as he tried to allow his body to slip into sleep, Negan found that his brain would not settle down. Images of green eyes, teasing smiles, and curvy hips flashed before him in the darkness behind his eyelids. The pangs of arousal were relentless now. He could feel the crotch of his pants tighten over his hard cock as he thought about soft lips murmuring in his ear, kissing his neck, trailing down his chest and stomach to finally taste him.

“Fuck!”

He sat up quickly, pissed off at himself now. This was stupid. He had just met this girl; had only spoken to her twice in his life. She wasn’t even really his type. She was too cutesy and petite and he felt like he could crush her beneath his large frame without even trying. But he had to admit that there was something about her that made him feel like he simultaneously wanted to protect her from the world, whilst absolutely defiling her with his cock.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.”

He swivelled around with an annoyed groan until his legs were dangling over the edge of the bed. He knew that sleep was going to be impossible, but he didn’t want to give into his brain’s urge to jerk off right now. Deciding that food would be more productive than trying to sleep, he slipped out of the bed and put his boots back on before making his way down to the building’s cafeteria. Dinner was just about to be served.

***

The cafeteria was harshly lit, crowded, and noisy. Benches and long tables filled the expanse of the room. Today’s meal was “spaghetti”, according to the menu board. The dish appeared to consist of overcooked noodles and under-seasoned sauce from a tin, and it tasted like something usually fed to patients recovering from surgery. 

But it was food. That was something to be treasured in this world, at least. 

Normally he ate quickly in his room and spent his nights reading or bullshitting with his Saviors over a glass of scotch, though the latter option had become somewhat rare lately. Some of the old Saviors who had survived the war were still around, and new recruits had been added to their ranks during his absence, but it seemed like the dynamic had changed somehow. Most of them tended to avoid socializing with their “fearless leader”, so he was mostly on his own in the evenings. Hell, the even scotch supplies had started to dwindle, much to his disdain.

Tonight he would try eating in the cafeteria. Maybe he would even make a friend. Grabbing his plate and cutlery, Negan scanned the room for a place to sit. Without fully being conscious of it, he looked for dark hair with faded red at the tips. Finding no friendly or familiar faces in the crowd, he sat in a corner and ate his meal slowly and unenthusiastically in silence. By the time he had finished eating, the room was beginning to empty and the kitchen crew had started to pack up the leftovers. It was then that he realized he hadn’t seen Rebecca come down to eat yet.

(it’s not that i was looking for her. i’m just a perceptive guy. that’s all. i have to be to keep this place running. can’t have people fucking starving on my watch)

His inner pep-talk had nearly helped him convince himself that he hadn’t, in fact,  decided to eat in the cafeteria for the sole purpose of running into Rebecca again. He stood and made his way to the kitchen’s counter where a man with a mustache and graying temples was packing up for the night.

“Hey,” Negan began.

“What do you want?” the man asked with a hostile look.

“Give me some spaghetti in a container...to go.”

The man smirked, “What’s the magic word?”

Negan’s eyes narrowed, “The magic word? Oh, I guess that would have to be FUCKING NOW, DICKFACE!” he was raising his voice and making a scene. Several groups of stragglers began to get up from their tables and vacate the room, hoping to avoid being caught in the middle of a fight.

A female voice from the back of the kitchen called out to Mr. Mustache, “For Christ’s sake, Ed! Give the man a fucking plate and be done with it.”

“Yeah, Ed. Give the man a fucking plate,” Negan said flatly. Then, in a lower, menacing tone: “And don’t spit in the shit either. It’s not for me.”

Ed began angrily slopping noodles and sauce into a container before slamming it down on the counter as hard as he could without breaking it.

“Gee. Thanks, Eddy. Have a magical evening!” he called over his shoulder after picking up the container and walking toward the exit.

He made his way from the cafeteria to the room that he knew “Doctor” Krouse occupied on the second floor, and knocked on the door. After a few moments he heard rustling from within. The door opened a crack and the paramedic-turned-“Doctor” peered out at him.

“Oh, hello there. I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. Uh…nice to see you again.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just need to get some information from you,” he held up the container of sad-looking pasta, “Got a delivery to make.”

[blondebird]

                                       Headcanon Transfer

                                                      Before + Stationary + Mental Health + Jobs                                                                                 And More...

HC | BEFORE THE APOCAYLPSE

The girl Beth was before the apocalypse is hidden now. There is no time to think back to how she would sit around a bonfire with her friends while they drank wine coolers and moonshine. There was no longer Instagram, or Twitter, or the pressure to dress for a perfect balance of sultry and respectable. She had only gotten her first pair of heels the year before, a kitty heel with polished black faux leather.

Beth thoroughly enjoyed creating birthday cards by hand, caring for the animals on the farm and the ones her father would occasionally bring home. She was close with her mother, learning to cook many different kinds of meat and vegetable dishes. She didn’t eat meat herself, but that didn’t often affect her.

Beth loved cornflower blue and pastel pink, and would decorate the borders of her homework with idle doodles. She loved to draw, but rarely pursued this hobby due to having little time. She played sports, none specifically that she excelled at. She stopped playing soccer when she began high school, preferring to spend her free time with her music.

Beth was an average student. She excelled in Music and English, but struggled with Biology and Math. Even before the apocalypse, she had no intention of going to college for further education. She wanted to try and join a singing group with a few of her friends, and failing that, move to a big city to find an agent on her own.

Beth secretly harbored feelings for a boy named Jimmy, who had the sweetest smile and kindest eyes. She wanted to be a mother one day, and hoped (as much as she feared) that Jimmy would be the boy she married. They’d never done more than kissed, but she’d wondered, and wondered often.

Beth played party games like Never Would I Ever, with water instead of booze. She would play in her friend’s pool, have sleepovers, cry on the phone, lament over celebrities. She would count the letters in her name compared to that of her crush’s, and brainstorm names for their children.

Beth loved the zoo, watched movies on Netflix (when her Internet behaved), went on vacations, made cookies at Christmas, and hearts for Valentines’ Day. She lived for the thrill of giving presents, and blushed at every one she received. She never swore in front of her parents, and prayed at church every Sunday.

HC | DEMEANOR

Beth was raised to show the utmost respect to her peers, elders and seniors. Everyone, really. You were to mind your pleases and thank yous, and avoid swearing unless you catch your finger in any of the farm equipment. (Like the time her daddy got his thumb caught in a pair of bolt cutters, eesh, he cussed so much her mom almost didn’t let him back inside.)

If Beth really likes you, and trusts you, she won’t be hesitant to be honest and up front. The sweet, cautious farm girl demeanor falls away to reveal a thoughtful, observant young woman. Her natural demeanor is one of a follower, and a hard worker. She wants to make sure things run smoothly, and will only rule in her domain (such as when she babysits, or if she’s in charge of dinner).

Beth can even be sarcastic, she can be rude, but both those are only if she feels cornered, of if someone isn’t giving her proper respect. (This is especially true during her time with Daryl, where she learns that being open and honest is far better in this new world.)

HC | STATIONARY

Beth is an absolute stationary fiend. Anything cute, shades of pastel, stripes, spots, just cute, and she’s gotta have it. She has an ENDLESS supply of notebooks with matching pens, stickers, post-it notes, ridiculous arrays of paperclips, and goodness knows what else. This started because she wanted to be organised in school, and quickly became a desperate goal of attaining all of the cute things, ever. And she admits, it’s SHAMEFUL, and it’s shallow, but it doesn’t stop her from enjoying the little things. This includes cute masking tape, staples, ANYTHING you can think of.

Not that the contents is equally as cute. She uses this as a form of self-expression, and it is how she processes the world around her. She likes to treat herself in small ways, and sometimes she will buy a notebook with the express intent of writing songs about love, or ex-boyfriends, or fights with her friends. Now that she’s older, she is freer with her language and her wants, and she no longer worries about revealing too much to the diary. Her parents and sister can’t snoop anymore.

HC | MENTAL HEALTH

  From a writer standpoint, I wanted to take a moment to write a stream of consciousness regarding Beth, and how she has progressed through the series.

  This is not a complete guide, and by no means do I claim to be an expert on mental health. I am going to try and speak in plain terms, and about things I’ve noticed with Beth. I do not claim that what is listed below is consistent with every experience, nor do I believe that any mental illness or disorder should be included into a character for the sake of drama. I hope that I have spoken respectfully about the topic, and feel free to approach me if you feel I have misinterpreted anything.

  There are consequences for the events that Beth has experienced, and they have a direct impact on her experience with others, and her reactions. I just wanted a place to work through these, to discuss the effects it has had on her up to and including her return to Grady. I am unlikely to list direct names of illnesses, but I will state that Beth as I play her experienced depression before the outbreak.

                                                                                 …

  There has always been an indescribable pang to Beth’s existence. It wavered from low periods, to days of uncertainty and heightened states of awareness. Beth had a very loving and supportive family, and friends, and she was cared for. People respected her, and her bouts of ‘low’ periods, but mainly Beth would self-manage. She would push herself out of the lows, and not let on how incredibly unhappy she felt. Because, she justified to herself, she had no reason to be sad. This logical perspective did not dismiss the idle ‘maybe it’s not even worth it’ thoughts that would crop up.

  Beth was active with her church group and her friends, which kept her in the swing of things. She didn’t allow herself to fully acknowledge or feel the lows, and eventually during her time in middle school, around the age of thirteen, this cropped up. Beth had a falling out with her best friend Anna, and that spiraled into a self-destructive attitude. Beth became snappier, a difference from her sunny disposition growing up, and she didn’t know why. She just knew that she was unhappy, at a fundamental level, but there was nothing to blame.

  Whether it was the shift in attitude, or the falling out with Anna, Beth was ostracized from her friends. For several months she sat on the outside of everyone else, quiet, unsure. They would speak to her, but they would also intentionally skirt around her. She was still around them, because it was a small town, but there was a mutual understanding that she was acting out, and they couldn’t discern why. Eventually Hershel noticed a dip in her daughter’s mood, and how she was no longer spending time with her friends after school. Beth was reluctant to eat, had lost interest in choir, and ultimately rode off on her horse one night after these facts were pushed.

  After a teary conversation, Beth admitted that she just didn’t know what she was doing, or why she was doing it. Annette and Hershel took her to see a psychiatrist named Milly, who specialized in adolescent mental health issues. While not the most severe case she had ever seen, she expressed concern over Beth, and helped her reframe her perspective. Much of Beth’s maturity and confidence in changing and being who you are, not who you were, comes from her brief time with Milly. This, in addition to her family, shaped her into a more mindful and optimistic person.

  For a brief time, Beth took antidepressants, and attended sessions once every few months to check her state. She was on a smaller dose of antidepressants as of the outbreak, and her checkup sessions were six months apart. Beth spoke about this with Jimmy, as he had been one of her friends when she’d first had to attend the sessions.

  Beth experiences minor anxiety attacks, and constantly has to check herself, and her actions. Aside from her first suicide attempt at the farm, Beth has not taken to anything related to self-harm. She knows it is something she is capable of, and is actively trying to keep herself away from that side of herself. She does not view those who self-harm as weak, and suicide is not weak. It is a tragedy, and it makes her genuinely upset.

  Since Grady, Beth has experienced panic attacks. One at the sight of a lollipop, and the way in which it was offered to her. This was caused by the trigger of it, but she is unlikely to succumb to it a second time. It was one of the things she buried deep inside her mind, rather than deal with. The other came at a nightmare, after the wolves attacked. She will frequently wake up, with the sensation of being shot cutting through her head. Primarily anything to do with the smell of blood will trigger her to remember her own wound, but she is usually better at managing this.

  Grady prompted a large portion of Beth’s current anxiety and fear, and will often cause her to lock up, but I feel as though Grady needs to have it’s own post.

HC | WE ALL GOT JOBS

                                       Beth volunteered to work in the kitchen after a few weeks within Alexandria. When the group arrived, jobs were quickly handed out. Because of the injury sustained at Grady, and the concern about her time spent in the hospital, they kept her in town. She wasn’t allowed to volunteer for scavenging, and was actively discouraged from pursuing any work that would be too physically demanding.

                                       Due to feeling useless within Alexandria, she sought out Deanna and explained her skills. They decided she could easily work within the kitchen, given that she knew how to properly cure meat. This was a pressing issue, due to the group hunting. It also meant that those who went on runs were better equipped with food that would last, and they could rely on the food prepared in Alexandria.

                                        Once Beth has proven she can be alert and contribute to the runs, she is going to speak with Rick and Deanna about it. She doesn’t want to fall into the same position she was in at the prison, where others fought for her. She wants to prove that she more than what people think she is, a fact that is only exacerbated by the attitudes she experienced in Grady.

                                       Beth’s work in the kitchen primarily centers around making jerky, jam, and other easily preserved goods. She also cooks larger meals which are taken by those who do not have time to cook, or those unable to. She makes stews, casseroles, and works with Carol on other, fancier dishes. She is learning a lot, but much of this was knowledge gained from her mother, Annette.

HC | RESPECT FOR THE DEAD

"Help me take her down.“

"Don’t matter, it’s dead.”

"It does matter.“

Beth doesn’t have pity for the walkers. She knows that it’s kill or be killed when it comes to them, and she won’t hesitate to defend herself. What she cannot (and will not) stand for is people who belittle the walkers, and truss them up into games. This is highlighted at the gold club when she attempts to take down the woman with the sign ‘RICH BITCH’ around her neck.

The walkers were once someone’s friend, family, acquaintance, rival, enemy – they werepeople. Desecrating the walkers for personal amusement is akin to playing with any 'human’ corpse, because that’s what they are. They were all once human, and she despises what the world has devolved into.

The humans who take it upon themselves to toy with and torture walkers for personal amusement are despicable to Beth. In the same vein, people who treat them as human, if not higher, are also of a questionable nature. They are nothing but a threat, a tragedy, and a walking corpse. They aren’t toys or people (not anymore).

Beth will avoid killing them as much as possible, and won’t seek a fight. She will also still refer to them by 'he’ and 'her’, assuming the can tell what gender they are. This links back to her first exposure to the walkers, in the form of her friends and family in the barn. She had been taught they were still people, just sick in the head.

And while Beth knows now there is little chance of returning from the state walkers decay into, she still views them as once human, and deserving of her respect. She will try to calmly, peacefully, put the walker out of it’s misery, and make a note in her diary of another person to pray for.

(Above all, she will protect the group and herself, and would never put a walker above that of a living human being.)

HC | HEARTS AND BUTTONS

Sidenote, both Beth and Lori wear necklaces that feature heart iconography. Lori has her locket, which has Rick’s ring on it until they reunite. It’s a proper locket, closed over, with pictures in it no doubt. It ends up on a dark piece of cloth, rather than the chain. Beth, on the other hand, has two hearts, both outlines of hearts, which begins on a proper fine chain, only to be fixed with a cloth strap looking piece later on, as well as a button.

The addition of a second heart to her necklace, as well as a button made me want to look it up. What’s the significance of the button? One definition I found was; a button can symbolize life. Your life can be closed up or too open. Sometimes for your own protection button up against people that just want to interfere in your life. Given the episodes where her necklace gained the button match up with her development with Daryl, I think this was to show it was time for her to open up. Maybe.

Her fine silver chain and single heart were introduced with her, when she was ignorant of the true epidemic. And the necklace stayed that way until well into season three, and appeared in it’s adapted form by the end of season four. The chain is still present across the back, still integral, but behind her. The dark fabric is wrapped around the hearts, keeping them secure. The button – I really wish I knew who the button came from, or if it just fell off her shirt. But there had to be some significance. You don’t just pick up a button and attach it to your necklace.

(And I haven’t even talked about her bracelets. Unnecessary, but properly from Maggie who went on runs. I’m going to headcanon that each came from a different person, one from Glenn, one from Daryl, one from Maggie. Not all were directly given to her, but were brought back for anyone to grab. Or were they brought back, specifically for her? It was her birthday at some point in S3 and S4. Perhaps they were birthday presents?)

The show uses necklaces throughout it, with Andrea and her sister and the mermaid necklace, with Daryl and the necklace of walker ears, and the 22 necklace that Shane wore. I just find it interesting that there are parralells between Lori and Beth’s jewelry choices. As they both adapt and become stronger, the fine chain transformed into something sturdier, but no less beautiful.

People change. Their accessories reflect that.

HC | FAVORITE THING

The question would have been impossible, once upon a time. Beth had her phone, her laptop, her assortment of heels and finery, and a dozen other bits and pieces she thought she couldn’t live without. All of it had gone up in smoke and flames, the day the walkers had broken through the fences. It went to show you how useless technology was, for all it’s bells and whistles.

Her iPhone was useless; her Macbook AIR was a paperweight; her heels were a liability. Beth looked around in the cell she now lived in, her fingers running along the frame of her bunk. She was fortunate enough to know the people who made the initial runs, and was lucky enough to have bits brought back for her. A locket from Daryl, a book from Glenn, a new pair of sneakers from Maggie, and other things that fleshed out her outfit.

”My favorite thing?” Beth hummed, a mischievous smile always on her lips. She let out a sigh, hands falling to her knees. “Gosh, make it hard why don’t you.” It was then she saw it, tucked into the rungs of the bunk above her. She pried it out with lithe fingers, her index finger playing with the frayed edge of the cover. Beth fell to her tummy now, legs kicked up on her bed.

”Ah bet you’re thinkin’, typical of a girl… Or, or, why a lil’ book? But it’s not what you think. It isn’t all boys n’ school or any of that.” Beth smiled down at the green coated pocket book, the inside cover scrawled with silly phrases. “See, my momma got me this f’Christmas, like she always does. It’s so I could write down my plans, so I could warn her… If I needed to get picked up, from school, or the pool, or church, I could let her know. I was always a bit scatterbrained when it came t’times.”

Beth wiped away a tear, brushing it straight onto the sheets. “See, I forgot about it. I forgot it existed, it was in my school bag from Christmas, t’… Till we ran from the farm. And then through the forests, and through the storage lockers. We didn’t have a proper Christmas last year but — you don’t expect that, not now.” Beth licked her lips, idly dooling in the margins.

”But see, I had written things in it, at the farmhouse, when I wanted — a way out. After m’mom came out of that barn and… Y’know. When things were bad. But I look back to it now, and I just feel better, knowin’ I’ve made it, I’ve changed. I’ve proven myself wrong. And that’s what this book is about.” Beth scratched at the spine of the book like it was a cat keening into her touch.

”Once we cleared the prison, and settled down, I found it again. I didn’t need t’cry anymore, because I knew, like last time, I’d be okay. I wrote in it when the inmates died, Axel, and…” Beth shook her head. “And I wrote in it, when I was feelin’ sad, or lonely, or mad. I didn’t wanna make everyone else suffer f’my problems. Especially ‘cause I was carin’ for Judith, after Lori passed away.”

Beth capped her biro, now sitting up once more. “It’s been good for me. And one day, when I’m old and tellin’ my grandkids about all this, I’ll remember it all. I’ll remember the names of everyone I’ve known, of all their hopes, and dreams, and wishes, ‘cause…” Beth stood up, still cradling the diary. “If you write it down, it’ll come true. Maybe not in this lifetime, but in the sky, in Heaven, they’ll be happy. That’s all I want.”

The blonde wiped at her eyes again, though there were no tears. “Bet y’weren’t looking for me to ramble. That’s why I started the diary. So my mom could see it, in case she’s too busy in Heaven takin’ care of everyone else. She’d be like that, mom… Talkin’ with Lori about how I needa watch myself ‘round boys, while they braid Sophia’s hair. Patricia there, laughing along. Otis cookin’ a barbeque… Jimmy, he’d visit, t’be polite.” Beth let out a laugh, though it didn’t sound at all amused. This was how she coped.

”Don’t tell anyone. I don’t really want them knowin’ I keep a diary. It’s not like that.”

It was her diary, but it had more to it than the name suggested.

HC | BAD JOKES

If Beth sees you frowning for too long, she’ll come over and tell you terrible jokes. Even if you get mad at her, she’ll be happy. Being angry is better than being sad, in her eyes. It means you’re still alive, and still feeling things. It’s also an ideal ice breaker, and a method her choir teacher taught her for making friends with the competition at choir meets.