#I cried over an old man i saw walking on the street with a walker as i drove by

[theatricalplacenta]

Just having some early morning thoughts on relationships. Contemplating and reflecting on how trauma affects your ability to connect with people or have basic fucking emotions, or how to trust people, or connect with them.

Growing up with a literal bat shit crazy biological mother, who was narcissistic and didn’t love her children beyond loving them as possessions, beat them to shit, verbally abused them, left them in situations where they were sexually abused, and on one occasion even sexually abused her eldest (me) herself; /REALLY/ fucked up my ability to form relationships of any kind. I’ll never leave my friends, and I consider them family because they are much more to me than my birth parents were, and I love them like I love my siblings, but they can leave me, and i will “understand”, because I see myself as unlovable.

Years and years and years of therapy didn’t fix it. Didn’t help it.  Years and years and years of seeing a psychiatrist didn’t help either. Everyone always says “see a shrink”, like it’s an instant fix. Sometimes, things take your whole life to work with, to understand, to make peace with, and learn and teach yourself to do things you would have learned as a child. (Or maybe you had, and became unable to process a certain strain of thoughts, or feelings after a certain situation or occurrence.  Sometimes things are never fixed. Most of the time, you learn to live with it. Ptsd can be reversed... as can depression... but it is not something to expect. Aiming for “normality” can set you back. Striving for perfection instead of taking baby steps towards living with your mental illness; living with yourself, is just setting yourself up for failure. the need to “fix” can make the world seem so much bigger, or can make the path you want to walk seem so much longer as you haven’t planned any pit stops. I use to cry when people would hug me when I went into foster care. My foster mom would ask to hug me, and I had never been asked before. I would say no, until one day I said yes, just to see what it was like. To see what a hug that wouldn’t be accompanied with crazed whispers, or spindly, dagger fingers clawing into my back, keeping me captive as my birth mother conveyed her love and care; love and care that was never present, but she desperately tried to make it seem like it was, and it wasn’t very believable after being beaten to hell and back, screamed at and taken down with verbal assault until she foamed at the mouth and turned red and blue in the face with hatred and anger, or after she would make me watch her beat and abuse my baby brother and sister, my children, that I raised, because I was too strong to be hurt physically. Because hurting them was the only way I would understand how much she “loved me”, and hugging me- making me look, constricting my body- touching the body she so vehemently made me aware of  being ugly and disgusting, putrid-  What would it be like to be hugged by a mom who respected me, and thought I was good, and kind, and artistic, and wanted what was good for me; genuinely... Well... I can tell you. It still repulsed me. Not her- never my foster mom, but the touch. The memories that came with it. The physical feeling of nausea and revulsion, and the instinctual panic and fear that came with it- it was all there. It still is to this day- BUT, just because I am not over it...does not mean I didn’t learn to rationalize, and live with it. See, hugging was bad for me. It still is- but back then, I started going out of my way to welcome hugs, or to initiate them, because I needed to condition myself at the very least, if not train my brain to expect positive interaction with hugs. I do now, but the initial trauma will always be there, and I think I will always feel sick when being hugged, or touched in general- But... I learned to live with it. Not to say that I- nor ANYONE else has to learn to just... “live with it”, because that’s ridiculous... but if you work towards it... just baby steps... things might get better. Hell, I still panic at the sight of shoulder-blade length, wiry, curly, dark hair. I had a full on crying my eyes out silently, breath taking panic attack on a bus from seeing a woman with her hair on the road outside the window. ANYWAY The point is, shit like this affects your relationships on a primary level, and it can stay that way. I don’t have the tools to apply to my own ptsd, nor to attempt to try and help another work past their trauma, and who fucking knows if others do... I honestly haven’t found anyone who gave me factual life advice to ease these sorts of problems, but in general these people, the psychiatrists and therapists, gave me a better understanding of what is happening to me, and why... but I've come to the obvious conclusion that you can’t just /fix/ what is broken when it’s trauma.I can’t make myself attracted to people. I can’t make myself okay with being touched, even if I can become accustomed to it. I can’t just decide to have a relationship with someone like I see so many do.  But does that make me broken? Does that make me strange? Does that make me less of a person? I’m not sure... I love people in my life wholly and unconditionally, and I want to love someone some day in the way of romance.... but is my want for romance simply a want for the idea of romance?  I’m a private person... I don’t like to be nagged or when people are super clingly- or expect to talk to me every single day.... I could never not have my own bed (But i’ll peg that on my bed being my safe place, and only my closest friends may share a bed with me) I’m just.... maybe I’m just meant to die alone. On a sort-of-less-serious note: WHAT IS LOVE- HOW DO I FIND IT.  DO I GO ON TINDER!? DO I HAVE TO BE SKINNY FIRST AND LOOSE ALL THE WEIGHT I PUT ON FOR THE SOUL PURPOSE OF SCARING OFF ANYONE THAT COULD SEE ME SEXUALLY- AND NOW I’M LIKE “Damn, i wonder if sex with a person is cool. The fuck do I do- do I make a craigslist add?  Hire an escort? LOL “HELLO, I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT SEXUAL INTERCOURSE IS LIKE WITH A HUMAN BEING. IS IT AS DISGUSTING AND AWKWARD AS IT SOUNDS? OR IS IT AS HOT AS WHAT I WRITE ABOUT?” SHOULD I JOIN CHRISTIAN MINGLE AND SHOW UP WITH MY RELIGION-HATING ASS!?

AMERICA, ESPLAIN. This has been a delusional 1 am self reflection with Thea. Who should have used those two golden hours of awake time from not sleeping off her pneumonia, to finish colouring her villain deku zine piece! It’s so close to being done, and yet, HERE SHE IS!- wondering about how people could possibly be comfortable getting married, how they find and keep love- how the hell they’re having babies, and living happily- while she’s over here, crying into a bag of mcsweenies original beef jerky, with a dog at her side, and has a 95% expectancy to be living in her car or under a bridge at any given moment.  Life is really something else. I really don’t expect any of you to have read this, but if you have, share your experiences! Maybe you have pointers! Tips! Pick up lines. Maybe you can just re-affirm i’m stupid af and I should just shut the fuck up.

[nyxerebus]

Unlikely Companions (Daryl Dixon x Female reader/ PLATONIC! Carl x Reader)

Summary: Carl was running for his life, being chased by walkers after he went on his own looking for Sophia. When he is corned by the walker a stranger woman saves him. She is looking for her Fiancee for the old world, but offers her help returning him to the farm. They bond over the days in the woods and she learns she might have another reason to find the farm.

Words: 3.1 k

“Carl?” Lori shouted across the farm. She hadn’t seen the boy all day and was starting to get nervous. “Have you seen Carl?” Maggie shook her head. “Not since breakfast” She answered in her southern accent. “Maybe he is with Rick? Or Shane?” Lori just nodded, but didn’t feel any safer. Where was her son?

Carl was running for his life. The two walkers were closing inn. He knew better than to shout and call for help, knowing it would probably attract even more walkers, but right now he didn’t care. “MOM!” He quickened his pace. “DAD!” Two walkers turned into four as two more appeared at his side. Tears was now streaming down his face as he was sure he was going to die here. He looked back again, ready to face death. But the walkers didn’t close inn on him. Instead arrow after arrow filled the air and all the walkers dropped. When Carl turned back around, fully expecting to see Daryl standing there, was surprised to see a stranger. “Are you okay?” The stranger asked him. Carl looked up at the woman. He was inn shock and didn’t know what to say. “You got a group? A family” She continued to ask him. When she tried to approach him, he backed up. “Hey, you don’t need to worry, I won’t do you any harm. Look” She dropped her cross bow and unleased her knife from her holster. When both fell to the ground, she could see him relaxing more. “Can I ask your name?”

“Carl, Carl Grimes”

“Well, Carl Grimes. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). I’m looking for my fiancée. But I can help you return back to you family. Someone as young as you shouldn’t be out here alone”.

Carl was still unsure about her. Remembering her mother’s speech about stranger danger. But those were the rules of the old world. Here in the new world they should accept help form anyone who invites it, right? After thinking it through, he nodded. “Okay, okay. This is a good start. How far away is your camp?” Carl looked down, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know”

“Do you know the directions?” He shook his head. “Well shit, looks like were in quiet a pickle huh?” She smiled at him, trying to ease him. “I don’t know this area, never been here before. So, I say we head in one direction and hope for the best. What do you think?” He nodded. “Great! Lets go then!”

And so they started to wander. (Y/N) in front, with Carl a meter behind. “Sooo, do you have a favourite movie or something?” He just stared at her. “What! Come on, were going to be stuck with each other for a while, might as well get to know each other”. After a minute of silence, he spoke. “Iron Man”

“That’s a good movie! Mine is probably that or Pride and Prejudice”. Carl scrunched up his nose almost in disgust. “But that’s so girly! All they do is talk about their feelings and kiss!” She looked back at him, offended by his remarks. “And!? It’s a great love story that is still relevant to this day” She played up her offence more hoping it would make him laugh. It did. “Its still so girly” He said between giggles. “Never mind, were is the nearest walker. I’m feeding you to it” (Y/N)’s giggling was now a full on laughter. “Nooo!” Carl was laughing too. (Y/N) was relieved he was laughing, afraid the incident had traumatized him badly.

Back at the farm, panic was settling inn as no one knew were Carl was. “Who was the last to see him?” Rick asked the group. “I saw him after breakfast” Andrea spoke up, she and Carol was comforting Lori, who was having a full blown break down. “He probably went out looking for Sophia alone” All looked to Shane. “I’m mean why else would he suddenly leave”.

“I think your right, but he is still healing from the gun wound, he wouldn’t get far. And if a walker got him, he wouldn’t have much fight in him”.

“My baby!” Lori cried out in agony. “We need to send out search groups, he couldn’t have gone far”. Everyone agreed with Rick. “And with some luck we might find Sophia as well” Daryl nodded at Carol. She smiled back.

The sun had set and the night was creeping closer. (Y/N) had set up an alert system around the small camp they built for the night. Barb wire around them with empty cans tied up. They would rattle if a walker came close and waking them up. It was how (Y/N) had been sleeping every night.

“Go to sleep, I’ll look out for walkers” (Y/N) said leaned back against a tree. She had laid down her sleeping bag that he could use. “I wont fall asleep” Carl complained. “Try”.

“Can you tell me a story” She looked at him weird. “Aren’t you a bit old for fairy tales?”

“Not fairy tales, stories about your life, from before this?” She still looked at him weirdly. “My mom used to tell me stories from her collage days so I could fall asleep when I was younger. Can you please?” When he looked at her with those poppy eyes, (even though it was hard to see with only their small campfire as a light source), who could say no?

“Okay kid, one story than you go to sleep. Deal?” He nodded “What do you want to know?”

“You are engaged right, how was the proposal?” She giggled at the memory but started to tell about the best day of her life:

“Daryl! What are we doing here?” She was a bit frustrated as the redneck pulled her along the streets. It was midday and pretty damn hot. She pulled down her dress skirt as the wind picked up. “Have some patience’ damn woman” She giggled at his bruteness. One of the things she loved about the man, one of many. When they stopped in front of a new bookshop, he could see the hearts in her eyes. “I dint know they opened a new bookshop here!” She exclaimed. “Saw it last night and thought you might like it” Lies. He had known they were opening here for the past month, doing everything in his power to make sure you dint know. They actually had opening night a week ago.

Now it was her turn to drag him along. It surprised her to see the shop empty, seeing as the streets were pretty full. But she didn’t think much of it. Running between shelves after shelves, the one book in hand turning into two, than four and now finally six books. But when she turned around, all the books fell too the floor. Because there before her was her lovely boyfriend, down on one knee with a ring between his fingers. “Oh my god” She whispered into the silent shop. As if on cue, the speakers played her favourite song.

“(Y/N) (L/N), you are the love of my life. And I just want to be your man’ for the rest of your life. And, shit you know I aint’ good with my emotions, but when I’m with ya’ it seems so easy. Shit, I’m messing it all up” He was stumbling over his own words, clearly forgetting a pre-rehearsed speech. “no, please continue” tears were forming in her eyes. “I love ya’ (Y/N), my Sunshine. You book crazy mad woman. I love everything about ya’. So, will ya’ marry me?” He was ready for a rejection, ready to see her walk out of his life forever. But she didn’t.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, a million times yes” Tears were streaming down her face. He stood up and kissed her. His arm wrapping around her waist, bending her down a bit so he could kiss her more passionately. Like in the movies. They only broke off so he could slip the ring on her finger, it fit her perfectly.

“Did he rent out the bookshop?” Carl asked, clearly very invested. “Yeah, cost him way too much, but he didn’t care. That idiot was never good with money” She giggled at the memories. “What about after, what did you guys do?”

“Nah nah nah, the deal was one story than you go to sleep. I can tell you more tomorrow”. Carl huffed in annoyance but turned around in the sleeping bag. “Good night”

“Good night Carl”.

“Rick, it’s been a whole night! Where is he?” Lori was completely lost; she hadn’t slept all night. To worried about where her son was. “What if his trapped, oh god! What if those walkers got him?”

“We can’t think like that! He is fine. He has to be” Rick did everything he could to try and look confident and comfort his wife, but the worry was eating him up as well. The same thoughts were running through his head as well. Those terrible images of his baby boy being ripped apart by the walkers.

“Okay, open your mouth” Carl did as instruct and tried to catch the berry she threw into his mouth. She missed, but only with an inch! “You suck!” Carl teased her. “Hey! I’m not the one with a tiny mouth!” She teased back. “Alright, lets start walking big man”. He nodded and helped her clean up the camp. “Can I ask a question?” The boy asked as they continued to walk. “Sure”

“What happened between you and your fiancée? Why aren’t you together now?”

She took a deep breath. “When the outbreak happened, we weren’t together. He was off god know where with his brother, probably bailing him out or something-” Carl looked at her questioning, “That’s another story. But yeah, we weren’t together. I was at campus and that turned into a mess, I lots a lot of friends there. Mass panic and everybody evacuated. I and a couple of other students bunkered up a dorm room. Living of the instant noodles and beer we found. That lasted maybe 4 days. So, we left and split off, I wanted to go into the woods, where he would be and the rest wanted to go to back to Atlanta. And since than I have been looking for him. Living in the woods like a mad man.” Tears started to form in her eyes when she relived the horrible times at the campus.

“Sorry I asked”. He looked down. “Its alright” She smiled at him. “What were you studying?”

“Heh, literature. Not much help in the apocalypse, I guess”.

“Than how did you learn to use the bow and hunt?”

“He taught me” She smiled at the memory, and thanked him desperately for teaching her:

“Why do I need to learn this? I live in the city, I will never hunt or live in the woods!” Daryl just scuffed at her and placed the bow he bought in her hands. He had brought her out to the woods after her classes to teach her hunting. “ya’ need to be able to fend for yourself and feed yourself” She just looked him with a raise brow, but eventually gave in. “Fine, fine. Teach me”. A smirk played out on his face, happy with his little victory. Truth be told, he needed to know that you could fend for yourself and be independent, in and out of the city. It eased him at night, in a weird way. “Why cant I learn the crossbow like you?”

“First bow, than crossbow. Alright Sunshine’”

Shoooo! The arrow flew through the air and hit the squirl in the head. “Score!” (Y/N) exclaimed. She fastened the squirrel two her belt, joining the five others she had shot. “We eating good tonight!” Carl looked at the squirrels with a lot of scepticisms. “What? Don’t tell me you’re a picky eater”

“No, it just looks so weird like that” They bickered back and front while they walked in the direction, they thought the farm was inn. They had changed their direction a couple of times, hoping to get closer and see sign of life.

They had spent the entire day walking, and as the night came closer they found a spot to camp up. Carl set up the wires while (Y/N) started a fire to cook the squirrels. While they ate, Carl told her about his family and the people they were in the camp with. “What the hell! You got shot?!”

“Yeah!” Carl had a proud grin on his face, finally having something that made him look cool. “Shit, man your tougher than me if you can bounce back like that”. He laughed and continued to brag about the experience. It was a nice conversation. He talked a bunch about his family, mostly about his dad. Clearly his hero. But than he mentioned a familiar name.

“Wait! Daryl? Daryl with a crossbow?” Carl just nodded. “Does he have a west with angel wings? Brother named Merle?” When Carl nodded again. Tears started to from in her eyes. She was going to be reunited with Daryl, her Daryl. He was alive. That night when Carl finally fell asleep, her mind wandered to all the amazing memories with the man.

It was cold in the room. The window was wide open and letting the moonshine lighting up the small bedroom. (Y/N) and Daryl was huddled together for warmth on the bed. It had been an long night. From a failed date after the place Daryl wanted to take her to was closed, she got catcalled which ended up with her having to drag Daryl of the stranger. And when they got home, he showed her his scars. She was the first romantic partner he had ever shown. The night ended with their naked, sweaty bodies pressed together, while both worked to please the other. It was their first night together, her first night with anyone. When they lied down together basking in the aftermath of their climax, it was one of the happiest times in her life. He wrapped his arms around her and puller her on top of him. Her head resting on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her, caressing her back with one hand, the other squeezing her thigh. “I love ya Sunshine”.

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)! Wake up!” Carl shook her awake. “What’s happening” She immediately reached for her bow and charged it ahead of her, ready to attack any enemy that threatened them. “I can see the farm!” The night had made it harder to see a head of them, but now that the sun was lighting up the world, they could see the farm a head of them. (Y/N) realised her bow and the breath she was holding. They packed up the camp at record time, both wanting to reach the farm as quickly as possible. The walk over to the farm was quiet. When they reached the outcast of the woods, a voice stopped them from going any further.

“Well, well, well, look at that. Do you guys see this fine piece of ass” A man walked out from behind a tree with a gun raised at them both. Three other guys came out, all with their weapons raised. “Sure do boss. Haven’t seen a woman this fine in what feels like ages. I’m just aching to be inside of her”.

(Y/N) placed herself protectively in front of Carl. “What do you guys want? Our food, weapons? You can have that, just leave us alone” Her voice trembled a little afraid of what they will do to them. “Oh, we don’t need your left overs or those teeth pickers you call knifes, no baby. We want something different” He grabbed his crotch when he said the last part. “Carl, run”.

“What? I cant leave-” “Carl! Run!” One of the guys tackled her down. Holding her down on the ground. “Get the kid” The boss said to the guy closest to Carl. “RUN!” She shouted before her mouth was covered. Carl finally ran away, when the guy ordered to catch him started to run after him.

When he made it out of the forest and ran across the fields to the farm, he started to shout out for help. “MOM! DAD!”.

“Do you guys hear that?” Glenn asked the group as they sat around planning the move for the day. “That’s Carl” Lori ran towards the field and saw her son running across it being chased by a stranger.

“Carl!” All the guys saw it too and started to run to Carl. The guy chasing him, saw the men running towards him and turned around to warn the others. “Carl!” Rick finally got to hug his son after being missing for 3 days. But the hug was cut short when Carl pushed free. “We need to head back, (Y/N), the girl that helped me is back there and the guys are attacking her!” He pulled his fathers hand and started to move back to the woods, but Daryl stopped him.

“(Y/N), as in (Y/N) (L/N)?” When Carl nodded Daryl took off and ran towards the forest. The others followed, but this time Carl was pushed back behind them. When they got closer they could hear her voice yelling for them to get off. They reached the area Daryl did not hesitate to shoot the guys around her, holding her down while the main guy was cutting up her clothes. When she got her hands free, she leaped on the last guy and grabbed her knife they had forgotten to remove from her belt. When he was pushed to the ground she didn’t hesitate to stab him in the chest. She didn’t stop after one, two three or four. Blood splashed on her face and torned shirt. Her hands were covered in blood.

Rick took a step forward, but stepped on a twig that snaped in two. She leaped up and raised the knife up, ready to protect herself against another attacker. But when she saw Daryl standing there, she dropped the knife. Sobs wracked through her body and she took a stumbling step forward. Daryl closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. He didn’t care that she was covered in blood, just happy that she was safe. She was alive.

Her knees buckled and she fell down, taking him with her. They were both on their knees holding each other and crying into each other’s necks. Right now, nobody else mattered. Not Rick, Glenn or Shane who was staring at the scene in front of them. Not the bodies of her attackers lying around them. No one. Only them as they held each other for the first time. It seemed as Carl had led her back to her family just as much as she had helped him back to his.

A/N: Part 2 is out! You can read it here : Part 2

Please ignore any spelling mistakes as English is not my first language :) 

[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together. 

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

-

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He’d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat. 

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

-

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

-

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 19)

Mila’s feet dangle in the air as she sits on the edge of the guard post, while looking out over the surroundings. Next to her on the floor lies a bottle of vodka, in case she gets bored. She turns her eyes to the flickering flame of the oil lantern, the only source of light. Besides the lantern its pitch black. The darkness is wrapped around the surroundings like a heavy blanket. No lights are on in the houses. 

Before she put on her jacket, hid the vodka bottle in the inner pocket and went out to the guard tower Mila tucked Juri in for the night. She helped him choose a cassette tape to fall asleep to, made sure he had all of his ‘friends’ also tucked in; the brown dog named Jeff (Mila had no idea why), his soft bunny named Bruce after Bruce Springsteen and the teddy bear that goes by the name Eddie, after Eddie Vedder. But Mila hasn’t been able to figure out Jeff. Who’s Jeff? Instead of asking him about it, she kissed Juri on the forehead and left for guard duty. Daryl wasn’t at the guard tower when she arrived, so Mila made herself comfortable. 

She taps her fingers towards the floor and hums the tune to “Hungry heart”, starts to sing faintly. Springsteen makes her think of the summers in New Jersey. Driving around on hot summer days, the long days at the beach in Point Pleasant, eating tons of ice cream and drinking Pepsi Cola, riding around Atlantic City with Darya and Laura in Darya’s dad’s convertible-    

“You sing well.”

Mila looks up. Daryl has joined her, finally. In one hand he holds the crossbow and in the other two bottles of water. 

“You’re late.” 

”You’re easy prey, sitting like this.” Daryl sits down besides her, lets his legs swing over the edge next to hers and gives her one of the bottles.

”Wolves are gone. Walkers don’t jump.” Mila removes the lid and takes a sip of water. “I think I’m fine.” 

”You’re really good.” Daryl looks down at his knees. “I mean, singing. Your accent disappears when you sing.” 

”Yeah. I’ve heard that.” Mila laughs and puts the water bottle down, next to the vodka bottle. ”It would sound even better if I had a guitar and a cowboy hat.” With a smile she grabs the Vodka bottle from the floor, unscrews it and takes a bountiful sip, before offering it to Daryl. ”I’ve heard you should drink at least one liter a day.”

”Thought that applied to water?” Daryl lifts an eyebrow and brings the bottle to the mouth and drinks, lets out a cough as he lowers it. ”Gotta get you a guitar then, Jersey.”

“Yeah I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” She replies. “It sorta’ feels pretty pointless now. I haven't played in forever.” she meets Daryl’s gaze. “I was engaged to this guy, before- It’s because of him I play the guitar, and sing in ‘American’.”

Daryl stiffens up at her words. It’s barely noticeable, but Mila notices. 

“He’s dead anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Mila takes a sip of vodka. “My father hated him for encouraging my interest in music. Said it was a waste of time. He didn’t understand the phenomenon ‘hobbies’.” Mila tries to remember what her dear papa yelled at her through the glass. It was hard to hear exactly what he yelled, since he banged at the window, but she could make out some of it. ”Eto chepukha, Milena, chepukha!” she repeats. “Nonsense.”

“Seems like a charmer.” Daryl replies. “Ain’t a waste though. I like it.”

Mila glances at the broad archer next to her. Somehow he reminds her of Jim; tall, broad shoulders and muscles. Jim had brown hair and beard, a bit more groomed than the Southern archer, but still- 

The first time Mila laid her eyes on Jim was during a gig at a bar in Brooklyn. She was there with her friend Laura. Jim played guitar in the band and halfway through he pulled his shirt off. Milas eyes were glued to his bare chest during the rest of the performance. Even a blind person would have noticed such an intense stare down; as did Jim on stage. Afterward he asked her over to their table, and she fell like a paw for the big Oklahoma native, with the pretty eyes and the kind smile. Jim was big as a bear and kind as a puppy. He was warm, had a boisterous but contagious laugh, he was friendly and charismatic. Everybody around Mila adored Jim, everybody except papa, which made sense. Papa hated everyone, except himself.

Physically, Daryl reminds her of Jim somewhat, but their personalities are like night and day. Jim was able to entertain an entire room full of people, and happily did so by telling stories or playing the guitar. Daryl would probably never even think of entering such a room. He’s encased in armor, a hard shell no one seems to be able to break. She hasn’t heard an ounce of bursting laughter from him and he barely talks. And yet she likes his company. When she saw him walk down the street into the Safe-Zone last night it felt like a ton of brick was dropped from her chest. Of course she was still angry with him for some unimportant reason she can’t really remember now, but she was happy for having him back.

“Where’s he by the way?” Daryl asks. “Your old man. Ya’ said ya’ came here together.”

“In prison.”

The statement doesn’t seem to surprise Daryl significantly.

“What for?” 

Mila hands him the vodka bottle again. Daryl looks puzzled at it. 

“If you want to hear about it, you might need it.” Mila explains and doesn’t take her eyes away from his. “There’s a legit reason why I have alcohol problems.”

“Haven’t noticed.” the archer winks at her over the bottle and drinks. “Why’s he locked up?”

“Murder. And for kidnapping me.” 

It might be so easy to say it because she feels some kind of connection to the man sitting next to her, or maybe it’s because the whole world went to hell and papa, Mila’s perdition, her Achilles heel, probably is dead by now. 

Mila was the only child. Her father, her papa, wanted to have a son. Instead he got Mila. Her mother, who loved her more than life itself, couldn’t bear more children and Mila was punished for that her entire life by her father. Papa was stern on her from the start. Sergey Yuruchenko’s offspring wouldn’t be a weakling. Her sole purpose in life would be to make him proud. Like a show dog. He hardened Mila like steel; dragged her out on the frozen river Volga during the winters for an ice bath, a procedure to ‘man her up’. If Mila hesitated or began to cry she had to stay longer in the water. Eventually she stopped crying. He taught her to fight, games that often resulted in cracked lips and black eyes. Sometimes Mila began to cry because it hurt and she felt scared, but he assured her it was a fun game, and she believed him. He coached her in sports, to make sure she would win. Second place was never enough. Mila could’ve easily become an olympic marathon athlete, if she would have had the choice. But he had already set out her entire future. 

”My mama loved me with all of her heart and papa made sure that I never forgot how he grieved the son he never had. It was my burden and my responsibility to prove that I was worthy of his affection. I was a wreck emotionally. Thrown between boundless love and emotional abuse.” Mila pauses and takes another mouthful of vodka. “I got respect from him for the first time when I was fifteen. He firmly argued that if a man couldn’t hit a soup can fifty yards away with a gun after drinking a whole bottle of vodka, he was a wimp. He didn’t count on me, a fifteen year old girl to even dream about trying.” She raises her eyebrows at Daryl. ”But I passed the test and he eased the leash.”

After that summer, Mila had a great year. She was ‘allowed’ to be an ordinary teenager in all its meaning. She went to parties with her friends, dreamed of Leonardo Dicaprio when she kissed her first boyfriend Dima for the first time and she was convinced that life would continue like that.

“Then one day he asked me to come with him on a trip abroad, for work. It was just the two of us at home that day and he was so different. Friendly even. It felt odd, but he was so convincing. He asked me to be ready in an hour with a bag. I felt so excited. Not until we walked through the gate at the airport I understood where we were going. I couldn’t believe it. We were going to America! He made the whole trip sound so exciting. It felt like we were friends for the first time. That I finally had a father.”

Mila pauses. She’d thought about that moment many times since that plane ride. How it all was just an act. How he used Mila’s cluelessness to save his own ass. In reality he didn’t feel like that at all. He didn’t care about her. 

”We were arrested as soon as we got through the passport control at Newark. We were separated, put in different rooms. I panicked the entire time, fought and cried. An interpreter and two policemen came and told me that he was arrested. I tried to convince them that it must have been a misunderstanding. But it wasn’t. I was kidnapped and papa was internationally wanted for murder in Russia by Interpol. Or serial murders, I think it’s called, in the case of more than three victims.”

“How many?” he asks. 

Their eyes meet through the darkness. The only sound that’s heard is the chirping cicadas, the wind rattling in the trees and the thudding sound of the walkers crashing into each other on the other side of the wall. Well, he hasn’t run away yet, Mila thinks.

“Including the policeman he killed at the station the day after we arrived; ten.”

Daryl doesn't even try to hide his astonishment. 

”A woman disappeared in Moscow in- gosh, I don’t even remember the year. Anyway, she was found under a bridge, two days later. Then another woman was found a few weeks later, under a viaduct. Seven women and two men around Moscow. One woman was completely beheaded. I was fourteen when they found her, and my father told me to ’be safe’ when I walked home from gymnastics practice.”

Mila remembers almost all of them by name. They were read out during the trial in New York, while images of them were displayed on a projector. Mila saw their bruised faces, the dead eyes in the pale, straight faces. No matter how awful it was, she couldn’t look away, like passing a car accident. Mila had to watch, to understand that it was her papa, who worried when she would go home alone from gymnastics, he who always urged her to beware of boys in a group (or boys in general), that had done these horrible actions. The youngest victim was eighteen and was found in a shallow part of Volga. They had to identify it through dental cards. In court, sitting on that hard bench in between Ellie and Joe Galka, Mila desperately tried to meet her father’s gaze, wanted him to turn around where he sat, with his back against her. When he finally did, Mila didn’t see a trace of regret or empathy in them.

”He kidnapped ya’ to- what, to save himself?” 

“It didn’t seem suspicious if he traveled with his daughter. I was his ticket out of it. If he did get caught, he could use me as-” Mila fiddles on a thread in her jeans. “-Yeah, I haven’t figured out that part yet. He really knew how to inflict maximum damage to his advantages. Because of his position, working for the state, which is... corrupted beyond imagination, he could change my documents without anyone asking, making himself my sole guardian. On paper, I no longer had a mother. It was- He was so split. On one hand, a well regarded worker for the state, modest and punctual. And on the other hand, emotionally disturbed, a psychopath. A monster.” She sighs. “The same day we were arrested he overpowered a police officer. He killed him, granting him life in prison here, not risking being extradited to Russia. Social services took care of me and I ended up at the Galka’s. The first six months I visited papa in prison weekly. It really fucks you up in the head, being pulled back to the root of evil, to one's perpetrator. In my case, it was the same person. Perpetrator and father. Evil impersonated and the only person I felt I had some connection to here. And yet, I never got an explanation to why he did what he did. Eventually, thanks to the Galka’s, I stopped visiting. He didn’t like that, being out of control.”

Mila had never revolted, but when she had to acclimatize to a new culture and language all on her own, that changed. She could just as well have ended up dead behind a dumpster from drugs, but instead she went on to study at Columbia University. When papa found out that she studied to become a dental nurse, instead of a ‘real dentist’, or ‘the president of all dentists in the entire world’, or anything equally grandiose, he went all mad and had to be dragged out of the visitors room by the guards. A few days later he made a phone call and yelled at Mila for three straight minutes, until the call broke. When Mila paid him a much involuntary visit a few weeks later he’d calmed down a bit; he’d been in solitary confinement since that lash out. 

”Of all professions...” Papa snarled into the handset. ”Dental nurse? A servant! Milaya, why are you causing me this pain?”

Mila pulls herself away from the memory of Southport Correctional facility’s visiting room, back to the present, to the cool, calm night, where she shares a bottle of vodka with the archer.

“As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a father.” Mila meets Daryl’s gaze through the faint, warm light from the lantern. “I moved on. I made it. I got pregnant while in uni and tried to commit suicide. That was a nightmare. Once again I had to... switch on survival mode. I felt so defective. How could someone with a father like mine, someone who’s been hurled between motherly love and fatherly abuse, possibly be a good parent.” Mila takes a sip of vodka. The bottle is almost completely empty by now. “I haven’t had much space for making my own choices in life. Until recently.” she says. “I did some stupid choices on the way here. But at least I turned out... fairly good in the end.”

They look at each other in silence. Nothing is heard but the walkers collected hissing breaths, like a choir of rotten asthmatics, gasping for air, while pushing up against the wall. Sometimes a thud, like flesh against metal, is heard when the ones in the back push the ones in the front extra hard into the wall.

”Ya’ think he’s alive? Or they?” Daryl asks, husky. ”Your parents?”

Mila shrugs her shoulders; she doesn't know. After a while in the weeks following the outbreak, the phone calls to her mother in Russia stopped working. Her father can’t be alive. It would be impossible, just as impossible as it is to escape a high security prison like Southport. 

”What about ya’ foster parents?” 

”I don’t know.” Mila bites her lower lip. ”When the two of us came back to Jersey the Galka’s were gone. So we left, me and Juri.”

”Ain’t too bad, though.” Daryl says, in what Mila thinks is an attempt to cheer her up. “He’s a great kid.”

”He is.” she smiles. ”I never thought I’d make it, being on my own with him like this. He’s my everything, the better person of the two of us; wakes me in the morning, cheers me up and is always happy. I don’t know how he does it. He’s three!”

”And a half.” Daryl smirks. 

“Touché.” Mila looks at him. “Gosh. I’m surprised you haven’t ran away.”

”Why would I? Ma’ old man was a boozer, an ass.” Daryl replies, and his eyes suddenly shift from almost warm, to dark.  “I hadn’t much of a mother. Smoked herself to death, burnt the entire fuckin’ house down at the same time. Ma’ brother went in and out of juvenile. Died, as everyone else.” Daryl hesitates, but then he continues. ”I’m a nobody. Always been. I don’t have anything to run from.”

Mila lays her hand on top of Daryl’s, that rests against the floorboards. He twitches by her sudden move, like a stray dog that has never felt a friendly touch. 

“You’re not a nobody.” Mila says, emphasising every word. “You saved my life. Heck, I think you saved more lives than my sorry ass. Do you always push those who care about you away?”

Daryl becomes silent.

”Sorry.”

”Don’t be.” Mila says. “Honestly, It’s like you don’t think you deserve anything; people being kind to you, that people care. That’s not healthy. No wonder you’re so peevish. Just let the guard down once in a while. You do so much for everybody here, who are so thankful for it and want to show that to you. Let them. You need it. Let people in. Have you never done that?” 

”Never had a chance.” he answers. ”It’s always been bloody knuckles and shards of glass.”

”But does that mean that the whole world is dark and evil? I’ve had a bumpy ride too and I’m not all stiff and irritated with everything.”

”Well ye’ ain’t me.”

”And thank god for that.” Mila smiles a little. ”No matter what your life was like before it doesn’t have to continue being like that.” she gets silent, before she meets his eyes again. ”Have you ever just sat down and thought about what you want? Not what everybody else needs, or what they tell you to do, no matter what you think. Have you?”

”Never gotten that chance either.” Daryl grunts, and continues to look at his shoes.

“Well, do that.” Mila holds up the bottle of vodka in front of her. It’s empty. “Crap...”

“Ya’ haven’t had enough of that?”

Mila puts her head to the side and smiles dazzling.

“I told you I have problems.” Mila smirks and puts the bottle down. “But I’m workin’ on fixing that. Not tonight though.”

The corners of Daryl’s mouth curves slightly upward and he chuckles faintly. They sit quietly for a moment before he once again turns to her. 

“Ya’ really a dentist?” 

“Dental nurse.” Mila corrects. “What, are you surprised?” 

“Not at all.” Daryl replies. “How’s that like?” 

“We'll take that one another time.” Mila adjusts herself on the floor. “I have to save some cock-and-bull stories about tartar and teeth extractions for later.” 

“Can’t wait.” Daryl smirks. “If ye’ want to sing something, I don’t mind.”

Mila smiles. They sit next to each other, watching the night turn into early dawn. Mila sings faintly, to avoid unnecessary attention from the walkers, dangling her legs in the air, while Daryl’s eyes rest on the horizon, wearing a pleasant smile upon his lips.

[jasons-exposedspine]

Stronger then you know  chapter 1

summary: Negan finds a girl that looks just like Lucille and has the same name. she is with an abusive man but Negan comes into her life like a saving grace.

Warnings: physical abuse, swearing, angst, fluff

Authors note: if you get triggered by physical abuse don't read this chapter or some of the next. Liked the idea of this story but it probably is shit so ya know give me fucking hate if you want.

Relationship: Negan x Lucille (my OC) 

The only love that Lucille knew in the world full of the dead was the ‘love’ of her abusive boyfriend Jake. When Rick had found her she was alone in the woods fighting off walkers with just a kitchen knife. Rick had taken her to Alexandria and made sure she was safe even though he knew she could take care of herself. When Jake came along she thought he was good at first but then he started to hit her along the way. Rick and the others never knew that he was beating her behind closed doors. 

She was a thirty eight year old woman she could take care of herself and she had been most of her life. She feared Jake more than she feared the walkers outside of the fences, she couldn’t even say not to him without him hitting her. But she held on and she always told herself that he loved her and that’s what she kept telling herself every time he would give her a new bruise. He had forced himself on her many times and she ended up with multiple bruises on her thighs and stomach. She hid the pain so no one knew what was going on. 

She wished she could kill him, how she wished she could but she was afraid of Rick would do and if she failed she was afraid of what Jake would do to her. Then Negan happened to their community, he killed Glenn and Abraham but the only person that wasn’t afraid of him was Lucille. She feared Jake more then anything, Negan strutted into Alexandria with a huge dimpled smile on his face. Lucille was at the gate, his smile made butterflies rise in her stomach. 

He had handed his bat to Rick and walked in as if he owned the place which he now did. “Rick”, called Lucille who needed to discuss something with him but she just stood their as Negan froze to the spot. Negan heard the sweet sound of a woman’s voice, it can’t be her? The woman that called Rick sounded like her, she sounded like Lucille but she was dead. He turned his head towards the woman and  his mouth immediately dropped open. The woman looked just like her, long black hair, blue eyes, slightly tanned skin and that slight Southern twang when she spoke.

Could it be possible for someone to be the absolute spitti’n image of his wife, he didn’t know if he was going mad or if it was real. He slowly strode toward her and stopped a few centimetres away from her. Her breath caught in her throat, she didn’t know hat she did wrong. Rick and Lucille exchanged glances before she looked straight into Negan’s hazel eyes. “Hey I’m Negan” he said holding out his hand to shake hers, Lucille was hesitant at first. She grasped his hand it was warm and larger than her own and she shook it “Hey I’m-“ but before she could finish she was cut off by Jake. She let go of Negan’s hand as Jake stormed over to her. 

“What do you think your doing that’s MY girl your touching” he said angrily. “Jake it’s fine he was just introducing himself” she swallowed hard she knew what would come next after she talked to him like that. Negan immediately saw the fear in her eyes as Jake had walked towards them. “Why the fuck are you protecting him he killed our friends or have you forgotten.” Lucille shook her head “no I…I was just being polite” she began to stutter her words.

Negan realised how frightened she was of her boyfriend and he wanted to protect her but they had only just met each other. Rick suddenly stepped in “Jake that’s enough” he said walking towards her, Jake and Negan. Negan held his hand up “I can fucking handle this Rick” he demanded and Rick stood still. “Like she said I was just being fucking polite and so was she or have you forgotten what manners are you fuck tard.” 

Negan got into his personal space, Negan was a few centimetres taller than Jake so he looked intimidating. “Now I’m gonna ask the pretty lady here her fucking name again and if you interrupt Lucille will have a few things to fucking say.” Lucille knew about Negan’s bat and she guessed it was named after a late wife that he had lost. Negan held out his hand again and flashed her a dimpled smile and a panty dropping wink. “Hey I’m Negan” he repeated, she shook his hand “Hey I’m Lu, short for Lucille.”

 Negan froze in place not only did she look like her and sounded like her she had her name too. Was this a gift from heaven? God had already punished him, had god sent Negan another chance? Negan let go of her hand “well it’s nice to fucking meet you tiger lily.” Lucille smiled widely at the nickname, she liked it, no-one including Jake had called her something pretty like that. Jake’s nostrils flared at the nickname and at the way Lucille was smiling at the name. “Well I have to get my shit but I will see you around tiger lily” he beamed. Lucille watched Negan turn away and walk down the street with the sun beaming down on him. Lucille felt Jakes bruising grasp on her arms as he dragged her away “Jake let go please.” He just ignored her and dragged her in between two houses, he let go of her wrist. 

“Jake I…I didn’t d..do anything please” she stuttered as she felt the fear creep into her and she was getting prepared for what was coming. “Didn’t do anything? Are you fucking stupid? You touched him and you protected him. I’m your boyfriend not him” he yelled pointing to his chest. Lucille felt brave enough to get up into his face “I was just being polite and you fucking say I’m the one who didn’t do anything. I know your my fucking boyfriend and I would never disobey you.” Jake grabbed her shirt, Lucille closed her eyes getting ready for the hard blow. Jake punched her right in the jaw which sent her falling to the ground, no tears fell from her eyes. 

She was used to the pain and the abuse “don’t you ever fucking speak to me like that again do you hear me?” He spat as Lucille helped herself up off of the ground. He backhanded her across the face splitting her lip “I said do you fucking hear me you dirty little slut?” “Y..yes” she said her voice shaking from fear of another hit to the face, “good girl” he muttered and left her there. She licked the blood from her cut and walked quickly to her house a few houses down. As soon as she got inside her house she pressed her back to the door and slid down it. 

Lucille felt tears fall down her face she let out a quiet sob as she curled up on the floor into a ball and just cried. She wanted the pain to go away but she was afraid of what Jake would do. She only feared him and him alone, she had grown up with men like him but he was more worse than what they were. As she lied there she heard the sound of the engines of the trucks start and she sat up to look out the window of her door. She saw Negan talking to Rick and then she saw him get into the white truck and leave.

[tunehummed]

THE JONATHAN LARSON PROJECT. — 458 sentences from the 2019 album the jonathan larson project, conceived by jennifer ashley tepper! change pronouns as needed. trigger warning for mentions/discussion of abuse, sexism, homophobia, and oil spills.

GREENE STREET.

‛ i found the sun on a midwinter day. ’

‛ on a backstreet down in soho, there was snow on the ground. ’

‛ instinct told me to get out and search for a day. ’

‛ there goes a chic, chic baby on her way to a coup d’état. ’

‛ there goes a fella like me lookin’ for his day. ’

‛ there goes a boy in his mama’s arms. ’

‛ you can say what you can say. ’

‛ there goes a lover sittin’ and writin’ this song. ’

‛ i’m sittin’ on greene street! ’

‛ and i don’t mean money, honey. ’

‛ watchin’ the world waltz by. ’

‛ laughing the day away. ’

‛ there goes a man with a camera whose sunglasses shade his eyes. ’

‛ there goes a man who seems that he knows a star. ’

‛ there goes a tourist who’s scared to answer me. ’

‛ there goes a dancer too scared to answer me, an artist who winked as she passed by. ’

‛ an artist who winked as she passed by! ’

‛ all these people out in the street, too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ everybody i see walks right by. ’

‛ would someone please look me in the eye? ’

ONE OF THESE DAYS.

‛ another failure, another flop. ’

‛ i should try another hobby, this has gotta stop. ’

‛ i feel like a tightrope walker without the wire. ’

‛ one more disaster, one more dud. ’

‛ it could be worse! at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood, though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ maybe it’s luck! what is luck, how could this be luck? ’

‛ no one’s luck could be this bad! ’

‛ maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s time… ’

‛ one of these days i’ll find a way. ’

‛ i’ll make it to the top, leave ‘em all back in the dust. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘that boy will never stop!’ ’

‛ that day’s gonna be one of these days. ’

‛ don’t understand it, it isn’t fair. ’

‛ every time i try to prove myself results just aren’t there. ’

‛ i feel like a mountain climber without the peak. ’

‛ my sister laughs at me, says i’m odd. ’

‛ my mom and pop think i’m a punishment from god. ’

‛ i get looks from my neighbors that seem to say, ‘there goes that FREAK!’ ’

‛ sometimes i wish - no, i don’t - yes, i do, i wish! ’

‛ i wish that somehow i’d been born dumb. ’

‛ then i feel that something may change. ’

‛ i’ll rise above the throng. ’

‛ they’ll be amazed at who they see. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘i knew it all along.’ ’

‛ one of these days that’s what will be. ’

‛ god, can it happen today? ’

‛ maybe there’s been a mistake. ’

‛ let’s trade a failure for one minor miracle. ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one! ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one, at least in some one person’s eyes. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘you are my only one.’ ’

‛ i’m gonna fly, i’m gonna touch the sky. ’

‛ i’m gonna win, i’m gonna sin, i’m gonna never die. ’

‛ gonna glow, gonna flow, gonna click, gonna stick. ’

‛ gonna gain, reach, conquer, gonna make ‘em sick. ’

‛ gonna triumph, prevail, sail, razzle dazzle, glitter gleam. ’

‛ gonna see my face in every house on every screen. ’

‛ i’ll be the hero, i’ll change the world. ’

‛ and maybe in the end i’ll even get the girl! ’

‛ gotta believe it. ’

‛ i can see through the haze. ’

‛ a miracle’s in for a landing, gonna get here, gonna happen one of these days. ’

BREAK OUT THE BOOZE.

‛ the wolf’s at the door and i hear talk of war. ’

‛ somebody break out the booze. ’

‛ let’s grab some hooch. ’

‛ let’s get goopy and smooch. ’

‛ forget all this sob sister news. ’

‛ the world’s gettin’ lousy, so let’s go get drowsy. ’

‛ yes, right here and now-sy. ’

‛ let’s bow-wow these blues. ’

‛ the stars look poetic. the moon’s copacetic. ’

‛ crank up your jalopy and then we’ll get sloppy. ’

‛ we’ll call up our bookie and say to him: ‘cookie, lookie, we’ve nothing to lose.’ ’

‛ the times ain’t so jake, every bum’s on the take. ’

‛ got no cake, got no steak, just this ache in my shoes. ’

‛ the moon’s looking cheesy. your eyes say, ‘i’m easy.’ ’

‛ oh – it’s swell to be alive. ’

‛ oh – it’s the real mccoy! ’

‛ oh – give a yell, we’ll survive. ’

‛ waiter! who needs a mug? give me a bottle or a jug. ’

‛ the government’s awful, so let’s be unlawful. ’

‛ throw out the compass and let’s make a rumpus. ’

‛ this town’s getting screwy, so let’s go kablooey. ’

‛ it’s true if we get boo-hoo-y, we lose. ’

‛ let’s make it strange – hell! let’s get naked, angel. ’

OUT OF MY DREAMS.

‛ out of my dreams. ’

‛ out all night, kisses on the street. ’

‛ sidewalk, dance, september heat. ’

‛ stay in bed, love all day. ’

‛ fire, passion, every single way. ’

‛ go to work, mind on you. anticipating what we’re gonna do. ’

‛ nasty words on the telephone. ’

‛ alarm goes off, i’m in bed alone. ’

‛ you left my life. stay out of my dreams. ’

‛ thursday, friday, 3 am. ’

‛ buses, subways. us versus them. ’

‛ winter chill, skies look dark. ’

‛ monkey business in central park. ’

‛ coffee, cocoa, more whipped cream. ’

‛ vodka, brandy. was it just a dream? ’

‛ window shopping, christmas day. ’

‛ i wake up, all that was yesterday! ’

‛ try to stay busy. hard to stay afloat. ’

‛ will i be sunk by this lump in my throat? ’

‛ can’t think, can’t act, can’t find new roads. ’

‛ think i see you everywhere, my heart explodes. ’

‛ will i ever laugh? will i ever be the same? ’

‛ i’m tossing, i’m turning, i’m calling your name. ’

‛ maybe you’ll come back. that thought makes me weep. ’

‛ the only thing i do is i go back to sleep. ’

‛ stay out of my dreams. get out! ’

VALENTINE’S DAY.

‛ he was a greeting card candy cupid. ’

‛ there was a blizzard, it was twenty below. ’

‛ she was 15, clean, lonely and stupid, and as pure as the virgin snow. ’

‛ he pulled her in from the storm and the fire was warm. she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ beat her till she’s black and blue and gray. ’

‛ draw a little heart. draw a little arrow. draw a little blood. ’

‛ v-v-v-valentine’s day. ’

‛ red wine, waterford crystal. chocolate kisses and lace. ’

‛ knives and chains and a pistol mounted on a wall, like scars on a face. ’

‛ he said he liked to play rough as he locked the handcuff. she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ february winter in her heart. ’

‛ i said i’d show her normal love. she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ now her fashion is basically leather. favorite color is basically red. ’

‛ and her passions change like the weather, as she dances from bed to bed to bed. ’

‛ and she feels like a fool, but she likes her men cruel. ’

‛ i doubt she’ll be cool till she’s dead. ’

WHITE MALE WORLD.

‛ bryant gumbel, decaf coffee, french vanilla ultra slim. ’

‛ pert shampoo with extra body, clinique, neutrogena. ’

‛ hey, madonna. ho, madonna, hey. ’

‛ stay-free, yeast-x, estee lauder. ’

‛ estee lauder, revlon, calvin klein’s obsession. ’

‛ advil, ultra-brite, no nonsense. ’

‛ diamonds are forever. ’

‛ it’s just another day. just another day. ’

‛ just another day in the white male world.  ’

‛ salad bar, no! candy bar. ’

‛ yes. candy bar, no! salad bar. ’

‛ diet coke, no! diet rite. ’

‛ cellulite or cancer? ’

‛ yes sir, no sir. ’

‛ holly hunter, melanie griffith, meryl streep. ’

‛ spandex, reeboks. ’

‛ taylor dayne, stairmaster, oprah winfrey. ’

‛ let’s cut down a jungle. ’

‛ let’s go start a war. ’

‛ let’s go rape a co-ed. ’

‛ what a lovely thing to do! ’

‛ let’s drink beer and bust some heads. ’

‛ let’s all vote for jesse helms. ’

‛ let’s string up a faggot and a black guy and a jew. ’

‛ evian water, black lace push-up, billiard table, dirty words. ’

‛ skinny blue jeans, skimpy t-shirt. ’

‛ husband hunting, binge & purge. ’

‛ open your mouth and open your legs and open your purse. now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ wait! don’t stop! too late, he’s finished. ’

‛ what if men got pregnant? ’

LA DI DA RAP.

‛ we all should be drinkin’ to abraham lincoln and get stinkin’ drunk in his name. ’

‛ it’s a good thing he’s dead cause he’d cry his eyes red, hang his head if he saw this campaign. ’

‛ singing hey la di la di, hey la di da day. ’

‛ lincoln! here’s mud in your eye. ’

‛ are we past our prime? or is this the time to climb from the slime, make america great. ’

‛ are we so hollow that we blindly follow and swallow whatever they put on our plate? ’

‛ just sing no! ’

‛ to handlers, sound bytes, madison avenue, cynical hollywood, la di da pictures. ’

‛ tabloids, images, wrapped up facts in relation, slim control. ’

‛ la di da you drama la di da de da de la di da. ’

‛ pour some ales for old roger ailes and danny quayle’s his protégé. ’

‛ in ‘96 his looks, his tricks make tricky dick’s crime passe. ’

‛ i’ve had it up to here. ’

‛ here’s mud in your eye! ’

IRON MIKE.

‛ on a starry black night at the base of mount hogan, beyond horsetail creek and anderson bay. ’

‛ from the port of valdez sailed a ship, bound for long beach. ’

‛ over one million barrels of crude stowed away. ’

‛ to the left of the wheel in the bridge of the upper deck under the compass, was he. ’

‛ navigation computer, the captain and fisherman’s friend who could steer perfectly. ’

‛ they called him iron mike. ’

‛ in the dead of the night he steered the way through the darkness. ’

‛ iron mike didn’t see the red light on the reef. ’

‛ he’d been known to throw back one or two. ’

‛ yet no one thought twice when he set autopilot and retired below with the crew. ’

‛ from the two am stillness came the cry of the third mate. ’

‛ someone better go wake up the chief! ’

‛ yet by then it was too late. ’

‛ the starboard tanks had 12 foot gashes cut out by bligh reef. ’

‛ the forget-me-nots cried and the salmon all died and the fisherman wore black armbands. ’

‛ and the spokesmen from exxon said, ‘no major damage,’ though six million gallons remain in the sands. ’

‛ and from rocky point down to mount freemantle, you can still see the black film on the soil. ’

‛ and the echoes rebound throughout prince william sound of half frozen animals, choking in oil. ’

‛ who’s at the helm of this ship of state? ’

‛ we’ve in for some rough navigation. ’

‛ we have the power – the hour is late. ’

‛ gotta get tough and clean up the nation. ’

‛ black rainbows of exxon lightgrade again flowed, like hot fudge in a big apple spill. ’

‛ the detection machine had malfunctioned quite often, repair procedure so hard to enforce. ’

‛ and down on prall’s island, the cleanup begins. ’

‛ and the horror continues till we chart our own course. ’

‛ it’s the dead of the night. ’

‛ we can steer a new way through the darkness. ’

‛ we must see the light for relief. ’

FIND THE KEY.

‛ she’s walking, he’s sitting. ’

‛ he plays a dark c-minor chord. ’

‛ it’s like the keyboard is his heart. ’

‛ he hears the clock, he hugs the cat. ’

‛ he hugs the cat… no. he kicks the cat. ’

‛ he pumps the volume higher. ’

‛ a fire’s just about to start. ’

‛ why can’t, why can’t i? ’

‛ why can’t i, why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ door closes – he freezes. ’

‛ he sees it’s hard to end duets. ’

‛ he lets his fingers feel the way. ’

‛ he loves her, he’s lost her. ’

‛ he’s hearing melancholy strings that sing the things that he can’t say. ’

‛ he can’t imagine what he should have said. ’

‛ it’s all been said and sounds cliché. ’

‛ he’s at the bridge between his head which says, ‘it’s dead,’ and his heart which says, ‘don’t let her get away.’ ’

‛ she’s gone now. he’s singing. ’

‛ he’s singing. he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he looks around – this can’t be real. ’

‛ this can’t be real. ’

‛ depression, a dark progression. ’

‛ why can he only sing it? ’

‛ what will it take to make him feel? ’

‛ and then somehow it ends. ’

HOSING THE FURNITURE.

‛ hello my lucite coffee table. someone spill a little milk on you? ’

‛ tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. ’

‛ one – more – twist! that’s better now. ’

‛ silly little me, me, me, me, me, me, me! ’

‛ i’m singing in the living room. ’

‛ what’s the time? fifteen minutes. ’

‛ pour the bleach, put the finishing touches on the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. still outside. ’

‛ my nails! my god! a chip! ’

‛ tom likes wonder bread with turkey. ’

‛ tom was preoccupied last night. ’

‛ is it me? is it – ’

‛ do i have enough milk? ’

‛ oh stain stain, down the drain. ’

‛ i can see myself in the coffee table, pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ i’m as pretty as the coffee table. we’re so pretty! ’

‛ we’re so pretty! ’

‛ ah! what? you scared me. ’

‛ who were you talking to? ’

‛ who? no one. ’

‛ what’s all this? ’

‛ why are you acting so weird? ’

‛ you know i’m hosing the furniture. ’

‛ and when i hose, i sing to myself. ’

‛ who do you think cleans up? some elf? ’

‛ no sweeping – no mops. in no time it’s wheeeeee! ’

‛ when i’m hosing the furniture i’m free. ’

‛ i’m free – i’m free! ’

‛ now run along and play – i’m concentrating. ’

‛ you know your father likes to come home to that ‘just decorated look’... ’

‛ raindrops are falling on my couch! ’

‛ what’s the time? thirty minutes! ’

‛ martinis, cut the flowers for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. hasn’t been fed. ’

‛ my hair! my god! a gray hair! ’

‛ tom likes onion cocktails. ’

‛ tom nodded off again last night. ’

‛ i get treated like dirt! ’

‛ i can see myself in the drapery. ’

‛ am i pretty as i was on my wedding day? ’

‛ am i pretty as the drapery? are we pretty? ’

‛ are we pretty? ’

‛ don’t you care? ’

‛ do i look mad? my happiness grows! ’

‛ who needs dad when i’ve got the hose! ’

‛ this house is a reflection of me – modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ in everything i see my reflection. ’

‛ do i really look so simply pathetic? ’

‛ what? pull the trigger! ’

‛ soon it’s gonna rain on the bookshelf. ’

‛ what’s the time? 120 minutes. ’

‛ dry turkey, look relaxed for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. the dog died last year! ’

‛ my blouse! my god! a crumb! ’

‛ i can see myself in the television. ’

‛ i was pretty on my wedding day. ’

‛ i was pretty as a television. we were pretty. ’

‛ we were pretty. ’

‛ a minor flood never hurt anyone! ’

‛ sometimes i wish this hose were a gun. ’

‛ just joking – see, i’m laughing. ’

PURA VIDA

‛ we are the people. ’

‛ we are the people who float on the river. ’

‛ we run up to the hill, we run down to the water. ’

‛ birds laugh and the sun, she smiles. ’

‛ and the trees, they dance in the wind. ’

‛ we race against time. ’

‛ we race for pure life. ’

‛ we need the people. ’

‛ we need the people who live on the river. ’

‛ find a pace, find a speed. ’

‛ nowhere to stop in big water. ’

‛ fish fly and the rocks play games and the trees sing out in the wind. ’

‛ sing in harmony. ’

‛ can we endure this race? ’

‛ can this race endure? ’

‛ we need the people who live in the forest. ’

‛ ‘ust there be finish lines? ’

‛ can’t the world drum like the water? ’

‛ the rivers will dry, and the birds will die. ’

‛ and the ghosts of the trees will cry out in the wind. ’

THE TRUTH IS A LIE.

‛ the berlin wall wasn’t destroyed, it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick and reconstructed on capitol hill, on the congressional floor. ’

‛ the money spent on one stealth bomber couldn’t wipe out homelessness. ’

‛ george bush never said, ‘read my lips.’ ’

‛ the peace dividend didn’t pay for the war. ’

‛ don’t look out the window. don’t go to the mirror. don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ martin luther king and the kennedys were fictional players in a mini-series, just like charles manson and princess grace. ’

‛ bensonhurst was a publicity stunt. ’

‛ aids is a myth, first amendment’s fake. ’

‛ the sun revolves around the earth and the holocaust never took place. ’

‛ the truth is a lie! ’

‛ love does not exist between consenting members of the same sex. ’

‛ two plus two is five. ’

‛ the human body is revolting. ’

‛ we always will thrive. ’

‛ children don’t learn to hate from their parents. they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ the moon is cheese and everyone should own a gun. ’

‛ women ask to be black and blue and pregnant their entire lives. ’

‛ the earth is flat and the white man knows what’s best for everyone. ’

‛ don’t you know what you might see? ’

‛ don’t look at the picture. don’t go to the theater. don’t you know what you will see? ’

RHAPSODY.

‛ i turn a corner, see a rat in the rubble as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ i step on some budweiser glass. a limousine drives by. ’

‛ a rich man turns a corner, sees a rat in the rubble. ’

‛ he raises his smile glass window and reads the wall street journal. ’

‛ sky’s not free. river’s not free. i’m not free. life’s not free. ’

‛ life’s not free in the city. ’

‛ i’m told i too must wear a tie or they’ll fire me from my boring nothing job. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment, though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ so many people hounded to the pound. ’

‛ so many people collared to the dollar. ’

‛ okay, freedom is a state of mind. i agree. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. ’

‛ with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ you forget that there’s earth below the subway and beyond the ‘scrapers, there’s sky. ’

‛ i plan a day in the country with you. ’

‛ having gotten home from work last night at 12:30 am. ’

‛ having fallen asleep last night at 3:30 am because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ the city never sleeps. ’

‛ as the phone rang this morning, your sweet was calling, i looked at that clock. ’

‛ how i hate that damn clock. ’

‛ i excuse myself from our date. ’

‛ see, i had to be back by mid-afternoon. ’

‛ and i know these are lame excuses and i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i know it’s important, but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me with a rolled-up new york times. ’

‛ and this leash keeps tanking on my tie. ’

‛ i love ‘rhapsody in blue’ too. it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ and only the rats, the roaches, the rubble and the rich men are free in the city. ’

SOS.

‛ this may be my final message. ’

‛ this may be the final bow. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ i hear footsteps down the hall. ’

‛ don’t know how much they’ll allow. ’

‛ if you’re waiting for the last reel, i think the time is now. ’

‛ i think the time is now. ’

‛ sos, oh, savior! ’

‛ sos, oh, hero! ’

‛ sos, messiah! ’

‛ yes, oh yes, oh! ’

‛ sos, oh jesus! ’

‛ sos, oh buddhal! ’

‛ sos, emmanuel!  ’

‛ this may be my final hour. ’

‛ this may be the dying day. ’

‛ though they never taught me why in school, i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ they are right outside the door. ’

‛ don’t know why they keep on stalling. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before, but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ sos, almighty! ’

‛ sos, oh yahwah! ’

‛ sos, oh mighty zeus! ’

‛ sos, oh allah! ’

‛ does anybody hear? ’

‛ does anybody hear? answer me now if you do. ’

‛ answer me now if you do. ’

‛ is anybody there? ’

‛ is anybody there? i need you. ’

‛ i need you. ’

‛ this may be the curtain call. ’

‛ does it matter anymore? ’

‛ i asked why. that’s why i say make a try. it’s only a play. ’

‛ that’s why i say make a try. ’

‛ it’s only a play. ’

LOVE HEALS.

‛ like a breath of midnight air. ’

‛ like a lighthouse, like a prayer. ’

‛ like a flicker and the flare the sky reveals. ’

‛ like a walk along the shore that you’ve walked a thousand times before. ’

‛ like the ocean roars, love heals. ’

‛ there are those who shield their heart. ’

‛ those who quit before they start. ’

‛ who’ve frozen up the part of them that feels. ’

‛ in the dark they’ve lost their sight, like a ship without a star in the night. ’

‛ but it’s alright. love heals. ’

‛ love heals when pain’s too much to bear. ’

‛ when you reach out your hand and only the wind is there. ’

‛ when life’s unfair, when things like us are not meant to be. love heals. ’

‛ when you feel so small like a grain of sand, like nothing at all. ’

‛ when you look out at the sea. that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where you’ll find me. ’

‛ you’ll find me. ’

‛ so if you fear the storm ahead as you lie awake in bed. ’

‛ no one there to stroke your head and your mind reels. ’

‛ if your face is salty wet and you’re drowning in regret, just don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget love heals. ’

‛ love heals. ’

PIANO.

‛ when the world is a constant jumble and a wall or two decides to tumble. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line, somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get through to you in time. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul again. ’

‛ you saved my soul again. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got soul. ’

‛ but i got soul. ’

‛ piano, save my soul. ’

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.08, “I Got Your Number”

Let’s see if I still remember how to do this.

Wait. Nope. That’s not it.

One second.

The episode begins with Andi and Bex in their apartment. There we go.

Andi says Bex is using her charger because it has pink tape on it, but then Bex finds another charger and it also has pink tape on it.

Then Bowie jams his head through the still-unfixed giant hole in the wall.

Those bricks look like loose teeth. They’re going to fall out any second. The whole wall is going to come down and no one seems to care.

Bowie also has a charger with pink tape on it and Bex realizes Andi has put pink tape on all the chargers as a ploy to be able to seize any charger she sees for her own use.

I don’t know how Andi thought that plan was going to hold up for longer than a minute. Once Bex found another charger with pink tape on it, it was all over.

On the other hand, I’m glad she’s doing sneaky stuff like this. It’s like living with a little velociraptor. She’s clever and dangerous and always plotting something. It keeps Bex and Bowie on their toes and keeps their minds active, which is important as you start to age.

The next day, Buffy finds Andi at the Jefferson Middle School Machu Picchu.

She delivers her a handwritten invitation to hang out that weekend. It’s a bit extra, but I appreciate the effort.

Then Buffy says her plan is to watch a ton of bad dance-themed movies and reels off a list of films that -- and I did the math on this -- would take Andi and Buffy over 16 full hours to watch. It would basically be: wake up, watch nothing but dance movies the entire day, then go to bed.

Buffy calls it the “DanceDance Film Festival.”

I call it cruel and unusual punishment.

I’m pretty sure the Geneva Convention has rules against treating prisoners of war this way.

Watching 16 straight hours of dance movies sounds like something a conspiracy theorist barking up a wrong, dumb tree would do.

If I was trapped in a steel box for 16 hours and had nothing but a portable DVD player and the Step Up films, I’d spend my time trying to punch my way out of the steel box. (don’t @ me, Step Up fans)

Andi’s into the idea though, except she can’t do it because she already has plans for that night with Amber. Andi suggests they do it tonight, but Buffy has plans with Walker.

They decide to postpone this marathon of pain until another time and say they’ll plan out a future date for it. And then they both talk about how crazy it sounds for them to be making plans like some kind of lame adults or something.

20! Hah! Can you imagine? Can you even imagine??

*laughs and laughs and laughs until the laughter turns into tears and now I’m laughing and crying and I don’t know if I can stop* Help me.

Speaking of being old, Bex and Bowie read books on the couch. Bex asks Bowie to hold her foot which makes Bowie feel like they’re an elderly married couple. They swap visions about how cool it’d be to be unaware seniors.

Then Bowie tells Bex he could see her as a grandma...

...which is something I would never say to someone. I don’t care if she’s 100 and wearing a shirt that says “Ask me about my grandchildren!” You let them say they’re a grandma first, and then you always say something like, “You’re a grandma?? That’s crazy! I’d never have guessed!”

All this talk of being old freaks Bex and Bowie out and they decide to get out and have themselves a little romantic evening. The type only young folk have.

Over at one of Cyrus’s houses, Cyrus brings Jonah down to his stepdad’s man cave for some ping pong. Jonah is surprised Cyrus has a ping pong setup, but Cyrus says it’s because until recently his stepdad was using it for civil war reenactments.

Oh so they’ll let Cyrus imitate guns firing but they won’t let him say gay. Ok.

They start to play and Cyrus quickly goes up 3-0.

Suddenly, TJ comes waltzing down the stairs.

Who let him in? Do Cyrus’s parents know him? Does he have a key? Was he already in the house, stalking around like a cat? I like any and all of these possibilities.

Either way, he’s here now. Just in time to congratulate Cyrus on taking a 3-0 lead. He does this by saying, “Niceberg.”

Sorry. Hold up. I gotta rewind.

This’ll just take a second.

Ok. Be right with you.

Alright, just gonna put that in the mail and I’ll be right back.

Ok. Back.

Anyway, long story short, I don’t feel like “Niceberg” is gonna catch on the same way “Underdog” did.

Jonah’s mood immediately flips. He starts looking for any reason to get out of the basement.

Cyrus is like, if this is about the gun thing, we worked that out. Jonah’s like, it’s not about that. I couldn’t care less about that. I had the Metcalf tattoo thing and the Libby thing, I barely even know what happened.

Jonah storms out, leaving Cyrus and TJ in a metaphorical hole of confusion.

Also, like, a literal hole. Because that’s kind of what a basement is? A hole in the ground? I’m trying too hard to be poetic I think. You can’t force art.

Jonah retreats to Red Rooster Records. He wants to know why he wasn’t warned of this surprise TJ. Cyrus is like, I didn’t think I had to.

You’re universally liked and you universally like everyone back. You know, like a Golden Retriever.

Cyrus says TJ’s in between friends right now, what with TJ sending Reed and Lester up the river to Sing Sing to do 10 years hard time.

Jonah says he’ll never be friends with TJ. He says it’s a long and embarrassing story, though I imagine it’s nothing like the embarrassment Alfonso Mazzanti would feel if he saw his record was still sitting unpurchased in this ratty store.

Does no one in Shadyshade have an appreciation for opera anymore?!

Jonah says the story goes all the way back to little league and we get basically a Drunk History retelling of the Jonah/TJ fight, except Jonah’s obviously not drunk, he’s just Jonah, so, you know: Jonah History.

And the story is this: Jonah used to love baseball. He idolized Roberto Clemente. Now, I’m not going to argue Clemente isn’t an all-time great, but I do find it strange that this kid in Shadyside loved a player who spent his entire career in Pittsburgh and died some 40 years before Jonah was even born. Most kids just go with Derek Jeter, but to each his own I guess. Anyway, Jonah wanted a “21″ jersey to be like Clemente.

But before he got to wear it, it was nabbed by a young TJ, from way back before he changed the direction his hair parts.

This leads to an argument where young Jonah gets angwee.

Cyrus asks Jonah if he cried, but Jonah invokes the baseball law laid down by Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own: there’s no crying in baseball. Cyrus says that’s just a line from a movie, but since when did he become an expert on sports? Stay in your lane, Cyrus.

Jonah says the jersey thing led to a shoving match that got stopped by his dad (their coach) before it could get too far. Jonah took another jersey, but the emotional scars remained. He couldn’t take the pain of watching TJ playing in his number and Jonah would never play a real sport again, banished forever to a lifetime of frisbee.

Cyrus says Jonah has proclaimed multiple times that Ultimate Frisbee is a real sport, and Jonah’s like, “Yeah...”

...let’s stop lying to ourselves about what frisbee is.

Jonah thinks the whole grudge is stupid, but Cyrus feels that it’s clearly important to him and it’s part of what shaped him as a person, so it can’t be that stupid.

Cyrus wants to figure out why TJ did it. Jonah thinks it’s because he’s permanently mean. Cyrus is like, no, he isn’t. He just has resting mean face.

Jonah feels glad to have talked it out and says he’s ready to let it go, but Cyrus isn’t, more so for TJ’s sake than anyone else’s at this point, I assume.

That night, Andi and Amber walk through a parking lot. Amber asks about the Buffy/Walker situation, which Andi says is still a situation, although she’s feeling less strict about following the Girl Code’s laws to reacting to such situations. They discuss how there’s room for interpretation as far as the Girl Code goes. It’s not exactly the Ten Commandments chiseled into stone.

Andi suddenly realizes they’ve been walking a long time and have somehow found themselves deep in the warehouse district.

Amber leads Andi towards a warehouse party. Andi starts to get a little unsure about this whole thing. As they head for the entrance, a man with facial hair exits.

A man that does not shave on a regular basis is one of the best indicators of questionable behavior in the area. You know the old saying: clean faces, clean hearts.

Amber says it’s a high school party, but not to worry, because she’ll protect Andi. They head inside.

Guys. This high school party. I’m losing my mind. I feel like I could make 1000 gifs of the people dancing in this place. I’m not going to, but I could.

Because this party...

is a party...

for dweebs.

I mean, I get part of the problem. It’s Disney Channel. They aren’t allowed to really show anything, so nothing like underage drinking or whatever. You just have to assume it’s an intimidating party off-screen. Ok. Fine.

But maybe the costume designer could’ve put everyone in less floral prints?

There’s very little that’s intimidating about a floral print unless it’s being worn by some kind of iron fist island dictator.

Andi gets separated real quick from Amber and immediately begins to panic.

Bex and Bowie, meanwhile, take a romantic nighttime carriage ride through the park when they get a text from Andi about the warehouse party.

Bowie asks the carriage driver (conductor? horsier?) to take him to Andi.

I hope he understands these carriages are not taxis. I’m not even sure they’re really street legal.

Bex is surprised to find out Andi snuck off to a warehouse party, but Bowie says at least she came clean to them about it within minutes.

Bex wants to know if the carriage can go faster. Bowie stops the carriage instead and says he’s going to run all the way across town to the Meatpacking District to get their daughter.

Bex stops him and says he’s doing a great job as a dad. Really dadding it up. And then they make out again.

These two. They’re always making out. It’s like, get a room.

Bex sends him to find Andi and he takes off running as the carriage horsier sits in uncomfortable silence.

Bowie finds his way to the warehouse party and runs in with the pitch perfect energy of a dad come to take his teenage daughter away from a party.

Although, and I don’t want to harp on this too much again, but if I was Bowie and walked into this party and this was the first thing I saw...

...I’d breathe a big sigh of relief.

I’d be like, “Oh, thank God: dweebs. It’s a dweeb party. Phew.”

He quickly finds Andi and she asks him what took so long. They start to leave when Amber returns. She’s like, are you leaving? And Bowie’s like, you’re darn tootin’ she’s leaving! Amber tries to take the blame but Bowie says it was Andi’s decision and she’ll take responsibility for it. They leave together.

Outside, Andi thinks Bowie’s whole dad thing was an act, but it turns out he was actually very much in dad mode. He says her behavior has led him to not trust her at this moment and then he throws his hand over his mouth like he just called Andi an expletive by mistake.

Bowie and Andi are shocked by this sudden dad-ness.

Andi promises to never do this again, but Bowie isn’t listening because all he can hear is how much he just sounded like his father. He and Andi both see this as a big moment in their father/daughter relationship, and I guess that sort of releases any of the tension as it seems Bowie actually isn’t going to follow up on any of the punishment talk.

They head off. Bowie tells Andi to call Bex but before she can, Bex shows up in the carriage in the middle of this industrial parking lot like some kind of misplaced Disney Princess.

Andi realizes she’s ruined Bex and Bowie’s date night, but they forgive her and all ride off together.

At Cyrus’s house, Cyrus has brought TJ and Jonah back together to solve this little league thing. TJ thinks it’s crazy. Jonah wants to let it go but TJ doesn’t want Jonah going around rest of his life proclaiming him some kind of jersey thief.

At this point, I was kind of like, “Oh, I actually like TJ’s outfit here.”

But then I was like, “Hold on a second. Enhance.”

That’s a basketball hoop! This is a surprise basketball shirt outfit!

Dammit! I can’t believe how many basketball themed shirts he has in his closet.

Anyway, Cyrus pulls up a picture of the two in little league.

Both Jonah and TJ think this proves their point.

But then Cyrus confirms the jersey number is actually 21 and TJ realizes his dyscalculia has struck again.

He explains to Jonah he’s got a learning disability. That this whole thing has been something of a misunderstanding.

Jonah apologizes for holding onto this grudge for so long and for never thanking him for helping him when he was having a panic attack at the Bash Mitzvah.

TJ notes that everyone has struggles.

Cyrus notes his fear of flamingos, which is not the first thing I’d think of when it comes to him, but I don’t disagree. They have unnaturally thin legs.

I don’t trust them for one second.

Jonah and TJ fist bump to end the grudge.

That was such a great little scene. One, for tying up the TJ/Jonah loose end from the Bash Mitzvah, but two, for showing these characters’ growth. It’s nice to see these two, who had previously been so guarded, be able to discuss their mental health openly without fear or anger, and then support each other.

On the other hand, Jonah’s now told TJ about his anxiety before he’s told Andi about it. I guess she was always going to be the hardest one to tell, but uh... yeah...

Speaking of Andi, she shows up at Buffy’s house with a big ol’ bag of popcorn and a pretty sweet new impression.

She explains the party was no fun, but that Buffy is. She wants to hang with her and participate in her crazy film festival.

They start dancing the night away.

Buffy asks if they’ll still be doing this when they’re 20.

*laughs and cries until I’m suddenly scream-wailing into the night sky for some reason* I’m fine.

They dance and dance until the episode ends.

So I guess there really isn’t going to be any punishment if Bowie and Bex just let Andi go hang out with a friend that very night.

Unless they heard what Buffy’s plans were and decided that was punishment enough.

Sure it seems like fun now, but when she’s at hour 12 of this and the credits are rolling on Step Up 3D and then Buffy goes, “Awesome! Let’s watch it again!”, Andi’s going to be wishing she was grounded.

[camillemontespan]

a kingdom divided [part twenty six: chocolate mousse]

Part Twenty Five here if you want to catch up.

Okay so I started writing and I got really into it which I think is because this is mainly just pure fluff. So much fluff. 

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @drakesensworld @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @notoriouscs @iplaydrake @be-still-my-aching-heart @dcbbw @carabeth

*******************************************************************************************

The morning after the riot at the palace, the household at Valtoria were subdued and were getting ready for another days work. Magda was beginning to mop the kitchen floor when Drake and Camille entered. 

Magda smiled sadly and continued to mop the floor. Drake reached out and took the mop away from her. ‘Meeting on the terrace,’ he told her softly. 

The head maid followed them to the terrace where the rest of the staff were waiting. Toby’s eyes were red rimmed and his face was pale; clearly he hadn’t slept the night before. Hector was standing looking straight ahead, his posture straight. The rest of the kitchen staff were standing wringing their hands.

‘Please, everyone sit,’ Camille said, gesturing to the long wooden table and chairs. A tray filled with cups of coffee and tea was sat in the centre; Magda hadn’t prepared it and as she saw the other staff look at the cups of coffee in surprise, she realised that Drake and Camille must have done this themselves.

The Duke and Duchess stood at the head of the table holding hands. ‘We have spoken to the King after yesterday’s riot that involved our newest staff member, Sarah, being killed,’ Drake told them. No frills, no fuss, just straight forward talking. ‘We feel terrible about Sarah. She was only seventeen and had so much ahead of her. We have spoken to her family; understandably, they don’t want any visitors. King Liam had granted us permission to leave Valtoria and go back to Texas.’

The staff nodded, listening intently. Camille took over. ‘You are to go home to your families until we come back from Texas in a few months. Yes, the manor will be empty, but honestly, given this current climate.. people should be with those they love. Magda, I know you have a fourteen year old son; you should be with him right now instead of working long hours for us. Hector, you have a wife and two year old daughter. Drake and I have realised just how important family is during this horrific time and we want to just be together, in Texas, and be ready for the baby.  You all deserve to be with your families, so please, get changed out of your uniforms and go home.’

The staff began to talk amongst themselves, nobody wanting to be the first to stand up and go. Magda cleared her throat.

‘Can I just say, on behalf of all the staff who I think will agree with me, that you both are an absolute breath of fresh air to work for.’ Murmurs of agreement sounded. ‘Thank you for allowing us time to see our families, it really does mean a lot that you are even considering us.. many nobles wouldn’t have given us a second thought. We hope you can prepare for the baby and just be happy.’ 

Camille smiled, her eyes watery from emerging tears, and Drake pulled her into him to give her a hug. 

‘Do you know what you’re going to call the baby?’ Toby suddenly asked.

They shrugged. ‘You’ve seen the post its,’ Drake said, smiling bashfully. ‘We have so many choices and no idea which one to pick!’

‘We’ve been picking our favourites,’ a kitchen girl spoke up.

Camille looked at her, curious now. ‘Oh? What are the contenders?’

‘Jasmine, Sophia, Luna, Willow and Aria seem to be the most commonly popular,’ the kitchen maid told her. ‘We all have our own favourite names, though.’

Drake chuckled. ‘So every one of you has a favourite?’

The staff all nodded.

‘I’m kinda just hoping for Baby Girl.. I have a bet on with Hector,’ Toby said, shrugging. Drake smirked as Magda swatted Toby with her hand.

‘What was Sarah’s?’ Camille asked quietly. 

Magda smiled sadly. ‘Lily. That was her absolute favourite one.’ 

‘Lily...’ Camille whispered, thinking to herself. She looked at Drake. ‘What do you think?’

‘Lily Olivia Walker,’ Drake tried it, using the full name. His eyes lit up and he gave the staff a wide grin. ‘I love it.’

Camille placed her hands on the bump. ‘I think that’s the one.’ 

Drake pressed a kiss on top of her head as everyone cheered, the first time actual happiness has broken out at the manor since yesterday. 

******************************************************************************************

‘Since the news that a seventeen year old servant girl was killed during the riot at the place yesterday afternoon, Cordonia has been quiet,’ the newsreader said. ‘We have contacted the king for comment and he has informed us that he is seeking peace within the kingdom. We join Ava Watson who is out on the Old Square of the kingdom talking to the public. Ava, what is everyone saying in the aftermath of the brutal shooting of an innocent child?’

‘Hi Natalia,’ Ava spoke to the camera. ‘I have spoken with many citizens today and it seems that the sudden death of the young girl has left a deep mark.’ She turned to a man who was with his family. ‘Samuel, what do you think of this?’

He leaned towards the microphone. ‘Honestly, I feel quite shaken. I have my two girls, they’re ten and twelve, but I just keep thinking that this young girl was someone’s child. She was a daughter and she could have been a sister. I can’t even imagine what her family is going through, but I know that if it was me, I would be inconsolable. The poor girl didn’t deserve to die - hell, nobody deserves to die- and this situation with the king  and the rebels has gone on long enough. Nothing is worth this much terror.’

‘Are you a royalist or rebel sympathiser?’ 

‘I’m not either. The monarchy has never really bothered me. I certainly feel for the King and the position he is in, but I do see where people are coming from, they want more representation.. I just don’t think riots are the answer. Talk to the king, petition him, write him an email, whatever.. just don’t murder our daughters.’

‘Thank you Samuel.’ Ava turned back to the camera. ‘Okay, I now have Katie and Lucy, two university students with me. Hi girls, thank you for speaking with me today. Can I have your thoughts?’

One of the girls spoke. ‘I’m sick of seeing our country on the brink of ruin because of violence. I am scared to walk alone on the street now in case a riot breaks out. I don’t feel safe and I want the terror to stop.’

Her friend took the microphone. ‘I read the international newspapers and Cordonia is being dragged through the mud! Everyone is either mocking us for being unable to remain strong or they feel sorry for us. There is no in between. I want our country to be admired again. I want people to want to visit this country for holidays instead of avoiding it; we have a beautiful country and we are tearing it apart from the inside. Stop the violence!’

‘Stop the violence!’ the first girl joined in. The two girls began to chant this and soon, the two hundred people in the square were shouting it with their fists raised. Ava turned to the camera. ‘Stop the violence seems to be the thought of the day,’ she said. ‘Back to you, Natalia.’

*******************************************************************************************

Liam sat in his study with Leo beside him. The two brothers were facing Drake, Camille, Bertrand, Hana and Maxwell. 

‘So, Drake and Camille are going  back to Texas,’ Liam told the group. ‘They asked me last night, not that they needed to because I want them to go back. I want them to be safe. This also extends to the rest of you.’

Bertrand frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, don’t come back to the palace. Either stay in your manors, go away to another city, I don’t mind, just leave this place.’

They stared at him, eyes bulging. ‘But you need allies..’ Hana whispered.

‘I need allies yes, but I also need friends who are safe. You need to be safe; I won’t have any one else in danger. It’s bad enough that Olivia is still in hospital. I won’t have the same happen to the rest of you. Please. Just go.’

‘You’ll by yourself,’ Drake said, clenching his fists. ‘You’ll be in even more danger.’

‘I’ll have Leo,’ he replied. ‘He has told me he is going to stay with me and we are going to work together as the two royal brothers to fix this mess.’

Leo nodded, his face drawn. ‘I’m fighting with you until the end.’

There was a  brief silence until Drake spoke. ‘Well.. if anyone wants to see Texas, be our guests,’ Drake said, accepting Liam’s decision. ‘The ranch is big enough.’

Maxwell and Hana eyed Drake and Camille. ‘I’ve never been to America..’ Hana said wistfully. 

‘You can stay with us if you want,’ Drake chuckled. ‘You too Maxwell, I see you looking hopeful.’

Maxwell blushed. ‘Just cause I miss Camille, we have good chats..’

Camille grinned. ‘That settles it then. Bertrand, you in?’

Bertrand smiled but shook his head. ‘I think I will stay at the Beaumont Manor. I’ll keep the place going. Don’t worry, Maxxie,’ he said, smiling at Maxwell’s worried face, ‘I’ll be fine.’

Maxwell still grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug.

*******************************************************************************************

Bianca pulled Drake into a tight hug as soon as he was through the front door. 'Oh my baby boy!' she cried, squeezing him tightly. 'I'm so glad you're alright!'

Drake chuckled. 'Of course I am, mom.'

She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears, before smacking him on the shoulder. 'Don't you ever get caught up in an uprising again!'

'Ow! I'm not planning on it!' Drake protested, holding his shoulder. Bianca shook her head, tutting, before turning to Camille, Hana and Maxwell. 'Camille, baby! Oh thank the Lord.. How's Baby Girl? Is she okay?'

'She's fine,' Camille assured her. 'In fact, she started kicking properly when we were away.'

Bianca clapped her hands in excitement. 'Oh amazing! I'm desperate to meet her! My granddaughter is doing so well!'

She looked at Hana and Maxwell. 'Welcome to the Walker Ranch!' she said, beaming. 'Help yourselves to food, towels, the TV, whatever you like! Consider this place yours while you're here, okay? Now, who wants some homemade lemonade?'

*******************************************************************************************

Drake settled Camille down in front of Netflix so she could watch Queer Eye. She had a bowl of popcorn on her lap and finally looked relaxed. 'Ooh, I need Hana to watch with me!' she said. 'We watch Queer Eye together all the time, I can't betray her and watch an episode without her, she'd never forgive me.' She began to get up but Drake gently pushed her back onto the squashy sofa. 'Stay there. I'll go get her. She was unpacking her things in her guest room.'

Camille smiled gratefully and placed the bowl of popcorn on top of her bump. 'Drake, look! She can balance things now!'

Drake laughed and kissed Camille softly. 'She's so talented, huh?' he joked. Camille grinned and snuggled into the sofa cushions.

Drake wandered upstairs to Hana's guest room. He didn't want to admit it but he quite enjoyed Queer Eye. Maybe he would sit with the girls and pretend not to be interested but really, he wanted to see how many printed shirts Tan France could find.

He opened Hana's door which was slightly ajar. He could hear Taylor Swift playing from the radio. 'Hana? Camille wants you to join her for a Queer Eye binge- oh my God, my eyes! My eyes!'

'Drake!' Hana screamed.

'Aaaaah!' Maxwell shrieked.

'What the hell are you doing with that utensil?!' Drake shouted, covering his eyes.

'Get out!' Hana cried.

'What's happened?' It was Camille, rushing up the stairs. She reached the bedroom door and Drake tried to pull her back but was too late.

'Oh Jesus Christ! Why are you both naked?!’ Camille yelped. Her eyes widened.  ‘Why have you got a kitchen utensil?!'

'We were just trying something!' Maxwell shouted.

'From what?! Gordon Ramsey's Sexual Nightmares?!' Camille screamed back.

'What on earth are you all screaming about?!' Bianca yelled, running up the stairs.

'Mom, no, don't go in there -' Drake said but again, he was too late. Bianca stopped dead in the doorway. Drake winced and Camille leaned her head on his chest, closing her eyes.

Bianca stared at Maxwell and Hana then back to Drake and Camille. 'What is it with you kids and cowboy hats?'

Drake groaned and Camille stifled a giggle, her head still against his chest.

Bianca sighed. 'By the way, if you're using that utensil as a whip, you picked the wrong one. It's too flimsy.'

'MOM!'

*******************************************************************************************

Hana sat down sheepishly beside Camille on the sofa. Drake was in the kitchen pouring himself a generous measure of whiskey. Maxwell was watching him and eyed the bottle. 'Can I please have a shot? I kind of need it to, erm, counteract the shock..'

Drake stared at him. 'You're shocked?'

Hana plucked the edge of the blanket and kept her eyes down, avoiding Camille's steady stare. 'So, um, for a few months now, me and Maxwell.. We've been, sort of.. You know.. Doing stuff.. Um, kissing and things.. Went on a date.. I guess we're kind of boyfriend and girlfriend now?'

She looked up slowly, wincing.

Camille had a huge grin on her face and her hands were clasped together. 'Hana, this is amazing!'

Hana blinked. 'It is?'

'Uh, YEAH! I've shipped you guys for ages! Finally!'

Hana exhaled. ‘Oh thank God! I was so nervous to tell you.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know really. I just have never actually had a boyfriend before. This is all new.’

‘It’s so exciting!’

Hana blushed and Camille grinned. ‘Look at you- all embarrassed! Hana,  this is so nice! Honestly, don’t be embarrassed.’

‘Thanks Camille.. I really really really like him.���

Camille squealed and Hana giggled. They both turned to the TV.

‘Seriously though, what were you guys doing with that kitchen utensil?’

*******************************************************************************************

Olivia was sat up in the hospital bed reading Trend Magazine. ‘Ugh, those are horrendous..’ she murmured, looking at a picture of a pair of see through high heels. 

‘Hey trouble.’

Olivia looked up to see Leo standing at the door. She spotted a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 

‘Leo.’

He smiled and entered the room. Turning a little pink, he handed her the flowers. ‘For you.’

‘Flowers don’t heal stab wounds,’ she told him dryly.

‘True but sometimes, it’s just nice to give flowers.’

‘You’ve gone soft.’

‘Nah, I’m just a gentleman,’ he replied, giving her a wink. He sat down on the chair by her bed and studied her. She looked tired but she had that Nevrakis bite back, which he was glad about. He loved that bite.

He looked around and saw that she hadn’t touched her lunch. ‘What we got here then?’ he mused. He picked up the contents. ‘Hmm. A sandwich. Apple. Water. Jesus, this is shit, you’d think being Liam’s friend would automatically give you better service - ooh no, spoke too soon, look, you have chocolate mousse!’

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Whoopee.’

Leo tore open the lid of the chocolate mousse eagerly. ‘I used to love chocolate mousse when I was a kid,’ he said, smiling. He looked at Olivia. ‘You like chocolate mousse?’

‘It’s not the most elegant of desserts,’ she answered, raising her nose in the air. 

‘It’s not meant to be elegant, Liv,’ Leo told her. ‘It’s chocolate mousse in a plastic pot. Here, have some.’

He popped the spoon into the mousse and held it out to Olivia. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ugh it smells so fake.’

‘Will taste delicious though.’

She eyed the spoon and slowly leaned forward to taste. Leo grinned when he saw her eyes suddenly light up. 

‘Not bad,’ was all she said.

He scooped out another spoonful and held it out to her. Olivia rolled her eyes; she was a grown woman being spoon fed. But she had to admit; she kind of liked the fact that Leo was here.

‘I’m glad you’re still here, Liv,’ he told her quietly, his eyes soft. Olivia licked her lips and settled back against the pillows. ‘Me too, Leo.’

There was a loaded silence between them until Leo broke it. ‘Come on, you still have a bit of mousse left.’

Olivia shook her head. ‘You have it. You’re the one who loves chocolate mousse.’

‘Yeah but you’re the one in hospital.’

‘Ugh, fine,’ she said, leaning forward. He gently held out the spoon and she took the last bit. He watched her as she swallowed and licked her lips, tasting the last of the chocolate. Her eyes met his and she offered him a small smile. Slowly, so as not to surprise her, he leaned forward, inching closer so his face was nearing hers. Olivia stared at him for a moment, frozen in place, until she leaned forward too.

Their lips met and Leo sank into the kiss that tasted of chocolate mousse and Olivia.

[the-midnight-goblim-blog]

So I, uhh, found an old writing project that I forgot to post on Wattpad ages ago. I probably was in a bad time when I wrote it(Don't judge me for the song later in the story). I've fixed the grammar a little and I hope you enjoy it?

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Everything You Do Has A Price

By Damien~

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PROLOGUE:

N-no! Please!" Fear shone through his bright blue eyes.

The man above him chuckled, smirking, "You really think you're getting out of this? After everything you've done?"

"Please! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" He tried to think of what he did to the person above him.

The man above him laughed again before kneeling down, showing his face in the light. A crazy grin stretched on his face, "How about... No!" The man then stabbed him in the heart. The man then watched as the light faded from his eyes. "Goodbye, hypocritical sinner."

The man got up wrote a note and pinned it to the wall next to the dead body before leaving the house, making sure not to leave any evidence behind.

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CHAPTER 1:

Benji Rain set down his phone on the porch railing, sighing and leaning against it. "Why do I even like that douche?" It was the fourth time that Elliot broke up with him. "Why do I go back to him every time?" Benji's phone buzzed and he ignored it. He sat outside on the porch in the cold March night, letting the wind pass through his light jacket and straight to his bones. "God, I need a drink." He picked up his phone and saw several voice-mails and texts from Elliot. He put his phone in his pocket, walking off to go drive to clear his head.

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"Why did you leave me here to burn?"

Benji drove into the night, listening to music. He put the first CD he found into his truck's player. 

"I'm too young to be this hurt."

Benji watched as the street lamps light up the road in front of him, trying not to cry.

"I felt doomed in hotel rooms, staring straight up the wall."

Nothing was out here in the desert besides abandoned buildings and the cacti.

 "Countin' the wounds and trying to numb them all."

Benji felt a tear fall down his face and started to sing along.

"Do you care? Do you care? Why don't you care?"

'Stupid Elliot, who does he think he is?' He thought

"I gave you all of me, my blood, my sweat, my heart and my tears."

'I gave him everything he wanted! Even when I didn't want to do anything...' Tears started pouring down his face.

"Why don't you care? Why don't you care?"

"I was there, I was there when no one was."

"Damn it, I supported him through everything! His mental issues, the no touching in public, the rumors!" He started yelling, feeling the need to punch something.

"I have questions for you. Number one, tell me who you think you are?"

"He thinks he's a nice guy? Pssh, more like an asshole!"

"I have questions. Number two, why would you try and play me like a fool?"

"Because he thinks I'm dumb and won't ever leave him leave."

"I have questions. Number three, why weren't you who you swore to be?"

Benji pulled over to the side of the road. His hands were clenching the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned white.

"I've got questions, I've got questions haunting me."

He turned off his truck, stopping the music, and leaned back against the seat, letting his hands drop and head to stare up at the ceiling. His eyes were red from crying. "I really hate that motherfucker... but I love him too." He sat there for a few minutes before turning the truck on, turned off the music, and drove off silently.

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The after that night no more texts or calls came from Elliot, and it made Benji relieved but worried as well. He had stayed inside for the past few days, not really wanting to talk to people. He felt antsy and jumped when there was a knock on the door. He calmed himself down and walked to the door. "Elliot? I told you that was th-" He stopped yelling, opening the door to see two strangers at the door. "Hello, who are you?"

The woman talked first, "Hi, I'm officer Walker and this is Dr. Quinn Morgan." The man waved. "Is this the home of an Benji... Rains?"

"Yeah, this is him." He could imagine what he looked liked, the crazy neighbor. His dark brown hair a huge mess, dulled grey eyes with dark eye bags, and super pale skin despite the sunny weather.

"Can we come inside and ask a couple questions?" Officer Walker asked, staring at Benji with her dark brown eyes. It felt like a void was staring back at him.

"Yeah, sure." He opened the door widely and let them walk in, "What's going on?"

Dr. Morgan looked at him, "You don't know?"

Benji closed the door and crossed his arms, "No, I've stayed inside the past two days." The officer looked around at his a little messy house and almost overfilled trash, "It's hot out there, would you like some tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee please, lots of sugar." Benji started a small pot of coffee for Dr. Morgan.

"No thanks, I'm fine." The officer stopped looking around, "You don't have many visitors, do you?"

"Not many, only my brothers sometimes and my ex used to." 

The officer picked up a picture frame, looking at it, "How long ago did you break up?"

"... two days ago..." Benji looked away, "I don't like leaving the house in the first place and I'd feel ashamed to go out." He poured out the coffee into a cup and pour some sugar in before handing to Dr. Morgan.

"Thank you, Mr. Rains." Dr. Morgan smiled. The officer put down the photo frame.

"Only practicing Southern hospitality," He said, pretending a Southern accent, "And just Benji is fine"

"You're not from around here?" Dr. Morgan asked, tilting his head. The officer continued to look around.

"No, I'm a Northerner, moved when I was 18 with my ex to here. He liked warm weather and I had some family down here." The officer continued to walk around. "Anyways, what questions would you like to ask me?"

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"Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Benji."

"Your welcome, Doctor, I hope the investigation goes well." Benji found out that Elliot had been murdered the night that he gotten broken up with. Benji pushed away the feelings he had, not wanting to break down in front of the two strangers. As he waved, he started to cry and closed the door quickly. He then sat on the couch and cried.

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So, how was it? Theories? Should I continue?

[mistersourwolf]

A New Beginning - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Title: A New Beginning

Word count: 2,715

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Suicide, Angst, Blood mentioned, Slight cursing (nothing too serious) Daryl being a huge asshole? Please let me know if I’m missing any!!

Request: Daryl Dixon imagine

season one

Glenn finds a woman in Atlanta getting ready to jump off a building Glenn talks her down and she goes back to the quarry. And she knows how to shoot a gun and a bow.

A/N : This was a requested fic, I changed her knowing how to shoot a crossbow, but everything else is the same. Also!! Please, please do get help if you are experiencing any suicidal thoughts or depression. Your life matters and things can get better but not if you make a permanent decision. Please take care of yourself, love always, Sav xx

You overlooked the city, seeing walkers crowding the streets of Atlanta. It had been several months since the outbreak, and the world had gone to hell. The only noises made in the city were screams of agony and the constant sound of growling herds. It was unbearable. You no longer felt like fighting to survive, not if you had no one to do it with. Since your family had been taken by the dead, you felt hollow inside. Every night you went to sleep, it was hard not to pray that you’d die. And you wanted so badly to give up, for a herd to stumble along your tent and devour you. Death wasn’t a promise of happiness but it seemed to be more promising than living.

Today, you thought could be the day you work up the courage to end it yourself. You had always talked yourself out of it, but today was a beautiful day. Even more so, a beautiful day to die. You stood at the top of a building, looking down at the vacant streets. Your eyes began to tear up at the thought of being able to see your family again. You closed your eyes, not wanting to think about what you were going to do. Hesitantly, you stepped forward, but quickly turned around when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Hey! Wait, please, just wait.”

You glanced back and saw a man who wore a ball cap start walking towards you. You glanced back down at the streets below you.

“What am I waiting for?” You choked out a laugh, as tears began to fall down your face.

The man was now beside you, which you hadn’t noticed due to you being in a daze.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, your life doesn’t have to end like this.” He assured you calmly, but you could hear in his voice that he was just as nervous as you were.

“I lost everything, everyone, I have nothing to live for.” You said wiping your tears away.

“You can still back away from this, you can choose to live for them.” He said reaching out to touch your shoulder. You shivered at the feeling of his touch, it had been so long since you had felt anyone’s hand on your skin. It had been longer since you had heard someone’s voice. “I’m Glenn.” He smiled nervously at you. You smiled back slightly, looking back at him.

“It’s getting harder to breathe, Glenn. And now I have a chance to relieve that pain and-.” Your voice cracked, “and please let me do this.” You finished, staring at the pavement.

“I don’t know you but I know that this is not your fate. It doesn’t have to be.” Glenn grasped your arm pulling you back from the edge. You tried pulling away from him, starting to break down.

“Please!” You cried, “I can’t do this anymore!” You fell onto your knees, bringing him down with you as well. “I want to be with my family, please just let me go be with them.” You sobbed.

Glenn wrapped both his arms around you to try to prevent you from getting away as you squirmed in his grasp.

“Shh.” He started to hush you, but you could only sit there sobbing and screaming.

“Just let me go! Please!” You continued to cry, punching the rooftop. Your knuckles began to bleed, but you barely noticed.

Glenn squeezed you tighter, rocking you side to side. “No I can’t let you, I can’t live with that.” His voice cracked and you could tell this was upsetting him. It was just as painful for him to watch you crumble and he didn’t even know you. You sat on the roof for a few minutes crying and distraught. It seemed like you would never stop crying, the pain was so intense.

“Shh,” Glenn whispered, “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

”I-I can’t.” You sobbed. You continued to cry until a few minutes later. Glenn tried to stand you up and this time you complied. Your mind was blank and you felt completely numb inside. He walked with you away from the edge towards the ladder on the side of the building.

“What’s your name?” Glenn asked, continuing to walk. You thought about your name and how long it had been since you had heard anyone say it.

“Y/N,” You struggled to speak, your voice was strained, most likely from the crying. He smiled, “Never met a Y/N, glad you’re the one I met.” He noted before sending you down the ladder. You climbed down as fast as you could, trying not to make any noise that might attract the dead. You had a knife on you as well as a pistol but that was it. In all honesty, you always preferred a crossbow, but you were an equally good shot with a gun. Your lips were cracked from lack of water, and they had almost began to bleed a little.

Once you were both on the ground, he reached in his backpack pulling out a bottle of water, as if he had read your mind. Your eyes softened, how could he be so kind? You didn’t know that good people still existed.

“Listen, you can come back with me, we have a group with food and water. You’ll be safe.” Glenn assured you, starting to walk down the alley. His words sounded made up, like a fairy tale. You were out here fighting for your life hoping to get your hands on any kind of food, even if it was in spite of your own personal taste.

You followed him, trying your best to not make any noise. “Will they be mad at you?” You asked Glenn, curious as to how a group who seemingly had it together would be comfortable with any stranger coming in.

“No, they won’t be.” He answered, taking a right turn out the alley. He sounded unsure which made you nervous. Glenn knew he didn’t sound sure of himself and he wasn’t.

“You’re positive?” You questioned.

“I know I’m a terrible liar so that would also be a no.” Glenn said rushing up to a car and picking the lock.

“I won’t go with you, I can’t intrude on what you guys have.” You said, quietly. Glenn got in the car, opening the passenger door.

“You will die if you stay, if the geeks don’t kill you, starvation will. Now will you just get your ass in the car.” He said, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for a minute but decided to get in.

Glenn fumbled with the cables that were out and soon you heard the car start to hum. You looked over at him, surprised he was able to start it.

“You’re something else.” You smiled, leaning on the window.

Glenn laughed, pulling off into the street, “Wait until you meet the group.”

The drive was quiet and as you got closer to the group, the more scenic the drive was. The quarry was gorgeous unlike the rundown city. Glenn was listening to an old cd that had been left in the car. It was a jazz album, singing about a happy world. The world you’d seen was anything except happy, but you hoped things would look up for you soon. You were nervous when you arrived and anxious to meet everyone.

“It’s gonna be okay, they won’t bite.” Glenn joked, “Seriously, come meet them, you’ll like them a lot” Glenn stepped out of the car and walked toward an RV that was parked center of the camp. You sat for a minute, fumbling with your hands. What were they going to think of you? What would you say to them? Would Glenn tell them how he found you? He said he was a terrible liar but you still hoped he could cover your ass. You weren’t ashamed but didn’t want to be thought of as weak. Deep down, you knew you weren’t, you were strong but even strong people lose fights sometimes.

After a long mental prep, you stepped out of the car and slowly walked towards the group. Glenn was talking to them, which you assumed had something to do with you.

A lady approached you quickly. She had short gray hair and kind eyes. Immediately she welcomed you with a smile and a warm hug. You hugged her back as well and probably longer than you should have. Your eyes started to tear up just at the thought of being able to hug someone again. You soon pulled away, laughing and wiping your eyes.

“Sorry,” you said through tears. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a good hug.” You smiled.

“Well you can always get plenty from me.” She smiled big at you, “I’m Carol.”

“Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you Carol.” You smiled back at her, wiping whatever tears you had remaining.

“Come meet the rest of group.” She smiled leading you to where Glenn and a few more people stood.

“That’s Andrea & Amy, they’re sisters and are practically joined at the hips.” She said pointing towards two blonde women, one looked fairly young and it was easy to tell who was older. You smiled at them, waving hello.

“That’s Dale, he’s a wise man, incredible for any advice.” She introduced the man, who was far older than anyone else it appeared.

“That’s Rick & Lori, he is new to the group, just found his family again.” She pointed out, “My daughter Sophie and Rick and Lori’s son, Carl.”

She continued to list the names of all the group members. Each person greeted you with a smile, and you felt very welcome.

“There is one more, his name is Daryl, he’s hunting right now but should be back sometime before dinner.” She said before walking off.

Daryl returned before dinner just as Carol had said. He had seven squirrels along with a bird or two along his back. He carried a crossbow, a weapon you always wanted to learn how to use. Daryl was older as well but not by much, he was actually kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but first notice his muscles, he looked very strong but you saw that he had an off putting personality. Daryl seemed disconnected and anti-social. In a way, you felt very much like him. You took advantage of this and sat next to him by the fire. Everyone else was eating and talking about their previous lives, telling funny stories and how their life used to be. But you sat quiet next to him, eager to break the silence.

“Would you teach me?” You asked shyly, looking down at your food.

He lifted his head up, looking over at you, “Teach ya’ what?” He said. He had a gruff voice, one that certainly suited him.

You blushed slightly, “How to shoot it.” You gestured toward the crossbow laying next to him. He looked down at his crossbow and then back at you.

“Why ya’ wanna learn, you got a gun.” He said roughly, throwing down what he was eating. He looked away from you, and towards the group.

“My dad, he used to—“

“But he ain’t here no more,” Daryl interrupted, an angry expression taking over his face, “Ain’t no sense in learning if that’s what it’s about.” He stormed off, leaving you in shock. You were surprised how he could treat someone he didn’t know like that. As much as you wanted to sit and sulk, something drove you to chase after him.

“Hey!” You shouted, but he continued to walk. You quickly caught up to him, touching his arm. He pulled back, turning around to face you.

“Why you following me,” He asked angrily, “I don’t want nothin’ to do with you or your bullshit story.” He turned back around continuing to walk.

“You know you’re just like him!” You said, trying to provoke him and you did exactly that. He turned back around, walking up to you until he was standing inches away from your face, “Sweetheart, I ain’t nothin’ like him, because I’m here and he’s not.”

Your eyes started to water but you didn’t want to show him any kind of weakness, so you fought them back.

“If you’re trying to tell me just because you’re alive doesn’t mean your weak then you’re wrong.“ You scolded him, “You’re in just as much in pain as everyone else, probably worse.”

Daryl didn’t like that and he showed that quickly, he grabbed you by your arm dragging you to the woods.

“Let go of me!” You yelled, trying to pull away from him.

“Nah you wanna shoot, let’s shoot.” He was definitely mad by the tone of his voice.

“Daryl, stop!” You complained as he grabbed your hands, helping you hold the cross bow. Daryl started to whistle, taking two metal scraps from the ground banging them together.

Soon followed a series of growling, but it was hard to see anything. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you saw a walker come from behind a tree. It slowly walked over to you, it’s mouth had been completely eaten and decayed.

“Shoot em’! You wanna learn, right?” Daryl said, continuing to bang the pieces. You quickly shot at the walker, but you missed, it kept walking towards you. You tried shooting at it again but failed once more before it tackled you. It’s jaws kept moving forward trying desperately to bite you, but you fought back. You cried out as the walker continued to wrestle you. This went on for a minute or two as you fumbled with your jeans trying to find your knife. Suddenly you heard a squishing sound and blood splattered on your forehead. You closed your eyes in disgust.

Daryl pulled the walker off of you, extending his hand. You rejected and quickly stood up, glaring at him.

“What the hell?” You yelled pushing him back. He pushed past you, picking up the arrows from the ground.

“You’re welcome.” He said breathless, picking up his crossbow as well.

“I never asked you to save me,” you remarked, out of breath from the fight.

“So I shoulda let em’ kill ya?” He asked, pissed off for whatever reason.

“I can take care of myself!” You argued.

“You really had a handle on that,” he huffed, his sarcasm pissing you off even more. “You wanted this, remember?”

“I almost got killed!” You refuted, angry at him for the danger he put you in.

“What, you don’t wanna die?” He yelled, making you finally cave in. You put your face in your palms trying to hide your eyes. You started to cry lifting your head towards the sky. You stared at the stars trying to hold back any more tears, but you failed.

He took a small step towards you, his body became less stiff. He stared at the ground before looking back up at you.

“I-I ain’t mean to—“ he started but you cut him off.

“No,” You sniffled, “You’re right, I do.”

A moment of silence followed. You covered your mouth as you let out a final sob, not wanting anyone to hear.

“How’d it happen?” Daryl looked up, his eyes had softened a little, seeming genuine.

“What, my dad?”

He nodded slowly.

“He died before all of this, was diagnosed with cancer when I was thirteen. Lost him not even a year after. But I’m glad he didn’t have to see this, you know?” You looked at Daryl, trying to read his thoughts.

“He liked the crossbow?” He said, looking at his own. You smiled, nodding.

“He loved the crossbow, he would always practice in his free time and sometimes let me try, even though mom would kill him if she found out.” You laughed thinking about those times and how simple they were. “He started using it more when he got sick, was tired of laying around I guess.”

“Okay.” He said quietly. “I’ll teach ya.” He slowly walked away, leaving you to your thoughts. You were incredibly sad but felt a shimmer of excitement. If there was anyway to honor your family, it would be staying alive, and that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

[popmybrains]

Dead Birds - Ben Paul x Reader

Paring : Ben Paul x Reader

A/N: I’ve been rewatching run through of The Walking Dead Video game, considering I’m a big fan of the show, and Ben’s character honestly really really grew on me. I was a little broken over how he died so how do I cope? I right fanfiction over it of course. This is pretty short so sorry :)

Warnings: Angst/Fluff , Suicide/Murder , Slight Gore

Summary: (Y/N) had been with Ben since the world went to shit, arriving with Ben and their school coch at the motor inn. But what happens when Ben and (Y/N) fall together off the balcony? Someone gets speared, the other breaks a leg and Kenny will have to make a choice.

(Y/N) sat next to Ben, clinging onto his left arm, having just excasped death in the by fleeing into the attic while the mansion underneath them flooded with the dead.

Her tear stained faced buried into his shoulder as he rested his head into his free arm. While many of the group believed Ben to be the weak one, it actually was the (H/C) hair colored girl clinging onto his arm instead. She listened as Omid beat against the wall, Kenny, Lee, and Christa all secretly talking about you and Ben - they weren’t being as quiet as they thought they were.

Blinking away a few stray tears from her (E/C) eyes she leaned into Ben, feeling him pull his arm out of her grip. Opening her mouth to protest wanting him with her to feel safe she quickly shut her mouth instead when she felt it return, but instead around her shoulder, having Ben pull her closer into his side.

“I’m scared Ben.” (Y/N) whispered as Ben turned his head to look down at his girlfriend. Sighing Ben turned to look at the other four older members of their dysfunctional group. When his gazed returned to (Y/N)’s water filled one, he silently broke on the inside, bringing his other hand up to cup her face within his gigantic palm he rested his forehead against her own.

“I know you are (Y/N), I am too, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispered before going to nuzzle her with his nose - Eskimo kisses being something he used to make her smile all the time when she was upset before their world went to shit.

Pulling back he saw the sad smile on her face, her eyes halfway open. Opening her mouth to say something, she didn’t get the chance before Omid called saying he had broken through.

-

Ben held (Y/N) by the waist as he help her carefully land into the room they had busted into, after scanning over her silently with his eyes he made a mental note that all though shaken up, she was fine. That was until he saw her eyes widen.

Confused, Ben turn to see what she was looking at only to see that the rest of the group was looking at it too - the lovers who took their life together. Ben felt his heart clench, and a grip enter and tighten around his own hand.

The group was silent as Kenny went up to take the gun out of the dead mans grasp, taking a look into how many bullets the pistol carried. “Only one left.” He mumbled, putting the safety on and the gun into his pants.

Christa looked to Omid, her face appearing to be heartbroken - mirroring (Y/N)’s own face. Turning to Lee, Christa said they should check the room all before leaving, seeing if they could find anything they would need.

Ben and (Y/N) both walked over to the window, as the petite girl looked out the boreded window, whispering to Ben. “I don’t want us to end up like them. I don’t want to die like that, just giving up.” She whispered. Ben looked at the (S/C) colored woman, shocked. He never expected her to say something like that. “I promise we won’t.” He whispered back to her. Opening his mouth to say more, he heard the sound of a door opening, and Christa’s voice calling out to say theirs nothing of value within the room.

As the group decided to jump up one to the second building, the young couple stood and watched waiting for their turn. Watching as it went from Lee, Omid, Christa, Kenny and now the teenagers.

The two stood together on the small balcony, as (Y/N) looked over the edge, into the alleyway. “I don’t think I can do it Ben.” She turned her head up to stare into the tall boys blue eyes. “You’ll be fine, I’ll be right here-“ He tried to tell her, gripping her wasit as he lifted her up onto the railing, only for both of them to here a clang, and then to feel both of them falling, listening to Lee and Kenny scream shit.

When (Y/N) hit the ground, she felt a snap, and let out a quick and shrill shriek, and heard Ben’s own mantra of, “I’m okay.”

Hearing footsteps run towards herself and Ben who was now covered in trash. “Be quiet Ben! Or the dead will be on us!” The one armed man said trying to hush Ben.

“I’m okay really, please just get (Y/N) up, I think her leg is hurt.” Ben said, shifting his head in her direction to see her sitting on her ass, cradling the leg bent at an odd angle.

“Give us a moment and let us help you first.” Kenny said, pushing the trash out of the way to revel that Ben has been pierced through his stomach.

Everyone went dead silent and (Y/N) felt as though her heart had just stopped, with perseverance and adrenaline now she ignored the throbbing pain within her leg and crawled her way over to Ben. “No, no.” She whispered, bring her hands up to his cradle his face as his own went to grip the metal poking out of his abdomen slicked in blood.

Kenny tried to lift him up only for Ben to scream out in pain making more blood ooze from the wound, forcing Kenny stop his work. Lee being the first to actually speak up, he told Kenny to just rip him up like a bandaid, but it was useless, the dead had already started to corner them. Bens eyes widened in fear, his own turning to to meet (Y/N)’s gaze before he paincked.

“Oh god don’t let them get to me!” He pleaded with Kenny, knowing there was no way for them to get him off the metal pike. Kenny had turned to Lee, ending up to have their own small conversation, while Ben looked directly into his girlfriends eyes.

“You need to go with Lee, now.” His usually soft and gentle slightly nervous voice now holding a tone of seriousness (Y/N) never heard before. Being scared out of her wits, she decided that if this was his stop, it would be hers too.

Slowly starting to cry as the dead got closer, she held onto one of his hands tighter. “No, I don’t leave you. If you die, so do I.” She cried, her sobs being mixed in with the moans of walkers. Bens heart broke, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change her mind, which broke him the most, turning his head to Kenny who was now alone, with no Lee in sight.

“Give me the gun Kenny.” The old mans mouth opened in protest before Ben cut him off again. With a solemn look on his face, he gave the gun to Ben, giving (Y/N) a sorry glance before making his way to a manhole cover in the middle of the street to save his own hide now.

“Why do you need the gun Ben-“ (Y/N) asked before her eyes widened, realizing the gun was posting between her eyeballs. “I love you more then anything (Y/N) (L/N).” Ben said giving her a sad smile eyes filled with tears as they leaked down his cheeks, the geeks finally closing in.

Opening her lips to scream no, she never got the chance before Ben pulled the trigger, the brains and blood of his now deceased girlfriend spalttering all over his own face and the ground below them, her one stiff now limp body falling to lay on his chest.

Laying a hand on your head, softly petting your hair he tried not to scream as the dead bit into his flesh and trying to die happy.

Knowing he just saved you from living his worst fear.

[queencatherynerhys]

Almost Lover - TRR AU Part 5

A/N: Seriously, I had no clue about how to go about this chapter. I absolutely had no idea where it was gonna end up. I kept writing drafts after drafts, simply not satisfied. The only thing I knew for sure was it was gonna be about Catheryne’s time during the two months she was home. I am so overwhelmed about the overwhelming support I’ve gotten for this series. I am going to have 2 more chapters after this one and possibly an epilogue. I want to give a shout-out to all who has helped me with coming up with material for this series. Thanks @captainkingliam @alicars and @cocomaxley.

Song Inspiration: Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy (this is one of my favorite angst songs... it’s so heartbreaking and haunting)

Summary: Catheryne is finally home. She meets an old friend. Will she finally be able to be free from Liam’s grasp on her?

Tag List: @captainkingliam @decisso @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @zilch3

Previous Parts:

Ruin the Friendship – Part 1

Delicate – Part 2

Tell Me You Love Me – Part 3

Maybe This Time – Part 4

 After a long 13-hour train ride, she arrives at her homestead around 12:30am. The street is quiet and dim, only lit by a couple of lampposts. She sends a thankful note to her parents for leaving her their home. She never has to worry about not having a place to stay for she will always have this for herself. She couldn’t bear to sell it when her parents died. I didn’t want to lose their memories. And I didn’t want to move away from…him. She smiles somberly at the thought of her once best friend and glances at the house next door, her second home. I’ll make sure to say hello to his parents tomorrow.

She heads inside her family home. It smells musky, she feels as if she’s breathing in layers of dust. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day spent cleaning. I should get some rest. But she’s not quite tired yet. So, she heads down to the beach.

She missed this unobstructed view of the sky. She missed the sea salt smell of the air. She missed the sounds of the waves hitting sand. She missed the moonlight shining upon her. She missed the gently breeze that ruffles her hair. She loves the New York skyline, but she is in love with the view of her paradise. It’s only been a year and a half, but it feels like forever. She inhales a deep breath, recalling all the memories she shared with him in this very spot. All the long talks, laughter and cries they shared.

After a long moment, she exhales finally releasing all the emotions she’s bottled up over the 6 years she’s been in love with him. She closes her eyes, saying a silent goodbye in her mind. I love you, Liam. I’ll always love you. But it’s time to turn the page. It’s time for me to let go of you. I must focus on myself now, and what’s best for me. I am tired of hoping  and waiting for your love. Loving you has cost me more pain than I could imagine. Though, I’ll never regret it. You’ll always be my friend. Goodbye, Liam, my almost lover, my hopeless dream. She opens her eyes letting a tear stream down her face. She feels lighter as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She still feels pain in her chest, yet she feels sure and optimistic of the future, a future without him. She doesn’t know what that looks like because he has always been a constant presence in her life.

She heads back inside to get some much-needed rest before a long day tomorrow. The sun rises and fills her face with warmth. She wakes up to get ready for the day and head out to the city to get some cleaning supplies and food. She heads out in the garage, grinning widely at the sight of her trusty old car. She remembers Liam scolding her for getting this baby blue beat-up car. “Ryne, you realize you have enough money to actually buy a brand-new car, right?” It’s true her parents had left her a significant amount of money, being a doctor and dentist had its perks. But they also taught her how to value the simple things in life, not over indulging and being humble and grateful for what she had.

She opens the garage entrance and steps out into the warm, humid air of her hometown. Mm, fresh air. “Well, if it isn’t Ms. Catheryne Knightely,” an old man’s voice cried out. She opens her eyes to see Mr. Rhys standing across the way, tending to a plant. He hasn’t changed much. His hair once black hair has a little grey to it now and his wrinkles becoming more define, but over all he still looks great for his age. It must be where Liam gets it. “Hello, Mr. Rhys. How have you been?” she greets him politely. They exchange small talk before he inquires, “So, what’re you doing back home?” She thought for a moment on how to best answer his question. She didn’t want to recall the events that lead to her return, so she kept it simple. “I just needed some fresh air, you know, New York can get very busy, so I thought I’d go back home to rejuvenate.” He looks at her for a moment with narrow eyes, if he suspects the hidden truth he didn’t show it and just simply says, “well, it’s good to have you home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rhys, I’ll see you around,” she starts to walk away before remembering something. “Um, Mr. Rhys, can I ask you a favor?” he looks over his shoulder and replies, “Anything, dear.” She hesitates before asking, “Is it alright if you don’t tell Liam that I’m here? It’s just… he’s really busy up there I don’t want him distracted.” He glances at her a bit of confusion in his eyes, but he agrees and tells her, “Sure thing, dear, I’ll make sure to let my wife know as well.”

She heads off for the local Wal-Mart for some cleaning supplies, then heads to the farmer’s market for some food to cook for the next few weeks. She is wandering stall by stall, when she hears a deep, somewhat rough voice say, “Look what the cat dragged in.” She whirls around coming face to face with an old friend.

Drake Walker, handsome as ever with his shaggy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He dons his trademark look, a thin white shirt underneath an open button-down denim top paired with dirt-stained jeans and boots. He looks like he’s gain some muscle since the last time she saw him. He is tanner now, too. “Hello, Knightely, long time no see,” he smirks at her. She smiles back and retorts, “well, you look clean.”

He laughs at the statement. “So, how long are you in town for?” He genuinely asks. “I don’t know, a while, I guess.” She doesn’t specify because she really doesn’t know. I don’t know if I’ll even go back to New York in general. “Well then, what are you doing tonight?” he inquires, his voice tinged with curiosity. “I don’t know, Drake, I’m just spending all day cleaning and stuff.”

“Hmm, how about I come by and help you?” Her eyes widened slightly at the offer and says, “Oh, no, I…I can’t ask you to do that Drake.” “It wasn’t really a question, just phrased like one, Knightely,” he bluntly stated. She learned long ago not to argue with that man. He’s as stubborn as a brick wall. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Let me grab a couple more things then you can follow me back to the house.”

They arrive, and he helps her carry her groceries inside. She sees him look around, then she realized he’s never been inside her actual house. He’s been inside the Rhys’ home where she lived during high school. “It’s cozy,” he observes. “It will be once I get it cleaned and dusted. I never moved any of the stuff since my parents passed away,” she somberly explained.

They put away the food before getting to work on cleaning the old place. “Where do you want me, Knightely?” he looks at her. “I guess we can start with the living room. We need to move the furniture outside and sweep the floor and dust the everything and all,” they tackle the room slowly, helping each other carry the big furniture outside to air out and dust the cushions. After two long, hard hours of non-stop cleaning, the living room finally looks the way it used to be. It was like it was restored to its original glory with the dark hard wood floors shining making a beautiful contrast with the light beige painting of the wall and the furniture put back in place, the only thing missing was the warmth from the ghost of the family that used to fill the room.

She slumps down on the couch, catching her breath. Drake sits beside her, making sure to put a relative amount of space in between them. “So, you never told me if you were doing anything tonight?” he asked her. “Why do you want to know?” she quipped. “Look, Knightely, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner at the ranch?” he says so quickly, pretty much combining the words together. “Drake, that’s not a good idea and you know it,” she shakes her head as she replies to his offer. “It’s not like that Knightely, what I’m offering is a friendly dinner, I swear, just a good old-fashioned steak dinner and an old bottle of whiskey. We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to, so what’d ya say?” he explains. “You’re not gonna take a no for an answer, are you?” she smirks at him. “You know me so well, Knightely.”

He gets up to leave to get ready for their dinner in a couple of hours. She is too exhausted to mull over the offer, so she decides to take a shower and get some rest before she heads to Walker Farms. His family owned and ran a large farm. The way there is memory to her from the many times her and Liam biked there to hang out. She arrives to a picnic table set up outside their farmhouse. “Hey, the steak is almost done grilling, you’re welcome to start on the whiskey though,” he acknowledges her arrival.

She takes her place on one side of the picnic table. She wasn’t feeling up to drinking yet, so she sits there admiring the vast land of crops that is spread out There is a full moon tonight and it shines brightly around the stars that surrounds it. Her gazing is hindered when a plate of delicious steak is put in front of her. “Thanks,” she says graciously. “Hope you like it,” Drake says mindlessly. They eat in silence, enjoying the sound of the chirping of the crickets in the distant. This is why I like Drake, he doesn’t mind the silence like I do. Liam always had something to talk about, a problem, an opinion he wanted from me. I mean there were moments of silence, but they were rare.

She doesn’t know how long they sit there quietly and Drake only breaks the silence to offer her a glass of whiskey which she accepts. She nurses her first glass while he is already in his third cup. “Might wanna slow down there, champ?” He grumbles a response as he sets down his glass on the wooden table. He leans forward and crosses his arms on the table in front of him and asks, “So, what’re you really doing back home? And don’t give me the bullshit answer, Knightely, we’ve known each other a long time,” his serious tone surprises her. “I thought this was a friendly dinner and that we didn’t have to talk,” she reminds him of his offer. “Oh, well, I lied. I guess some things are still the same, stop ignoring my question,” he clearly says.

She pauses, gathering her thoughts, thankful that she only has one glass of whiskey in her system. Drake knows of her feelings for him, he has known a long time. One of the many things that made him a great person is that he just listens to her, he allowed her to voice out her frustrations without judgment. “He knows, Drake,” she says, willing her voice to maintain a neutral tone. “He knows and he…he didn’t…he doesn’t love me back, so I left, it was time,” she stares at the night sky, preventing her tears from escaping her eyes as she explains. Aren’t you done with the crying, Catheryne? You’ve been crying the last 2 weeks. Move on already.

Drake doesn’t say anything for a long time. “He’s a stupid man for letting you go, you know that right,” he looks at her. She is surprised to see nothing but earnestness in his eyes. “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, it’s in the past, nothing’s going to change,” saying it in a way to tell him to drop the subject. “So, what’s new with Drake Walker? Broken any hearts lately?” she changes the subject.

“Well, my dad gave me the ranch when I graduated so I’ve been busy learning the business and handling it on my own, leaving no time for my old habits. I’m a new man now, Knightely, more responsible, I think,” he says with a grin. She laughs loudly at his remark, “Alright, Drake, I’ll believe it when I see it. And that’s nice for your dad to finally trust you with something, especially something of this magnitude. How’s Savannah doing?”

They spend the next two hours catching up with how life has been for them, laughing and reminiscing. Weird. I feel so at ease when I’m around him. Like I could stay here for hours just talking to him. I wish Liam treated me this way. Why couldn’t he just love me back? Am I that repulsive? Am I not good enough? She shakes her head vigorously, stopping herself from delving back into the self-doubt, self-loathing phase that Liam causes her to go to. It’s time to let go, Catheryne. It’s time to let go of what could have been. I mean come on there’s a great guy sitting in front of you. Who knows, maybe he can mend your broken heart?

“Drake, thank you for this wonderful night, and forcing me to come out here, I had fun, really,” she honestly tells him. “You’re quite welcome, Knightely, you deserve it,” he replies. “Anyway, I should get going, it’s late and I still have a lot of work to do at the house in the next few weeks,” she begins to stand up and helps him clear the table. “Goodnight, Knightely, I’ll see you tomorrow,” waving to her as she walks back to her car. “Goodnight, Drake, see you tomorrow.”

The next few weeks pass by quickly with her and Drake cleaning up the rest of the house, providing her with some nice distraction. When he leaves in the afternoon, she ends up Face-Timing with Hana talking about their days, catching up with about what’s happening with her job at the event planning place she works at. She tries to inform her about Liam’s well-being, but she refuses to acknowledge him. She is making good progress with freeing herself and moving on, she doesn’t want to interrupt that. Hana pries her for details about Drake, as well, but she doesn’t say too much. They have been hanging out every day. He even offered her a job at the farm, which she accepted. Maxwell also entertains her sometimes, showing off new dance moves he’s learning from the videos he’s watching.

One Friday night, her and Drake were sitting on her couch watching a show when she hears a knock on the door. She looks utterly confused on who it could be on the other side of that wood panel, she doesn’t know anyone else in this neighborhood besides the Rhys’. She hesitantly gets up to answer it and was clearly surprised upon seeing who it was.

“Surrrrprrrissseee, little blossom,” Maxwell chirps before gathering her into the biggest bear hug, crushing her ribs. “Maxwell, can’t…breathe…” he puts her down and looks down at the floor before apologizing, “I’m sorry, little blossom, I just…I missed you so much!” She lets them into the foyer before giving Hana an endearing embrace, “This is such a lovely surprise, you guys, what made you decide to come down?” Hana and Maxwell look at each other before she answers her question, “We really wanted to see how you were doing and how you’ve been dealing with everything. And besides it’s also a nice vacation for us. We haven’t had one in a while, so we decided to fly down here getting the nearest hotel from you, so we can be close and hang out every day!”

“Nonsense, Hana, you guys are staying here. I have 2 other extra bedrooms not being used and you can stay in one of them. I’m not asking either,” she firmly demanded. “Awesome! We’re gonna party every night!” Maxwell says, jumping with excitement. His bubble of joy is popped with the sound of clearing throat. She totally forgot that Drake was still there. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she leads them into the living room where he stands in the middle of the space, “Hana, Maxwell, this is Drake. Drake, this is Hana and her boyfriend, Maxwell, they’re my friends from college.” He shakes Hana’s hands politely and extends one toward Maxwell’s, “No, dude, bring it here,” the utter shock on Drake’s face when Maxwell hugs him is priceless! He steps away quickly, shifting his foot awkwardly before saying, “Knightely, I’m gonna head out, looks like you have some catching up to do.” He sends them a lazy wave over his shoulder as he walks out the front door.

Hana and Maxwell stayed with her for two weeks. Their arrival sparked the beginning of her new chapter. They spend every night staying up late watching ridiculous movies or playing games like Truth or Dare. She finds Drake actually enjoying their company, even him and Maxwell are getting along quite nicely although he’ll never admit it. The warmness that was missing from her first day was finally there. This is her family. Her new family. She dreaded the day for them to finally go back to New York. Her and Drake gave them a ride to the airport. “I’m gonna miss you Hana. You’ve been more than a friend. You’ve been my sister. Thank you for offering to take care of my stuff up there. I find myself owing you more than I care to admit,” she tears up as she hugs her tightly. “Oh, honey, you don’t owe me anything,” Hana assures her, rubbing her back for comfort. She lets go and turns to her long-lost brother, “Oh, Maxwell, what am I gonna do without your random dance moments and rap battles? Whenever I feel sad, I’ll make sure to remember all the times you made me laugh,” she hugs her adopted sibling. “I’ll miss you little blossom, but don’t worry I’ll Face Time you every day!” he promises. She waves them off as they go through security. “You have nice friends, Knightely.” I know, I know. I’m gonna miss them so much.

The next month and a half flies by. She finds most of her days with Drake. He picks her up to go to work in the farm, then drops her off and hangs out at her house all night. They make dinners together and usually get wasted out on the porch or on the couch. 

One night after he left for home, she stays out on her porch thinking about her and Drake and their friendship. She knows that Drake has feelings for her. She is somewhat worried about what their relationship could lead into or be leading into. I don’t want to lead him on. I don’t think I’m ready for anything more than friends. Or what we are right now. He doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve the pain I’ve had for 6 years. She is so tired and confused that she gives up trying to sort out her knotted feelings

After a month of casual dinners and hang-outs, she offers him to accompany her down by the beach after they coming back from dinner at the farm, surprising herself at the request, “Drake, would you like to go with me to the beach?” He agrees, bewilderment in his face, “Sure.” Bringing him down there had more meaning than what lies in the surface. This place is private, meant for just her and…him. She’s never had anyone else, never shared her paradise with anyone but him. This was their place. Is it really ok to bring him here? I think you’re thinking too much into this. It’s just a place. It’s not like he’s going to know. He’s far away, living his own life and forgetting about me. What the hell, right? It’s time.

She takes his arm and leads him down by the shore. Once again, she’s grateful for his silent presence. They stand there, letting the water hit their feet, completely surrounded in comfortable silence, even the waves are calm tonight. He turns to her and blurts out, “I like you, Catheryne, I don’t mean just as friends. I have had feelings for you since high school, but Liam was always there, but now he isn’t, and I think that we have something really great going here.”

She is completely taken aback by his confession and before she could come up with a reply, he crosses the gap between them and crashes his lips against hers. He kisses her with fiery passion and what takes her by surprise is that she kisses him back, wrapping her hands around his neck and through his hair. They break apart after a long moment, both catching their breath from the passionate encounter.

What just happened? What did I just do? Drake…just kissed me and I kissed him back? Why did I do that? I don’t even know what I want yet. Am I ready for a relationship? A real relationship? It’d be nice not pining for someone I can’t have for once, but am I really over him? I like Drake, I do, he’s been by my side and treats me like a man should treat a woman. I definitely feel something when he’s around? Is that love? Or am I just using him to forget about him? Oh, Liam, even from far away you still somehow manage to cause me pain. Why can’t I stop thinking about you? “So, what do you say about giving us a try, Catheryne?” Drake asks with a hopeful voice, pulling her away momentarily from her piercing thoughts. She gives it some pondering. She looks at his eyes, meeting his coffee brown ones with her own.

“Drake, I…I… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

[ricardotomasz]

Such is life! Behold, a new Post published on Greater And Grander about Head & Solders by Nicholas Driscoll

See into my soul, as a new Post has been published on http://greaterandgrander.com/2021/04/head-solders-by-nicholas-driscoll/

Head & Solders by Nicholas Driscoll

Will-Yem’s head woke up at five in the morning, as it always did, as the electric snap of his alarm crackled across his cheeks. Alarms, as always, were a rude awakening, but for him it was worth the shock so that he didn’t have to worry about disturbing his wife Kat-Rin with a jangling ring or an obnoxious song. 

He opened his mouth and mimicked a sigh, even though he wasn’t breathing. His head was still disconnected from the body he was planning to use that day, so he couldn’t breathe yet—the nutrient tubes were enough. He was pulled out of the cushion next to his wife by an old pulley system that he kept well-oiled so that it didn’t squeak, and his head was wheeled over and across the room in a rush. He reveled in the breeze from swinging through the air, and tried to enjoy the quick spinwash and dry of the morning. He still had hair, and the headwasher applied a bit too much shampoo this time, the suds getting in his eyes, which he tolerated, and into his mouth, which he did not. He sputtered and swore as he came out of the washer, and made another mental note to notify the landlord about the malfunction. 

The pulleys carried his head over to a decorative table—not full size, since it really only needed to accommodate his head, but fairly elaborate, carved of imitation wood, with designs that his wife had picked out depicting curlicues and flowers etched into the edges. A sponge was positioned in front of his mouth, and he took it, chewed on it, and his mouth was filled with the flavors of the morning—fried eggs, sausage, cheese, then a shift to sweet apples, a dash of yogurt. He closed his eyes to enjoy it. 

The sponge didn’t give him any nutrition, of course. He got all that through the tubes. But still, the flavors gave him no harm, and the act of chewing had been proven a sort of psychological salve to his mind. While he knew the stuff didn’t do him any good on a physical level, still, having the sensation of eating perked him up and helped him get ready for his day.

Moments later, the sponge was spirited away to be washed, and Will-Yem’s head was transported and placed upon his body, secured, the connections clicking and whirring in place.

He was proud of his body. He had saved a lot of money to purchase it, especially the abdomen. Not only was the abdomen the largest part of any body, but this particular model was high end. It actually had lungs that pulsed in and out, mimicking the regular movement of a real body, that felt so right to his mind—not just a tank giving a regular stream.  

The lungs started pushing air out his nostrils, and he felt alive. The body stepped forward, tiptoeing, and a hologram displaying his choice of street clothes sprang across him, soles to temple—faux sports outfit today, to make him feel strong.

He put his hand to the door, saw the metal of his fingers for a moment before the hologram covered it. His hand didn’t match the rest of his body—dull gray instead of polished bronze in color, dented, scratched. But he treasured that hand, just the same.

“Sweetie!”

Will-Yem turned, smiled sheepishly. Kat-Rin was staring out of her cushion at him, a coquettish crooked smile across her brown lips. 

“Don’t lose any parts,” she whispered. “I’m going to need them all when you get back.”

Will-Yem blushed so hard he threw a hologram of a placid face over his own and ducked out the front door. 

It was an empty joke, of course—the part she was referring to was a screw-on that she kept in a drawer next to her bed. Still, he always got so embarrassed when KR got frisky.

The hallway was full of noise which he had not registered while inside. His apartment was soundproofed; it could be turned off, and in the case of a fire alarm, all soundproofing in the rooms would automatically switch off. But on a normal day, it was nice to escape the fracas. The head-tube strung along the upper edge of the hallway walls was packed with disgruntled noggins shouting and cursing. The noggins had no bodies, and had to thus rely on public transport to get around even inside the apartment complex. But it looked like the tubes were clogged again, and who could say when they would get moving.

Will-Yem tromped forward, head down, deciding to take the stairs.

“Come on, man,” cried out a grizzled noggin with scraps of white hair jutting above his eyes. “Share the air and take someone with you! You got arms!”

“There is no sense you just walk out here by yourself!” said another. “My dear head, you take me, I’ll pay you. Your feet is cash!”

Will-Yem tried to walk faster, but the voices got louder, more pleading. 

“Don’t set your legs to automatic!” said another voice, this time a female with longer hair wrapped tightly under a semi-transparent hat. “Use your brain!”

Will-Yem could have set his legs to run, and to follow a pre-determined route to work, then tuned into his favorite videos and relaxed while enjoying the entertainment until his legs brought him where he needed to go. He sometimes did that. Lots of people did. It kept the sidewalks moving fast, kept congestion down, made sure no one was just loitering. But he didn’t like to give his legs over to the system every day. Same reason he liked the feeling of proper breathing in and out his nose, he liked to feel in control as much as he could. At least pretend.

And as he walked he suddenly found himself barking out loud, “Anyone going to District 0033?”

A chorus of voices rang out, excited, angry, frustrated. 

“That’s near enough to my job, just pull an oxen-free and chuck me over!”

“On my way, head, take me!”

“Just get me out of this tube, my nose is stuck up my neighbors ear and all I can smell is earwax!”

“I only have one extra lung!” Will-Yem yelled back. “I can’t carry a whole potato-sack full!”

The voices grew even louder at that crack. Some noggins had nutrient pouches or independe-lungs strapped onto their craniums, so they could travel for at least a while without being plugged in to the system or parasiting off of a walker. Will-Yem didn’t want to spend time checking noggins for the pouches and straps, though, and finally just unceremoniously grabbed some head off of the jammed transport and plugged it into his extra lung without even a hello or a shut-up-already.

“Very kind of you,” said the other head now riding beside his own while Will-Yem charged down the stairs. “Long time since I felt a lung’s air.”

“They’re artificial lungs,” said Will-Yem. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a bio-organic abdomen.”

“What head does?” replied his neighbor. 

It was a woman’s head, at least by appearance, and with a quiet voice. She had a wide nose and surprising dark eyes, filled with depth, or perhaps with sleepiness.

Other walkers were on the stairs as they went down: He recognized his neighbors—Sam-Yell, with his awkward clanking body of red rusty metal and clawed hands, shuffling down before him. Fill-Lys, the landlord, with a set of articulated wheels that adjusted to the terrain instead of proper legs. Far-Lin, the local sponge-dealer, with his wolf-ears twitching on the sides of his head, and his tendency to galumph along on all-fours. 

“What do you do?” asked his passenger. “Other than walk. Some people, they think that’s enough of an accomplishment to define them.”

“I work direct on the beans,” said WY without looking over. “Temple massages, with a side of friendly banter. Bad jokes cost extra.”

The woman’s head laughed in an undertone.

“Providing a valuable service,” she said. “All craniums, we need some physical contact, even with our fake bodies.”

“And you then?” asked WY, glancing over. “You have a voice job of some kind?”

She used the lung to create a sigh.

“Assembly doc,” she said. “Check body health quick on the conveyors for heads who need a quick tune-up. The bodies come down the conveyor, I fix them, even have the credentials to grab them off the belt and peel the can if they need it.”

Will-Yem grimaced and kept on walking, now out into the world, and the marching feet everywhere in perfect lines, in perfect order, staying in the foot lanes. 

For convenience, WY stepped in line and allowed the program to direct his feet toward his working place, with a stop-off at the Body Shop, where his guest worked. Instead of starting up a video feed or taking a nap, despite his early-morning fatigue, Will-Yem made his latest memes and posts available to the public social media system so others on the streets could access his latest quips, and then turned his attention to the other head sipping at the oxygen from his spare lung.

“I’m afraid I’ve been a bit bull-headed,” WY said. “I didn’t ask your name.”

“Oh,” said the doctor. “You’re right, I don’t make it publicly available. I keep my social media private usually, but you’re my neighbor, so… my name is Zan-Ta. Thank you again for carrying me out here.”

“You work near me, really,” WY replied. “It’s no problem. But may I ask… how do you work as a doctor with no body?”

ZT blushed, and WY felt his own face reddening, ashamed for asking a personal question. He was trying to think of a way to backtrack the question when she finally responded.

“I had one before,” she said. “Nothing fancy like this one. But I gave it away. Now just use the loaners from the shop. They are functional and can do the job, so no problem.”

WY stared—not at ZT, but at the back of the body-frame walking in front of him. It was hard to imagine anyone just giving away their own body. Who could ever give away such convenience, hand away the visceral experience, the privileges and pleasures of owning your own legs?

“You gave it away?” was all he could say.

“Oh,” she said, a shy smile in her voice now. “Not at once. Bit by bit. You meet a lot of bodies missing something in my line of work, I am afraid.”

“But,” WY said. “It’s your body!”

“Well,” replied ZT. “They had needs. And I am fine. The public systems work well enough, and I am alive.”

The conversation continued, but WY couldn’t focus. Soon enough, he dropped Zan-Ta into the tube at the Body Shop, and continued on his way. 

All day as Will-Yem worked, massaging a wide range of craniums with a wide range of issues, bumps, and complaints that they shared as he poked and prodded and squeezed with cushioned and heated gloves, Will-Yem thought about Zan-Ta’s words and often found himself staring at his right hand again and again. The distraction threw him off his game, and some of his gags which usually had the average noggin cackling with humor drew blank stares. He decided not to charge for his jokes today.

* * *

Back at home that evening, he broached the topic with his wife over steak-flavored sponges. 

“I met a doctor today who doesn’t have a body,” he said. “I think she deserves to have one.”

“A doctor?” KR responded, brows crinkling in concern. “Are you sick? Did that rash come back, around your spinal scar?”

“No, my scar is fine,” WY said. “I carried her to work this morning. The tube was jammed again.”

“It was still jammed when I headed out, too,” KR said. “Why doesn’t she have a body? Doctors usually have bodies.”

“She is an assembly doctor, for one,” WY said. “And it’s like… Well, it’s like with my hand.”

KR was in her body as they chewed the sponges together, and she reached over to touch his shoulder. They had both learned long ago that wearing their bodies during meals and conversation was a big help in maintaining their emotional connection. 

“It was just a random head that gave me this hand,” he said, holding up the old thing so KR could see. “Just random generosity. Never even found out his name! But that generosity got me my job, and with that job I found you, and…”

“Yes,” Kat-Rin said. “That man giving you a hand changed your life. I am grateful, too. But what do you want to do? We don’t have an extra body in the closet, nor the cash points to purchase one.”

“True, but I know a lot of heads,” WY said. “A lot of our neighbors are also my customers. We can put something together. A head has a right to a body, especially a doctor!”

Kat-Rin chewed thoughtfully and then sat back. She nodded.

“One of the things I love about you is your emotions,” she said. “Why don’t we ask?”

* * *

Will-Yem asked, assembling a group in-person (after some argument about how much easier it is to just meet online). Sam-Yell was there, awkwardly attempting to cross his arms with his claws in, and Fill-Lys wearing an especially shiny set of wheels and a handsome false-face. Xiao-Krai, sat back on fold-out chair-legs which could be tucked neatly away into her thighs when not in use, in a delicate frame and face behind a shield visor, body wrapped in religious posts and memes made public with messages inviting everyone to church. Others were there, too—heads of various races, some animalized. One even had an impressive set of real antlers grafted to her skull.

“Zan-Ta is a real body-builder at the assembly,” WY finished his speech, standing amongst them with hands splayed plaintively. “She has given her body. I think she deserves to have one back.”

Xiao-Krai was the first to respond, nodding her head, and highlighting a verse about how the body is sacred on her public posts.

“I have always believed that the body is a gift from God,” XK said. “In my opinion, every head deserves a body. The government never should have taken bodies away from individuals.”

Sam-Yell shifted in place uncomfortably, clicking his claws together.

“It’s hard,” he said. “Just, heads need less space, so… it’s hard.”

The woman with the antlers made a voice like clearing her throat (despite not having a throat), unstrapped a hand, and tossed it in the middle of the floor.

“Let’s make a pile,” she said. “Your God says it’s a good idea. My heart says it’s a good idea. Common decency says it’s a good idea. The tubes in this joint are always breaking down, and if the doctor is late, that’s dangerous, am I right?”

Voices rose suddenly, heads getting excited, bodies shifting weight side-to-side.

“Do you think the doctor would like a claw?” said Sam-Yell.

“Take both my legs,” said a small head on a huge body. “I have a set of wheels back in the room. I kinda prefer them anyways.”

“The body is going to be a real patchwork,” said a regretful voice. “Nothing is going to match.”

“I hear you, but we can’t body shame,” said Kat-Rin, smiling. “My own body is a patchwork too, and a hologram covers that up much of the time anyway.”

Fill-Lys put on a bland expression, watching the group excitedly try to put something together.

“I like what you’re doing, hon,” she said. “It’s real nice. I think everyone wants to help. And maybe we can put together a few spare feet or a few spare arms, but… the real problem is the abdomen. Nobody keeps a spare abdomen in a cheap apartment like this.”

“That’s right,” said a crotchety old codger face embedded in a body crafted halfway like an old suit of armor. “Body ain’t gonna be no good without an abdomen.”

“What are you going to do about that, WY?” asked Sam-Yell, eyes raised.

Will-Yem felt his face pale, and he looked down. He clenched his fingers together in determination, though his emotions spiked, and he felt a terrible sense of loss suddenly.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I know someone who has one he doesn’t need.”

* * *

Will-Yem’s head woke up at five am in the morning to a kiss as his wife Kat-Rin urged him out of his cushion. She was already wearing her body, and she smiled down at him.

“Time to go already?” he asked. 

“That’s right, time to get up,” she said. “Fixed the headwasher, less soap used now. Our eyes are spared!”

“It’s really nice to have breakfast with you every morning now,” Will-Yem said. 

“Your favorite today,” she said. “Grilled salmon with sea salt and a side of dill pickle.”

“My favorite breakfast is a breakfast I get to eat with you,” Will-Yem said, smiling as the pulleys swung him to the table. “Even if I have to wear a loaner at work for a while.”

He savored the scent of salmon wafting from the sponge in front of him, and bit down. They ate in silence for a few moments, sucking every last bit of flavor from their respective sponges, and smiling into each other’s eyes.

“I do miss breathing, though,” Will-Yem said fifteen minutes later as the pair headed out their front door.

“You’ve still got your most important part,” she said, hooking him up to the airflow on her body. 

“What part is that?” he asked, face reddening as usual.

“Well, me of course,” she said, poking him with a metallic finger. “I’m the part you’ll never lose.”

Will-Yem smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt, and they stepped out into a beautiful new morning.

  Nicholas Driscoll has been writing short stories, plays, novels, and comics since he was in junior high, and holds a creative writing degree from Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa. He has received awards for his fiction, including a second-place award for the short story "Patriarchy" in The Spectrum literary journal in 2004, and has since written several unpublished novels, a gamebook, and dozens of comics. Driscoll is also an avid fan of movies, and has written hundreds of articles and reviews for the Japanese movie fan website Toho Kingdom. He currently lives in Japan, where he speaks Japanese with lots of mistakes and enjoys it.

Website:  www.tohokingdom.com

#Amreading, #Amwriting, #CollectiveFolkFiction, #Ebook, #Escape, #Fiction, #FreeBook, #HeadSolders, #MustRead, #NewRelease, #NicholasDriscoll, #OriginalBlogContent, #Read, #Satire, #ScienceFiction, #ShortStory, #Story, #Writing

[a-bau-tiful-mind]

Survivor (BAU X Reader)

Hi BAU-ties! I’m back from the dead with a request fill! This is an angsty team fic requested by anon who wanted “an imagine where you've been kidnapped when you were a kid and now you're an agent on the fbi and the bau has a similar case with yours so Rossi(the one who helped with your case back then)calls you to help out?but the rest of the bau doesn't know that you have been abducted and they realize it when you show them similar scars as the victim's on the wrists” Unbeta’d! I hope you all enjoy it! 

Warnings: This fic does include some heavy topics such as kidnapping young girls, hostage, death, and more. I tried my best to keep it close to an episode of CM! - xoxo, k

“Good morning, Agent Y/L/N,” your supervisor, Agent Harriman greeted as you walked in, handing you a case file. “You have a call from David Rossi at the BAU waiting on your desk.”

“Alright, thank you, sir! Has he been waiting long?” You asked, hoping Dave wasn’t.

“No, we touched base for a bit and he insisted that he needed to speak with you right away. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He informed you, heading back to his door.

You scurried over to your desk and picked up the line and warmly answered, “Hey Dave!”

“Y/N,” Rossi began, his tone uncharacteristically somber, “I needed to talk to you, did Harriman hand you the case file I sent?”

“He did.” You responded, nervous and caught off guard. “What’s going on?”

“The BAU-” he paused, “I mean, I need to ask something of you, something I have no right to ask of you but we have no real leads.”

The anxiety you felt turned into full blown nausea as you opened the file, knowing the subject of the contents from the first picture. Current photos of a girl who was mutilated and killed, her wrists scarred just like the ones under your blazer cuffs. You took a shaky breath, “This can’t be right. David, it’s been over twenty years.”

“The BAU thinks the unsub from your case is back. We never did catch him, the case went cold. It’s something I think about constantly, one of my biggest regrets.” Rossi’s voice now full of empathy and traces of guilt. “Again, I have no right to bring this to you, but I wholeheartedly believe that you could get this creep.”

You swallowed the bile building up in your throat and wiped a tear you didn’t even realize fell, “Does the team know my connection to this case?”

“Emily and I left out your records when we brought up the files from 1993. I assumed you’d tell the rest if and when you’re ready.”

“Keep it that way. I’ll be there in in an hour.” You said, numbing yourself enough to handle this.

“Thank you, Y/N. Words can’t say how appreciative I am.”

You headed over to Agent Harriman’s office and let him know you’d be joining the BAU for this case, you grabbed your bag and headed back out the doors you just walked through. Taking a deep breath at the wheel of your car, you started the ignition and headed to Quantico.

Walking into the bullpen, Rossi immediately met you at the doors, pulling you into a warm embrace. The tears came back to your eyes instantly, but you blinked them back and tried your best to push your memories and emotions to the back of your mind where you’ve learned to hide them for decades.

“Right this way,” David said bringing you to the briefing room. “Team I’d like to introduce you to Agent Y/N Y/L/N, she works over at headquarters and will be helping us with this case. Agent Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to agents Walker and Alvez, you remember Prentiss, Reid, Garcia, Lewis, and Jareau.”

“Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.” Emily got up to shake your hand, unable to hide the sympathy in her voice. A tone you didn’t want the rest of the team to adopt. You told yourself you’re here to catch this freak, you’re no longer a victim. The only way this will work is if you distance yourself from the case.

“Happy to help,” you lied, “Alright, Garcia, bring me up to speed?” You threw yourself into work mode, turning off any emotion you could detect other than focus.

“Righty-o,” Penelope began grabbing her remote, “Last Friday a body was identified as that of Jessica McKinnon, an 8 year old girl from Richmond, she was found in an alley with ligature scars on her wrists in Norfolk. She was reported missing two weeks prior after she’d been abducted on the way to her friend’s house. The necklace Jessica was wearing that day was left on the McKinnon’s doorstep three days after she was taken.” The screen projected photos of the Missing Persons bulletin and a children’s necklace with a half heart pendant.

“Geez,” JJ sighed, grimacing at the images.

1993

“Mommy! I’m going to Rachel’s, okay?” You yelled, tying your pink and white sneakers.

“Home before dark, sweetheart! Be safe. I love you,” she called from the laundry room at the back.

“Love you, too!” You shut the door and headed towards the end of the walkway. You shut the front gate behind you and made your way to your best friend’s house a few streets down.

Ten houses away, a pickup truck pulled up next to you, a young man spoke out, “Hey there! Where you heading?”

You ducked your head down, knowing better than to talk to a stranger. You sped up until the truck quickly turned into an empty driveway, cutting off your walkway. You turned around and began to run back home, crying as you heard running footsteps coming up behind you. The last thing you felt was a hit to your head before everything went black.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. You’ve been out for a couple of days,” the man said as you opened your eyes, causing you to immediately scream for help and cry when you realized it wasn’t just a nightmare. “Sh-sh-sh, don’t cry,” he tried to soothe you, brushing your hair back from your face. You willed yourself to run when you realized your wrists were roped to the wall. “What will make you feel better?”

“I want to go home,” you cried. Your head was pounding, “Please, mister.”

“I can’t do that. You know what I want?” He said calmly, smiling at you from his swivel chair and desk.

You sniffed, hoping you could give him what he wanted and go back home, “What?”

“I just want to be your best friend, Y/N,” he said holding up the butterfly friendship necklace you had that matched Rachel’s.

Walker leaned forward, looking down at his files, “So he’s clearly taunting the parents. It’s got to be personal.”

“But wait there’s more!” Penelope said, clicking her remote causing scans of old evidence to pop up on the screens, “In the early 90’s, this same thing happened to a small string of young girls in Virginia. All taken near their home, all with the same ligature marks. Sadly, only one making it out alive.” You couldn’t help but tense at knowing you were the one girl.

“So is this a copycat?” Luke thought out loud, “That doesn’t seem likely because this isn’t a well-known case.”

“Well, we never did catch the guy.” Rossi explained, “The girl was resourceful, and incredibly smart. She got away, but when we raided his holding place he was long gone and the case went cold.”

“It’s been almost 25 years, do you really think he’d come back after so long?” Spencer reasoned.

“The profile back then had him at early 20’s, mentally unstable, with undiagnosed developmental issues. That’s the best we have to go on as of right now.” Emily said, grabbing the remote and directing our attention to a new Missing Persons. “Miranda Rivard, a 10 year old in Scottsville was reported missing yesterday and this was delivered to her parents’ mailbox today.” She held up an evidence bag containing a sparkly friendship necklace. “The only this is that the Rivards have never seen this necklace before.”

You immediately shot a look at Rossi, knowing he purposefully left out that there was a little girl out there with the unsub. You cleared your throat, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, “So the unsub is clearly using the necklaces and bracelets as a signature. The fact that he bought this necklace shows how important it is for him. It symbolizes his idea friendship.”

You looked around the table and saw the team nodding to themselves and flipping through the evidence both new and old, the only one looking back at you was Spencer who was looking at you with an unreadable face.

“JJ and Walker head over to the McKinnon’s to speak with the parents, Alvez and Tara wait here, the Rivards will be here shortly, Garcia I need you to research this necklace and see what stores in the area sell it, get us security footage if you can, Reid, Rossi, and Y/N head over to the coroner’s and examine Jessica’s body. I want more details on the ligature marks. I’ll be trying to get in touch with the survivor.” You knew Prentiss was lying, and you were thanking every deity that she was good at it.

You headed out to the car and made your way to the Coroner’s, when you got there you made eye contact with Rossi, silently asking him to lag behind. Once Spencer’s long legs brought him out of earshot you turned to Dave, “Why didn’t you tell me he had someone?”

“I didn’t want you to take on too much at once,” He reasoned, his tone heavy.

“You just didn’t want me to say no,” you shot back, bitterly.

“Would you have said no?”

You paused, thinking it over. What happened to you was something that changed you forever, it’s brought a lot of pain but you couldn’t deny that it was the reason you were standing there as a federal agent today.

You avoided his gaze and resigned, “Let’s just go, Reid’s waiting.” Walking into the examination room was always heavy, no matter how many times you’ve had to do it, the personal ties to this case made it all that much harder.

“Everything okay?” Spencer said, barely above a whisper while Rossi was busy with the M.E. who was revealing Jessica’s body.

You forced yourself to not visibly snap out of your state, “Yeah. It just never gets any easier does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. Can’t imagine when it ever would,” Spencer reassured you, putting gloves on to get a closer examination.

He turned to address the rest of us in the room, “It looks like the unsub used a nylon rope to bind the girl's’ wrists. From the extent of the ligature marks it looks like Jessica didn’t try and struggle too much.”

1993

“How’d you know my name?” You spoke up after hours of silent tears. It was no use. You were stuck here.

“We are friends. Friends have to know each other’s names or they aren’t that good of a friend, now aren’t they?” Your abductor said. Something was strange about him. He was a grown up, but he didn’t talk like one.

“I don’t know your name.” You tried your best to not sound scared of him. Maybe if you were nice he’d untie you.

“Call me Peter. Like Peter Pan! That’s one of your favorites right? I should call you Tink. Like Peter and Tinkerbell.”

How did he know that? How did this man know so much about you? This man wanted to be friends, so maybe if you pretended you were his friend you could go home. You imagined you were talking to Rachel, “It is my favorite! Can we watch it?”

“Yeah! But not right now. We have all the time in the world. We have forever. Best friends forever.” Peter said, looking at you to confirm.

You know mommy said it wasn’t good to lie, but making Peter mad probably wasn’t the best idea. You forced a smile to your face and nodded, “Best friends forever.”

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Peter said leaving the room.

Eventually waiting for Peter to untie you became uneventful, you fell back asleep. You were awoken by a burning, scratching sensation on your wrist, “Ow! What are you doing?”

Peter was scratching your skin over and over with a letter opener in what looked like a number 8 in your scarlet blood. “You said we’re best friends forever!” “Why are you hurting me then, Peter?” Your eyes stung with tears.

“It’s what grown ups do when they’re friends forever! They can’t wear the necklaces so they mark it on them so they can see it all the time. Do you know what this picture means?”

“The number 8?” You said, exasperated.

“No, silly Tink! It’s this weird little thing that means forever! Like for how long we’ll be friends!” He was still going over your already broken skin, causing you to hiss.

You put gloves on yourself, taking Jessica’s limp wrist in your hand. Two weeks was a long time to be with Peter. No other girl besides you lasted as long. Sure enough almost identical to yours was a messy, hand carved infinity symbol, “Hey Reid, take a look at this.”

“A number 8? Is that another signature? I don’t remember reading about the other victims having a laceration like that.”

“It’s an infinity sign.” You clarified, grabbing your cell phone and dialing Prentiss knowing you couldn’t ask Garcia without giving yourself away, “Hey Emily, can you check the files of the victims in the 90’s and see if any had an infinity laceration on their wrist and tell me how long it was between abduction and when their bodies were found?”

“Okay, the reports say that only you and a girl named Nancy Sinclair have a record of that laceration. Do you know what that means?” Emily asked, hoping it was a step in the right direction.

“I think so. We’ll be back soon.” You hung up and Reid was staring at you with his head cocked in uncharacteristic confusion.

“So,” Rossi said, coming back into the room with the report, “The COD matches the profile. Jessica died because her neck was snapped, most likely due to harsh shaking.”

“Any sign of malnutrition?” Spencer asked, taking the clipboard from Dave and skimming through it. “I don’t see any signs of that,” You added, knowing full well the unsub kept you fed and hydrated.

“Let’s head back over to the BAU and see what the others found.” Dave said, handing you your coat.

Back at the bullpen, you and the rest of the team congregated into the briefing room. Rossi took the floor, “Our unsub is a white male in his mid 40’s with an untreated developmental disorder. He has a fixation with friendship and seems to want to actually be friends with the girls he takes. None of the victims had any sign of sexual assault.”

“Something Y/N noticed at the M.E.’s was that there was a lacerated inifnity symbol on Jessica McKinnon’s wrist. Something that hasn’t been seen on previous girls.” Reid added, speaking up for you.

“So he’s evolving?” Walker spitballed.

“He’s all about forever right? The necklaces, the twisted carving tattoo?” Tara spoke up, “It’s his way of seeing that he and his victim are best friends. The necklaces aren’t a strong enough symbol, he wants permanent.”

You nodded in agreement, unable to help tugging at your coat sleeves.

“Garcia,” Emily asked, “Anything from the jewelry store?”

“I did manage to get this clip from the security cameras at an accessory store in the Simon Mall in Norfolk.” She began, typing on her laptop and bringing up the footage. You held your breath as you saw Peter on the screen, browsing the necklaces. “Here he grabs a necklace and if I pull up this clip,” she clicked on to the register camera, “it matches the one our unsub sent to the Rivards.”

“Rossi and Y/L/N, head over to Norfolk and see what you can find out. I’ll have the rest of the team go over the interviews with the McKinnons and Rivards.”

“Got it, Em.” You nodded, grabbing your bag and walking out a little too fast. You went for the driver’s side of the SUV.

“Y/N,” Dave said calmly, “I think I should drive.” He stuck his hands out for the keys that were in your white knuckled palm.

“Whatever, let’s just get this son of a bitch.” You forfeited, walking over to the passenger’s side.

“Look, Y/N, I just want to tell you how grateful I am that you said yes to helping us. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“It’s not, but if I can stop this from happening to another little girl, then I have to. You know, it’s crazy, I sort of want to help him, too. Growing up, I understand now that what Peter’s doing is due to some string of problems in his life that he never got addressed. Finding him will get him help he needs too.” You admitted, as crazy as you felt for sympathizing with your kidnapper.

“You’ve come a long way from that little third grader I met all those years ago.” Rossi said with pride evident in his voice. “But even then, you were so strong and resourceful. It killed me not being able to catch the guy that made you feel so vulnerable.”

“Dave,” you started, shifting your focus onto Dave, “You did more than enough. There’s a reason you weren’t able to find him back then, but you did what you could. Keeping in touch with you is what made me strong again, made me feel safe. You know you’re the reason I’m with the Bureau today.”

“I’ll always wish I could’ve done more.” He said with a smile, pulling into the lot of the large mall.

You two headed into the mall, bee-lining for the accessory store. It was empty despite the two employees stocking hairbows. “Excuse us,” you started, catching their attention. You and Rossi flashed your badges to the young girls, “We’re with the FBI and we had a couple questions for you about a customer that came in a couple days ago.”

After conversing with the employees and management you got into their cashiering system, you were lucky to learn that Peter purchased the necklace with a credit card under the name of Jolene Hathaway.

Back in the car, you called Penelope with the information. You heard her typing away, “Got it. Jolene Hathaway married to Edgar Hathaway, two kids Brooke and Peter Hathaway, and oh,” Penelope stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” You pressed.

“Three weeks ago Jolene died of complications from pneumonia, and that’s not all. In 1993 Brooke committed suicide, her brother was the one to find her. Current address is sent to your phones and the team will meet you there!” Penelope said at a mile a minute. “Ready to finally end this?” Rossi asked, turning on the lights and sirens.

You sped over to the Hathaway house in Norfolk, seeing the other SUVs pull up minutes later. You put on your bulletproof vest and head towards the door with the team. Stephen, Tara, and Emily go towards the back as the rest of you knock on the door. Rossi yelled out, “Edgar Hathaway, FBI!”

You waited a moment and hear the lock click, and elderly man answers, “What is this about?”

“Is your son Peter home?” You asked, urgency in your voice.

Edgar lifted his hand to adjust his hearing aid, “His room is in the basement. What happened? Why do you need Peter?”

“Sir, please come with me,” JJ said, bringing him out to tell him what his son had been doing.

“Don’t hurt him! Whatever he did, he doesn’t know better!” Edgar shouted as we made our way to the basement, guns at the ready.

Luke kicked down the locked door to the basement, “Peter Hathaway, FBI!” Miranda was tied to a workbench, gagged with an oil-dirtied rag. She noticed us come in and started thrashing and shouting. Peter stood in front of her, guarding her with his arms out.

“NO! You can’t take her! She’s my friend. Everybody needs a friend,” Peter started sobbing.

“Peter,” Rossi began gently, “If she’s your friend, you shouldn’t hurt her.” He took a step towards them and Peter grabbed a large butcher knife that was resting on the workbench.

“Don’t! Don’t don’t DON’T! ALL MY FRIENDS LEAVE ME AND YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS ONE. FIND YOUR OWN.” Peter pointed the knife at Rossi.

Suddenly, you got an idea. You put your gun down and Spencer shot you a look. You gave him a confident nod and stepped out from behind Luke. You kept your hands raised to show you didn’t have a gun and inched towards Rossi. “Hey, Peter. Do you remember me?”

A dawning of realization came over Peter’s face and he dropped the knife in awe, “Tink? Is that you?”

“It is!” You said, forcing excitement in your voice as if you were talking to a toddler.

“You came back! Where’d you go? You left!” Peter rambled, Rossi used the distraction to free Miranda and Reid took her upstairs.

“We still have to watch Peter Pan together! I’ve been waiting all this time!” You said to Peter’s beaming face.

“Can we do it now?” He asked.

“Yep! And guess what?”

“What? What?” He said, shaking with excitement.

“I got a movie theater for us! With candy and popcorn and soda! And it’s only for us! Best friends only!” You lied, reaching your hand out for his. “Come on, there’s a fancy car waiting for us!” “Really? Let’s go!” Peter was bouncing with excitement. You weren’t scared of him anymore, you felt for him. He had severe developmental disabilities and has been through some stressful losses. You led him outside to the police SUV and opened the door for him, letting him get the help he needed.

Back at the bullpen Emily gave you all your files to wrap up the case. You sat across from Stephen, pulling a chair up to his desk.

“So, Y/N, you were the one girl from that case all along?” Luke asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, I’m sorry for not telling you guys. I just thought it would be better to approach this as an outsider, not a victim.” You explained.

“Y/N, you are the farthest thing from a victim,” Rossi said, coming out of his office, “You’re a survivor.”

[thewalkingdeadimaginings]

A Reason to Stay

Could I please request a scenario in which the reader (shortly after the deaths of Glenn and Abe), attempts to locate Carol and Morgan. Eventually they stumble upon Kingdom Knights, who reunite her with mentioned (where reader updates them on group situation). + Mutual attraction between reader & Ezekiel. Sorry for the complicated-ness. 😅❤️

Never had an Ezekiel request before this is gonna be fun! I’ve been away for a while, not writing at all despite the fact that I have requests that are almost a year old and I still feel awful about letting them sit so long. I just took on a lot so to those of you who have recently sent requests, please be patient as I’m a bit backed up. I didn’t realize how many I had until I actually looked at the list I have written down. But it was nice to take a little break from my computer. But I’m back and ready to get back to work.

It must’ve been a nightmare. It had to have been. The sound of the wooden bat crashing against your friend’s skull, the smell of blood thick in the air, the bits of flesh that hung off the barbed wire after all was said and done, the cries from your other friends trapped in the horror as much as you were. You hadn’t just watched Abraham and Glenn get beaten into the dirt, had you? You kept closing your eyes during the ordeal, praying that you’d open your eyes and be back in your own bed and they’d be downstairs to greet you along with the rest of the group.

But it was just too much to hope for because every time you opened your eyes, you were still here. After it was over and Negan left with his men (and with Daryl as his prisoner) Sasha took Maggie and the bodies of Glenn and Abraham while the rest of you headed back to Alexandria. On top of all this, Carol was still missing and Morgan had gone missing looking for her. No one had really thought to go after them with everything happening now but you definitely needed a distraction.

“Y/N, are you sure this is a good idea?” Rick asked, watching you with worry as you packed some supplies for the trip, “He might notice you’re gone when he shows up here.”

“Doubt it,” you replied, “Too many people here for him to notice one person missing. And if he does, you can just tell him I went out on a run. But I’ve gotta find Carol and Morgan. Who knows where they’ve ended up and I’ve gotta get the hell outta here.”

“Negan might’ve taken them,” Rick argued, “Haven’t you ever considered that?”

“Well, I won’t know unless I go find out,” you shot back, “If I find them, I’ll come back here and let you know. I don’t think I wanna throw them into this mess. At least not right now. The farther they are from the situation right now, the better. I wish I could be away from this too.”

“I know,” Rick mumbled, reaching out and touching your shoulder, “Just be careful, okay? Negan’s people are probably gonna be hanging around here a lot more now. Not to mention the walkers.”

You nodded, “I’ll be safe. If I run into trouble, I’ll just turn back, try another day. But I should be alright.”

Rick showed you on a map where he and Morgan had gone together and where they’d split off. You had a general idea of where Morgan would’ve gone but there was still a large area to cover. But being away from Alexandria allowed you to momentarily forget what was now happening. You just wished that things could go back to the way they used to be when the only threat they had to deal with were walkers.

You reached an alley where you found a man’s corpse being devoured by walkers. You quickly stabbed the walkers in their temples while they were distracted by their meal, tossing them aside to get a look at the man. He had a gun in his hand with the same symbol that had been on another gun the group had back in Alexandria. This man had been a part of the saviors. A dirty, brown jacket with one sleeve tattered and burnt had been left behind with a bloody hole in the sleeve. Wasn’t this Carol’s jacket? Carol must’ve been here and must’ve killed this man, most likely in a scuffle.

Carol was close by, she had to be. And Morgan might be with her. You continued on, walking a little faster. This mission had merely been an excuse to get away from the madness for a little while. You still made use of your time and searched for Carol and Morgan like you said you would but you never actually expected to find any traces of them. But in any case, you were happy that there was.

After another few minutes of walking, crossing through an abandoned street full of shops that had been drained of resources and left to rot with the rest of the world. At the very end of the street was a large fence guarded by two people standing on top of the fence and two people standing in front of the gate, much like the set-up back home.

“Stop right there!” one of the guards shouted. They all raised their guns at you, glaring at you, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, tucking your gun back into its holster and raising your hands, “I was just looking for my friends and I came across this place. Maybe they came here. Carol and Morgan, did they come here?”

The expression on all four of their faces softened as they lowered their weapons, “Yes, yes they did come here. Carol was injured and they were found and taken here. Come inside, you should meet with the king.”

“Carol’s hurt?” you said as you hurried towards the gate. It creaked open and you paused mid-step. It brought back memories of the governor and anyone who gave them titles like that couldn’t be trusted, “Wait, did you say king? Is this like the medieval times or something?”

This “kingdom” was like any other community, very similar to Alexandria. Everyone looked well fed, clean, and happy. There were children being given lessons in a gazebo while others were training in archery and cooking and cleaning. Everything seemed so serene here but then again, so had Woodbury, so had Terminus. You weren’t going to trust this king that easily, especially if Carol and Morgan were here.

You were led into an auditorium and left alone with a man sitting in a throne on a lit up stage with a few others standing behind him. He was lounging comfortably, one knee bent on the throne, his arm resting on his knee. But it was the massive tiger he had on a chain lying next to him that shocked you.

“A fucking tiger,” you whispered. The man in the throne was intriguing however. Seeing him sit so casually made you feel more at ease and his brown eyes were warm. He smiled and beckoned you closer to the stage. You took a step forward but then the tiger lifted its head and you stopped again, “Uh, I think I’d be better off here.”

“Shiva?” the man said, “She won’t bite. Come closer. I’ve been told that you are looking for your friends.”

“Yes,” you said. You cautiously walked down the aisle, stopping at the first row of seats, “Carol. And Morgan. Someone told me that she was injured. Is she okay? And Morgan, is he okay too?”

“They’re both doing well,” he said, “Carol’s recovering and Morgan has come to enjoy it here. He’s been training Benjamin here for the past few days. My name is King Ezekiel, what is your name?”

Ezekiel had a flair for the dramatic that’s for sure. But it was somewhat calming. He seemed nice enough. You smiled as you replied, “My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Ezekiel mumbled with a grin, “Welcome to the kingdom.”

Soon after meeting Ezekiel, Benjamin took you outside where Morgan was most likely training with his staff. Benjamin smiled proudly when he saw Morgan and he called out to him, “Morgan! You have a visitor! She says she’s your friend.”

Morgan turned and he gasped at the sight of you, “Y/N. How’d you know where we were?”

You reached out and hugged him for a moment, “Rick told me where the two of you split off and I just kinda followed the trail until I ended up here. I never actually thought I’d find you and Carol. How is she?”

“She’s doing better,” Morgan replied, “She left this morning, gonna separate herself from everything for a while.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you murmured, “Although…it would probably be the smartest thing to do right now.”

“Why’s that?” Morgan asked.

“We should talk somewhere more private,” you said. Morgan was nervous now, knowing this couldn’t be good. The two of you sat down together on a park bench, Morgan leaning his staff against it. You rubbed your sweaty palms up and down your thighs, taking a deep breath, “There’s no real easy way to say this. We ran into this group, the saviors. And um, the leader, Negan…he…he killed two of ours. He killed um…Glenn and-and Abraham.”

“Oh my god,” Morgan mumbled, hanging his head, “I can’t believe that.”

“Now it’s like Negan owns us,” you continued, “I had to get away for a little while so I decided to go looking for you and Carol. I guess now that I have, I should get back home and let Rick know that you’re here.”

“You don’t have to go right away,” Morgan said, “You should stay for at least another day or two, then go back. You wanted to get away, didn’t you?”

You turned to look at the children leaving the gazebos, your eyes wandering up to see Ezekiel standing on the balcony watching the two of you. It might not be a bad idea to stick around for a few days. You had to admit that you were curious about Ezekiel. He seemed so open but there was a mystery surrounding him too.

Morgan and Benjamin helped set you up in your room for the next few days. The quiet would be nice. It would allow you to actually process what had happened, what you’d seen. It felt like no one had been given a chance to do that. You all just went back home and had to prepare for the next time Negan would inevitably visit. If you were lucky, you would still be here in the kingdom when he went to see the others in Alexandria.

You went back outside after everyone had already gone to sleep, sitting at the same park bench you and Morgan had just been sitting at earlier that afternoon. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do. Cry, scream, throw a fit, or just sleep. All you could do for now was just sit there in silence, staring at the balcony where Ezekiel had been standing. You kind of hoped he would come out just so you’d have someone to talk to.

“You’re out late tonight aren’t you?” The sudden break in silence startled you and you jumped, a gasp escaping your lips. You whipped around in your seat to find Ezekiel standing there. He chuckled as he approached the bench, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” you said, “Guess I’m not the only night owl around here. You can sit down if you want.”

Ezekiel nodded and took a seat beside you, sitting as close as he could to the edge, leaving some space between you, “So, you’re from Alexandria too. You and Morgan and Carol must be close friends if you came all that way to find them.”

You shrugged, “I mean, they’re my family just like the others back in Alexandria but I’ve gotta be honest, I just needed some time away. I’ll probably head back in the next day or two.”

“Or you could just stay here in the kingdom with me…us,” Ezekiel said, quick to cover himself, “You said you need some time away from everything, right? This is the perfect place to get away from everything.”

“Guess you’ve got a point,” you said, “Maybe…staying here with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“Maybe tomorrow, I could show you around,” Ezekiel said, “Give you the grand tour of the kingdom.”

“I’d like that,” you mumbled, “King Ezekiel.”

Ezekiel smiled, scooting a little closer to you. He reached out and touched your shoulder and it was electric. You could feel it in his touch and you could tell he felt it too when he tightened his grip on your shoulder slightly, his brown eyes widening just a bit. There was a connection there to be explored. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you were just in need of human contact after everything that had happened. Or maybe you had the chance to have something good in the midst of all this mess. Ezekiel was kind, something that you weren’t used to these days.

“I…I should get to my room,” you said, though neither of you moved, “I can’t wait for that tour tomorrow, Ezekiel.”

“Right,” he said, giving your shoulder one last squeeze before standing up. He took your hand and helped you up onto your feet, “You get your rest, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you said, squeezing his hand, “I’ll see you.”

Ezekiel gave you a nod and he walked away, leaving you with even more to think about. At least this was something that lifted your spirits rather than dragged you down. At least you had a reason to stay. You had to know if this was something that you wanted to pursue, that would be worth something.

You would find out tomorrow, wouldn’t you?

Thanks for reading, loves! <3

[dontdietwd]

Don’t Die, day 61, part 1

The next day found me up and about even before daylight. I felt fine, not perfect, but better than the night before. I’d had a bad dream about drinking uncountable amounts of wine and throwing up as Daryl held my hair up, the desperate cries of a baby in the background, my mind too foggy and drunk to make me go and tent to it. I’d woken up, mouth dry, drowned in an entire plastic bottle of water and gone back to sleep, this time thankfully with no dreams. Now, as I gathered my own backpack among the others’, I saw Darryl approach quietly. With a look, I knew he had something to say.  The way he kept his head down but his eyes glued on mine, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, also told me that he didn't want to say whatever it was in front of the others.

I nodded at him once, sharply, and turned around to walk away, knowing he'd follow.  I marched over to stand among the empty tents and turned around, arms crossed, to see Darryl join me. Now that we were alone, he let show what he was thinking. His pace was annoyed and agitated.

"Ya ain't goin'," he stated clearly.

"Yes, I am," I said just as firmly.

"Ya ain’t!" he took a large step towards me and stood close, looking down at me. “I get you wanted to go before, but after last night, with Merle out there with ya – Just tell Shane to go!”

"If he goes, not me, Merle will be out there alone with all those people," I also took a step, entering his personal space. Daryl straightened his back but didn't move away, still looking down at me. "He's going and we can't convince him not to. I don't want him out there, not the way he is since yesterday, and what he did to me, but you know we can't stop him."

"I'll go then!" Daryl threw his arms up, but still didn’t back away. "I'll go to help and contain him if that what this is about."

"You're going out to hunt, Daryl!" I gesticulated at him, getting impatient. "We're low on food, we need you to do this, we’ve talked about it already! Please, it is your job, you know that."

"My job?!" Daryl seethed. "My fuckin' job is looking after you! Go out and find food for all these people I don't even care about ain't more important than having your back!"

Holy shit. I was stuck in place, arms still crossed and looking up at his reddened blue eyes, anger evident as he breathed hard. I blinked and opened my mouth to speak but closed it again, uncertain of what to say.

His job was looking after me?

"Ya not going," he repeated in a definitive tone before turning around and walking away from me angrily, and still said over his shoulder. "Merle gonna deal with himself."

 * * *

 As Glenn said, the department store was still untouched, an actual supply paradise. We all looked around, delighted, and Glenn explained that he had been there already, got to know the back doors, rooftops of this and adjacent buildings, fire escapes and alleys around, all to make sure he could get in and out safely. We thanked and congratulated him, glad to imagine how long we’d be able to survive out of so many new things. Also thanking him, I was proud to see him take charge and organize the group the best he could, splitting them all up to go gather things. Yes, I was proud. Like I was watching my little brother learn how to walk.

As the others wandered away, Merle stood by me, his old, well know smirk firm on place.

“Watcha gonna get me do, sweetheart?”

“I ain’t calling the orders today, Dixon.”

He laughed. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m letting China boy tell me what to do! And the fuck is that calling me Dixon all about? Still pissed ‘bout last night?”

“Did you forget what I told you? Were you trippin’ that much?”

“Wasn’t trippin’, princess, I’m quitting it. Did have a bit o’ moonshine though.”

“Do I need to tell you what happened then?”

“I remember just fine, thank ya very much. Just didn’t think ya’d be the type to hold the grudge ‘cause of a fuckin’ joke.”

“You of all people should know ya don’t joke ‘bout this kinda thing, Dixon. I meant it, just stay away. Do your job as Glenn tells you, just like everyone else, try to be normal for once.”

I walked away from him then, unable to look at his face any longer, but still heard as he mumble, his footsteps going up the stairs, “Ain’t getting orders from China boy.” I took a deep breath, eyes closed. As angry as I was with him, as much as I wanted to cut any kind of relationship with him, I had the feeling that this had not been the right moment to do it. Something bad was going to come out of it and my right wrist was aching in warning.

A couple of hours later, the mount of supplies scavenged that we all left close to one of the doors was huge. We’d found clothes, tools, camping gear and even a few kitchen stuff. The mood around was good, I could see smiles I rarely saw on camp, but I worried. Glenn had told me Merle had been up on the rood, a rifle in hand, looking around to the other buildings, keeping guard. I would be relieved if I believed he would not do anything wrong until we left. Just as I thought about going up to call him down, since we’d be leaving in the next few minutes, all thoughts and smiles were gone. From the street, gunshots cut the eerie silence of Atlanta, followed after seconds by walkers passing in front of the store, seeable through the glass doors. The gunshots kept ringing, now strangely accompanied by horse hoofs hitting the asphalt.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” I cried as the number of walkers outside doubled every second. Without saying anything more than yelling in outrage, we all ran up the stairs that led to the roof in the hope of understanding what was going on. What we saw down there chilled my very bones. Some strange man with a hat was on a horse, shooting at the walkers that surrounded him, hitting a few but attracting even more to him, to the street, to the front of the store and around our cars. We watched as the man got hopelessly surrounded and started to fall. Andrea turned around not to see the man get eaten, Jackie cried but kept looking. The man fell from the horse, which was immediately attacked by what looked like a hundred walkers, and completely disappeared from view.

“Fuckin’ son of a bitch only lived enough to fuck us up!” Merle said from the edge of the group, from where he also observed.

“No, wait!” Glenn pointed down to the street. “There he goes!”

He was right, I could see. The man still had his hat on as he crawled under the tank – yes, incredibly an army war tank that had been abandoned in the middle of the street – and once again disappeared. We heard gunshots again and then, nothing.

“Shit!” T-Dog broke the silence. “Now he’s gone.”

“Don’t tanks have a door on the floor?” Morales asked to no one in special. “Like, a second exit, for emergencies?”

“Dude, I have no idea if tanks have emergencies exits!” Glenn told him. “But I guess we can try the radio, see if he answers. I mean, if he’s alive and I can get the tank channel…”

“Why would you want to contact him?” Andrea asked as she turned again to the group. “Look at what he did! He’s killed us!”

“Killed us?” Jackie asked her. “What do you mean?”

“Do you see any way out of here? Every single walker in this area is in front of the store, on our cars! It will take a miracle to get us out of here, and it’s that bastard’s fault!”

“I hardly think the man did that on purpose,” I told her as I got away from the edge of the building. “What would you do if you were surrounded by walkers and had a gun in hand?”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Andrea continued angrily. “We’re fucked! Fucked!”

“Well, ya seem to like that word, blondie!” Merle laughed and blinked at her, his tongue coming out as he laughed. Andrea rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

“Glenn, do you think you could contact him?” Morales asked him, ignoring what Andrea had said.

“I guess I can try. You guys think I should?”

“I think it’s up to you,” I gave him the choice.

He looked around at people while we all remained silent. I knew he would try to help the stranger, this was Glenn after all, nice, sweet good-hearted Glenn, he would never leave someone to die, even if it was a complete stranger who had just ruined all our means of escape.

“Ok,” Glenn said after a moment with a resolute nod. “Okay, then, I’ll need to go down through that building so I’ll get closer to the tank. I mean, If I can talk to him, but I guess I’ll get as close as possible before even trying, so we’ll make an escape fast. Ok. Right, when we come back, if it works out, we’ll need to cross that alley we used to get in, but there will be a few walkers there, so I’m gonna need help.”

“Ok, don’t worry about it,” I said as decided as him. “I got the radio, you let me know when you’re getting back to the alley, I got this.”

Glenn gestured to me with his own radio and ran away crying “ok” over his shoulder. Seeing him retreat, I also set to motion, trying to think fast.

“Morales! T-Dog! Come with me!”

I ran downstairs, knowing they’d be behind me, my mind rolling through the supplies and the rest of the store, trying to figure a safe way to clear the alley for Glenn to return to the building, the stranger with him or not. When we got to the store, my mind was set on the sports section. Understanding immediately what I meant, T-Dog and Morales got on hockey uniforms and got baseball bats ready at hand. We heard shooting on the street again at this point.

“Ok, go, go!” I rushed the two men to the side room, where a door led to the alley. My heart was racing, a chill on my stomach, thinking of how dangerous it was out there for Glenn, knowing I’d never forgive herself – or the man with the hat – if something happened to him.

We stood in silence, ready, the radio raised close to my face, listening intently. After a moment, Andrea and Jackie joined them without a word, looking just as nervous as I felt.

“I’m back! Got a guest plus four walkers in the alley!” Glenn’s voice creaked on the radio.

“Ok, you two, go now!” I ordered the man. T-Dog opened the door and ran out, followed by Morales. The three of us stood there, still, ears attentive to the noises. It was possible to hear the baseball bats crashing into walkers’ skulls, feet running. In a moment, Glenn ran in, breathing hard and red on the face, followed by the stranger. Outside, T-Dog shouted for Morales to go back and both entered the room, the door being shut after them.

“You ok?” I asked Glenn, holding him by his upper arms.

“Fine!” he told me, wide eyes and sweaty.

“Son of a bitch, we outta kill you!”

I let go of Glenn as I turned around to see Andrea cornering the man with a gun pointed right between his eyes. The man, who only now Sam saw was wearing a sheriff’s uniform, remained silent, blue eyes wide.

“Just chill out, Andrea, back off,” Morales told her as he started to take off the sports gear.

“Come on, ease out,” Jackie also tried to appease the other woman.

“Ease out?” Andrea repeated without looking away from the man. “You’re kidding me, right? We’re dead because of that stupid asshole!”

“Andrea,” I approached Andrea, her gun and the sheriff. “Back the fuck off!” I demanded but Andrea didn’t move. She still stared at him, gun hand shaking, breathing hard. “What ya gonna do, shoot the man? I said back the fuck off, Andrea. Now!”

The blonde, raging woman took a few more seconds before letting him go. She started crying immediately.

“We’re dead. All of us, because of you.”

“I don’t understand,” the man finally spoke.

“You don’t? Didn’t you see the fuckin’ ruckus you created outside?” I told him and grabbed his left arm. I walked out of the room dragging him with me into the store, everybody else following us. “Here we are, scavenging for supplies, all planned out, escape routes and all, planning really hard to just fucking survive. But see what you’ve just done!”

T-Dog, by our side, completed my thought just as we stopped in the middle of the store, looking towards the glass doors. “Every walker for miles around heard you popping off rounds.”

“You just rang the dinner bell,” Andrea completed the thought. We all stood there, looking out, an enormous herd of walkers by the door, trying to get in.

“Get the picture now?” Morales asked darkly.

The glass doors were not going to hold for too long. It cracked on the top left side just as we looked, under the pressure of the herd. It didn’t break, though, but it was a matter of time. We all backed away, startled.

“The fuck was you doin’ out there anyway?” I asked him.

“Trying to flag the helicopter.”

“Helicopter?” T-Dog asked, uncertain, and looked around to the others. “Man, that’s crap. Ain’t no damn helicopter.”

“You were chasing a hallucination,” Jackie came quickly to the conclusion. “Imagining things. It happens.”

“I saw it!” he said firmly annoyed.

I thought he sounded too certain for it to have been his imagination. What if there had really been a helicopter flying over Atlanta? It could mean rescue, but if the man had seen it, it had been about twenty minutes ago. It could be anywhere by now.

“Hey, T-Dog,” I called him. “Try the radio again, see if you can contact the others.”

He raised the radio instantly to channel it. We had tried it before, to contact the radio we had on camp, but it had been fruitless.

“Others?” the new man asked hopefully. “The refugee center?”

I laughed sadly, “Yeah, the refugee center!”

“They got biscuits waiting in the oven for us,” Jackie rolled her eyes.

“Got no signal.” T said still messing with the dial button. “Maybe the roof.”

Before anyone could agree to climb the stairs and go try it again from the top of the building, a gunshot echoed down to the store, startling even more the already scared group.

“Oh, no! Was that Dixon?” Andrea asked to no-one, looking up.

As if agreed to, we started running towards the stairs. All I could think was that I fuckin’ knew it, I knew Merle would do some shit.

“What’s that maniac doing?” Morales asked as we ran and I also heard Glenn calling the stranger to follow them upstairs. I ran in front of everyone up the stairs, my legs burning with the effort, but I only stopped when I stormed out of the door and onto the roof, only to see Merle standing on the parapet, aiming down and shooting what I thought would probably be walkers.

“Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?” Morales shouted as the others also cried out their disbelief. That was it, that’s exactly what I’d been talking about to Daryl; the moment where someone would have to control Merle had arrived.

“Hey! Ya’ll be more polite to a man with a gun! Huh?” he laughed aloud as he turned to look at the others and hopped down to the concrete. “Only common sense!”

“Man, you’re wasting bullets we ain’t even got!”, T-Dog approached him, shouting. “And you’re bringing even more of them down our ass, man! Just chill!”

“Hey, bad enough I’ve got this taco-bender on my ass all day, now I’m gonna take orders from you? I don’t think so, bro. That’ll be the day.”

They were facing each other now and I took the last few steps to stand by them.

“That’ll be the day?” T-Dog repeated, his annoyance almost palpable. “You got something you wanna tell me?”

“T, just leave it,” I told him. “It ain’t worth it. Now, Merle,” I turned to him. “Cut it out, alright? The fuck you doing?”

“Now ya talking to me? What happened to the get-away-from-me-Dixon bullshit, huh?” he looked briefly at me before facing T-Dog again. “I’ll tell ya the day, Mr. Yo. It’s the day I take orders from a nigger!”

“Son of a –”, was all T-Dog said before he jumped on Merle, trying to punch him but missing. I took a step back to get away from the line of fire, instinctively. With the butt of his riffle, Merle knocked T-Dog down. The sheriff, who had been standing quietly by, also moved in, trying to stop Merle, but got punched square in the face. With that out of his way, Merle moved back to T, and there was no stop now. He hit him repeatedly until the man fell to the ground, hitting his forehead on a large pipe. With him down, Merle still threw punches down at him, unaware of all the cries pleading him to stop. We only stopped, frozen in dread, when Merle took out a handgun and pointed at the hurt man. A terrified silence took them all, T-Dog staring up at Merle with his eyes wide.

So it seemed I was not able to control Merle as I had told Daryl, after all. I fucked up.

“Merle?” I cut the silence. I was still sure as hell gonna try, “I know what this is, alright?” I said, my voice firm but controlled. “Dude, look at me. Merle?”

He did after a moment; gun still pointed, but looked right at me.

“Ya not gonna shoot him, alright? I know, and you know why you’re doing this. Ok? You’ll regret it later. Just cut it out.”

He stared at me for a moment, then looked around at the others and down at T once again. Withdrawing his hand, the spit on the man’s chest right before standing up. By the look on his face, the glassy, vicious eyes, I knew it wasn’t over, and I knew this was not withdrawal.

“Yeah! Alright!” He shouted, his gun on display across his chest. “We gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge. I vote me!”, he spoke as Andrea and Jackie helped T-Dog to get away from him. “Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time, y’all!”

I snorted by his side. “When I said cut it out I mean that too, Merle.”

“Anybody here voted for ya to be in charge?” he looked right at me. “Huh? I’m giving ‘em the chance now! Show of hands, huh? All in favor! Come on!”

“Merle, just –”

“Nobody? Guess I win then! That’s good! Anybody else, huh? Anybody?”

“Yeah,” Sam turned to see the sheriff by us. I hadn’t heard him approach, his feet silent, and he shoved the butt of Merle’s own rifle to the side of his head. Merle fell instantly and the sheriff straddled him, held his arm up and handcuffed him to a pipe so fast I couldn’t even follow his movements.

“Hey!” I yelled at him just as he grabbed Merle and sat him up against the larger pipes.

“Who are you, man?” Merle asked him.

“Officer friendly,” the sheriff took Merle’s gun and checked it. “Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There are no niggers anymore, no dumb-ass shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There’s us and the dead, we survive by pulling together, not apart.”

“Fuck you, man!”

“I can see you make a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah? Fuck you twice!”

I snorted despite of the situation, “so mature, Dixon.”

Not seeming to have heard me, the sheriff pointed the gun right at Merle’s head. I took another step closer.

“Ought to be polite with a man with a gun! Only common sense.”

“Ya wouldn’t. You a cop!”

“All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son,” he lowered the gun.  “Anybody who gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I’ll give you a moment to think about that.”

Seeing Merle going quiet tranquilized me a bit. I still remained close as the cop checked on Merle’s pockets and his hand came out with a little bag of coke. I knew he had to have used something, but now I was sure.

“Fuck, Merle…” I was disappointed.

“You got some on your nose there,” the sheriff said looking at Merle form up close.

Merle laughed, “What ya gonna do? Arrest me?”

The man got up and threw the bag out of the building. Merle shouted, cursed, like a hurt feline in a cage, but everyone else seemed to have stopped listening to him. Andrea was tending to T-Dog’s wounds, the sheriff got away from the group and everybody else seemed to calm down. Also silent, I came even closer and crouched by his side.

“Coke again, Dixon?”

“Fuck you.”

“You were doing well, you know you were,” I ignored it. “Ya see what happens the first day ya get back to it?”

“I said fuck you! Just get me the fuck outta here!”

“Well, make up your fuckin’ mind, Dixon. You want me to go fuck myself or to let you go?”

“Ya tryin’ to be funny, pussycat?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna leave ya there for a while. Calm down, let the high go, think about what you did to get yourself in this fucked up situation. We’ll talk later.”

I got up and was thankful that Merle said nothing else, neither did anybody. I walked over to where the stranger was on the parapet, looking out to the city. I could see him cradling his hand, the one he used to punch Merle.

“You’re not Atlanta PD. Where you from?” I asked him as I stood by his side.

“Up the road a ways.”

“Well, no matter, “ I said and he looked at me. “Merle is like that most of the time, he’s a drug addict, uneducated redneck. But he was cutting out on the drugs, back on camp. He was getting better, more controlled. We had a fight, things got ugly, and apparently he got right back to it.”

“You’re his wife or something?”

I laughed, “God forbid, no. I’m his friend. Sorta… Maybe not anymore. But ya see, I had it. In a fight or not, I still got a history with the man, I still know how to talk to him. You’re new here, ya don’t know us, so next time, before ya go on handcuffing people to the roof, just back off and let me sort our problems, alright?” I finished and turned to leave. “Welcome to the jungle, sheriff.”