#TWD type zombies

[begun-to-blur]

will would so flourish in a post apocalyptic environment. where there’s lawlessness and your morals allowed to be totally grey. hannibal and will teamed up would be completely unstoppable.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Hey actually, why did The Grove have Carol execute a schizophrenic child and frame it as the only thing she could've done? We've got a bunch of people now saying she was right to kill a mentally ill 12 year old when she didn't know how to handle her.

[cerbreus]

different oc for a change! post apoc oc I started this ref sheet for ages ago

[g-mantopsurgery]

i will do this at some point . maybe next week

[bluebellhairpin]

Idk about you all, but if a zombie apocalypse happens I'm just gonna turn into Ned Kelly. Get me a big suit of metal and some guns and I'll wander the bush like it's nobody's business.

[sleepyangelkami]

Omgg I'm new to tublr but I love ur work smm could you pls do more carl grimes

SHELTERED c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.8K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - carl's alexandrian girlfriend had always been somewhat sheltered, never so much as laid eyes on a zombie. however, when he decides to go on a supply run with his dad, some of her friends drag her to a party in the woods where she uncovers her first ever walker.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, zombies, twd themes, violence, guns, crying, anxiety, worry, (1) use of y/n, pet names, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

alexandria was a quiet place in a world of chaos. it was nothing but comfort and clouds, nothing to worry for, nothing to be anxious about.

carl was anything but.

the boy was quite alike a storm the minute he'd entered the town. he was... different from other kids, that much was for sure. he was interested in comics and action while most the kids of alexandria only cared for their xbox's that were powered by the solar pannels.

so it was safe to say that when carl grimes made his way to the gazebo on a sunny day to read his action comic, you sitting with your romance novel threw him off a little.

he soon realised that you too were different.

you two got close so quickly, with your shelteredness, growing up in alexandria and his need to protect, having been on the road for so long, you were practically attached by the hip and the whole of alexandria could see.

when carl first met you, he took not of the plain innocence you displayed, not just because of your skirts and dresses that you pranced around in, pretty bow against your hair, but the fact that you grew up in alexandria. when shit hit the fan and the world turned to death, you never had to experience any of it. you were simply shielded from the dangers of the world as soon as the walls had been placed around your town.

truthfully, carl was glad.

one of the things the boy loved the most about you was the type of purity you displayed. every one of your actions was done with the need to help people. pure intentions.

you didn't have the type of heart for a world like their own, much too sweet to face the death that would stare right back at you.

"do you have to go?" That mumble he'd grown rather attached to. you used that mumble when you were tired, like now when the sun had set and darkness loomed over the town, still wrapped in your own bedsheets.

the boy hummed with dissatisfaction. "i'll be back tomorrow night." it wasn't unusual for the boy to leave at random hours of the night, not making it back until the next. it was to help his father and daryl on their runs, to get what the town needed.

was it selfish to wish he didn't have to?

you made a whine type of noise while muffled between the white pillows. carl only smiled softly. "get some rest, baby." the boy with the cowboy hat pressed a gentle kiss against the crown of your head, picking up his gun and making his way towards the door. "goodnight."

"g'night." but you were almost positive that you'd been asleep by the time the door closed shut again.

as much as carl loved going out on runs, there was something so god awful about leaving you wrapped up in the bed, alone. you were so sheltered your entire life, never knowing what was out there. it was almost as if he felt the need to protect you at all times, every day, assure both you and him that nothing was going to happen to you.

you had no intentions of leaving the walls.

alexandria was your home, your safety. you'd never so much as seen a walker before and you didn't plan on it anytime soon.

so when the words, "so, are you going?" came out of your best friends boyfriends lips, you only stared in shock.

enid, your best friend could only roll her eyes at the boy. "she doesn't want to." she spoke for you. "y/n doesn't like going outside of the walls, you know this."

and yet, he pressed further. "come on, everyone's gonna bet there, this will be the biggest one yet." a party that the teenagers and some of the younger adults went to. it was beyond the walls, out past where you were supposed to be. if anyone were to ever find out, you'd all be killed. so, you kept your mouth shut in hoping that if someone did find out about the parties, you'd never be tied to it. it wasn't as if you'd ever gone to one. "your little boyfriend never lets you go."

ron anderson wasn't the fondest of your boyfriend. it was evident since the day they met that they didn't like each other. believe me, carl had as much of a distaste for the boy as he did him. "carl isn't the reason."

"then what is?" you shrugged your shoulders, glancing down at your shoes. "you never do anything with us, it's like carl is the only thing you care about."

manipulation at it's finest. harmless, though, right?

"what?" an evident frown came across your face upon the realisation that your friends weren't even all the way sure if you liked them. "i do care about you guys."

"then do something with us for a change." the fourth of the group chimed in, mikey was his name. "besides, carl's gone and it's not like we're gonna tell him. your secrets safe with us."

you didn't want to go.

yet somehow, you found yourself wound up exactly where you 'didn't want to be'.

it wasn't that you were worried what carl would think. truthfully, as much as you valued the boy's opinion, you would never let him boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn't do. carl accepted you for all the beauty, all the ugly and never so much as questioned your actions, only doting when you got hurt. you couldn't love someone more. and neither could he.

but when your friends announced that they thought all you cared about was carl, you couldn't help but feel the guilt swirl through your veins. you loved carl, adored even but you could have friends to.

worried that they'd think you didn't want to hang out with them anymore, you found yourself for the first time in your life, exiting the walls.

you knew it was wrong the moment you stepped outside.

carl's old discarded flannel did nothing to help you keep the heat inside your body. you held it close, hoping the scent of carl would overpower the scent of alcohol that filled your nose. "you okay?" enid was the only one who took notice of your stiff figure.

" 'm fine." was the answer you gave, whether or not it had been true. all your mind could travel to was your boyfriend. yes, you never wanted to leave the walls of alexandria in fear of the walkers but you also knew how much carl wished for you to stay behind the protective walls to.

and he was going to be so mad once he found out where you were.

you could imagine him walking onto the street where your house lay. he'd climbed in through your bedroom window thousands of times before, you left it open for him to enter at any stage of the day or night. now, he'd find an empty bed.

enid noticed the way your face was twitching, though. "you sure? i can stay with you, if you want." but you could see the way her eyes were trailing towards her boyfriend from the other side of the party.

"no, it's okay." the girl gave you a unconvinced face. "really, 'm okay, now go get your boyfriend."

but you weren't okay.

the anxious thought started over as soon as enid left your side. the party unfolded, stupid music playing in the background. surely, that would attract walkers? your hazy eyes looked from person to person. enid was sat atop ron's lap, kissing him. mikey was between two girls, grinning to himself with a bottle in his hands. various other teenagers having the time of their lives. one boy, ethan you thought the name was, was standing on top of a makeshift table, chugging cans until the table collapsed beneath him.

you couldn't bear the sight, nor the smell of alcohol or any of the worry that filled your lungs making it suddenly hard to breathe.

you could imagine the state this would end up in, should a walker make it's way here. the teenagers here were the same sheltered people you'd grown up with, they'd went to the school with you in alexandria, they'd never been beyond the walls. now, they had and they hadn't been hunted down by walkers yet so they didn't expect it to happen.

but what if it did?

none of them were fighters, none of them went on supply runs or so much as tried to deal with walkers before.

it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

and you simply couldn't be here anymore.

your chest was heavy as you stood from your place on the ground, trying to make your way towards the woods, tripping over rocks and bottles as you went.

the forest was dark and hidden, no light source aside from the moon. you squinted your eyes, trying to see where you were going. you looked in front of you, suddenly not knowing whether to turn left or right.

had you even taken this road on the way here...?

sudden worry that you were going the wrong way. you couldn't hear the music of the party anymore, it was long gone and it had been your only way back there.

you were lost and if you didn't make it back to the party or alexandria soon, nobody would ever find you. that's what you told yourself, at least. carl would spend forever looking for you until one day, he'll stumble across your dead corpse, either half eaten or roaming around in the same clothes you'd worn that day, his flannel shirt hanging from your frame.

the thoughts caused your head to spin, obviously not taking much notice of the ground in front of you. you held your hands out as your foot tripped over a rock, you used them to catch whatever was in front of you, preventing your fall.

you grasped what you thought was a tree.

until you heard the groan of the dead.

it stared you in the eye, his own glazed over with a type of grey. blood surrounded his mouth, dead skin hanging from his body. he appeared to be missing a finger.

you yelped, falling backwards and straight onto your back. your head scratched itself off a rock, using your hands to straighten yourself back up when you noticed it hadn't just been one dead, but three.

they all turned to you, a sick hungry look in their eye as they began stalking forward, gugrles and groans leaving their mouthes as they found the food of that day.

you'd never seen one before though you knew they'd be horrid looking. you never expected the smell, though. the rotting flesh scent that filled your nose, certainly overpowering the scent of the flannel. their rotted teeth and lack of hair had you scrambling to find something, a rock, a discarded knife or twig, something to use as some kind of a weapon.

but the truth was, you'd been sheltered too long.

how were you ever supposed to pick yourself up out of something like this when you didn't know the first thing about walkers.

you would have accepted your faith with a scream, let them tear into your flesh because you were no help to anybody, including yourself.

you couldn't so much as weave your way away from three walkers, hopeless.

then the sight of a knife sticking into his head was in front of you.

blood spurted out, covering your clothes and the boy next to the walker. carl grimes with his infamous sheriff's hat along with the knife that he plunged into the walker's head. "what the hell are you doing out here?!" shock was evident in his voice, though he appeared to be alone. he whipped around, taking out both the other two walkers while you merely stared in shock.

the blood that spurted onto the ground as the final walker fell to the grass. your glassy eyes could still make out carl's boot stomping onto its head, squishing it and causing blood, insides and flesh to tear and fall.

carl was met with the sight of your glassy eyes staring up at him, fear-stricken expression.

he found himself rushing towards you.

"'m sorry, 'm so sorry, carl. i didn't― ron―" the words came out like a childish blubber, unable to form sentences as fat tears left your eyes, rolling down your flush cheeks.

"are you bit?" carl didn't care for the words you spoke, scanning your body, pushing your arm up to scan wherever he could. "did you hurt your―" he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the blood dripping from your forehead. "what did you do?"

the sound of his disapproving voice was enough for your breath to shake. "'m sorry." you kept repeating. "i just― please don't be mad at me."

finally the words that ached the back of your throat.

it seemed as though shock was the thing that fell across his face, wondering why you'd ever think he'd get mad at you for something like this. "hey, hey, 'm not mad, baby, c'mere." in the dead of night, through the trees, the boy took you into his arms, seating you onto his lap as the sobs emitted your mouth. he carefully drew circles on your back with the palm of his hand. "you're jus' scared, is all, you're okay, sweetheart." sweet nothings filled your ears, nothing but comfort against your skin.

you choked, blubbering as you pushed your face away from the crook of his neck. "the others― we have to warn them." though eyes still full of tears.

innocence had obviously still been deeply embedded into your brain. otherwise, you would have figured out by now that they'd known. "They know, baby." you looked at him with confusion. "saw a couple of them throwing rocks at a walker."

thoughts filled your brain, confused.

enid and ron told you that this was the safest party there was. and despite your obvious doubts about something so ridiculous, they'd assured you that no walker had ever been so much as seen where you would be going.

you felt a pang of betrayal set in your bones. not only at the fact that they'd lied but at the fact that these people you grew up with, very same innocence as your own, were using walkers like toys, pets even.

"come on, pretty girl." fingers working against your waist, gently soothing the skin. "let's get you home."

home. that sounded nice. "'kay." voice still slick with your earlier tears.

carl practically carried you all the way home. it wasn't until you were sat inside your bathroom, sat against the porcelain toilet while he crouched in front of you on the ground that the tears stopped. "'s gonna hurt." he warned.

you nodded, fingers holding around his own hand while the free one used a cotton pad filled with rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wound.

you winced, glass glossing over again. "i know, sweetheart, i know." pretty words falling from his lips as he cared for you like no other human being would ever be capable of doing. "jus' gotta get it done, yeah?"

and he did just that, quickly disinfecting the wound before grasping the gauze. your eyes were open, staring forward at his pretty face in front of you. he looked tired enough but he usually did with his sunken eye and tired perplexion. you always said it was because he wasn't eating enough. that was the thing about carl, always forgetting to take care of himself in the simplest of ways.

but you? no, he couldn't possibly forget a thing.

" 'm sorry." you'd said it before, but you couldn't express it enough.

carl slowly retracted his hands from your face, sighing gently. he moved his hands back up, only this time they cupped your cheeks instead of dusting your forehead. "what you did was stupid." you nodded in agreement. "you should know better, what's out there should stay out there and you should stay in here, where it's safe." you didn't bother explaining the situation, knowing it'd been you who decided to leave, ron didn't decide that for you. "you're lucky today didn't end worse."

"i know." voice cracking as your eyes gazed down upon the tiled ground of your bathroom where carl crouched.

he lifted your face up with his left hand, tilting his head slightly. "but that doesn't mean 'm mad at you, you know that, right?" you shrugged, supposing you didn't know that. "could never be mad at you."

"'m an idiot." you mumbled, attempting to look as far away from the boy as you could.

"a little." he grinned causing you to turn with a smile of your own. "'s okay, though. i'll do the thinkin' for you from now on, yeah?"

didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[kivino]

TAKE US BACK || ZOMBIE AU || KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK X GN!READER

Word Counter – 6.4k words

Summary – The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it. 

Tags/Warnings – Zombie AU (heavily twd coded, don’t expect some l4d type of stuff /lh. Death and turning after the bite ARE slower, however. For the sake of drama. obviously), gore, blood, gn!Reader, established relationship, heavy angst, major character death. 

A/n – So, this fic is my contribution to the spooky season! Special thanks to @mockerycrow for helping me with the pictures for the header, you're the best, pookie!!! I have a playlist for this fic too, so in case you want to read this with complete immersion I’ll link it here. Enjoy <333

also available on my ao3

upd. if you saw that unfinished paragraph you didn’t see anything, move along 👁️👁️

“Kyle, I think…I think I’m bitten.” was all it took to shatter him into millions of tiny pieces. Just like that. Nothing mattered anymore, even that you promised each other to stay alive, no matter what. In the back of his mind, he knew all those promises muttered into his lips while he feverishly kissed you were empty, shallow attempts to silence his mind, to make him sleep in peace, thinking you’ll be there no matter what. And of course, he didn’t doubt your words even for a split second.

Kyle knew he was a fool to believe that. To think the two of you were inseparable. In a world like this, how could one even think of something staying forever untouched by decay that spread far beyond the horizon? Rot overtook everything, and if something was still untouched by it, soon enough that wither would find a way to slither inside, spoiling it forever. It would even find its way into people’s minds, ruining humanity in a manner no physical disease could ever hope to damage them. Kyle and you have seen it happen far too many times, and his only wish was for you to meet your end together, peacefully. But now…he only wished he had the strength to go on, he truly did. 

Because you needed him. Now more than ever. 

And so, he kept trying. If he didn’t then both of you would be done for. You didn’t deserve that, not when all he wanted was for you to be safe and well, not caring much about himself. You were the one who saved him when all the shit went down, now it was time to return the favor. So, he pushed himself through every agonizingly slow day. But he was starting to feel the already feeble remains of his strength slipping away from him. He wouldn’t give up, however. Never. Not when your life depended on it. 

That’s why while you were bedridden, weakness setting in your body as a permanent, bitter resident, Kyle was scouring the old town for fever and cold medicine, trying to be as quiet as possible, not to attract any undead. He had a gun, but he did not use it – too loud and bullets were a luxury, not a commodity. Kyle only had one bullet, following the advice of a nice older man with mutton chops he remembered meeting in one of the survivor camps a long time ago.

“Always save the last bullet for yourself or your loved ones. You never know who’ll need it more”

Methods aside, recent days were spent wandering abandoned houses in attempts to find at least some food for the two of you. Only when the darkness started to settle, Kyle would head back, throwing his backpack over the fence and barely managing to climb it, sore muscles and empty stomach sending jolts of pain all through his body. Even then, he was restless, sitting by your side, wiping your forehead of sweat, and taking your temperature. Your breathing was strained, chest rising and falling under thin blankets that barely kept you warm. And each time he looked at you for more than a minute at a time he felt his insides twisting in pain, eyes getting white-hot with tears, and throat closing, barely letting him take a short breath just so he doesn’t suffocate in his misery.

And then the sun rises, warm rays painting the room in a variety of colors, falling over your face, morning birds wake up Kyle from his nightmare-filled sleep. He jolts awake from the dreams, filled with the image of you, dying in agony over and over, crying out for help, begging him to do something. You get torn apart, your intestines spilling out on the damp floor, pulled out by a crowd of the undead who devour you with vigorous hunger, biting into your flesh until he can’t recognize your face from the bloody and mangled pulp that rotting hands and jagged teeth turn you into. Your raw, pained screams haunt him even when he’s awake, observing you lose your life all over again. Much slower and in a much more painful way. 

The sun rises. And so does Kyle. Your desperate pleas that drag from the dream are muffled as soon as he sees you sleeping. Forgetting, that you were getting weaker with each day that passed. Choosing to bask in your tranquil glow, in the way your eyelashes fluttered while you slept, choosing to neglect the worry clawing on the back of his mind just to stay like this with you for a little longer. Kyle knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable, but he still decided to make the best out of the short amount of time he had left with you. Hoping that some miracle would happen and you wouldn’t succumb to the decay. That the bite would turn out to be a bad dream you both had on the same night, waking up from it in cold sweat, searching for the comfort of each other’s embrace, while letting out relieved sighs, realizing that you’re safe. 

That would be great, wouldn’t it?

Instead, he shakes you awake with a gentle hand, almost not wanting to wake you up from your slumber. You blink up at him, looking even more tired than before you went to sleep. Circles under your eyes are even darker than the previous night. And Kyle is in pain once again. He wants to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder, to lead you through the long, silent halls of the school where you were staying, full of dust and damp, moldy smell, to have breakfast together. Like good old times. But he sees that in your eyes, you’re too weak to pull your weight up and stand up. So, he brings the heated-up cans of beans here, putting one on a stool in front of you, helping you to sit up before he even thinks of touching his food.

“Kyle, that’s twice what I usually eat.” You mutter, watery eyes rising to him, sitting on the mattress in front of you with his legs crossed. He raises his eyebrow and his head shifts to the side in a questioning motion.

“Well, you have to eat plenty to recover.” He said, matter-of-factly. You stay silent, unwilling to have that debate right now. You barely managed to stay awake as it is. Let him think that you’ll get better, despite everything you saw together. Despite every rule that you’ve discovered. Let him live in the illusion, in the waking dream that all will be well if he tries hard enough. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s growing cold” 

You didn’t realize that you’d been drilling the can of steaming beans in front of you with your glassy gaze for the past several minutes, submerged in your thoughts deep enough to suffocate. You pick up the spoon with a weak, shaky motion. Then your eyes fall on the can. Somehow, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Failing at something so simple…you knew it’d hurt your pride even more. So, you opted to push the tin closer to the edge of the stool.

Kyle glanced over at you, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. He sensed the fatigue from you, lacing the air that surrounded you and leaving dark, oily traces over anything your fingers lingered on. You breathed sickness. Your hands, which were able to easily bash an undead’s head on the wall just several days ago, now could barely hold a spoon steady without it trembling and threatening to fall, spilling all the contents over the moth-eaten blanket. He felt his heart squeeze in pain, and he swore that something shattered inside of him once again. 

“Let me help you.” Although it sounded like an offer, Kyle didn’t look like he was going to let you debate it, shuffling closer to you, taking the spoon from your hand in a swift motion. You purse your lips, knowing that protesting that would be stupid. If it wasn’t for how weak and sick you were, and for a lot of other circumstances, it would be a cutesy moment. Your dear spoon-feeding you something? Please, one’s teeth would rot from how sweet it is. But now it was just another deep, bleeding gash on your pride. Kyle blows on the food, cooling it off and promptly moving it towards your mouth with his hand cupped just under the spoon. You obediently clamp your lips around the spoon. “There we go.” He gives you a small smile, but you see the melancholy in his eyes when Kyle wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He means well, yet you can’t help but feel like you’re a burden to him. 

You loathed being like this. Being this weak. Fragile. You were able to fend for yourself, you had resilience and strength, but now you were just rendered useless, only dragging Kyle down, depriving him of the freedom to go on.

He’ll die if he continues like this.

You knew it. He was exhausted, and you’ve been like this for a little over a week. Survival wasn’t about skill anymore, it was about luck. You lost yours already, the moment rotten, jagged teeth sunk into the flesh of your forearm like it was butter, drawing the first blood. But Kyle, he…sooner or later he will lose his luck too. And it was apparent that it was coming sooner than you anticipated. A bullet he won’t be able to dodge. An infected scratch. An undead that he simply didn’t notice because of how tired he is. A bear trap in the vicinity of someone’s camp. Something will get to Kyle. Or someone. And thankfully, you won’t be here to witness it. Hopefully.

 “What are you doing? Where are we going?” You barely managed to mutter out, clinging to him with all the strength you had, which, to be fair, wasn’t a lot. He could feel the cold of your hands clasped around his neck even through several layers of his clothes. Kyle’s hands carefully held you under your thighs as he went up the stairs, not showing any signs of exertion except for beads of sweat on his temples. 

“Just thought we might watch the sunrise together, like good old days” You could hear the soft smile that tugged on his mouth when he said that. Another reminder for you that he probably loathed the way you lived right now and would prefer to go back to the way things were. With you not being his…burden.

You didn’t need to be reminded of this. Of the “good old days”. Finding that abandoned farm, deep in the buttcrack of the countryside was what saved the both of you when the world started going to shit. You and Kyle met each other years prior, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when everything as you knew it was gone.

Hiding there gave you a sense of normalcy you missed so much, after having to live for months, years like an animal. You didn’t feel like the world as you knew it was falling apart beyond that fence with cracked white paint. Deserted fields full of dead crops, empty house with a bunch of stuff forgotten or thrown around messily - it was obvious the owners wouldn’t come back any time soon. Snooping around gave you too much information - you couldn’t help but feel a bitter burn on the back of your throat when you picked up a framed family photo from the fireplace, five tan faces staring back at you with perpetual smiles etched into the glossy paper. 

You didn’t have the gall to throw away or burn everything personal the previous family left behind. Photo albums, children's clothes and toys, diplomas, drawings, letters, posters, and even something as small as shopping lists on the fridge, five life stories were packed into several boxes, taped and put in the attic. Kyle didn’t understand your wish to preserve something that wasn’t even yours, but he didn’t interfere, choosing to give you a hand instead. If it helped you to sleep in someone else’s bed calmer, replacing the presumably dead strangers, he was willing to indulge you.

Despite how far away from the civilization this farm was, seeing an undead roaming around wasn’t a very rare occurrence, but at least you could handle the occasional walking corpses. You wake up, you go on patrol. You finish patrol, and you meet the sunrise with Kyle by your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, with a blanket thrown over the both of you, sitting on the front porch, right on the creaking stairs. These fleeting moments felt so right. Like home.

Eventually, you had to continue moving. Started to run short on supplies ever since then. Running into all sorts of different people, relying on strangers, leading a nomad way of life. It wasn’t unfulfilling, since you only needed the company of each other to keep it together. In a variety of groups that you’ve been through it was always a known fact that you’ll stick by each other before someone else.

All he needed was your loving hug when you came back from a supply run. A soft kiss that you would put on that scar right on his cheek. Or to hold your hand under the table when you sat down to eat with whatever group you were with this week, like your love for each other was a secret meant only for the two of you. All you needed was his warmth, his comfort, his mere presence, that would light up your shitty day like a damn light beam. He managed to take your breath away each time he looked at you with such gentleness and softness that sometimes you didn’t think you deserved it. You’ve found the world in each other. A purpose.

So what is Kyle going to do when you’re gone?

The morbid thought suddenly crosses your mind, while the man carefully sits you down on a worn lawn chair with a soft grunt, plopping down on the ground by your side, warm palm reassuringly resting on your thigh. Bringing you down to earth. Gusts of frosty wind brush through your hair, nipping at your cheeks, nose, and ears. You missed the outside, despite it being quite cold and unwelcoming this time of the year.

“I think the herd's close. See that dust?” Kyle taps you lightly on your leg and points towards the horizon. And true to his words, there is a fine dark line separating the sky, burning up in a mix of reds and yellows, from the earth. “They’re moving weird.”

“What does that mean?” you croak at Kyle, not able to peel your eyes from that sheet of gray, bunched-up dust that sat on the edge of the horizon like a shadow.

“Means if we’re lucky they’ll pass the school.” Kyle mutters, trying to reassure you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

And then it clicks.

When he came back from the supply run you were nowhere to be found in the wind-torn building. There were no traces of you in the old cafeteria on the first floor where the two of you would heat up the canned food that your taste buds got used to over the long months the end of the world stretched over. Before you got bit.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach, so nauseous from the mere thought of something happening to you. Kyle fought himself not to double over, press his forehead against the wall and throw up everything you two had for breakfast until he feels the acidic burn on his tongue and cries his damn eyes out from the pain. You knew that the herd was getting closer, why did you have to disappear right now? You two were supposed to wait it out together, by each other’s side. What were you doing, and more importantly, what were you thinking? Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

Kyle felt the wall with an awkward, stiff motion of his hand, before putting his weight on it and sliding down, he felt like his legs could not hold him anymore. You barely had the strength to sit upright, where would you go in your condition? 

The only place he could think of that was close enough for you to get to was the motor inn down the street. Of course.

The herd was already here. Kyle had no time to spare, he needed to act now, to get you and run away as fast as possible. He remembered there was a car in that old motor inn, so that could be your getaway plan, sure thing he could figure something out…and to get there…He can use that old trick that another group of survivors taught you two. “If you smell like them, they won’t notice you, simple as that. Just make sure not to bump into anyone, or they’ll get real friendly with you.” Of course. It was that easy. You never resorted to that trick, preferring to avoid or dispose of the undead on sight. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyle cringed at that sinking feeling in his stomach, but not at the thought of having to walk through the herd and probably be eaten alive, no. The possibility of you not being in that motor inn was what made that hollow pit inside of him grow. The fact that he might never see you again. Or that he would find you already gone.

He moves with calculated precision. Catch the undead’s attention, yellowish whites are dull under the daylight. Let it get close enough, it groans with each movement, joints snapping and clicking. Make the undead lose its balance, kick it in the knee, and the rotting leg almost falls off under the force that Kyle unintentionally applies. Destroy the brain, put a hunting knife right to the forehead, and let it thud to the ground, finally at rest. He’s thoughtlessly going through the motions, every step ingrained into his consciousness, almost like second nature to him. Rips through the stomach of the undead, black, resinous blood oozing out. Sinks his hands in the intestines, they smell so strong Kyle tears up and gags, hands shuffling around clothes caked with dirt and grime, swiping putrid, nasty mass all over himself. But it’s nothing. It’s alright. It will be worth it when he finds you.

After that, everything he remembers is under a thick blanket of haze, accompanied by the smell. You never get used to it. He feels nauseous, his insides twisting in worry, gnawing and biting at his heart like a terrified, desperate dog. His eyes grasp onto anything, but all Kyle sees is the sea of rotting flesh all around him, groans and moans of the undead so echoing in his ears loud all he wants is to tumble to the ground and end it all. He barely breathes with how tight his chest is squeezing his heart, it feels like in a split moment his insides will collapse onto themselves, capturing him in this meat cage. He has to remind himself that he’s not doing it for himself, he’s doing it for you, only for you. Kyle has to let his thoughts travel to your voice, to the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, to the frown between your brows when you slept in his arms just so he doesn’t go mad. Stares from decomposing, milky white eyes with yellows, blues, and reds here and there felt like stabs right through him, each could be the last if he gave himself away.

He could be grabbed by any of the half-rotten hands with sickly yellowish bones sticking out like spears of the cavemen, bitten, dragged away, or devoured. But he pressed on through the seemingly endless crowd of the undead. He would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him. That abandoned motor inn was like a beacon right now, but his imagination still ran wild, his hope growing more and more dim with each minute spent away from you. He didn’t feel like any hero. Kyle was scared. Mostly for you, but he could feel the tremble in his knees at the mere thought of any undead in the crowd recognizing him as an impostor. If that happens, he won’t be able to mutter even a single word. Rotten fingers will dig into his flesh, tearing it apart and Kyle will meet his end like this, on the damp ground, abandoned and scared out of his damn mind.

When Kyle pressed himself against the closed door of the motor inn, he finally could breathe in again. It wasn’t the time for a break, however. He still needed to find you. He wanders through the dusty, ransacked rooms in a daze, fixated on finding any traces you left, noticing the old rusty car in passing. The getaway plan. If the two of you are lucky enough. Footprints in the dust. They look new, and similar to the ones on the soles of your old boots. He follows. Your thin blanket lies forgotten on the stairs. Kyle practically flies up to the second floor, picking up the blanket, while he’s at it. More footprints in the dust, door to some old office is left ajar.

First, you felt the smell. Then you heard him cry out your name in surprise. And then you finally saw Kyle. He’s a blur of red, black, and brown. Covered head to toe with blood, guts, rotting flesh, and dirt, you presume. A sad, heartbreaking sight. Kyle, however, doesn’t mind it and immediately runs towards you, falling on the floor with a loud thud, and you’re sure he might’ve scraped his knees with how hard he landed. His arms cage you in a tight hug and you hear him let out a shaky exhale. Tears start to sting your eyes when you feel him pressing your head into his shoulder, stroking you with a gentle motion. You weren’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or reassure himself that you’re real, and not a fragment of his imagination. Regardless, you manage to reciprocate the hug, raising one of your arms and wrapping it around his back.

All of these days you saved up your energy for the last push. You needed to get away from him. You couldn’t trust yourself to remain near Kyle anymore. Any moment you could turn. You felt it in the way your bones ached with every gust of wind, how your blood boiled under your veins and your vision turned even more blurry. And in that case, you’d be a threat to Kyle, possibly getting him at his most vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you’d be long gone by then, you would still never forgive yourself if there was any possibility of it happening. Because, deep down you knew. No matter how skilled and ruthless Kyle was with handling the undead…he didn’t have it in him to bash your head in. So, you only had one choice to ensure his safety.

Yet he finds you. Here. You could feel your cheeks burn from being so angry at him, for his lack of acceptance that you were on the brink, and all it would take for you right now to fall into the abyss would be a light gust of wind or a slight shove. But you couldn’t blame him. You thought a lot about what you would do if the roles were reversed. The scenario brewed in your mind, haunting those short hours you were awake and trapping you in restless dreams.

You would want to live in illusion too.

“There you are.” You could practically feel something inside of you crack when you catch his smile beaming at you. Kyle just went to hell and back to get to you. And he still finds it in himself to smile at you, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders with hurried, but soothing movements. You were so weakened by the bite that you couldn’t even find any strength to go down the stairs and get the blanket when you dropped it. Humiliating. “Come on, we have to go, now, we can’t stay here.” He tries to scoop you up in a warm hug again, but you dig your heels into the ground. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he looks at you again, trying to catch what is wrong,

“No.” Kyle looks you over, eyes open wide, expression of confusion and sadness on his face. Of course, he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t…have anything on you. Then how, how did you even…” You didn’t have any grime on you at all, looking like you just walked through the herd of the undead without any preparation. But then his eyes trail lower and he sees it. Your left hand, cuffed to the rusty radiator. Suddenly the wave of terror cuts through him, like a fine, thin string through a block of fresh clay.

You came here to die.

“They stop paying attention to you once you’re far along enough. So…I guess that’s it.” He hated you for saying that. God, he hated you so much, he wanted to cling onto your body and suffocate you, arms wrapped around you in weak, pathetic attempts to shield you from any harm. “I…I don’t have any time left.” Kyle felt like he got punched in the gut. Air squeezed out of his lungs, wheezing in pain that he felt for you, because of you, chest aching, tearing apart, and baring his heart under the cage made of bones. 

“No. No, no, no, no, you can’t say that! Why are you saying that?” And for the first time, since Kyle saw the bloodied, ragged teeth marks on your flesh, he broke down into minuscule, fragile pieces right in front of you. His voice trembled, frantic and exerted, refusing to believe you even dared to make peace with the inevitable. He grabs your shoulders firmly and his fingers dig into you so hard he can feel how cold you are through your clothes.

Key. He has to release you from the handcuffs. The herd was here, the way the floor vibrated under his feet, and the way gargled moans and sighs echoed outside made Kyle even more agitated. Where did you get those handcuffs anyway? It only takes a moment for him to remember. One of the supply runs that feels like a lifetime ago. Police station. Searching the bodies, or rather, what was left of them, for anything useful. You take out the handcuffs and show them to Kyle, telling him some kind of joke. He can’t remember what it was or the way you smiled, only that you made him laugh. 

He wished instead of quiet rasping he could hear your laugh again.

“Where is the key from the handcuffs, where did you put it?” Kyle jumped to his feet and started looking over the room in a hurry, suffocated by the fear of losing you. He was wishing, hoping that you would show him where you hid the key, somewhere, anywhere, Kyle needed to throw you on his back and run right this moment.

“Fuck, listen to me, listen. To me.” you tried to snap him out of his delirium, with your harsh tone, freezing palms digging the bloodstains Kyle left on your blanket “You know what you have to do.” He shook his head wildly, looking at you like were mad for even suggesting something like this. “I don’t want to become one of them! You have to make sure I won’t come back.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! I-” Kyle didn’t understand you. How can you say, make a request like this? Something was fundamentally wrong and the bite, the illness were to blame.

“Have you?” you interrupted, pouring all of your strength into this yelling match. You didn’t care anymore. You felt your fingers going numb, black, inky spots dancing on the edges of your vision, taunting you in their vicious dance macabre. You did not have time for his lame excuses and whatever it was he was trying to be right now. “I’m asking you one thing, and you can’t even do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t feel the way tears burned your cheeks.

“Listen to me, please! I’m not putting a bullet in your head; do I look like a fucking murderer to you?” Kyle pinches his brow in frustration, not even able to look at you right now. Every single suggestion and comment from you stings, fucking hurts and tears him open once again. Because you’re talking nonsense. Absolute bullshit. And you don’t even realize it, he thinks, blinded by your sudden chase after death.

“I’m fucking dying and you’re worried about not being a murderer? Are you being fucking serious right now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, quite frankly. It was the only thing that you had asked of him. The only thing that you wanted. To be finally released. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Your body working against you, living with the constant threat of turning any second, massacring and desecrating Kyle’s corpse as a bloodthirsty, disgusting creature, that will have your face, your body, your hands, and your voice, but not anything that makes you – you. No memories. No love. No inner strength and compassion. Just hunger and urge to slaughter, destroy, and ravage everything in your sight.

“You know that’s not what I meant! Why are you doing this right now?” Kyle felt like he was about to collapse into himself from despair. He couldn’t just do what you were suggesting. And you knew it, yet you chose to ignore it and refuse any acceptance? You always listened to him, even if you didn’t quite agree. You always were patient with him. What’s gotten into you now, what happened?

You don’t have any more time. That’s what happened.

“Oh, so I run away, trying to keep you safe so you live another day and see another one of these stupid sunrises, cuff myself here just so I don’t harm anyone and you can’t even do what I’m asking you to?!” Your voice rises to a volume you didn’t even know you had in you right now, after dragging yourself through the imitation of your former life for a little less than a week. To think your suffering so far lasted less than a week, yet you were ready to end it all right this moment.

Because you could feel it in your bones. You were close.

“Well, tell me, what’s the point of me living if you’re dead?!” You can hear the way his voice breaks in the end. Desperate. Pleading.

The silence rings in your ears with how loud it is. 

“I’m sorry.”  You croak at him after a short while, eyes trained on the dirty floor. Kyle chuckles, the sound that you love so much, but then it’s followed by a muffled sob. He kneels in front of you once again and your eyes rise to meet his. You can’t help but think that he looks even more beautiful covered in rotting guts, with his eyes full of light and love for a doomed failure like you.

It’s almost impossible to breathe from how hard your heart aches. God, you love him so much. You want to take all the pain from him with you, into the vile, putrid abyss. Kyle takes your hands in his. You’re terrifyingly cold. And he’s too warm. You feel tears rising to your eyes, prickling at them, as you fail at your attempts not to break down right now.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you make that face.” Kyle says with a small laugh that breaks into dry sobs, as his shoulders shudder violently with every single one, before he clings onto you, seeking comfort and reassurance, that you’ll be here. With him.

His embrace feels suffocating. It’s so tight you think any more pressure from him will break your bones into yellowish sharp daggers and fine dust. And you’d forgive Kyle if that happened. You’d forgive him for anything, quite frankly. Funny, how now you have the answer to what you would do if he was the one turning. You’d let him devour you wholly, in the ultimate show of love. You’d let him bite into you, whatever he wanted – neck, arm, a leg, he could have. You’d lay in the pool of your blood, muffling your pained cries by stuffing that worn blanket into your mouth. You’d slowly slip away into oblivion, letting your undead beloved gnaw on your bones and taste the love that would seep out of your flesh. You would probably turn a lot faster if that happened too. And then you’d be together for eternity. You knew Kyle always wanted you two to be together. Both in life and in death.

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” You barely manage to squeeze a smile out of yourself to comfort Kyle, feeling your strength leaving you. Succumbing to the weakness that spread a dull ache over your body, to that festering rot inside of you, that was finally overtaking. You felt cold, thin digits of terror sink right through your chest, sweat prickling once again on your forehead and temples. There was no use clinging unto something that was unsalvageable. Your body and your mind were beyond repair. You knew it. Only he kept you here.

“Please…don’t leave me.” Kyle couldn’t feel anything besides the pain and hot needles jabbing his eyes. Your touch almost felt unreal, how weak, subtle it was. He tore away from you only for a moment, bloody palms cupping your face. His lips pressed against yours in a quick, feverish kiss, and even more pecks like this followed – to your forehead, eyelids, corners of your mouth, and nose. As if this would save you from inevitably losing the remains of your strength. As if you weren’t clinging to your last seconds with him as it is. “Please…please.” He whispered against your skin. His tears glittered like gemstones in the dim glow of the sunset. Kyle looked so beautiful like this. Yours.

He missed the moment when he stopped feeling short, warm breaths on his neck and your body started to get cooler to the touch. But he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. A little more time, that’s all he needed. So, he lays your head across his lap, carefully, gently. Like he’s trying not to wake you up from a peaceful dream about places far better than this world. Kyle desperately tries to find that strength to make sure you won’t come back, to grant your last wish, but he just…he can’t. Now when you were right here, beside him, getting your well-deserved rest.

But you started stirring back to life unexpectedly, and just when Kyle wanted to say something, he realized, that it wasn’t quite you. The glazed-over eyes with a milky white cloud over them looked right through him, the blood that was dripping down from your nose, ears, eyes, and mouth after your brain finally shut off from the illness. The strained rasp, full of pain and hands that started grabbing and clawing at Kyle with crooked fingers, contorted into bizarre figures.

Kyle’s heart leaped down to his feet again in fear and he forced himself to push away your undead form, reaching out to him, pleading for something he no longer understood, as he crawled away, still facing whatever you turned into. If his heart wasn’t pumping blood through his body as fast he would’ve felt the small cuts from scraping his hands on the dirty floor. But his eyes were on what was left of you.

There were no traces of what he was searching for in this hollow shell, stolen from his love, stolen from you. Crimson trickling down from the mouth, the creature in your shape bares its bloody teeth and lets out a gargled moan, stretching the trembling hand towards him, demanding flesh, demanding sacrifice. And in Kyle’s mind, this isn’t you. This just can’t be. Absolutely not.

Kyle thought about the way you held him in your arms, while he gripped his shoulders in a tight hug. He thought of the way your thumb brushed over his knuckles. His thoughts traveled to the distant past, when you met him years ago in that summer camp, even before the world started rotting, only to be reborn a sick copy of itself.  He remembered your smile when you sat near countless bonfires. The way fire played in your eyes. Your old leather jacket, the tent in your old survivor camp, the older man with mutton chops.

It wasn’t long before a bullet was between his fingers, being drilled by his sharp eyes. Kyle sat there, silent, eyes trained on the gun in his hand, unable to even look at your cuffed undead. Contemplating. Letting his mind stir around, thoughts sticking to the inside of his skull, brewing and bubbling there, like heavy resin. Kyle’s heart sent waves of dull, ringing ache all over his body. His eyes were on fire, burning and raw from tears.

Nothing made sense anymore. Kyle’s endless search through his mind landed on another memory again. Survivor camp in the forest. Ring of mountains to the west. A woman with dark, brown eyes and a shaved head.

“Turning is not the end. They still harbor the memories of their former selves. They’re just prisoners in their own bodies. I know that it’s not the end for them, it can’t be.”

Right now, Kyle would’ve clung to any lie that would explain to him your state. He would’ve believed any tale. You can’t just be gone in an instant, just shedding all that made you yourself like a snake sheds its skin, or a bird picks out the old feathers. How could he ever accept that you were gone, like a puff of smoke on the wind, leaving no visible trace, only the gaping, bloody hole in his heart and years’ worth of memories in his head?

All he ever wanted was to be with you. In life and death.

A minute passes. Another one follows.

A single gunshot echoes through the valley, drowned out by the rumble of the herd.

Taglist - @mockerycrow, @stridersdiner

check out my other fics or send me a request/comment!

[communistkenobi]

I get what you mean through that post about TWD but for the sake of someone who can't articulate why, what is political abt TWD?

do not take what I’m about to say as the only possible interpretation of the walking dead - or zombie apocalypse media more broadly, but twd acts as a handy representative for the genre in the popular north american consciousness I think, so I will be using it interchangeably. But I think there are a couple productive perspectives you can take with this kind of media.

fundamentally I think twd is horror aimed at the middle class. It presents a world where the state is no longer present, where your fear of other people cannot be soothed by calling the police (the protagonist of the show being a cop is notable here). the state in this imaginary is the sole barrier between civilisation and savagery. People turn on each other, loot, destroy property, and are generally untrustworthy. Zombies are an unthinking hoard of non-persons who only spread disease and death. The suburb is no longer safe. The ‘message’ or thesis of twd and shows like it is that human beings are only orderly and polite to one another so long as there is a state to enforce these social norms, and absent that, everyone will turn on each other (the “social contract”). Zombies in this case are less an expression of medical anxieties about a pandemic (although that’s not not a concern), but more so an expression of concerns about ‘mass immigration’ and a general racial intrusion into white suburban life. Zombies aren’t just a plague people deal with, but almost always cause the complete dissolution of American society. I don’t think you can decouple zombies in popular American consciousness from the racial anxieties of white people.

and more deeply than that I think american zombie media is a similar type of expression of what Cesaire calls the boomerang effect - what colonial powers do overseas they will eventually do to themselves. Now he was speaking of Europe’s turn to fascism (fascism in this instance being framed as a form of domestic colonialism), and twd is not necessarily presenting zombies as a punishment we bring on ourselves. America and Canada are also both settler colonial states, meaning that settlers permanently occupy the land they have invaded instead of returning home, so this is slightly different. But I think when people imagine zombie apocalypses, they are working through a scenario where their own civilisation is devastated by some invading force, where their stolen property and land are stolen back from them. They are working through an imagined boomerang effect, a fantasy where they are the blameless victims and their ill-gotten gains are taken from them unjustly. The history of settler colonial states is such a horrific, apocalyptic state of affairs that projecting that back onto oneself is a way of working through that history without ever reckoning with what that means. It is easier to fear colonialism happening to you than to extend sympathy to those who have been dispossessed by your ancestors, and in this configuration, you don’t have to confront your own way of life or the part you play in this history.

And it’s doing other stuff too. I think there’s a lot you can dig into with how masculinity is portrayed in these types of shows - men protecting their families by killing hoards of zombies, by being rewarded at every turn for distrusting other people and being generally anti-social. White men in particular have internalised ideas about masculinity that are bound up in violence and racial superiority, and zombie media provides a handy fantasy in which you’re forced to protect your wife and kids by killing as many people as humanly possible. In this framework, the zombie apocalypse is almost a welcome state of affairs, facilitating a return of traditional masculinity where men can freely express their violent desires, and their victims are mindless diseased non-persons who you are morally obligated to destroy. Zombie apocalypses provide a scenario where masculinity is valuable again. It might be instructive to consider zombie media as “inventing a guy to get mad at” so you have some place to put these ideas about masculine and racial domination. White middle class Americans are probably the safest group of people on planet earth, but because of that sustained safety you need to invent imagined scenarios where the violence of your identity as a white person or a man is still relevant, and so shoving that into a fantasy where you HAVE to kill people is alluring. Of course, whiteness and masculinity still produce a lot of violence in the world and these people are generally violent in both direct and indirect ways (calling the cops on black people, mass shootings, etc), but like it’s harder to consider yourself a conquering hero while dialling 911 you know. I think this is a wish fulfilment fantasy in its purest form, confirming all of their racial paranoias and providing them with a space where they are REQUIRED to kill shitloads of people.

There’s definitely more you can say but I’ll cut it off for now. And just to be clear I’m not saying enjoying twd or the last of us or anything else makes you a white suprematist or whatever, but zombies in popular consciousness are (at least partially) tapping into the anxieties present in white supremacist settler colonial states. I can’t speak to the entire genre, and I’m sure there are instances where zombie apocalypses are presented differently, but at least in this instance twd is generally reactionary and provides a safe space for people to work out their feelings about whiteness and masculinity while living in the imperial core

[princessbrunette]

this is like related but also not related to the zombie apocalypse au but are the zombies like from the last of us zombies or like walking dead type zombies?

cuz if they’re tlou zombies than reader needs someone everywhere they go if they ever go outside the gate and I think walking dead zombies are only rlly harmful in big groups?? lol idk im rambling

amazing question omg. for everyone’s peace of mind i’m gonna say twd zombies, esp as i have cleo keep two of them on a leash. they’re easier to manage which is how reader was able to survive for a little while on her own with no weapons because she continuously ran. they’re pretty slow but if they creep up on you in a group they can be vicious, which is how sarah got bit in all the commotion </3

[markrosewater]

Different user, but on the topic of top down design in UB cards, one thing that stands out to me is how unique the card feels and how well its abiilites both establish it as a homage to an existing character and a unique, exciting game piece in Magic the Gathering

The Street Fighter Secret Lair cards are some of the best examples of this with the untap symbol on Ryu mirroring the quarter-circle input and the way the card working essentially letting you pull off a special cancel in card form. It took fairly simple abilities and stretched them into a way that was mechanically unique and filled a space that isn't filled by other cards.

Whereas I look at a card like Michonne from TWD Secret Lair and while there are clear allusions to Michonne's character, it's nothing that feels especially Michonne, let alone exciting as a card. She's equipment matters (in a color combo that really doesn't have much for that) and even the equipment she was printed alongside belongs to a different character (whose card has no benefit from being equipped with it at all), she doesn't do much that's exciting besides be a decent body in combat, it doesn't feel like you get anything special from playing Michonne mechanically, leaving her somewhat lackluster when compared to even other cards from her same Secret Lair, let alone some of the high points of UB design. You can tell Michone is a top down design, but nothing feels all that exciting about her or novel and while her abilities do harken back to her lore and character, they don't do much to excite the player. At least that's my perspective on it, it definitely is a very subjective topic.

I designed Michonne (and all the Walking Dead cards) so I can get into the specifics. At the time, we were restricted to evergreen abilities, so I had a lot less paint metaphorically to work with. (Glenn having his ability listed as skulk happened in development.)

The card represents very early Michonne, so she comes with her two zombies, which were a key part of her early appearance. Michonne starts as a loner and she has two Zombies on leashes that she uses as protection. Those two Zombies play heavily into her backstory.

I made her an equipment matters creature because her defining character, especially in her early appearance, was her mastery of her sword. She’s black/green because I was trying to capture the wild nature, out for herself, early version of Michonne.

I like pushing themes to colors that don’t traditionally do it as it forces players to have to make a new deck rather than just plug into a premade deck. There are plenty of available equipment for a black/green deck.

Lucille was never meant to go with Michonne. It was just a cool object from the show that we liked as the secret card.

Her cost and power/toughness were up to play design to figure out. I took a stab, but that type of balance happens later.

I do appreciate that we later dropped the evergreen restriction as that allows for a lot more nuance of design, but I’m proud of Michonne’s design given the constraints I had to work of. I read the Walking Dead comic, long before the TV show, and I spent a lot of time getting the essence of the characters.

[davenweenie]

I was doing a little rewatch of TWD (as every sane individual does) and here is how I think Lab Rats characters would be like in a zombie apocalypse. God, this is so niche.

Donald Davenport: would not survive, too high maintenance, would lock himself in the lab and eventually run out of food OR would get bit by a walker that sneaks up on him.

Tasha Davenport: probably would adapt eventually but in the way that either Michonne Grimes or Carol Peletier do. They adapt because of the losses they go through.

Douglas Davenport: was born for the apocalypse, would probably be the Daryl Dixon or Rick Grimes in this situation but a lot more relaxed and more talkative.

Leo Dooley: would survive but takes a while to adapt. Definitely the Noah of this storyline (probably because Leo’s actor’s brother played Noah 😭) still very funny, dark humour activated and would be a very important asset to the group. Potentially becomes some type of engineer or builder in the community.

Adam Davenport: part of me wants to say he’d survive easily but at the same time, I feel like he’d get himself killed doing the dumbest shit possible like getting sick from drinking contaminated water or accidentally shooting himself while cleaning a gun. I truly want him to survive but let’s be realistic here.

Bree Davenport: would survive, no questions asked. Her speed is awesome for supply runs and she will never be bit because she’s too fast.

Chase Davenport: would adapt the quickest because of his intelligence, his super senses are great for hearing walkers from miles away and he automatically knows how to do everything because of his super intelligence. Would find a cure for the virus like almost immediately though to be honest.

Additionally, the EF

Skylar Storm: same as Bree, would never be bit, would adapt super fast (like hello, alien who adapted to human customs almost immediately)

Kaz: has read so many zombie comic books and thinks he knows everything but actually takes a while to adapt. Becomes one of the doctors of the group and because of that is highly valued. He’s also great for starting campfires too.

Oliver: would take a while to adapt, vomited a few times when he saw a walker being killed or when he killed one. Also highly valued because he’s a doctor. I feel like he’d have a similar development as Father Gabriel tbh. Also very useful for creating clean water for people.

[roxineedstosleep]

Idk if this is a request or something but I just wanted to get it out there before I forget it. How would the batfam react to a batsis coming from the last of us universe?( the last of us is a zombie apocalypse type game.) How would they react to all of batsis PTSD from being born in a world over ran by zombie’s and learning to survive at a young age. How would they help them? How would they react if they ever were transported to there(batsis) world?

Don't worry, the truth is that I also questioned several times the reaction of an OC insert or Reader with the passage of time, characters who lived that situation.

Also, sorry if it’s a quite large, but I get exited about this, I was also thinking and thingking about this kind of situtation or scenario and could mange myself about it.

The Last of Us, I know it's based on a video game (comic too or at least I saw several fanmade ones, sorry I don't know much about it, my thing about apocalypse was The Walking Death). And from what I understand, since I get a lot of it on my TikTok feed (thanks Pedro Pascal, I love you in all your ways) I know that the way the infected are handled and the ways of contagion are pretty fucked up.

I mean, at least in TWD the bites were the sure shit, with a good body protector you could get away with it until you got to a safe place…. but that spore stuff? that's a fucking nightmare.

Not only should you avoid being bitten, you should avoid being in contact with any highly contagious source. Food, water, air that's been "stored", spaces that are too enclosed/humid and dark (from what I see I know it's a type of fungus, fungi spread better in those conditions)… I mean, really scary.

I think the only ones who could be saved from those situations would be those who live in sanctuaries in the middle of nowhere (highly extreme climates, like snowy and deserts) or those who reach space. In that situation, which I mentioned a little earlier, the situation for Batsis would be a little worse.

Caves? First place of contagion, unfortunately.

Away from all the PTSD that Batsis must surely have from the traumatic situation of living there…. I don't think it can get much better.

Let's play a bit of a game about it, as I love the What Ifs.

Should it be Batsis from an Apocalyptic Universe coming to a "Healthy" Universe, and by healthy I can even mean post Covid0s universe like ours.

In going from a sick world to a healthy one:

She wouldn't really know how to adapt, it's one thing if the situation was with her being an adult and she at least knew that much about what it meant to have a routine within the normal. Sure, Bruce and the boys would do their best to make her feel safe in many ways, but it wouldn't be possible to make her feel safe at all. She grew up, matured, and developed in that world where every breath could mean having a fucking killer fungus inside her.

Did you ever see videos of people with OCD or germaphobia during the pandemic? Many had breakdowns at such a level that they could become paralysed with fear, breakdowns or hysteria. She would refuse to leave her safe areas, no matter how hard her father and siblings tried to convince her that the rest of the mansion was safe to walk through.

The garden? She refuses to even look at it, places where the spread of spores is more likely due to all the wind and pollination (I've never known bugs or birds to be immune, but considering they can move around because of the pollination issue I don't doubt that any place free of nature is free of risk or cross-contamination).

The cave? The last time one of her brothers tried to get her down to be checked in the medical wing, she almost slit his throat with her own fingernails. She won't go down there, that place is dark, with an uncovered water source and full of dampness… Can't you see that one of those swollen beaks is probably there?

I think she would have serious problems with food, or so I think. Not that she wants to be mean to her, really. But from what I understood a little from seeing at least the first chapters of the series, and also played with several seasons of TWD, she herself would have to see how they prepare the food to avoid contamination or fear of spoiled food. I feel like she would be safe with canned food, specifically canned food that is older than a month before it all goes down the drain. After that, she would obsessively look at the factory's provenance and be in an internal binger over the places that were dropped one by one until she was sure she was safe to eat.

So I don't see her eating with her brothers or her father something that is homemade or from scratch. Unfortunately not. Especially the flours, since they are the crops that were the first to fall before the fungi. I'm sure she would calm down a bit if Alfred showed her the family garden and the fungicides they keep in the barn. If it's not that, will she walk away or not hesitate to spit it out?

To sleep? I think so, I think she would settle, but she is hidden to avoid any risk. Next to Dick, she's the best at hiding in the high and least expected places. After she was found napping in her chandelier, where she had no nightmares or panic attacks, they decided they would let her sleep there. At least until she gets used to the idea that a return portal isn't going to be there anytime soon.

Her father and her brothers would be there for her, don't doubt it. They would love her, they would try to understand her limits, to know that she went through that terrible place to destroy the mind of a poor girl. I mean, Ella was very lucky to have reached an age of near adulthood... Do you know what that mean?

She is happy to have her brothers and her father and her grandfather back in her life. Every day she prays to all the gods she knows, to thank for not having to return to that place. But, even though she has the support of her family, the trauma cannot be reversed.

After those, which I do know are several problems to overcome, I truly believe that she would panic or become hypervigilant when there is a man, who is not from her family, near her... and for sad reasons.

In itself, for a world without the problems of the apocalypse, it is already dangerous to be a woman. Now that the whole world, morale and the little security we had has gone down the drain? I feel like it's even more dangerous. If I remember correctly there is a movie that touches on that subject. Of the possible life of women within a post-apocalyptic world. The SA would be the bread of every day, kidnappings and assaults for the possibility of being able to repopulate the earth would not be strangers. Even more so if we don't talk about ultra-religious cults that try to sell the idea of a woman's sacrifice to "heal" the masses.

Do you see what I'm going to? The fact that she survived childhood and was into young adulthood means that she had to be protected and she knew how to defend herself against all of that. And even more so because, despite everything, she could never fully forgive Bruce for what he did to her and her brothers.

Earlier I mentioned that only the most privileged could be inside those sanctuaries or even reach space to be safe from earth, right?, well. There goes a bit of the matter.

Bruce decided to stay.

For the general public, Bruce Wayne, his children and his closest friends went to one of the many earthly sanctuaries as soon as things turned terribly ugly, but not before sending all his employees safely to a compound of National security.

But Batman? Batman, Robin, and the rest of the bat family stayed to wear out their souls, their safety, and their lives for a city full of killer mushrooms.

She remembers how at first the whole family agreed to stay in the city to find a cure with the help of the League. But over time, when Alfred fell ill, Tim was infected, when Duke had to amputate his arm, Jason almost got infected and Dick was not found for months (not counting attempted assaults on S and others to kidnap her). things in the family got much worse.

Robin in case he was a child soldier, but at this point he looked more like a killing machine than a human being, she herself tried to find a cure and it was more risky and almost impossible over the time to find users who did not have advanced disease or who were immune.

She begged her father that at least the LG members with higher immunity would take care of the safety of the earth, that she and her siblings could be moved to the moon base. Superman, Wonder Women and Mr. Martian could easily handle the situation without going on a death streak every time they breathed, she and her brothers were not that lucky.

But Bruce didn't listen to her, no by any chance.

One by one they began to fall, all her family started to died, even her father amputated his leg after a bad mission plan, until, in an intent of being helpfull (she had simply fled across town looking for medicine for her father's fever), a porthole opened and she fell to that new world where his father and brothers were safe.

Did she ever forgive Bruce for that? No, even in that world where none of that happened, she couldn't forgive the fact that her mother decided to sacrifice himself and his siblings when they could have found another way to save themselves.

Bruce? He will never forgive himself when he finds out that it was his fault and his stubbornness that caused his family to perish. Even more so when he finds out that his daughter, with whom he fought the most and argued about escaping the planet to be save, in any case put his integrity at risk for wanting to save him from a fever that would have killed him anyway at the end of the day.

It hurts Dick to see how Batsis always jumps on him and the rest of his brothers to see if they have any bites or open wounds, Jason is destroyed to see how his sister shakes like a leaf, but he allows anyways to Damian to take her to the garden to get fresh air. Tim watches, in dispair, as she tries to learn all the first aid techniques and amputation procedures, because she is afraid to come back at any time and not know how to do it; Bruce cries when he sees how his daughter, his sweet girl, stores as much food as he can in hidden corners of the mansion and high on the roof; Damian can't help but feel weak when he sees, clearly sees and notices, how his sister is starving to eat any home-cooked food, but they end up throwing up when he takes a tentative bite and must go back to the canned goods.

It hurts everyone, it tears them apart, and she suffers in the process too. Of course, she no longer has to run for her life every hour, she can breathe easy, she can have all the canned goods she wants and she knows that her brothers and her father will be with her after she closes her eyes and opens them again. .

Psychiatric treatments only work in part, therapies are somewhat slow and not easy to achieve. I mean, no one can tell a specialist doctor that she comes from another universe, Harley Queen could be an option, she herself knows a lot of shit about the multiverse and astuff, but even after a general check-up she had told Bruce, no matter how much treatment she could give him toast to Batsis, poor kid would be scarred forever.

At least the therapies help with the issue of food and hypervigilance. Outside of that, she will always need the support of others to get through everything else.

[clinicsharmartia]

DISCLAIMERS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!

This is a DELAYED character review. I know what’s going to happen to them in s2. I’m saying this as to say that I’m fully aware of the dramatic irony of some of these character reviews 😭 also this is a transcript from an audio I sent to my friends when I actually finished S1 so I’m sorry if some bits don’t make sense. I’ve edited a bit but not entirely.

TWD CHARACTER REVIEWS - SEASON 1

Rick Grimes: 10/10. He is an amazing person, he’s an even more amazing father. He's selfless, kind, gentle, understanding, caring, protective, loving, brave and so much more. The relationship that he has with people around him is so nice to watch. Him owning up to things immediately without knowing how people react is such a nice characteristic about him that I really hope he doesn't lose. He’s just— ugh I love him. I can’t wait to see how his character progresses and how his relationships change.

Lori Grimes: 9/10. She's an amazing mother. She's an amazing wife. She is a good person who is trying her best. So many people hate on Lori Grimes because she ‘cheated’ with Shane. He was a rebound. If I was in her situation I would do the same. You get told that your husband is dead during the apocalypse, which means he’s DEAD, never coming back, and you’re forced to live in the woods with your only son who only looking up to you in this moment. It is such a devastating situation to be in. You’re mourning and grieving while trying to keep your only son safe in this horrible horrible world and the next best thing to your husband, the closest thing your him, walks up to you to give you comfort, protection and security. Of course she would turn to him. Of course she would sleep with him. I would do the same thing. And the guilt on her face, you know she regrets it so much. She's so kind and sweet and protective. I know it's not gonna be for very long unfortunately but from what we have with Lori Grimes I cannot wait to see her progression in the show a character, as a mother, and as a wife.

Carl Grimes: 10/10. I'm pretty sure I teared up a bit when I first saw him on screen because he's just so little he's just a baby it's just a little baby boy he is so small. My maternal instincts kicked in fucking immediately when I saw him on screen. He's just a little kid and this is what I love about Carl Grimes. He is accurate representation of what happens of what would happen if you put a child in the apocalypse and then them having to go through puberty during the apocalypse. I am so fucking excited to see his character progression. I cannot wait for him to be sassy. I love him mwah.

Shane Walsh: -10/10. I know we need characters like him in these types of media, and I know that he was an important part of the plot, and I KNOW that he is a well written character, but I hate him so much. The only time I want him on screen is when he’s dying. The only time I want to see him open is mouth is when he’s screaming in agony. I hate him. Disgusting filth.

Daryl Dixon: 8/10. He's a very very funny character with a lot of baggage but he’s so loving and caring, just in his own ways. You can really tell that he wants to protect everyone there and that his act is just an act because he can’t admit to loving anyone. He’s a complex character and I like it a lot. Also, the way that people treat him in this season is so horrible. You come back after hunting for the group of people that you have decided you were going to look after and you see this guy rock up and he says “yeah your brother? yeah I left him for dead after I locked him up to a metal pipe on the top of a roof in the sweltering heat surrounded by zombies LOL. I'm Rick Grimes by the way” and people get upset with him getting angry at that? Then, people are saying you shouldn’t go and find him because no one likes him. And then you go after him anyways BECAUSE HES YOUR BROTHER and you find his SEVERED HAND instead. And then you come back and your camp gets attacked by walkers and one of your camp mates get bit, and when you say you should kill him to prevent any pain or suffering, people call you crazy and weird. WTF! Wtaf. Daryl is getting so much hate from them like what. Anyways I love Daryl, I can’t wait to see how his character develops and how his relationships change, and how he adapts to the new environments and people (because we all know what he’s like).

Glenn Rhee: 9/10. Glenn is an amazing guy. He's funny, a bit stupid and has some great lines as well. He's very smart, very valuable and his humanity and compassion is what really makes me love him. He saw a random stranger surrounded by zombies and instead of doing what he was supposed to do he took time out of his mission time out of that situation to save him. What could've very much gotten him killed to help the stranger. And then the stranger comes back and makes him do something that he really doesn't want to do (covering yourself in blood and guts and gore and walking through a street of zombies which could very much kill you in a second is not something he wants to do) but he does it anyways because he does it for the people that he cares about. Then he comes back to camp and the whole ambush happens and they're about to burn one of the camp members bodies and he yells at them and he says “we don't burn our people we bury them”. That line made me so so emotional and it means so much to me that they added that in because it is such an emotional and beautiful line for me. It honestly really highlights him as a character and the humanity and compassion he carries even after everything. I really loved him again. I can't wait to see his character progression, I can't wait to see how his relationships progress as well and how his skills are able to be used in the long run.

Dale: 8/10. I really love him. He’s a great guy doing his very best to try and teach and help the group. He is the word of wisdom, he is the one you look to for guidance. I absolutely adore him. Although, dragging Andrea out of suicide was not great, didn’t like that. Can’t wait to see how he’ll help the group in the future.

Andrea: 6/10. She is a little bit annoying, but she seems quite smart. I don't like how she treats certain people though. Like, I can't explain it but the way she goes about some things just urk me really bad. I think she has a lot of room for improvement, but right now she's okay. I want to see what she can bring to the table though.

Carol: 9/10. BAD ASS BITCH. She is amazing and funny and trying her best. I cannot wait to see her healing process and how her relationships change and how her skills develop. I love her.

T-DOG: 7/10. He's cool, I like him a lot. You can tell that he's trying his best and he has a nice voice. I think he can do a lot of good for the group in the later seasons as we can see that he's already helped quite a bit. Also, his loving and caring nature is really nice to see. Merle called him a racial slur and threatened to hurt him and still he went back to chain the door shut so he could have a chance to survive. He's super cool.

[silasplaskett]

every time someone writes a no-zombie twd au where rick and lori just get divorced im like oh god is that wishful thinking. they both REEK of keep it together for the kids type mentality. i know its usually like. for the plot but. every time its always a little funny to me.

[lovetecchou]

hey chat.. 😅 i need motivation or ill end up never posting on here like ever so maybee js maybe send in some requests😣

fandoms ill write for

most comfortable writing for:

avatar (2009 & wotw)

twd

mostly any kpop group, mostly skz, enhypen, or ateez

other fandoms ill write for:

zombies (1, 2 & 3)

crk

creepy pasta

almost any anime, mostly bsd, jjk, and mha

some rules for requesting

im not very experienced in writing for women, (smut, fluff or angst,) so ill still take reqs for women, it might just take me longer to fulfill.

i will write smut, fluff and angst for any character, but any minors WILL be aged up for smut.

i will not write incest, step-cest, or any type of cest, and i also will not write abt piss kinks, knife kinks, (any kinks including a weapon,) or wax play.

please req im struggling

[homecomingvn]

How would everyone react in a zombie apocalypse?

My time as the 14dwy! Zombie AU Creator has finally come -

HENRY: Wouldn't last long - I genuinely think they'd turn pretty fast; whether it be a ground zero type of situation, or just being dumb in general. But, if they were to survive, would be a loner for the most part - most of his allies end up dead somehow...

LYRA: would probably kill herself Would be EXTREMELY weary of others, sm so she'd probably be on her own for the most part. I can also see her having 'pet' zombies (kinda like Michonne did in TWD) as a extra form of protection. She strikes me as a survivalist as well (think of Bill from TLOU).

ELIJAH: Wouldn't last long either, but not for the same reason as Henry - Eli is very kind, and I think that kindness could easily be taken advantage of in a setting like this. Would settle into a commune / group setting w/ friends + family (thinking of the Jackson Community in TLOU).

SANDY: Unsure, I think it could go either way for Sandy. Knows when + when not to help people, maintaining a healthy balance. Would struggle w/ putting down friends who get infected - fully believes there to be some humanity left. Would probably be in the same group as Eli.