#c; jamie (the outcast son)

[aerospectrum]

“a mirrored picture of my old man… god the kid looks so sad… i’m seventeen going under….”

[sanderssons]

Take What You’ve Got - Part 1/1

The thought that this comic might not be dead fills you with DETERMINATION

So here’s something no one asked for but I felt guilty not sharing. Where we stopped on the plot, Roman was having trouble adapting in school, but noticed his real friends were elsewhere. Still, he has a plan to fit in better at school. 

Theres two more pages that I have sketched out to finish the School plot (nothing very exciting I’m afraid) and I can’t guarantee when I’m going to finish them - and I also can’t promise to be able to do the other plots I had originally thought out. 

[Below you can find a rant explaining why the comic is in this unnanouced and massive hiatus, if you really want to know]

After stoping Sanders Sons I went through a really rough art block and I felt like my art lost touch with my creativity for a long time. I’m only now getting back to it, but I don’t really have as much free time as I had.

Moving countries was really hard and the last year of college is killing me. I already had to give up something I really enjoyed because the anxiety it gave me and the lack of free time I had because of it made it impossible to carry any further - even though I enjoyed it very much. 

I feel like I lost touch with what I was doing here. Still, I love my babies and I love doing comics and telling stories and I feel like I still have a lot to give to this community that took me so willingly when I was homesick and lonely. 

That’s why I don’t fell like giving up on this comic is an option. I just might need to rethink it. I was thinking of returning to slice of life comics instead of focusing on the plots (even though the plots were super awesome to write and illustrate).

If anyone has any ideas - or just wants to talk to the boys after all this time - just shoot me an ask and I’ll be happy to reply

Thanks, guys, gals and non-binary pals. 

Peace out 

[EDIT: Also, I forgot I had a tag list so here @ccecode @hrtnsolofytube @multifandomsonofabitch@jamie-the-outcast @emeliethetimelady @parano-vigilant  @glitterincluded @evanisonfire @sanderssidesstuff@procrastinatingwithglitter@anniemiku @morallogic @fandomsandnonsense7 @tinyten19 @2manyfandoms2count-love @raepandarustr @creepy-cupcakes @the-prince-and-the-emo @syafiindahouse @alyssadashrub@greymane902 ]

[aerospectrum]

this is purely rambling for a canon divergent headcanon for jamie’s backstory that I needed to set free but I’m trying to save the dash sanity with a readmore

semi-inspired by this

It’s a quarter past 10pm when Jamie gets up from his desk. He paces the oversized office, pausing at the window to stare out at the empty car stalls lining the street. This isn’t home; this isn’t even life and certainly not one he ever really wanted. 

He sets his permissions badge on the stack of files placed neatly on the corner of his desk. He stares at the half cold cup of coffee he brewed not twenty minutes earlier that ripples with every footstep he takes towards it. This isn’t what he wants. 

He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life living under the thumb of a neglectful father who’s never shied away from announcing his disappointment in who he was or was becoming. He can’t stand under the weight of his failures and he doesn’t think he can survive knowing his younger sister’s words were never wrong; the more he became what John wanted the more John hated him. He can’t live with knowing she’s right. He can’t and he won’t. 

There’s a guilt that peels away at his reserve every chance it gets. Beth’s retaliation for his role in destroying her own chances at bringing life into the world eats away at him more than anything. Her constant threats to kill him; to annihilate him off the face of any map that he lingers on sit heavy on the side of things he can’t reconcile. There’s a damage he’s inflicted on her that no amount of regret will ever undo— they were teenagers, terrified of their father’s rage, but still… he didn’t tell her. He didn’t even warn her. He walked her into that clinic knowing they’d take her future from her. He hates himself everyday for it, but he’s never been able to let her know that. And even if she did know, it wouldn’t be enough and she’d spare the energy to beat it into him even deeper than it was: his self-loathing wasn’t enough. 

He feels stripped of his humanity within the Dutton household. He doesn’t belong and he knows in this moment that he never did. He wants to, he’s desperate to. It’s not even about whether he’s blood related or not- there’s something intrinsically wrong within him, he’s reached a brokenness that can’t be returned for a do-over. He doesn’t belong. This isn’t the life he. It never was. 

Maybe it really is nature versus nurture. Maybe he was always going to be some sort of monster the way his biological father was. He should’ve told Kayce that it was his own father who set up the hit on everyone- sparing him for whatever reason, Jamie would never know. He wishes he’d told Kayce. He wishes he’d done everything differently. He wishes he could call him and say goodbye, but Kayce’s gentle understanding would be too harsh a punishment for what Jamie knows he deserves. So he leaves every part of himself behind in that office. 

For a long time he ponders over what John views him as, he tries to decipher what constitutes as cowardice and what counts as growth. He sets his suit jacket and tie down on the back of the chair and slowly unbuttons the collared shirt. sliding the expensive fabric off he throws it in a heap beside the dress pants and shoes. The exposure of cold air to his skin makes his arms bristle and the hair at the nape of his neck stands. He redresses slowly; contemplating leaving a note the entire time. He can’t bring himself to explain anything. He doesn’t want to. He wants to leave no trace of himself. 

He pulls the dark green shirt on, it’s scratchy and almost threadbare, then he slides the mixed shades of auburn plaid on top of it. His jeans are loose and sink against the abrupt curve of his hipbones and his boots are worn in to a comfortable bend, coated with dirt and earth that’s older than him. He sets his cell phones on the ID and permissions badges and stares at the blank screens. He had his numbers disconnected earlier in the day; he recalls the jovial tone he used with the agent; her laughter at his jokes at deciding to live off the grid that were actually real all along. 

Jamie takes the thick packet slapped with some fancy government seal and warning about how the unlawful theft of it was a punishable crime. He roughly stuffs it into the backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “All I’ve ever done is try to protect this family.” He says to the empty office space, lingering at the doorway he turns to look around, trying to engrave the memory of it all one last time. He clicks the switch to the lights off and heads out the back stairwell, where the hall at the end of it spits him out into the empty parking lot. 

There’s a haunting nostalgia that sweeps through his veins and makes his bones creak with an ache that he can’t shake. Each step takes him further than he’s ever thought to go. 

The roads are silent, the wind howls against him, whistling against the asphalt and matching up with his rhythmic inhaling and exhaling. It’s almost sunrise when a truck comes barreling down the dusty side road he’s been on for hours. 

“Where ya headed?” The friendly voice calls out. It’s warm and gruff and reminds him of his father for a split second. He has to think it over for a beat longer than he should’ve, the impatient tap of the man’s hands against his steering wheel pulls Jamie’s focus back to the moment. 

“Somewhere far… out of state.” He scrounges the answer up as best as he can; he feels like luck is one his side with how easily his identity seems to slide under the radar. 

He traveled all across the states after the first ride. Each time he’d invent a new idea for himself. He grew his hair long, no long needing to plaster it down to his head or keep it trimmed and under control for the office or his families public presence. Sometimes he’d grow a beard and hide behind the disguise of dirt and little sleep. His missing status was difficult at the start; every once in a while a lone driver would offer him and ride and stare at him like he was a ghost. Then it would click and they’d begin to pry, asking him if he knew he was the missing AG or ask him if he needed help back to Montana. They were always well meaning, but he’d brush it off and insist he was nothing more than an intensely familiar doppelgänger. Or he’d lie through his teeth and create an elaborate backstory for why he was traveling. They’d eat it up and drop him off where he needed and he’d leave before they could contact any sort of law enforcement or officials about his whereabouts. 

Nearly five years passed before people stopped recognizing him. His thick black hair had gotten long and taken on a salt and pepper hue, coupled with the facial hair he blended into his surroundings well enough that he’d started to put roots down. He even let himself come out of the closet he’d been forced into as a young teen and for once he was happy, genuinely happy.

He frequented a bar near the river and had become close friends with most of the bartenders there. Sometimes they’d try to work their way into his past, but he’d learned how to decipher their tricks and he cultivated a good enough backstory that they’d buy it and even seem willing to let it be the part of his past he didn’t want to talk about. They never tried to tempt him with any sort of bait and switch tactics; they’d just listen and offer advice. He was slowly finding his own identity and becoming someone he felt ok with being. 

It was early in the evening when his phone lit up on the tabletop, an unknown number. He laughs at something the bartender says to him and grabs the small device out of habit. His smile is warm and it finally reaches his eyes. It’s a type of happiness he only felt when he was a young teen and his mother would tell him he was the luckiest decision she got to make. Before she died. Before his father let it be known through his actions that the land was his true love. Before Beth and him became insufferable mortal enemies. Before, before, before…

He doesn’t know why he answered it. It’s probably an old muscle memory that rears up from his political law days. He slides the screen to answer followed by a grimace at his stupidity. “Hello?” He asks, his heart drops deep into his stomach when she speaks back. 

“You’re a hard one to find.” 

“How did you get this number?”

“I’m coming to get you… you’re coming back.”

“Goodbye, Beth.” He hangs up the phone and the bartender notices how his smile has fallen, replaced with a guilt she only ever sees hardened criminals and people running from a past they can’t escape swimming in. 

[aerospectrum]

@homelander-rp-blog asked: "I can't look at myself in the mirror…" ( you pick your muse! <3 ) Scrubbing Off The Trauma Starters :: OPEN

"It get's hard to do at times..." Jamie rests a gentle hand on the supes shoulder but finds his gaze wandering everywhere other than the man, still trying to wrap his mind around the reality of what he'd just witnessed. His pulse beats so hard he can feel it in his head; he refuses to admit it, but he's slightly terrified of Homelander.... of John. "Let me help you." he finally turns his attention to the blue eyes that stand out against the blood covering John's face. "I can put a towel over the mirror and.. I'll help you clean off, come on, I'll run you a shower and I'll sit outside the doors till you, till you feel like coming out."

[aerospectrum]

@homelander-rp-blog asked: " you don't scare me. " ( For Jamie! ) BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD MEMES : : OPEN

“Well maybe I should, John!” Jamie sat on the cement barricade, his sticky hands clasped together, blood smeared up to his wrists and face. crying out of fear or even pain had long since been beaten out of him as a child; but Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if John was the same. who was he before the apocalypse? before walkers took over and infection spread- who was John before they’d even met? did his family raise him with warmth, with compassion and respect and belonging? would Jamie lose him too?

“you shouldn’t be in here.” he could taste the blood of the man he’d killed; the scream from his lungs that had gurgled from his torn out throat when Jamie had seemingly turned for just a moment into one of those… things just outside the walls of the secure encampments. “You have to let me go.” Jamie turned to look at John, his blue eyes a sickly shade of green and orange like the zombies that had descended on them during the supply run leaving a gaping bite mark just below his ribcage. “here… I, I want you to have this.” Jamie tugged the colorful threaded rope off from around his neck and held it out to the man. “My brother gave me this before he died; he said it would protect the ones he loved for as long as they needed, I want you to have it.” he swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away salty tears. “I, I don’t want you to be here when it’s time, John… you’ve suffered enough already.”

[aerospectrum]

starter for @musesfromthefifthdimension

Jamie paced the room for a quiet moment; rolling the discomfort of uncertainty around in his thoughts as he did. "But I don't understand, I don't know why you're here-- or why you picked me to come speak with." He exhaled a quick sigh and finally took a seat beside the man. "I don't exactly have a lot to offer these days."

[aerospectrum]

@homelander-rp-blog asked : 🦴(you pick your muse!) send to 🦴 break my muses arm or 🩸 to see someone else break my muse's arm :: OPEN

"Stop... please!" he cries out; an unholy mix of trauma and exhaustion staining his features. "--It wasn't me- I'm not working for anyone!" he exclaims as the supe floats down towards him again; with dark eyes glowing red.

Homelander barrels into him and the force sends him skidding backwards across the street like tumbleweed until he hits the curb. He rolls onto his chest with a groan and tries to push himself onto his knees, There's a sudden surge of panic when Homelander places a knee on his back between his shoulders and grabs his arm, yanking it back towards himself. There's a sickly crunching sound meshed with a crack and pop and Jamie's vision turns a blinding, pulsating white. He hears himself screaming, pleading for help, but nobody comes... nobody answers other than the Supe still holding his now snapped arm.

[aerospectrum]

starter for @sherunsfaster

His jeans are torn and covered in mud, his palms are scraped raw and trails of red run lines down his arms. His lungs feel like they’re going to burst apart inside of his chest, but he keeps running. All Jamie knows is something inhuman is after him and he can’t stop, not even for a breath. 

He splashes through a creek and feels the water shuck at his clothes slowing him, but he crawls up the muddy embankment and keeps sprinting. He comes to a ridge lined with old tree trunks and rocks; there’s a clearing further down and he thinks if he can just get there he can make it. He can survive. 

But the thing catches him right when he’s letting himself feel hope. It’s like a train barreling into his back, he falls headfirst, spinning down the mossy pathway before smacking up against a tree with cracked branches that nearly impale him. 

It moves faster than a blur, his heart seizes up and his lungs feel like they’re being squeezed in a vice grip. He throws his arms up to cover his face but they quickly fall when he feels himself being lifted by his neck off the ground. There’s a gurgling noise in the back of his throat as he tries to inhale, watching rows of knifelike teeth inch closer and closer. He’s desperately trying to pry their fingers loose, but nothings working.

[aerospectrum]

continuation from this ask : with @crassbutcharming

"Listen here, Counselor. You want a goddamn monologue? I'm not some Broadway actor prancing around in tights. I'm Soldier fucking Boy. I've been fighting wars since you were swimming in your daddy's nutsack.

You want complicated? How's this for complicated: I was the greatest hero this country ever had. Took down Nazis, commies, you name it. Then my own team - Payback, bunch of treacherous little shits - they sold me out to the Russians. Next thing I know, I'm waking up decades later in a world gone soft, where every punk with a phone thinks they're a hero.

Now Vought, the company I bled for, they're painting me like I'm some kind of monster. Meanwhile, that star-spangled asshole Homelander is prancing around like he owns the place. They took everything from me - my time, my reputation, my country. Hell, they even took my goddamn shield.

So yeah, it's complicated. But here's what's simple: I want what's mine. My money, my name cleared, and maybe a piece of Vought's ass while we're at it. You think you can handle that, or do I need to dumb it down for you some more?"

Jamie raised his brows and held back a laugh in earnest entertainment at the ball of energy facing him, figuring out quick enough that this was anything but a normal case he'd agreed to take on. This was a literal superhero in his office sitting at his desk-- possibly insulting him-- definitely insulting him, but also entrusting him enough to seek counsel. And not just any superhero, thee superhero- the one who basically started it all; to quote him: Soldier fucking Boy.

"Nazi's, commie's and sold out to the Russians, huh? Well that's quite an adventure uh.... Soldier Boy." he quipped, unsure if it would end poorly the moment he decided to use the mans government name. "Holy shit seems a bit like an underreaction given everything you've laid out here." he pawed through the stacks of files and pressed his fist against his cheek as he stared at one of the files from Vought regarding The Seven and Vought's tower- damages, injuries... Homelander's claims of unprovoked assault. Holy fucking fuck. He pressed his hand over his mouth, sticking a long finger across the cleft of his bottom lip before he sighed and flicked his eyes back up to meet Ben's... Soldier Boys.

"I can more than handle it... since you, you know, dumbed it down and all for me." he pressed his lips into a thin line, his sharp-eyes boring into the supes. "I take it I don't need to dumb it down for you just how impenetrable Vought and their lawyers are. They'd throw the entire tower at you along with the book if law allowed for it and they most likely will attempt it regardless of the case we build here. I'm not gonna sugar coat this for you, Ben-- seeing as I was just one kleenex away from obscurity... we're going up against everyone here. You think your team betraying you the first two times was fucked; this won't be like anything you've ever dealt with. They're gonna come at you from every direction- call it a fucking psychological gangbang... you sure you're stable enough for that? I wouldn't want to have to explain a senile meltdown to the bench."

[aerospectrum]

time-jump from here with @homelander-rp-blog

Jamie makes his way into a hall lined with statues and portraits of America and its founders. “Where the fuck am I?” He asks himself aloud. 

He raises his arms to see there’s hardly any bruising from where they'd snapped when his entire body engulfs itself in flames that don’t consume him. He screams in terror anyway— until a redhead comes rushing around a corner and sprays him with a fire extinguisher. He hardly gets his mouth shut when it’s filled with foam. Jamie uses both hands to wipe foam from his eyes and listens to it splatter onto the floor. “What’s happening to me?!” He asks her in a panic, before catching her prying eyes just staring at his naked form- he covers himself with his hands and backs against the wall.

“Don't move, you've made enough of a mess already." she glances over her shoulder. "Homelander, sir?!” Ashley calls out, giving Jamie side eye that’s more intrusive than judgmental. “ your weird little … matchstick guy's awake!” She calls for the Supe and turns to invasively eyeball Jamie from head to toe and then stops at his hands trying to get a look.

[aerospectrum]

starter for @ofmulti-fandoms

Jaime hated being two things: cold and wet. But survival didn’t take into consideration one’s dislikes and sometimes narrowly escaping walkers or threats from other survivors meant splashing through high water and suffering the consequences of the biting chill of the night that followed.

He tucked himself carefully into the groove of a rocky overhang and peeled his soaking wet jeans off, then his sweatshirt and the soggy remnants of a t-shirt as well and hung them over the branches to give them a better chance of drying by morning.

At the first cracks of sunlight Jamie was still trying to stave off the remnants of sleep while pulling on the mostly damp t-shirt when he heard the unmistakable click of a gun chamber. Pantless, weaponless, and shivering in the sunrise all felt humiliating; he tried not to move too quickly though. “I’m not a walker!” he spoke quickly; eyeing the jeans and sweatshirt that dangled on the branches beside him then slowly he shifted his gaze to the man across from him. “I didn’t know this place was taken already.. I can leave- right now, I won’t.. cause any trouble; my clothes were wet and I was just letting them dry.” he tried to keep his shaky voice level and confident but it was hard not knowing if he was about to be shot dead on the spot or simply shot and left for dead instead. “Please don’t kill me…” he offered the plea through half closed eyes though he didn’t have to shut them; his dark hair hung over his face and did a good enough job of hiding from sight already.

[aerospectrum]

plotted starter for @wexarethewalkingxdead

The heat had a way of being unbearable, but even so Jamie wished the fall would hurry up and get there. The cold he could handle; he could always pile on more layers or shed them just the same; but the heat was just… hell. What was he supposed to do? Peel his skin off? Turn into wrinkly old wizard fingers?

He dragged the old bandana over his forehead and eyes and exhaled a breath. He could feel the exhaustion saturating his bones, but he needed supplies and the endless stretch of walker-less road had led him to what he assumed was a mostly deserted town. There were a few structures still standing; a couple buildings that looked more than habitable— for a second he even swore he heard running water nearby. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he wriggled his way in past some old barbed wire barricades and fencing, carefully aligning his own noises with the creaking of the rickety metal and weathered slats of wood.

Jamie let his mind wander once he’d slipped inside a darkened drugstore with yellowed glass and shelves full of forgotten necessities. He took slow, even footsteps; only allowing his fingertips to graze along the boxes and cases of liquids and snacks that had long since soured. He paused, sucking in a breath of air when he heard noise from a few aisles down. Shit. Shit shit shit. His mind raced, quickly eyeing all the exits and any smashed out windows he could easily get to. His panic quickly turned to curiosity when he heard voices— actual words, real humans- well, a human anyway, speaking actual sentences. He peered into the aisles, silently scanning for their form while nudging obstacles out of his way for a better look.

His hand lingered idly at the base of his gun still clicked into the holster at his thigh as he watched them. A woman who seemed less worried about the emptiness of the store than he could ever hope to be. It was like she wasn’t fazed by the constant threat of being eaten alive like a twizzler at any moment. His brows furrowed together almost becoming one, he mirrored each of her movements; making sure to keep his breath silent and his ears focused on any sudden ambush sensation. He’d heard stories about other groups— ones that lived among the walkers— others who ran things like a camp separating the weak from the survivors… often from unreliable narrators. But he didn’t want to actually find out if any of the narratives were true. He shifted sideways and crouched down close to the floor, hidden by a low counter and watched her grab a few items; his elbow bumped a dust ridden display and he turned to catch the item just as it nearly smashed apart on the floor.

Jamie felt himself exhale in heavy relief; his chest rising and falling at the idea of being discovered or captured while trying to feed himself and find fresh water. He convinced himself he was safe for the time being.

[aerospectrum]

@wexarethewalkingxdead said: "Let's go home." (from Carol to Jamie)

Carol rolled over expecting to feel the warmth of Jamie’s back against her face; instead the jarring chill of the blanket roused her from her rest. The room was still cloaked in darkness and the silence felt overwhelming for her. She’d gotten entirely too used to the comfort of Jamie’s presence— even if they hadn’t spoken what they both felt yet… that tricky little four letter word that would make things real and change everything, Carol never liked when he wasn’t close enough for her to feel. 

She sat up and stretched her arms above her head before she pulled on her clothes and made her way down the steps.  The heavy rain beat against the window, drowning out her voice as she called for Jamie; peeking into the different rooms until she decided to make her way outside.

The scuffle was just that though, nothing more than a scuffle. Negan had shoved Jamie backwards kicking him with another taunt to fight back. “Come on; don’t be a pussy.” He’d added on and Jamie rolled up onto his knees and barreled his shoulders headfirst into Negan’s knees tackling him down into the mud wrestling him onto his back while getting a good few swings in.

But Negan was a dirty fighter and managed to hit Jamie in the throat before twisting their positions around so Jamie was caught in a headlock with the man’s knee digging into the soft skin along his spine between his shoulders. Carol had come running with the sound do the commotion of the younger teens all yelling about the fight; and managed to step in when Negan had the front of Jamie’s shirt fisted in his hand; practically forcing him onto his tiptoes nose to nose with the once hallowed villain turned supposedly decent member of their camp. “Take it back!" Jamie glowered up at the man who leered at him with a smirk that only made his blood boil.

"I can't take back the truth, kid... You think I wanna be the one to tell you it's your fault?"

Jamie’s eyes darkened the way the sky did when an unexpected storm rolled in; the mix of emotions spread like wildfire; each one filtering through his face faster than the next as Negan broke the reality of it to him. His eyes shifted back and forth anxiously from one spot to the next- one face to another and back to Negan who exhaled the heavy air hanging between them and let go of his shirt. “Jamie." He drawled his name and cast a glance to Carol who looked ready to slash his neck. "Look I know how hard this is to hear and I’m sorry, but—“ 

“Shut up.” Jamie stopped him, taking a step back and trying to catch his breath. “J-just shut up— you’re lying.” 

“Jamie I’m not-“ the guy grabbed him and that time-- tried to pull him in for a hug, as if it'd be comforting to be consoled by the guy who not only beat you up but broke the news that people were dead because of him. Jamie shoved him back hard and anger reared its face. 

“Don’t fucking touch me- don’t touch me you liar- you fucking liar.” He shoved the guy again; pushing past him and disappearing into the overgrown field of mud and weeds. Negan tilted his head back and sighed up at the sky, nodding to the other woman, an unspoken apology and acknowledgement that he'd gone back on their deal to not tell Jamie. 

By the time Carol found Jamie she was soaked to the bones herself from the cold and bitter downpour that refused to let up. “Jamie?” She called over the thunder and crackling lightning but Jamie didn’t flinch, he didn’t budge- he didn’t move. He simply stared ahead at nothing as he sat crisscrossed in the muddy field.

The rain pelted him like hail; his hair was matted to his face; covering his ears and eyes; hanging in thick dark, wet rivulets over his features; his clothes clung to him the way the weight of the grief did. Unyielding and heavy; unable to breathe without it moving with him. Jamie didn’t hardly blink when Carol placed herself beside him. “Let’s go home.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and shivered in the rain. “Come on, up, let’s go before you get sick.”

“Is it my fault?"

"Is what your fault?" She knew nothing good would come from discussing it in the rain.

"Did they kill them because of me- was it my fault.. you said I helped but I didn't they're gone because of me and everyone here knew it."

Carol didn’t want to sugar coat it, there wasn’t any reason to and it wouldn’t do him any good. But it was harder to admit than she expected. Her struggle played out on her face and Jamie shut down even further when he noticed. 

"I didn’t mean for this to happen." he shivered when she did, turning to face her.

"I know that Jamie, let's go home." she tugged on his arm until he relented, rising to his feet alongside her.

[aerospectrum]

@wexarethewalkingxdead asked: you know the key to running a convincing bluff? every once in a while you've got to be holding all the cards. (from Carol to Jamie)

"Yeah? is that so?" Sitting on the empty stairwell Jamie folded his hands together and pressed them over his mouth, exhaling the cool air against his palms. "You don't know anything about me, Carol, you just don't." he glared out at the horizon over the small garden that rested just beyond the porches of the houses lining the streets. "You don't know if I'm good or bad." he kept his hands over his face- the red slowly ebbing away to reveal the bruising of the left side of his face.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, “I don’t belong here- I don’t even wanna be here.” It was easier to hate himself than to admit that this Negan guy was being a dick just to exert his power one more time. “Why did you bring me back here- why didn’t you just shoot m-.”

The sting from her hand was harder than the slap itself; but the sudden jolt of the sound made his eyes open wide and his whole chest swelled up; his breath raced so hard he could’ve combusted right on the stairs. His tongue darted across his split lip and he could taste the salt and iron on his tongue from where Negan had knocked him down.

“You know what?” When he stood to his feet Carol angrily rose to match his stance; with hardened eyes and a twisted expression of both rage and disappointment that Jamie would even consider her as a cold hearted killer. Her jaw tensed and her lips pushed forward in a steady glare; like she was ready to burn down the entrance to heaven and hell if he ever asked her to shoot him again.

Jamie swallowed down second thoughts and gripped the handrail so hard his own knuckles turned white. “Fuck you, fuck you and this entire place- I didn’t ask for you to drag me back here; I didn’t want your help, I didn’t need it!” He yelled at her, but the way his blue eyes turned red with tears mixed with anger and frustration and shock didn’t give him the heir of intimidation he was looking for and she saw right through his misplaced anger.

“You didn’t have to hit me.” His glowered at her, dark heavy brows arching downwards at her. “And you didn’t have to come sit over here and play some "poor baby narrative" with me- I can take care of myself, I didn’t need your help I could’ve handled him myself!” He knew he was still towing a very, very fine line with Carol. Then again she’d just slapped him and it was apparent his anger clouded his judgment. Or rather his pain that he chose to mask with anger for his own self preservation. “I- I... i don't need you to tell me you understand because you don't! You don’t know anything about me."

“I know enough!” Carol snarled in her response; her jaw clenching as she fought back the onslaught of tears threatening to break her own walls.

“Yeah and what the fuck is it that you think you know enough of huh?!” There was a despair tangled into his question that was so deep it would take centuries to tear it out completely. It wasn’t even that it truly was aimed at Carol; it was like decades of wondering and needing to understand finally worked their way through his repression and denial.

[aerospectrum]

semi-plotted starter for @chaosfindsaway

Jamie’s eyes went wide as another allosaurus reared its head up over the mossy enclosure wall. “Shit shit shit-“ He scrambled back on his hands and feet and narrowly missed having his ankle snapped up in the dinosaurs jaws; bits and pieces of mangled limbs entrapped in its teeth. He clambered to his feet; ducking between two crisscrossed steel beams and up the fence; climbing fast while the heat of the wires burned against his palms. 

He flung himself over the top of the fence and landed on his back; knocking the air right out of his lungs with a painful wheeze. His shirt snagged on the twisted metal frame of the gate when he was up: in a blind panic he backed up to free himself. Something tore into his side halfway down his thigh, but running on adrenaline all he felt was the heat from the blood and none of the pain. He sprinted as fast as his legs would take him through the jungle; clambering over trunks and branches; splashing through creek puddles and high knees through the shallowest part of the river until he broke through the treeline of Trevor’s camp. 

His eyes were wild and intense; focused on locating the other man in the vast expanse of open field. The ground shook noticeably and Jamie turned right into a herd gallimimus rushing him; three allosaurus’ followed hot on their tails. “Fu-uck!” He yelled, turning to sprint down the grassy hills as his eyes locked onto the familiar face of Trevor. “Run!” He shouted, waving his arms to get the guys attention. “Run!” He screamed again; racing uphill towards him; his tone more desperate than ever. “Trevor, run!” He shouted with his name as the stampede overtook the empty space around them both, squawking loudly as they raced around the men. Jamie knew he was loosing speed; he was tired and hurt and he didn’t think he could keep up any longer; but the only other option was being trampled to death or torn in half while alive.

[aerospectrum]

@wexarethewalkingxdead asked: you can say it until you're blue in the face. the answer is still no. (from Carol to Jamie)

“Are you going to ignore me the whole night?” Jamie asked, still laying on his back as the fire warmed up between them. “What if I say sorry for every mistake I’ve made so far?”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. The answer is still no. ; I’m not ignoring you.”

“well you’re not talking to me…” he tried to prop himself on his elbows, but he was exhausted and the movement alone caused his head to spin. "I need you to just try and relax, ok Jamie?” Carol glanced up from her book when he shifted around and Jamie slowly rolled his head over in the mud and found it hard to settle on her face. It felt like they were still trapped in the drainage pipe just lurking beneath the flooding water . “How are you feeling?”

“like I’m half dead and can't catch my breath.” He mumbled up at her, watching a pained expression filter across her face in the hopes that a smile would form. But it didn’t. “My head hurts..” he groaned softly and winched when she carded her fingers through his muddy locks.

“well I’d think so.” Carol answered; “Jamie stop, just lay down for now.” She insisted when he tried to hoist himself up with one arm, he was wobbly and shaky; like a fawn on fresh legs. “Damnit, why can't you just listen instead of being so damn stubborn all the time.

“because I'm gonna throw up.” Jamie squinted his eyes shut and fought back a wave of nausea before Carol relented. Her hands on his shoulders provided more support than he realized he needed, but she slowly sat him up, putting his coat over his shoulders and chest and tucking it in around him once she’d gotten him propped up against a tree. “Thanks…” he whispered, rubbing at his head again and picking up on her unspoken signals. "Carol?” He asked, though he looked away when she leveled him with her gaze. "Are you mad at me?" there's a new feeling of remorse and guilt creeps in again, but she didn’t seem keen on telling him just yet for some reason.

“we need to get you out of those clothes.”

“why?”

“because I said so, Jamie.”

“You’re mad, why are you mad?” He asked, he watched her with quiet eyes- wanting to know how to fix what he'd done.

“you lied to me."

“I didn’t lie—

“you did.” She rummaged through his pack for a pair of dry jeans and socks and underwear to go with before she returned her attention to him. “You said that you were fine when we left that house; you swore on it that we didn’t need to stay a few extra days for you."

“I was fine I- I am—"

"Jamie you almost died on me!

"Wh— what- what the hell are you talking about?"

It dawned on Carol that Jamie really had no idea what she was upset for. It was like he blacked out and lost an entire day of memory. She was angry for no reason because he couldn’t even defend himself.

Carol pinched the skin on the bridge of her nose and slowly dragged her fingers down the soft grooves of her smile lines before she slapped her hand to her thigh. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to leave the house; we were safe there and you actually had a bed to sleep in; another two days wouldn’t have made a difference. But you told me you were ready to head out and I didn’t press you hard enough. I should’ve said no.” She crawled over to sit beside him and took his hand in hers with a sigh before recounting the memory. "There was a what I thought to be a hoard that overtook us- you kept telling me the sun was hurting your eyes and I... I didn't listen I didn't want to lose you to those things so I had you help me pry off the cover of a drainage tunnel and--"

"And I fell in and you jumped in after..." he slowly started to recall. "Panic attack... I almost got you killed again.. sorry." He'd meant to tell her he didn't feel well, but she was so insistent on getting back to her community and to be honest, he was just excited at the possibility of belonging somewhere, with her. He willfully neglected his judgement in favor of her. And then the whisperers found them and it riddled him with a fear that overtook every part of him.

He remembered hitting the water and going under, the rush of cold water yanked him down into drainage tunnel like nothing and when he called out for Carol she smashed her hand over his mouth to silence him. "Don't speak, these aren't walkers, they're whisperers." her words sent a chill so deep into his spine he nearly passed out.

There was a terror in his eyes like nothing she’d ever seen before; she clocked the panic attack before he could register what was happening. “Shh…” she tried to shush him, watching how his features filtered the panic one emotion after the next. The way his body shook beside hers made her slowly wrap her arm around his waist, keeping him tucked in close beside her as the water flooded in around them- up to their shoulders rising above their chins.

Jamie tried to keep afloat, hanging onto the overhang- trying to ground his mind and stay coherent for Carol between terrified breaths. “It’s ok, you’re ok we’re ok.” She whispered, almost silently nodding along with him. He closed his eye to try and stave off another wave- but the noise bubbled in his throat- desperate to make some sort of sound, but Carol placed her hand over his mouth, cupping his face in an attempt to silence him. "Shhh- Jamie, shhh please, you're ok they can't get us in here."

"They found us." he breathed out the words.