#notthegoodgrimes

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

@notthegoodgrimes

Wichita was never good with awkward silences, but she was determined not to be the one to break it this time. She never should have agreed to this, but she was already in the car, trapped into eventually having a conversation with him.A few weeks ago, Wichita had thought the hardest had already been discussed. Telling Rick she was pregnant had been terrifying, but he certainly handled it better than she did. She was the babysitter and his divorce was barely finalized. The moment his friends and neighbors find out about her, they were going to become the town’s next greatest scandal. But that wasn’t what they were fighting over.

After having their very first arguments, she relented to allow him to drive her to her apartment so he could see where she lived. Rick had driven her home plenty of times, but she had always insisted on having him drop her off at the gate. But now he wanted to check it out-- see what it was like inside. He’d come face to face with what years of living on your own, stubbornly remaining as independent and carefree as possible. Not to mention there was the revelation of her petty criminal past, which would become clear to him the more he spent time with her.

There is no doubt that one look would send Rick into another argument about how she should be living with him so that she could be well taken care of while pregnant.

He meant well,she knew he did. But what she also knew was that she didn’t want to become a burden. He already had a son to care for and an exwife to deal with. Rick didn’t know what he was saying. She had always taken care of herself and that wasn’t going to change. 

Wichita glanced over at him, sighing. “I didn’t mean to yell back there.” That wasn’t exactly true. She would yell again the moment she felt he wasn’t listening again, but it was as close to an apology as she was going to get. “You don’t have to do anything. I know this is going to be hard enough as it is. Moving in together will just be too much.” Wichita made a last chance to reason with him before they got to the apartment. She wasn’t going to be the one to give in.

[anditsxsorrows-archive]

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better. Repost, don’t reblog.

Tagged by:  the lovely @imthelcstprincess Tagging: everyone literally ok

NICKNAME: fish STAR SIGN: i actually have no idea? HEIGHT: 5′3 CURRENT TIME:  5:25am FAVE MUSIC ARTIST: 30 seconds to mars, iamx, atreyu, gin wigmore, hurts LAST MOVIE WATCHED: open grave (oops?)  LAST SHOW WATCHED:  the vampire diaries & before that was AHS WHEN DID YOU CREATE YOUR BLOG: december of 2015? i think? WHAT KIND OF STUFF DO YOU POST: replies, asks, chats, gifsets, edits, etc OTHER BLOGS: Rebekah Mikaelson - @everflaming Cesare Borgia - @ilvalentxno Rick Grimes - @notthegoodgrimes Magneto - @myownxsin & an oc @whenlightsfade WHY DID YOU CHOOSE YOUR URL: it’s from a quote that Klaus says that I LOVE HOGWARTS HOUSE: honestly idk  lmao POKEMON TEAM: .......again idk I would have before but no more FAVORITE COLOR: red/black/purple/gray AVG HOURS SLEEP: 4! LUCKY NUMBERS: 1 lol idek it sounds cool HOW MANY BLANKETS DO YOU SLEEP WITH?: one or two DREAM JOB: novelist FOLLOWING: 1011 - bc i legit have NO chill let me follow EVERYONE FOLLOWERS: 1150 - HELLO SPAM

[secretsurvivalist]

YKSI

JANUARY POSITIVITY MEME (x)

YKSI: Positivity for someone who has been one of your first writing partners, either on this blog or in general

@his-right-hand-of-doom-blog was my first partner on Erin. As far as I know they aren’t around anymore but they really helped me kick Erin off and I’m always so grateful for them giving a new muse a chance.

@notthegoodgrimes Was another one of the very first people who RPed with Erin while we were getting started. I absolutely adore them and have happily tried to keep up with their other muses over the last four years of writing together on and off again. Incredible writer and amazing mun. I’m always amazed at how they manage to keep up so much energy and enthusiasm with all their plots and partners. Whatever muse it is, Fish does an incredible job of capturing the muse’s voice and mannerisms. 

[tothegrave-blog1]

 @notthegoodgrimes​

 cold. the whole world feels cold. like his insides have been dipped in ice water. ice. but it’s hot outside. from the sweat stain on the back of his shirt and the way it drips from his hair. Judy is playing. but she has to go inside now. home. or what was supposed to be home now but it wasn’t. not anymore. because somewhere along the line they had stepped into the wrong place and found Negan. that son of a bitch. he’s never seen his dad broken. he hadn’t thought it was possible. elementary bullshit illusions of superman. well, if that was true Negan must be Kryptonite. he feels a chill, deep. it’s hate, it’s a bit of fear, it’s anger, it’s the itching need to get his hands on something. destroy. kill. he remembers Hershel telling him he didn’t have to kill. but he was dead, too. because some other son of a bitch had thought that they could mess with them. well, the Governor was dead now. and Negan would be soon enough. if only his dad wasn’t so - broken, breaking, crying. he wanted to tell him that they had been through this before. but they hadn’t been. never. it’s cold, this feeling. ice cold.

 Carol gets Judy. he stays on the steps. his mouth is dry. his dad is behind him now. and he knows. they wrote the names on the wall earlier today, he dealt with Enuid, too. not in the mood for her constant questions he dropped the explosive on her without even batting an eye. she wished she was with Maggie. he told her to go home. there were holes were Glenn should be, Abraham, Glenn. his mind is a mess, but he’s still cold, angry. they’ve dealt with men who wanted to rule them before. they killed them all. he has his knife in his hands. back and forth, back and forth. this, too, is supposed to be Negans. he can have it. he can have it rammed right into his stomach. he hears a step and then two. but he doesn’t turn. he wonders what his dad looks like today. and for the first time in his life he feels the sudden urge to protect his dad from something.

 “Carol took her.” but he would know. he would know. he hadn’t come out here for that. then for what? the marker on his arm is washed off. he didn’t lose his arm. they lost two people. but most of them made it back. they had lost before. but Glenn, Abraham. they had lost people before.

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

@notthegoodgrimes || im such trash. forgive me.

Wichita relaxed back in a corner booth of one of the only slow moving bars in town. It was nice to come here on her nights off. Without the glamour and expectations of work, Wichita could easily decompress and unwind with a drink another color than rich deep red. Ever since vampire rights had come to the forefront of most major cities, it was rare to find quiet, slow places that didn’t require the clothes, the jewelry, the fantasy of all that had become a part of the life of a glorified Fangbanger. But there were small places, like right outside of Atlanta, that still laid claim to human-only establishments.

Their humans-only policy was so serious that Wichita knew she would be thrown out for even being associated with vampires. It was another small thrill she allowed herself to have. She was addicted, she knew, to the adrenaline and the danger. Wichita had found a way to profit on vampire rights only the way the best con artist could. What had started off as selling black market synthetic blood had turned into her being the blood she sold.

She spent so much time around them that she spotted him as soon as he came into the bar. There were vampires who loved that they could go to major cities and find bars like Fangtasia to meet with humans like her, but there were others who made the effort to blend in. Wichita could tell this one was passing for now. No one had turned to look at him, but her.

It was the way he carried himself. He glided across the floor. His skin practically glowing. Everyone in this place was too drunk to notice him as he successfully moved further in without drawing attention to himself. But all it would take is one person to see him for what he was and there would be a riot before anyone even knew what was happening.

This was just one more opportunity Wichita couldn’t not take advantage of. Wichita walked up to the bar, ordered two drinks. She took them right over to the vampire’s table. She sat down without asking, setting the drink in front of him.

“I’m afraid they don’t serve your special here.” Wichita said in a low whisper only he could hear. “A rum and coke is the best they can do. That is,” Wichita said, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. “Unless you would like to go somewhere else? Find something more fresh?” 

[wxchxta]

This Summer's Gonna Hurt

Exhausted Wichita dropped her bags at the door and headed upstairs. The echo of the television could be heard over the slam of her letting the front door close on its own. It was baseball. Baseball was a place of contempt with Wichy, but she often kept it a secret from her husband. She had bigger battles to fight with him rather than something so trivial, like baseball. Maybe it was old age and she should let his boring pastime go, but he was always reminding her there wasn't that much of an age difference between them. After all, he was still able to keep up with her.

But perhaps now that they were being honest with each other….  

No, that still wasn't a fight she wanted to have, even though she thought she could win. Wichita needed all of her energy for the fight she knew needed to happen tonight. With her step-son out of the house for most of summer for a camp, it gave her the perfect opportunity to tell her husband about her morning and to truly let him know how she was feeling.

Wichita unzipped her jacket half-way up the stairs and let it fall to the ground. Her shoes were kicked off when she reached the top. She went right into her bedroom, paused for a moment, before she knew exactly how she was going to make her feelings known. With Carl gone, there was no reason to keep up a façade of non-existent happiness or undeserved maturity. She walked calmly to the dresser they shared, opening the drawer Wichy knew to be Rick's. She thumbed through his clothes before finding the small knife and hand gun she knew he had been hiding. Carefully, she slid the knife into her back pocket and then placed the gun on the top of the dresser, next to her favorite photo from their wedding almost two years ago. She knew if Rick did not listen to her today, she would have to consider more drastic measures to make her voice heard. It had been two years.

Today was not the day she was going to let Rick Grimes ruin her life. When her hands were free, she pulled the drawer out of the dresser completely. Wichita could still hear the ESPN commercials faintly as she stepped out of their bedroom. But soon, that noise was covered by the loud crash she created by dropping the entire drawer over the railing and onto their recently polished hardwood floor.

[maggie-greene-archive]

This is an important message to all of my partners. 

So a partner of mine recently asked me if I was coming back to this blog, and it really upset me because I know I’ve been gone this year longer than usual, and tbh everything in my life is kind of a hot mess right now. But I AM COMING BACK. I feel the need to make you guys aware of a few situations so that you understand why I haven’t been here. 

First of all, I’m in the LAST MONTH of my LAST TERM of graduate school. I’m done in 20 days. Anyone in grad school knows that it is MUCH more strenuous than regular college, and I’m going to grad school while still holding down a job, so my time is super limited to begin with. This is my LAST MONTH to do revisions to my master’s thesis novel, which at present is 50,700 words long. That’s a lot of edits. I turn it in on May 15th. 

Lately, my free time has been dwindling even further because I’m dealing with a pretty painful health issue. There’s a very good chance that I have endometriosis, a disorder in which tissue that normally lines the uterus grows outside the uterus. It is super fucking painful. I haven’t been having to deal with my severe chronic pain because for the last 7-8 years I was on the depo shot. You can’t take the depo shot for more than 6 years, so a month ago, they took me off (and changed my sleep meds and a bunch of other stuff that made me sick for a good week). We’re trying to find something else that works, and to find an OBGYN to help me. In the meantime, I’m in agony most days. My anxiety meds also make me prone to vertigo and dizzy spells, so that’s super fun too. 

What precious little free time I have these days has been going to my Lyanna Stark blog @nivallis, for two reasons. The first was that I had just rebooted her in December before everything went to hell, and I owed a lot of starters and was trying to get the blog on its feet. Then I hired my good friend Annie to make Lyanna’s theme back in December and it’s still not done. I talk to her every day and I’ve been busting my ass to get all of the content to her asap so she’s not waiting on me bc I don’t want any more delays. We are almost done, though, so I think the new theme should be up in May. Things are starting to even out there activity-wise. 

My laptop charger fucking died on Friday with no warning. Since Sony doesn’t even make laptops anymore, their chargers are proprietary-- meaning I can’t just go out and buy a universal charger. The charger I ordered will be in on Thursday, hopefully. Until then, I’ve been using my mother’s laptop, which has NONE of my files. No icons, no tags, nothing. I GOT MY CHARGER IN WOOOOO

The most important part of this post is to let you all know that I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS BLOG. I check  the activity here every day. All my threads are drafted (I have like thirty drafts rn). I will not be dropping ANY threads unless YOU want me to. If you feel like you’ve lost muse or that you’ve been waiting too long and don’t want to write with me anymore, I understand. I know you all have to wait because we’re exclusive. I respect that, and I respect you guys. Just let me know. I personally don’t lose muse. I’m just so busy, sick and in pain, and technologically tied up right now, that I haven’t been able to do anything here. But I will. Please feel free to IM me whenever and for whatever. You are NEVER a bother to me, and I ALWAYS want to hear from you. My sk.ype is necromanteia. Just let me know who you are when you add me. I love you guys, and I miss you all. 

TAGGING:  @acallofchaos, @anarchywithin, @beguilcd, @bethisms, @consumcd, @daryliisms, @dothcmath, @fuckingeigersanction, @ireofembers, @ivoryribcage, @nctbitten, @notthegoodgrimes, @onere, @radiasi, @sacrificalis-matrem, @tallahxssee, @stxntsman, @speedysurvives, @tragedyveined, @wxchita, @xthemutegirl. 

[katana-wielding-michonne]

Constables (rp with notthegoodgrimes)

@notthegoodgrimes For about five minutes, all Michonne could do was stare at herself in the mirror. She'd showered and brushed her teeth, but being clean wasn't what had her feeling so strange. It was the uniform. She'd seen the same uniform on police officers before the world ended, but now, it seemed out of place. What made it stranger was the fact that she was wearing it. She figured she'd be put in one of the groups that made the runs, or scouted for new people, but instead, she was a constable. Knowing that the others would need the bathroom soon, she tied up her hair and pulled on the black jacket over the khaki shirt. It wasn't too big, but it felt unusual. She was used to wearing her usual tank top and jeans. The pants of her uniform were too loose to stay up, so she had to wear a belt to keep them from falling down. She thought she looked ridiculous. Opening the door, Michonne stepped out into the hallway, knowing the others were all inside and preparing herself for the laughter that was bound to follow.

[sparksnv]

notthegoodgrimes

The gunshots weren’t exactly what he had expected to hear echoing throughout the halls but that’s what stung his ears as he stared ahead at the gathering of walkers. She shot and accomplished what he knew she wanted to. The walkers were down and she was leading one away from her.

Rick watched her, met her eyes when she looked back at him. Something of a smirk appeared on his lips before he cocked back the trigger of his gun and fired off one round into a nearing walker and backed up a few spaces. One came out towards him and he used his leg to get it down, standing over it he stared down at its decaying groveling before he lifted his gun and fired off into its head, taking what was left of it. The others were dispatched fairly easily, close range with his knife until it was cleared. With careful steps he moved around the corpses and headed after the woman that he last saw leading the walker away.

Soon there was silence. There were no sounds of beasts. Usually she had more haste before joining teams with just any stranger but this guy she could immediately feel comfort with. It was something about him, in the way he stood or maybe the way he smiled at her that reassured her he was worth trusting.  Then again, maybe it was the fact that she could tell he was an officer of the law and one of the good ones on top of that. As soon as the walker was drawn away from the stranger, she shoved her knife deep into it's cranium, before yanking it out. Her blade dribbled with blood, that she wiped away on her dirty jeans. 

When she looked up, the stranger had come to meet her. She smiled at him again. 

"See I told you I could help. That was much easier with my help, now wasn't it?"

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

@notthegoodgrimes Wichita counted back from ten in her mind, slowly breathing in and out as deeply as she could. She knew this was part of the process. She knew she was getting the biggest opportunity a woman like her would get --- the biggest opportunity any woman would get, but she still felt the anger building in her as he stared her down. Just a few weeks ago she was just another woman on the street, trying to make a living. Now she was going to make a difference. If he would only let her. All of this started when one of the head detectives became one of her best customers. He would talk about a series of murders before he left. He said they were all unsolvable, but Wichita couldn't just let them become another lost mystery of time. Soon he started bringing her files with charts and photographs and let her pour over them. It wasn't long for her to develop a new trade and a way to become more than just a prostitute. But when these new murders started, Wichita knew she would need more than files to solve them. Wichita had asked nicely at first, but he refused. Police work was not women's work, he said. Spending days on gore and murder would overwork her delicate woman’s mind. His biased unforgiving thoughts towards the opposite sex showed her there was no way a man was going to solve this terrible mystery alone. But then the next murder was revealed to be a woman she had known for the last couple of years. Couldn't that have been her? Couldn't that have been any of them? Wichita couldn't let the murders continue. Doing the unthinkable, the next time the detective appeared at her doorway, she left him with two choices. Let her help with the case or she would reveal the detective’s less than legal activities. Now she was sitting across from him in his office, dressed in her only conservative dress and pair of stockings without rips. Finally, he looked up at her, glaring. “You'll shadow under someone. You will do what he says. You will not go anywhere alone.” Wichita nodded. “Of course.” She bit her lip. She shouldn't complain. She supposed she should feel lucky after blackmailing a detective, but there was something about being looked at as a unruly child that made her seethe underneath it all. She would solve these murders. She would avenge the murders of women like her. Wichita was going to change everything. She watched as he stood, opening the door to his office. “His name is Rick Grimes. I explained that you would be shadowing him as a favor to a friend of mine. His office is the third door to the right. I told him the moment he thought this was too much for you, he was to send you home. This is not woman's work and he will be making that judgement call no matter what you say.” Wichita nodded, leaving before she ruined her only opportunity. She found this Rick Grimes’ door and knocked lightly. The door fell open slowly. “Mr. Grimes,” she called in her most polite voice. “I was told you were expecting me.”

[theres-us-and-thedead]

-Hands you my URL along with all the love in the world-

Send me a url and i’ll answer the following questions:

Do I rp with them: Not on this account which is a travesty.

Do I want to rp with them: Yesssss. We must make it happen.

Plot/AU idea for our muses: I never got to play out a plot of Future!Rick trying to help Past!Rick stop the apocalypse. That would be a good one.

Do I follow them: Forever and for always. 

My opinion on them: This lovely person was one of the first to welcome me into the TWD community even though we had the same muse. I thought it was absolutely wonderful and I’ve never forgotten it. Absolutely 100% top notch Rick. I stand in awe of every reply. Just spot on perfection.

[maggie-greene-archive]

Building Something

Starter for @notthegoodgrimes. 

          It wasn't so much an instruction manual as it was a complex set of interconnected riddles designed to confuse people. Maggie's brow scrunched together as she tried to make sense of step seven, an Allen wrench held idle in her right hand. “It says to attach board G to the frame using the cams, but it doesn't say how these cams are supposed to fit into the frame, and I have no idea which one is board G.” She extended her arm towards Rick so that he could take a look, struggling to lean forward over the swell of her belly. “The picture makes it look like it just magically slides in, but that can't be right.” They certainly weren't going to lay the baby in a crib that wasn’t structurally sound, but Maggie was beginning to lose faith in their handiness. This was a lot harder than Judith’s pack’n’play. “We should have called Tara.”

          She reached for the mason jar of sun tea sitting on the floor beside her, pausing to take a long sip. It was good-- not as good as her mother's, but very decent for a community that rationed sweeteners. Carol was showing her how to use old stores of maple syrup in various different foods since they'd found a crate full of the stuff in the back room of some kind of specialty food store. Maggie couldn't argue with the older woman; it made a pretty decent batch of cookies, too. She offered the glass to Rick to see if he wanted a sip, watching his face as he looked over the instruction booklet. 

[shadowsuspended-archive-kaput]

Helena

It was a church. The pew hard underneath him. He wasn't comfortable. He wasn't anything but drifting from the present. Because the present was a hollow place. The foundation clawed out from underneath it. The past was supposed to be formidable. But now it was gone. Erased. With one mistake, one moment.

And he knew that once the service was over they'd blame him. They'd talk. And he'd want to go. Service. Rick had done them a great service but now it was over. Like the church service was almost over. Associations. All the associations.

He didn't have anything to say. And maybe that was because they wouldn't let him talk. He wouldn't have made much sense anyways. He might've rambled about his first day at the station. It was Rick who took him on the short rounds over Kings County. He asked him in passing about what happened in Virgina. The Chesapeake Ripper caught. Of course he would ask. But he didn't pry. Wouldn't pry. The only asset of being small town that Rick was missing was the prying.

No one would get that though. It was in their blood to know everything. And maybe Rick didn't feel so damned entitled. Sometimes Will hated Kings County. Sometimes Will wanted to wallow. Rick would indulge him in his wallowing sometimes, a few drinks sometimes. There was something in Rick's makings that made Will look up to him. Like a brother he never had.

He had wondered when he was a kid what that would've been like. To have a brother. Someone to lean on. But Will was hardly used to leaning. With Rick it became a small habit.

He had been leaning the night Rick died.

Fault. At Fault. Time to go. A repetition for the words their eyes no doubt said even though their lips did not. And he wanted to get up and yell. Only he couldn't. Because he knew it was true, didn't he?

Rick taught him a lot about friendship. There'd been a time when Rick told him not to ask him for help at all. A slamming down of his glass, don't ask for help anymore if you don't want it. Rick was built on repressions. And Will knew he had taken him for granted sometimes. He never had much to take for granted before.

There was a hole there now. Deep and painful. It was hard to breathe. He wanted to try and swallow down the sharp pain, he wanted to forget it. But he knew that he couldn't. He wanted to brush it aside. But it was all in vivid color. So very alive in front of his eyes. Rick was gone. And he had to repeat that to himself over and over again. It seemed hard to believe.

He had died on duty. A good man. A short step in front of him and then he was gone. Rick's blood had pooled a large red stain on the sidewalk. And it was hot to the touch. It sprayed Will. But Will hadn't gone to him. Rick couldn't die. Wouldn't die. He had shot the guy who was now running away. Right in the back. And he didn't care if that made him a coward. He didn't care much about anything once he realized that he was too late for Rick. Rick was gone.

Hollow and lifeless. Everyone was moving down the aisle, out of the church. Now it was time to lay him to rest. Will wondered if Rick would ever rest. He was in Will's nightmares. He wasn't alive in them. Never again. Not even in his mind. Will stared at the picture they had picked to display. It was colored and lifeless. Like the whole world around him. And he felt sick, like he was being torn out.

He said it like a prayer now, bowing his head. 'Rick's gone'. But even then it didn't sound real. All an illusion. But there was no escaping it.

[thievingsweetheart]

notthegoodgrimes

“I love you.” Wichita whispered against Judy’s cheek. She always kept the little girl close to her when Rick and Carl didn’t have her. It’d had been years since she had allowed herself to become close to anyone. Even after she had been absorbed into the group of survivors, Wichita found herself on the outside looking in. 

But it had been so easy to open herself up to the little one. Judith gravitated towards her, almost as soon as she met her. Wichy responded to her immediately. She found herself unable to say no to her. She often moved away to sit with Judith, where they could be alone so that Wichita could tell her so many things about the world. Good things that either were part of her past or  hope for the future. 

“—-Did y’say something?”

Wichita looked up, startled to see Rick standing there. She thought he had been sleeping, which was why she thought it was okay to take her. She shook her head slowly. Would it be weird for him— to know that a complete stranger had become so attached to his child?

“Oh,” Rick exhaled, looking down at Judy in her arms. “I thought I heard y’say someth’n…” Then he shook his head. “I’m getting old.” He said with forced laughter.

She studied his face and watched as he began to look disappointed with—- her? Wichita talked to Rick occasionally. Mostly at night because neither of them slept well. She never asked why. She always just talked about his baby. Talking about Judy made it easy to sit with him. He talked about himself some, but mostly about Carl and what it felt like to raise him. Wichita loved hearing about his previous life. 

 What was so odd about hearing she loved Judith though? Wichita would have thought it would have been obvious with the way she spoke to Rick about her. That was—unless he thought she was talking to someone else.

“Rick—-“ Wichita was surprised when she found herself wanting to say it to him. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted, she wanted it. But she couldn’t force the words to come out. “I—I— would you like to sit with her- and with me?”

To her relief, he nodded. He slowly took a seat next to her, reaching over to touch Judy’s arm. Rick smiled at her and Judy smiled back. “I’m glad she has you.” Rick whispered. “I’m glad I have y’too.”