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rickmymanrick · 7 months

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one rule | chapter three |

[rick grimes x original female character slowburn]

summary: it's been a month since the complete collapse of civilization. when daphne and glenn realize this is their new way of life, they begin to strategize the best ways of survival. along with the new members of the group, they fall into a steady routine, until a one-sided fight breaks out and everything is knocked out of order.

notes: you'll hate me for this. sorry. also, daphne might seem a bit weak but we'll see her character grow and learn how to live in this new world as the book goes on. i gotta allow some room for growth.

A month later…

Daphne’s POV

The first two weeks were absolute hell.

It didn’t dawn on me just how accustomed we had all been to technology and conveniences until the first night. It was uncomfortable and terrifying, the heat creating a layer of sweat that made it hard to even breathe. Every noise made me jump and it took a while for me to get more than an hour of sleep most nights.

I felt even more horrible for Glenn who, for all the years I’d known him, slept like a log. But even he was struggling and it was mostly due to my constant tossing and turning.

On my worst nights, I usually liked to open the trunk of the Jeep and just sit, legs curled up against my chest and staring at the clear sky with my head on my arms. It’s amazing how many stars you could see now that there wasn’t much use for electricity. For those who had survived the initial outbreak, I assumed they were smart enough to figure out that light attracted the dead.

Glenn called them geeks, but we mostly agreed on walkers. Made them sound less goofy I guess.

During Glenn and Shane’s runs, they encountered some survivors and we’d slowly been adding to our group. Each person had something to offer thankfully — well, most of them at least — and though we were all complete strangers to each other, we were slowly but surely falling into a comfortable routine. This was life now; we had to accept it.

Glenn was out on a run now. The first time he had made his solo trip to the city, he had made the smart decision to do it while I was finally asleep (needless to say, it wiped out all my progress and now I woke up every half hour expecting him to be gone). But he survived and even more, he brought back things we didn’t think we’d ever see again.

Canned foods, appliances, blankets, mosquito spray. Too many things to even keep track of — thankfully, Lori was good at stock.

I would’ve gone with Glenn — I have a few times before — but he was more familiar with the city. Knew shortcuts and alleys I couldn’t even navigate in my wildest dreams. Unfortunately, I only slowed him down. So he mostly goes alone now, to my dissatisfaction.

”Grab me my beer. Hurry up!”

I clenched my jaw, picturing every single way I could knock Ed Peletier on his ass. I tried not to look up from my task, scrubbing my knife clean, to avoid an argument.

“The dead can move faster than that,” he snarled again. I saw his wife Carol rushing to bring him a lukewarm beer from my peripheral.

Him, Carol and their daughter Sophia were new additions to the group; Glenn found them maybe a week ago in the woods close to the interstate.

It was clear from the day they were brought in they weren’t a happy family. There was tension; it almost felt as though one wrong move could inflict Ed’s rage on every single person in the camp. It wasn’t until the second day of their arrival that Shane had caught Ed being less than friendly towards his wife. It led to a nasty discussion, but Ed didn’t take it as far as I thought his peasized brain would.

Even a vile man like him knew being with other people was the only chance at survival. It was unfortunate he used his time on this earth to be the shittiest man alive.

I finally looked up when Carol crossed in front of me, a forced smile on her face, and her posture looked small. Despite not knowing her for long, my heart broke.

Carol approached her husband with the beer (the cooler and the alcohol being his only contributions towards this group in terms of supply searching) and stretched it out with a shaky hand.

Ed looked up with an easy smile. It was sinister. He didn’t thank her, instead brought his hand back and slapped her from the back as she walked away.

I automatically jumped up, disgusted and infuriated out of my mind. My feet were pulling me towards him before my brain could catch up.

”You fucking pig—!”

I had no idea how or when Shane had crossed the camp so quickly but his hand was wrapped around my arm firmly. He held me back, feet away from where Ed was now standing, sneering down at me with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

”Daphne—” gasped Carol, red in the face.

Shane’s hand held me back from acting on every murderous thought I’d had about him ever since he set foot on our terrain.

"You wanna know something, Ed," Shane spat the name like it was poison. "I don't see why you're here. It's thirteen against one. We can have you out on the street before you get the chance to pull your head outta your ass."

I noticed how Shane gave Merle Dixon, a survivor who had joined our camp with his brother Daryl weeks ago, a side-eye.

"20 if you include the kids and jackass over there-"

Merle wasn't paying attention, too far away to hear the brewing conflict and probably too high to care. Just the sight of him made me angrier.

"Screw you and your little bitch too," grunted Ed, drinking his beer like it was a regular Tuesday night. I stiffened in anticipation, knowing Shane wouldn't let this one slide. Ed had said some pretty stupid shit since he's gotten here, but I could feel Shane's patience thin out each and every time.

"You know what, man, I've been-" Shane chuckled strangely. He seemed to simmer down, smiling easily as he reached a hand out to Carol who stood nearby with another beer bottle on hand for when Ed finished his. I watched tensely as Carol reluctantly gave it to him. The confusion on her face was evident and I knew the pit in her stomach that must've formed if she thought Shane, our sort of guard dog, was actually about to make peace with her abuser. "I've been going about this wrong. You and I -- I guess we haven't been seeing eye to eye. It's tense, I get it, it's a new world now-"

Ed had been eyeing him distastefully, probably angered that he'd taken one of his beers, but as Shane kept talking, his guard began to come down, a pleased look in his eye as Shane fed him exactly what he wanted to hear. "To the new world," Ed said gruffly, clinking his bottle against Shane's.

A nauseous feeling arose as I watched the scene, but I liked to think I knew Shane fairly well and I wasn't an idiot. Anyone with eyes could see Shane had a little more than a soft spot for me. Was he actually going to let that comment slide? Because I sure as hell wasn't. My lip curled, ready to fire insult after insult at Ed but the words fell short as Shane moved unexpectedly.

His bottle swung in the air faster than Ed's two brain cells could comprehend it, straight for the side of Ed's head, shattering loudly against the bone of his temple. A strangled noise left Ed, his big body stumbling to the side before falling with a loud thud.

Carol had gasped, jumping back what seemed like a few feet but maybe I had just run forward as soon as the violence started, and little Sophia screamed, face red. Even with all the abuse, Ed was still the only father figure in her life, but it wasn't enough for me to stop Shane.

Blood was seeping down the side of his face, gargled sounds leaving his mouth as he weakly tried to fight Shane off. I guess his large structure was the only thing giving him any strength at all- the force Shane had put into that bottle swing was enough to incapacitate anyone. It only got concerning when Shane didn't stop his assault even after Ed had fully given up, slumping unconscious on the floor. His fists kept crashing into Ed's face, red on the ground and on both of his hands and you could barely tell Ed's nose from his mouth. His entire face was swelling up rapidly and it was only when our lookout, Dale, came running along with the others that I snapped out of my stupor.

One glance at Sophia was all I needed to rush forward and grab Shane's shoulders.

"You're killing him!" yelled Dale, ramming the bottom of his rifle against the ground, face screwed up in a mixture of anger and disappointment. I gave two of the other survivors, the burliest of them, an exasperated look, struggling with Shane's relentless movement, unable to pull him off alone.

The two came rushing forward, huffing as if it were the biggest inconvenience - and I supposed it was; no one was a fan of the abuser and in fact, if the sight of his mangled face wasn't so grotesque, I doubt anyone would be complaining. I wanted nothing more than to let Shane kill him, even though the thought made my stomach churn because I wasn't this murderous a month ago, but Sophia's cries were hard for me to ignore. Getting rid of Ed had to be done in secret, away from prying eyes and especially from Sophia's. As we pulled Shane off, I glanced over at Carol, out of breath and still shaking in fury, and she was not as shaken as her daughter was. In fact, I'd say that beneath that shocked expression, there was a glimmer of hope and satisfaction in her eyes.

"Don't you let me hear you insult her again, you bastard!" Shane yelled as T-Dog and Morales, the two survivors, pulled him away by the arms. I stepped closer to Carol, debating whether I should even breathe in her direction.

”Ed,” gasped Carol quietly. “I—he—Soph-Sophia—”

”Carol, you’re going to be okay. You…” I glanced back at my tent. It was large enough for two more. If Glenn were here, he’d insist. “You two can stay with me.”

”He’s… he’s my husband, Daphne,” Carol said in a shaky voice, barely above a whisper. “I—I did this to him—”

”No, you listen to me. You didn’t do this. Shane did.” I glanced over to where Dale, T-Dog, and Morales were dragging Ed. Our little “med-bay station” under a small tarp with a stack of first aid kits. “And if he hadn’t, I would’ve.”

Carol didn’t say a word. She just clutched Sophia tighter. Even with her young ears latching onto my every word, I couldn’t find it in myself to take it back. I wanted her to know she had someone willing to fight for her and her mother.

“He’s my husband.” Carol repeated a bit firmer this time. She looked more upset as she gazed at the med-tarp. I couldn’t tell if it was whatever care she had for the man or if it was because he was still breathing.

I knew my limits. All I could do was hope he wouldn’t lay another hand on them, because then I would have a murder to deal with.

Carol and Sophia walked away, probably to the med-tarp but I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. I was drenched in worry and sadness, for them. For their situation.

I felt the burning of a pair of eyes on me. I removed the hand shielding my eyes from the sun. Squinting against the brightness, I found Shane by the tree line, as far as he could get from Ed without abandoning the camp altogether. Other than the blood on his knuckles, he looked otherwise alright. No surprise though— Ed wasn’t able to lay a finger on him.

I walked over to him. He was still seething, his shoulders pulled back as if he were ready to send a punch flying. His lip was curled and he was now staring at the ground furiously.

”He needs to be sent away,” I said quietly. It was my turn to look at the ground, afraid to see the disgusted look on Shane’s face.

Murder was a line we hadn’t crossed yet. We don’t kill people — just the dead and any wildlife we need to consume… and that’s what it would be— exile was just as good as murder in the new world.

”I agree,” said Shane gruffly. “But- but what we’re building here. All of us—” he gestured at the group of twenty. “We need the numbers.”

”Ed doesn’t do a damn thing for the numbers—”

”Yeah, but Carol and Sophia do.” Shane sounded a bit disappointed as he said so. I couldn’t blame him— it would be much simpler if Ed wasn’t a manipulative bastard who had his family wrapped around his stubby finger. “That little girl is Carl’s best friend and Carol—”

”You don’t have to explain,” I sighed. “I get it.”

”I know you don’t like it. Hell, I don’t like it, but this isn’t forever, Daph. I promise—”

I didn’t mean to flinch away, but his hand reaching toward me, covered in fresh blood, with the nickname Glenn so often used for me— I was automatically moving away in discomfort. I made a promise to myself to toughen up. Like Glenn and Shane have.

A hurt look crossed Shane’s face. I quickly placed a hand on his arm, loosely clutching his elbow. The warmth of his skin grounded me.

“I’m sorry. I just…” I sighed. Shane’s eyes were glued on me intensely. “I want us to be safe. You, me, Lori, Carl, Glenn… every second he’s out there and I don’t hear his voice over this damn radio, I can’t breathe.”

His gaze followed my other hand, that wrapped around the walkie clipped to my belt, and it made me aware just how bad they were shaking. The tears welled up before I could help it. God, I wish I was stronger—

“Hey," Shane said in a demanding tone. I looked up through unshed tears. "He'll be okay. How many times has he not come back?"

I didn't answer, caught up in my thoughts about Glenn. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to make Shane understand. He was my best friend, the only person other than my parents that I'd ever cared about more than myself. In a world where there was nothing left but survivors, I couldn't lose him.

"You're right," I said eventually, getting a grip. Crying wouldn't do me any good. The sun was slowly setting and he would be back any second now. He had to.

"Damn right. In fact, there he is," boasted Shane. I turned around so fast I should've gotten whiplash. How did I miss the sound of the van pulling up the trail? I gave the thought less than a second of attention before rushing over to the driver's door. I pulled it open before Glenn could.

"Woah, Daph," gasped Glenn, barely making it out of the van. I tackled him into a tight hug, gripping his shirt tightly. It was familiar, the feeling of his body and the sound of his voice. Relief flooded me like an icy bucket of water.

"You asshole," I pulled away and smacked his chest. "What took you so long?"

Half of our group already crowded around the trunk of the car, taking whatever Glenn brought back to where Lori was waiting with her little inventory list. It was only a few crates full of small things, maybe three or four.

We sat down by our pile of logs, unlit but everyone stared at them as if they were ablaze. It was silent, disappointment and a feeling of loss reeking in the air.

“Hopefully, I’ll find more on the next run,” sighed Glenn, eyes stuck on the ground.

”I’m coming with you,” I said firmly.

Glenn’s mouth opened in automatic protest.

“I’m serious, Glenn. I don’t know the roads like you do but I’m fast. Faster than I used to be. I’ve been hunting in the woods with Shane—” who was currently shaking his head furiously, pacing with a frustrated look. “— and we could get more for the camp if there were two of us.”

”Even more with three,” drawled Merle Dixon from behind us. His little brother was nowhere in sight.

I spun around to glare at him. “I’m sorry. I think I missed the part where I invited you.”

”Lighten up sweetcheeks. You’d be hotter if you kept that mouth of yours busy doing something else.”

”Fuck you,” I spat. Merle smiled as if I gave him a compliment.

”No. No, no, absolutely not,” Glenn protested.

I nodded fiercely. “I agree. Merle won’t be coming.”

”Neither will you. I don’t think this is a good idea. We’ve got a good thing going here. I bring any more people and we could mess that up,” he said exasperatedly.

”No offense Glenn, but the lack of supplies here isn’t a good thing,” Andrea Harrison said from across the circle.

“He’s trying,” I snapped before Glenn could even defend himself.

”We know that,” said Andrea quickly. “We'd just like to help out more.”

”Who’s we?” Glenn asked, sounding more and more frustrated by the second.

“Andrea, Morales, Jacqui, and I were talking… it doesn’t have to be every run. But the numbers could be better for you. We’d cover each other and get more supplies in one run,” explained T-Dog.

“You were in on this?” Glenn asked quietly, giving me an exasperated look. I shook my head. This was news to me. Sure, Andrea had mentioned something to me about “picking up some harder shifts” around camp the other day, but I hadn’t thought much of it. I figured she was just going to go fishing more often with her sister or something.

”Glenn, like it or not, I’m coming. As for the others… you know the risks,” I gave them each a pointed look. At the end of the day, the others didn’t matter to me like Glenn did. I would make sure the two of us got home alive if shit were to hit the fan.

They all quickly nodded in agreement. Glenn stared at them for a moment and then let out a hefty sigh. “Fine.”

There was a silence that fell over the camp. Shane was still seething, holding his knuckles to his mouth and glaring daggers at me.

”So,” Merle began. Everyone turned toward him with a glare. “When do we leave?”

”You’re not coming,” I scoffed.

”Sorry, sweetheart, but you could use an extra set of hands. I’m getting a lil too comfortable in this five star hotel, I’m in need of a little fire under my ass—”

”You sure it’s not drugs you’re in need of?” I rolled my eyes.

”Now that you mention it, I am running low. All the more reason I’ll be joining your little crew for the time being,” Merle said snarkily.

”This is gonna be a disaster,” groaned T-Dog, stomping away from the gathering. We all took it as a cue to disband, knowing there was nothing any of us could say that would keep Merle Fucking Dixon from joining us into the city tomorrow.

Glenn and I shared a worried glance.

"It'll be fine," I tried to sound reassuring but I think it had the opposite effect. Glenn's face dropped even more and he trudged over to our tent without another word.

I waited a moment, listening to the sounds of the insects that seem to come alive at night, and I stared at the sun that was slowly slipping beneath the horizon. Everyone had gone to their tents or were now sitting close to the small fire Lori had started. Jacqui, a sweet woman I'd talked to once or twice within the two weeks she'd been here, and Andrea sat close together, her little sister at her side as usual and T-Dog joined the circle too. Even Morales was sitting close by, his family surrounding him but he seemed engaged in whatever conversation they had going on. I furrowed my eyebrows in frustration or confusion... maybe both. They were surely discussing tomorrow's supply run and I tried not to be angry with them. It was obvious they wanted to contribute more and while the thought was appreciated, I'm not sure a larger group would do us any favors in a city that's infested with the dead.

I dragged my gaze away from them, but not before Lori's eyes met mine and she gave me a weak smile. Carl was sitting beside her silently, staring at the burning embers with disinterest. I weakly smiled back and followed after Glenn's footsteps, mentally preparing for another restless night.

Later that night, I was up long after everyone had fallen asleep, with my legs pressed against my chest and my chin resting against my knees on the back of the black jeep we’d stolen when all of this started.

My anxiety kept me awake as usual. After tossing and turning for a full hour, I’d resorted to my usual activity, stargazing. I laid down, thankful the roof of the jeep happened to be stored away from Shane's last water run. I let out a quiet sigh, feeling the tense muscles in my back forcefully relax. It was a bit painful letting my guard down because my body was so used to being alert.

A sudden branch snapping sent me sitting up again, hand flying to the blade I kept in the sheath on my belt.

"It's me," Shane said as he stepped into view. I let go of the knife and pulled my knees up to my chest again. I had nothing to say, knowing exactly what Shane was dying to discuss. It was the only reason he'd be joining me at this hour instead of patrolling the edge of the woods. The group alternated night shifts, Shane volunteering to take most of them, but it was supposed to be T-Dog's night. It wasn't out of the norm for Shane to take his place but I knew T-Dog must've been patrolling if Shane was here now.

He sat next to me silently, staring at the ground and clicking his tongue. I kept my head forward, staring at the outline of the city stubbornly.

“I don’t approve of this,” Shane finally said quietly.

”And I’m not asking for permission,” I responded with a bit of a bite. I knew Shane was just concerned for my well-being, but it didn’t ease the pent-up frustration from the last few days. Between Ed’s arrival and Merle’s stupid little jabs at anyone who wasn’t what he considered superior, I was beyond over trying to remain civil. Maybe Shane didn’t deserve it, but I was done trying to please everybody.

”Since the moment the others arrived, we’ve been bending over backwards trying to make sure they’re fed, safe. Sure, some of them have earned their keep but others? Shane, we’re risking our lives every damn day.”

I felt horrible even saying this. But I needed to think beyond our natural instinct to protect anyone who was still alive. At the end of the day, this was about us. What used to be just Glenn and I become a group of five and I’m willing to admit I’d do just about anything to make sure we survived.

“I’m not going for them. I’m going for us. I’m not going to sit here while Glenn is out there every other day. If I can help him find even one children multivitamin pack, it's more than enough for me to try."

“Carl will be fine,” Shane said sternly.

”Maybe. But he’s a boy. He’s growing and we need him to be strong if he wants to survive—”

”I won’t let anything happen to him or you,” Shane cut in, looking more determined than I’d ever seen him.

“I appreciate that, Shane. I really do,” I placed my hands over his and he stared down at our contact, entranced almost. “But I can take care of myself. Or at least, I’ve gotta learn how to... I’ll be fine tomorrow. Glenn will be with me.”

Shane tilted his head, straining the muscles of his neck. "That's... that's what I'm worried about..."

I rounded on him suddenly, pulling my hands away as if his skin burned me. "Glenn has proven time and time again he's more than capable of keeping this camp safe. He knows how to avoid the walkers--" I didn’t know why I was repeating this. Wasn’t he the one reassuring me of Glenn’s skills earlier?

"But has he killed any?" Shane hissed. "The world ain't ever gonna be the same again and it's either kill or get killed, Daphne. See, me? I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty and do what needs to get done. Would he? Let's say you tear your bullet wound open and one of the walkers got their hands on you--"

"Then, I would be dead anyway," I cut him off fiercely. "Where the hell is all this coming from? I can't keep playing it safe while you're both risking your lives everyday for the rest of us. I was able to handle myself pretty damn well on the field--"

"That was then. This is now. This ain't like the field, Daph. We're not tracking down petty criminals, wearing our little bulletproof vests with backup around the corner. If I can't stop you then I need to know you'll be safe. I can't go with you, I can't leave Lori and Carl--"

"I wouldn't ask you to," I shook my head, feeling my temper rise to the back of my neck, bubbling as if I wanted to open my mouth wide and breathe fire. I looked away from Shane and stared at the dark outline of the skyscrapers against the moonlight. "Lori and Carl need you here."

Though reluctant, he nodded in agreement. "I...I just want to make sure you're okay. If I-if I can't stop you, at least take this with you. Please." He held out his handgun, safety on, but I could tell it was loaded. I eyed it for a long moment, knowing it was one of the few weapons we had to protect the camp.

"Take it," he pressed one more time. Hastily, I took the gun before he could retract it. If it came down to it, I'd be grateful Shane gave me something to defend myself with. God knows what we'll encounter tomorrow. Even if Glenn was pretty much desensitized to the dead, I sure as hell wasn't.

"Thanks," I muttered, turning the pistol over in my grip. It was a semi-auto pistol and almost always in Shane's hands. It didn't go past me the sacrifice he was making for my safety. "Thank you, Shane," I said more clearly, finally meeting his gaze.

He was staring at me intensely, a bit closer than I expected him to be. His eyes were filled with worry and something similar to...to longing? I thought his crush on me had died the second our lives at the precinct did.

I debated whether I should get up and put some distance between us or let whatever was gonna happen, happen. The rush of the last few weeks, the turn our lives took, it didn't give me the time or luxury to even feel lonely. And even if I did, even just for a second, I would catch a glimpse of Lori Grimes and her boy wherever they were in the camp, and the guilt would squash any of that loneliness away... Was it selfish for me to want attention from a lover when a mother and her son had just lost their husband and father so recently? And besides, it wasn't like I was dating anyone before the world fell apart, it had been some hookups here and there, and my embarrassingly huge crush on my coworker I interacted with once.

Add in the fact that the subject of my embarrassing crush was the husband and father of who I now considered family...

I didn't let myself think about it... until now. I should feel horrible for letting Shane lean in slowly, especially since I had no strong feelings for him, just mindless lust driven by my loneliness and the fact that he cared so deeply for me didn't help.

He was probably a breath away from me now. I could feel the warm puffs of air leave his mouth, fanning against my lips gently. The only thing I could hear was this, the chirps of the night, and my relentless thoughts badgering at my conscious.

Did I have any feelings for Shane? His hand slipped over the fabric of my jeans, resting on my thigh lightly and my eyes followed the movement. He's always been so attentive... so adamant in keeping us safe... keeping me his priority. My head started to feel light and I allowed my eyes to shut... my head to tilt up the slightest bit...

Our noses brushed lightly and his mouth was on mine, a shuttering puff of air escaping his nostrils. He was nervous; I wasn't. In fact, I wasn't feeling anything. It was mindless, chasing the movement of his lips because it was familiar and nostalgic. It reminded me of before...

I'm not sure Shane would've ever pulled away, his other hand had even slipped under my jaw, tangling in the curls behind my ear with passion. But my brain finally caught up with my body and I felt too guilty for leading him on. It was obvious he had feelings for me and if I even wanted to pursue anything with him, I couldn't do it under a pretense. Under a guise.

"Shane," I mumbled against his lips, trying to pull away gently. He hummed back, pulling me closer and trying to slip his tongue into my mouth. I pushed against his chest firmly and it seemed to snap him out of his daze, his mouth pulling away from mine slowly. Like he wished he could be this close forever. An unpleasant feeling settled in my stomach.

"I'm.." I looked down at his heaving chest, my hand resting against it. I could feel his hair brushing against my ear as he tried to duck his head and meet my eye. "I shouldn't have let that happen," I whispered, afraid to shatter whatever we had here, for his sake. "I'm sorry-"

"You don't mean that," he rumbled against my hand. "Almost three goddamn years... you finally said yes."

"To dinner," I shook my head and looked up at him. He was still too damn close. I pulled my hand away. It sounded ridiculous, discussing things from before. A fucking cancelled date of all things.

Shane looked like he was at a loss for words. "You don't mean that," he repeated with a sudden guarded look.

It dawned on me how serious he was. How did I not realize this sooner?

Shane didn't scare me, but his commitment did. Almost three goddamn years. You finally said yes.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could think to say.

Shane stared at me as if I'd spoken a different language and I shifted uncomfortably, my cheeks stinging with shame. And without another word, he got up and walked around the jeep. I stood to watch him stomp over to T-Dog and they switched shifts. T-Dog looked surprised to see me but waved as he walked over to his tent tiredly. I forced a small smile, not that he could see it from this distance, and waved back weakly. I was suddenly quite glad I was leaving tomorrow and set off for my tent with a newfound eagerness to fall asleep and wake up to a new day. If I was lucky, we'd leave before Shane could wake up from his morning nap.

I spared him one more glance, seeing his body turned toward me and the faint outline of his head shaking from side to side.

Guilt stabbed at my stomach for the rest of the night.

next chapter…

#rick grimes x daphne ayala #rick grimes x original female character #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x oc #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #shane walsh #shane walsh x original female character #shane walsh x reader #lori grimes #carl grimes #glenn rhee #andrea twd #twd

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makesteddiecanon · 2 years

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#twd #twd text post #daryl dixon #carol peletier #rick grimes #eugene porter #andrea twd #tara chambler #text post #the walking dead #the walking dead meme

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hammy-fan · 1 year

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TWD Roller skating hcs

(To make up for my utter lack of skill)

Rick is average, but he falls on his ass way too often

Shane is so good at it it’s unbelievable. He will straight up be making laps in everyone, and occasionally goes backwards just to mock everyone

Lori is too busy helping Carl, but if she was on her own she’s pretty decent, but she’s better at roller blading

Carl is being helped by Lori, but he’s actually not that bad, in fact he’s pretty decent

Andrea is really bad, she tries to walk but it’s quite literally impossible. She does however keep trying despite how many times she’s fallen

Dale is the one old man wearing booty shorts and actually slaying so hard he is doing spins, twirls, the whole shabang

Glenn is using one of the PVC pipe helper things and still manages to fall every couple of seconds

Daryl refuses to do it because the second he put on skates he fell on his ass, so he just stands at the edge of the rink

#the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #shane walsh #lori grimes #carl grimes #andrea twd #dale twd #glenn twd #daryl dixon #twd headcanons #rollerskates #roller skating #ricky dicky do da grimes

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 11 months

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Scary as a sleepy kitten

When - 10 or so minutes after He hasn't been himself, which takes place during the Chupacabra episode of Season 2

What - the finishing touches on Daryl's medical care, how Andrea's handling almost mistakenly killing the guy. You assure her that he's about as scary as a sleepy kitten right then. Then, there's digesting big bro Shane's descent from morality along with Daryl's simultaneous growth in it. Bonus is a hint regarding the Greene's barn. So sad there aren't any barn cats in there anymore, wonder what happened...

Genre - a little angsty, a little fluffy, a little found-family.

Who - You, Mangy Hick (that's Daryl), Patricia, Andrea, Papa Dale and his not good book, and sweet little Beth (who's got the same headcanon from the Fabulously Confident Reader stories about liking choose-your-own-adventure books)

Perspective - 2nd person, and 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - did GN again this time

TWs - some language, otherwise you just have a brief blow-up. The day's been something else, y'all

Length? - 10-15 minutes

References - when Daryl made that funny in Like a traditional Sunday dinner, the incident with Ed as seen in "Deserved" Part 1 but mostly Part 2 and its cooldown in It's not the end of the wo - oh. There's the continuation of big brother Shane's descent, a slow progression in a bulk of the chapters. Be sure to check out Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 , then Spell your last name, please. as well as He hasn't been himself

Official Masterlist here (find fabulously confident reader there!) and the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

have fun and happy reading!

Apologies for the lengthy delay, slowpokes, my brain has been on power-saver for about a month, might could be evident in the chapter, too XD

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“Guess I'll just move this arm like a robot—oh-ho, check it, I can still do the tomahawk chop, y’all!”

And yeah, then his friend proceeds to make barely one and a half chops before wincing. The slight pout that forms afterward makes him want to smile, it’s damn cute.

“Hurt more than I thought it would.”

The twangy blonde lady looks entertained. “Tell me why, Y/N.”

Their pout turns more embarrassed. “…Movin’ the forearm requires these here muscles.”

He liked that their accent revved up more with the blonde lady—sorry, her name’s Patricia, he knows, got it.

“Which affects what?” Patricia asks.

“My shoulder and chest.”

“Which are injured and got irritated something serious today, along with what I’m fairly sure is maybe your C6 and 7, maybe the T1, whenever you first got hurt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they mumble.

Stop thinking Y/N looks cute. Also, what were those letter-number things?

Sighing, his friend stares at their upper arm.

So, during the, like, he doesn’t know, 5 minutes or whatever it was when the old man helped him slump to the bathroom so he could finally take a piss, Y/N’s upper arm was wrapped to their torso to prevent them from hurting it more. They keep overdoing it, and they keep taking their damn sling off, so Patricia made a compromise, he guesses.

And after doing a modeling-pose type thing with their wrapped arm and asking who was wearing their gauze better, them or him, Y/N immediately tried to do the tomahawk chop and move like a robot and why is he finding that so damn cute right now?.

Patricia winks at Y/N. “Name some of the muscles up there and I won’t put the rest in a sling."

You

“Ooh, bicep, tricep,” basics out of the way. “This, um, one of these over here is the brachialis, this is the deltoid, the teres major’s under here.” You got that muscle wrong on an anatomy midterm back during college and never forgot about it. “This here is the trapezius.” Because the dudes who do the trapeze at the circus got real big ones (or at least that’s how you remember it). “And, well, the clavicle is this bone, so the bone under it is the scapula, which means right about here’s the subscapularis muscle,” that she said you may have hurt, “Oh, duh, then ‘the major one is the pectoralis.’ And—”

“—Okay, no sling.”

Phew. “Thank you!”

“For now, anyway. Meanwhile, Hersh is givin’ me a look, let’s get to cleaning our friend, here.”

Him

The funny part is, as Patricia left, she made a face and said, “I don’t remember most of the muscle or bone names, I just took Y/N's word for it. Now, Daryl, don’t go gettin’ out of bed, stay put.”

Now he’s finally laying down, nothing else to be done to him. He’s so damn tired.

He’s scrubbed up, too. Got a big-ass bandage over his head, wrapped all around. That was a trip; Patricia and Y/N washed his head and neck over a bowl. He counted the seconds til it was over, half-listened to whatever they were chatting about to distract himself.

Once he was bound up like a cartoon character and given instruction to not get it wet, Hershel came back and walked him to the bathroom again, this time to clean everything else off.

There was a little stool thing in the shower, with the shower hose on the ground instead of hanging. “Don’t get your head or the bandage wet. There's a waterproof cover over the dressing on your side that you'll have to remove when you're finished. Now, I imagine you prefer total privacy, but if you need the help, I can assist, or I can get your friend Theodore, if your prefer.”

“M’fine.”

The simple response “I’ll be outside the door, Daryl,” surprised him. Made him feel stupid and ashamed and comforted all at the same time.

And he…he needed the damn help. Ain’t like the old guy hadn’t seen his back already, anyway.

Still, the old man mostly stayed behind the shower curtain at his request, and he didn’t see his junk or nothing, Daryl made sure to keep himself covered.

Part of him felt like some pathetic little cat getting a flea bath.

Today was something else.

So goddamned tired…

You

Not 15 minutes went by since he was escorted to the washroom and now he’s fast asleep under the sheets.

Lori and you stayed inside with Carl (and Daryl), and Carol and Rick brought in plates of food into the house for the four of you.

Carol cooked up some jerky with an egg for Daryl as a special treat with the rest of his meal. Menu for tonight is peanut butter sandwiches (sort of, they’re on saltines), hard-boiled eggs (not soft-boiled, you checked this time), with sauteed field greens.

Your poor friend must be ravenous, but it looks like tiredness won this round. He looks so different asleep. Sweet, even. It's silly, but his light snores almost sound like purring and now you're thinking about kittens.

Another moment in the quiet, and you figure you shouldn’t stand there like a weirdo anymore.

Well, his egg and the peanut butter sandwiches will keep until he wakes up, and the jerky and egg will taste great either way, but his portion of sauteed field greens won’t be nice cold. You’re only a little bummed when you slide your portion of little sandwiches onto his plate and take his portion of greens. He’s earned extra treats, he can have all the peanut butter he wants after what he found today.

You inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Close your eyes and ask inwardly for help after offering more thanks that he came back alive, and found concrete proof of Sophia.

It’s nice to be in the quiet. It feels safer better to be away from Shane right now, too. You aren’t sure what you’re going to do about the sleeping situation other than tell your brother to set up his own tent.

You also take one of the cracker sandwiches, it’s been a rough day. But when you start to nibble on it…your appetite is gone. Which is so dumb, dude, you’d been stoked at the thought of chowing down when you were high on Daryl being okay and having found Sophia’s doll.

Daryl’s chest rises and falls. You listen to his light snores, and find it, as Amy would’ve said, “interesting,” (but understandable) that your stomach has a few butterflies at seeing him so peaceful and still.

You miss Amy. Which prompts you to consider that you should check on Andrea. Earlier, Dale had come in and asked a bunch of questions for her because she was too ashamed to see people. From wherever she is right now, Amy is probably hoping you’ll help comfort her big sister.

Patricia stops you before you exit the house through the side-door. “Been meanin' to ask, I heard you tell your brother to get out, earlier. Everythin’ okay?”

That question was unexpected, words aren’t working for you. You shake and nod at the same time, which is weird, so, you open your mouth to fix it, but nothing formulates.

After a second try, all you can stumble through is “I don’t know, ma’am,” before ungracefully scooting outside.

After 5 minutes of polite conversation on the steps, mainly between you and Dale regarding Daryl’s status, Andrea is still dumbfounded that she’d almost killed someone.

“He’s really okay?”

“He’s bandaged and resting now. You only winged him, but the falls he took earlier did the most damage, Andy.” You’re trying not to be angry with her, but failing. Which sucks, because you know she was trying to protect the group…

But that she still shot it even though it was against Mr. Greene’s wishes and she knew that indicates an unhealthy variety of pride. One can't be having that kind of attitude with a firearm, it ain't good. And Daryl was almost a casualty because of it.

And like, come on, there were five of you running toward her target, it was dangerous for her to attempt to shoot from that angle! Doesn’t she understand that’s irrespons—ugh, and isn’t Shane supposed to have been doing gun safety shit with her? Isn’t that his whole wannabe jarhead schtick—great, now you’re more upset about Shane!

“I’m glad you’re enjoying those, ” Dale tells you, nodding at your cracker and chuckling. “They’re the part of dinner I rushed to help make, this evening was…something.”

He shrugs, and you remember how Daryl grunted that today was ‘somethin’ else.’

“I suppose having spread the peanut butter on crackers was a small step up from offering it on spoons to everyone,” he muses.

You can’t help but hum, a spoonful of peanut butter sounds scrumptious right now. Makes a good breakfast or snack, too.

“Did Daryl eat enough?” Andrea worries. “Does he need anything?”

“He was asleep when I brought him his supper, but I left my portion of the crackers—minus this one—on his plate.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s a fan of peanut butter,” Dale thinks out loud. “I offered him some for breakfast one morning, and now that I recall, he backed away from it.”

Not like peanut butter?

“—Oh my God, what if he’s he allergic?” Andrea breathes.

“Nah, he ate a peanut yesterday. I was havin’ one of the little packets for lunch and he tried one, he can’t be allergic,” you assure them. And surely he doesn’t not like peanuts. That would be so sad!

It gets quiet.

Andrea stares at her feet.

“I can’t believe almost killed him.” She inhales and buries her face in her hands. “I shot someone.”

And Dale is only meaning to ease her discomfort and add some levity—but whether it’s because of the new bond you have with Daryl, or maybe because here’s something of a flashback hitting you from how you’d had to actually shoot a living person a few months ago—when Dale jokes to you, “Like I told her, we’ve all wanted to shoot Daryl,” you become livid.

After two shallow breaths of your inner tea kettle screaming, this sentence: “Guess y’all will want sunshine over here to work on her aim, then,” seethes out as you stand and book it to the fields.

The past several days especially has shown you how wrong your initial conclusions about that man were. He’s a work-in-progress, make no mistake, but shit if he ain’t working on it!

Unlike your brother, who keeps getting worse, who just tried to flirt with Lori by saying he didn’t care about a missing, abused little girl—the same little girl Daryl was willing to almost die to find!

Horrified at Shane and about today; confused, embarrassed, overwhelmed, in pain, overtired, and therefore angry about everything, you walk, hyperventilate, and finally, quietly, start to cry.

Then you accidentally drop the peanut butter cracker and cry harder.

The light swish of your boots in the grass starts to crunch when you reach the sandy part by now-boarded-up well. You walk faster, neither wanting to be near the two-part walker inside nor in the area where apparently, Daryl dumped Merle’s ‘hard stuff,’ as he slurred to you earlier during his trauma assessment.

Soon you’re by the rocks you’d climbed the other night. You step up and sit on a lower one and sniffle another minute or so until the worst of it seems to have spilled out.

When will you get a better handle on your temper?

While you’re busy wallowing in self-pity, you notice Dale’s watch ticking and are reminded that you have to return it.

You stand.

Trudge back with your tail between your legs.

He and Andrea are still on the steps.

“I’m sorry. I let my anger get the better of me,” you tell them softly.

Dale waves you over. “Come back and sit if you like, kiddo. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been somethin’,” you mumble. “And you aren’t a bad shot, Andrea, I was being snotty.” About an inch to your left and he’d have been a goner, you leave out.

“I’m glad I wasn’t as good a shot as I’d hoped,” she sounds ashamed to say. Her head is still hanging low when she makes a one-sided smile and taps the spot next to her. “Will you be helping with shooting practice tomorrow?”

“If that’s still on, yeah.” Shane was enlisting your help with that, which means you’ll have to act civil…ugh, why worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself. You take the watch off, hand it to Dale. “Here you go, Mr. H.”

“Ah, very good. I would hate to start losing track of the days, then we’d really be in for it. Let’s see…an hour until it’s time to wind her up.”

The breeze carries the smell of woodsmoke with it. You lean against Andrea for a moment, she leans back.

Then Shane comes into view.

When you catch his eye, you shake your head in warning in case he’s thinking about coming over and schmoozing with the others as if he didn’t just f—tomorrow will be better. Things will be better in the morning. He’ll apologize and things will be better and you’ll all have a good day and maybe Sophia will be found.

“Y/N, how about we talk later tonight?” Dale murmurs.

Did he see the face you made at Shane?

Best change the subject. “If we do, is it finally my turn to borrow that awful book I’ve heard so much about?”

“The Case of the Missing Man is not an awful book,” he chuckles back, then shrugs. “Maybe Jimmie Herron’s style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. My Irma didn’t like his work, either.”

“Y/N, it’s really not great,” Andrea drones.

“Glenn said the same.”

“Amy had me read it so we could, um,” her gaze grows teary. She closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles and shakes her head. “‘Share the trauma.’”

You smile and shake your head, too. That sounds like Amy. “She finished it up in my tent while I was knocked out with a migraine, first thing out of her mouth to me when I woke up was how lame it was. Told me you had first dibs.”

“Then I lent it to T-Dog”

Oh, right. On the first half-week of the trek to Fort Benning, his nose was stuck in it. “He plowed on through it, didn’t he?”

“He wanted the torture to be over.”

You and she snort, Dale just chuckles again. “After you finish it, only Rick, and our young Carl—oh, and, uh your br—and Shane, they’ll be the only ones to not have done so.” He points his finger as if an idea just popped into his head. “But both Jacqui and Lori thought it was good.”

“Bless their hearts, they loved watching soaps, though, what does that tell us?” you giggle to them.

Dale lifts his hands in surrender. “See me later, troublemaker, I’ll lend you my ‘awful’ book and we can talk. I’m gonna hold you to it.” He looks at Andrea. “Young lady, will you be alright?”

“Yes. I'm just not ready to face anyone yet.”

“You know where to find me.”

She rests her arms on her knees and slouches again, stare fixed on nothing much. You go to rest your arms on your knees, too, and are immediately reminded that that particular position is a no-go for you right now.

“Y/N, after what happened with Ed, when did the feeling of wanting to hide go away?”

“Mine was an easier situation," you quietly point out. "And it wasn’t just me, Shane was the one who—" you grimace at the memory. "You were there.”

“Mm.”

To answer her question, “But I guess it wasn’t til, y’know, I faced people again that I got I didn’t have to hide. Shane's sense of 'duty' helped, too. But after I talked to Carol, saw Sophia smile at me, when I knew they were on my side, I didn’t mind so much about the rest.”

“Pretty sure everyone was on your side with that,” she mutters. “For what I just did…”

“Pretty sure even Daryl will, um, well th-that you were tryin’ to protect the group.” …oof.

She lifts her eyebrows. “You aren’t good at lying, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. “Objectively, you were tryin’ to protect the group.”

“I wanted to feel in-control and like I could do it.”

Oh.

She admitted that? If only your brain could come up with something heartfelt or whatever the situation called for to convey how much humility from someone so confident and self-assured means, instead of this: “I wanna be on your apocalypse survival team.”

A sigh leaves her, and she simply asks, “Just let me know how furious he is with me. I'm dreading how he’ll be when he’s up. I'm a little scared, while I’m being honest.”

“Hm?”

“Daryl.”

“You’re scared of him?”

She eyes you. “We’ve all seen how he can fly off his handle. He waved that knife at Rick and your brother, the axe at Jenner.”

Oh, right. That didn’t even consider cross your mind, that she’d be scared of his reaction to...being shot in the…head. Man, your brain is not working.

It can’t even configure a response again, now you’re just shaking your head like a confused mute.

“You don’t think I have to worry, Y/N?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “You might would feel better if you saw him, he's probably up an eatin' dinner by now."

"I think now's too soon."

"Trust me, he’s holed up in bed now, he’s about as scary as a sleepy kitten.”

“Kittens have teeth and sharp claws,” she dryly states.

Your mind immediately hops to the exciting fact that you have yet to meet the Greene’s barn cat(s) as you stand and lead Andrea inside through the side door to get to Daryl’s room, waving to Beth reading her book as you pass.

“Beth, this is Andrea. Andrea this is Beth. She’s the one who made the pudding for Carl. She’s Mr. Greene’s youngest.”

Andrea smiles and goes in for a shake. Beth shyly waves, the returning of the handshake ending up as an awkward afterthought.

Sweet as she is, leaving her in peace is probably what she’s hoping for (the poor teenager’s home and front yard is full of wounded strangers).

And you almost make it through the full sentence before gasping in delight when you see what book she has.“We’re just checkin’ on Dar—is that a choose-your-own-adventure book??”

Him

There was this loud noise in another room, woke him for a second. Y/N’s laugh stuck out from the other sounds.

While falling back asleep, he remembered how he'd made them laugh really loud when he ripped that $20 bill that night at the CDC. How they’d belly-laughed so hard at his dumb, tipsy-ass joke had felt so damned unexpectedly good.

He’s back asleep before the amount of pain he’s in can really register.

You

“I’ll bring it over after I talk to Mr. Horvath. He’s the older man in our group, I love him to pieces, you probably saw him in his bucket hat?” you tell Beth.

Jimmy apparently has been poking fun at her reading choose-your-own-adventure books to pass the time because they’re ‘for kids,’ so, lending him The Case of the Missing Man was decided to be the best way to get back at him.

You hope y’all didn’t wake Daryl, it’d gotten a little animated for a minute. To make up for it, you tiptoe when you trek down the hall to his room, Andrea and Beth behind you.

Beth left something of hers in there before he was brought in, but she was hesitant to go in there (which you praised, teenage girls and unknown older men don’t mix). Anyway, she was hesitant because she’s a little, um, well, kinda intimidated by him.

Andrea invited her to join you two, citing “Y/N says he’s as scary as a sleepy kitten right now.”

At his door, you knock lightly and call his name. Wait for an answer, try again.

Upon listening more carefully, his snores sound through the door and let you know he’s still asleep. Slowly, slowly, you open it.

As subtly as you can, you step into room and pull the sheet that had fallen down back over his shoulder before the girls see the scarring.

Daryl stirs, then grunts something incoherent as he flinches, blinks, and tries to turn toward you.

“It’s just me,” you hush. “I was fixin’ your sheet, it’d fallen.” You tuck the sheet down over his shoulder, gently and slowly. “You’re safe in the Greene’s house. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

His muscles relax and he’s back to snoring before the pet name is finished slipping out of your mouth.

Still standing beside him, you watch his side rise and fall, rise and fall. Reminds you how grateful you are. He really does look so helpless and sweet right now.

You notice Beth peeking back and forth between you and him, but she quickly looks away.

Poor buddy. If the man is this tired, he’ll rest better with closed curtains. He’s big on privacy, besides. Carefully, you start to draw them shut. Andrea joins.

Once they’re all pulled closed and the room is dimmer, she puts her hand on your arm and gently pulls you back into the hall, Beth leading the way. You make sure the door doesn’t make too much noise as it shuts.

“Thanks,” Beth whispers.

“Scary as a sleepy kitten, right?” Oh, that reminds you, “Y’all don’t have a barn cat or two, do you?”

“N-not anymore.”

Aw, that’s sad. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“Oh, um—d-don’t get too close to the big, shuttered barn, okay?” she rushes to add.

Before you can both nod and tell her ‘of course,’ she then stumbles through, “There’s—it’s—the, um—it’s just not real safe!”

She looks so freaked out and nervous that you forget you’re supposed to respond.

Lucky for you, Andrea, smooth as ever, assures her “We’ll let Carl know not play around there,” and starts to chat about how she “steers clear of old barns” ever since she spotted “the biggest rat I’ve ever seen come out of one at a company retreat,” while Patricia comes downstairs hugging to her side what looks like a wedding photo.

Beth scurries away, you make eye contact with Andrea, then Patricia gets your attention.

“Sweet pea, about tonight,” she begins, hands pressed together with her fingertips toward you. “Daryl’s gonna need to be checked on—”

“—Of course. I’ll stay with him. Please do me a list of what to check for and how often?”

“Will do. Try and borrow that big watch again, you’ll need it. Prolly will do well to have somebody else, maybe Carol to help. I'll go find her. You know, there’s an old air mattress in the attic, I’ll have Jimmy fill it up. Just go grab your sleeping bag,” she tells you.

“Thank you!” You’d been hoping for a way to avoid Shane all night. Is this a gift from above or something?

A reminder of, “Don’t use your injured side to carry your sleeping bag in,” from Patricia sends you on your way outdoors to retrieve your stuff.

The air is cooling off as the sun sets. The sky is a hazy orange-pink.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize,” Andrea says, slowly walking beside you.

“Realize what?”

“You two.”

You, too? Is she talking about your shoulder, maybe? “What’d I do? Do you mean my wrapped arm?”

She peers at you, head tilted to the side. “You and Daryl,” she softly clarifies. “It was Dale who wondered first, after you had to excuse yourself.”

Me and Daryl? “What’d we do?” Perhaps she's referring to the search today? Andrea isn’t one to not speak her mind plainly, you wonder why she’s not being more succinct. She doesn't know about you having shot that guy. Dale has an idea, but he's tight-lipped about it.

“So, you and he…?” she trails off.

So, you start to fill her in about the search. “Before Daryl found the doll, we’d—”

—OH WAIT, now you get it!

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

(for those wondering, the tomahawk chop is something Georgia Braves fans do)

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shameless-notashamed · 1 year

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“We’re the ones who live.”

#carl grimes #lori grimes #daryl dixon #carol peletier #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #hershel greene #shane walsh #andrea twd #dale horvath #merle dixon #the walking dead #twd #twd photo dump #sarasays

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clinicsharmartia · 2 days

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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.

#twd #the walking dead #twd s1 #character analysis #rick grimes #lori grimes #carl grimes #shane walsh #daryl dixon #glenn rhee #dale horvath #andrea twd #carol peletier #t dog

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lesbianjudasiscariot · 1 year

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Michonne and Andrea should have been lesbians

#my main criticism of twd is routinely not enough gay sex #michonne twd #andrea twd #twd #the walking dead #♡

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sayafics · 11 months

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Ghosts - Chapter I

TWD fanfic

I have no clue who I want my love interest to be (Daryl or Rick), but this is an idea I have been messing with for the past few days.

Plus, who doesn't love a good love triangle? Or yk...👀

Consider this as the healthiest form of my procrastination <3

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Desperate hands gripped my shoulder, and agonised pleas echoed around me as I pulled myself back into a sense of consciousness.

I could make out the light of a bright morning through my closed eyes, feel the heat of a generic day in Georgia. I could feel my hair being brushed back as the voice got louder - clearer.

I could feel my bare arms brushing against the coarse fabric I laid upon. A stinging sensation burning across my back that became stronger, more painful.

"Wake up, c'mon, get up."

Those words forced searing images to brand themselves across my mind - my parents, coming to Georgia, hiding, fear, pain. And then, the hospital.

I inhaled sharply, as all sense of consciousness was pushed back into me. I forced my eyes to open against their will, bringing my hand towards my face to cover them from the intense glare of the sun peaking through my window, only to brush it across something rough and solid.

My hand froze where it been, my heart sinking as the world around me came into focus. And there he was, a man with eyes of the ocean and the skies, eyes that were filled with confusion and desperation.

Eyes that were now looking into my own with some hope, with some dwindling sense of loneliness and there was my hand resting against the scruff of his beard as he lumbered over me, hands gripping my shoulders tightly as he shook me back into the world of the living.

There was a breath. A moment of pure silence, we took each other in. I took in his tired eyes, his pale skin, and the mess of curls that sat atop his head.

He took in my eyes, the dirt smeared across my cheeks, the blood dried into the strands of my hair, and the horror painted across my face as I thought to myself - what happened to me?

My body felt tight and tired, as though I had been fighting for a millenia but I was in a bed, unconscious and vulnerable found by a man who seemed to be in a state the same as my own.

We were both as lost as each other, and we had found each other.

As though the thought had passed through his mind, too, the man took a step back - stumbling slightly as though he was readjusting to his own weight.

"What happened?"

I'm unsure why I asked the question, I knew he had to have been as clueless as I was. But my memories were hidden in bright flashes, and my heart would beat in protest every time I tried to recall how it is I ended up here.

"I know just about as much as you do."

Hia voice was deep, gravelly - a thick southern accent painting his words, the sound of it brought a slight smile to my face.

An accent like that was something I was not familiar with - Georgia was something I was not familiar with. But I must have been here for something.

"So nothing," my voice was light, hiding the desperation for answers because I knew he could not give me them.

The blue-eyed man shook his head lightly, but he seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"What is it?" This time, I allowed the anguish I felt in my heart to leak into my words, "what do you know?"

He seemed to hesitate again, then he looked into my eyes - I'm not sure what it was that he was looking for, but it seemed he had found it.

"Something bad happened. The hospital- it's empty. Like it's been evacuated."

"What, like an earthquake?"

"Worse."

We regarded each other for a moment, but I knew I would not get the answers I needed lying on a hospital bed, so I heaved myself up, inhaling sharply as my back protested in pain and a short groan escaped my lips as I paused in my struggles.

The sound caused him to launch into action, coming to my side, hands on either side of me, and lifting me to help me sit up straight. His hands were careful, gentle.

He hovered close by as I settled into my new position before taking a forcible breath and throwing my legs over the edge. My foot hit something hard and solid, the sensation surprising me as I looked down towards the offending object.

Apprehension came over me as I regarded the bag hidden clumsily under the confines of my hospital bed, and it seemed my curiosity outweighed my pain as I reached out towards it and ignored the tugging sensation at the damage that was hidden from me.

I pulled the bag out from under the bed, all the while his eyes were still on me.

I heaved it across my lap, puzzled by the weight of the bag. That is until I opened it, I stretched it wide as I examined the contents and had to hold back my incredulity.

But it seemed he could not, his eyes widening and brows raising as he took in the countless daggers and knives littered amongst pictures, clothes, and food packs.

Pictures.

Of me.

Of my family.

There were two weapons that stuck out in particular. They were longer than the rest, the handles slim and brown - the wood engraved with... is that my name?

It had to be.

What happened to me?

If I had not been confused before, desperation for answers now clawed at my throat as I processed what sat in front of me.

Remnants from a life I did not know I had left.

The man seemed to be snapped out of his stupor, caution now filling his eyes he straightened his shoulders - "we should go."

I could not take my eyes off the bag, but I nodded all the same.

I still had not moved, not until he walked over to me, crouching slowly as he grasped one end of the bag and pulled the zipper close until the secrets of a life I did not remember were hidden from me once again. He sat across from me, hands resting atop the duffelbag I gripped with whitening flesh, forcing my hands to not tremble.

"We should go."

It was I who whispered now, and it was him who stood.

A hand came into view, a single request. A simple request.

One I accepted.

I placed my hand into his own, allowing him to pull me up slowly so I did not hurt my back.

He turned his back towards me, leaving through the door and waiting as I collected myself.

I took a moment, closing my eyes and promising myself I would figure this out. I would find my answers and I would get my closure.

But right now, in the middle of the unknown, I was not safe, and I needed to be.

I slid on the slippers that were near the bed. They were fluffy and resembled a stuffed animal - a bunny? A hesitant smile split across my face, surely whoever it was that had left me the duffelbag, that had left me these shoes, that had helped care for my injury - surely they cared for me? Perhaps they were my parents?

Flashes of them burned across my mind, and I forced my burning eyes to not let my tears fall.

Instead, I followed the echoes of a man who had found me, a man who saw me and decided I was worth coming along in whatever journey it was he had planned in his mind.

I came to stand at his side, my bag now thrown over my head and stretched across my body - I followed his eyes, wide and fearful to a door.

'DON'T OPEN. DEAD INSIDE.'

When I looked back, he was looking at me instead. His eyes are searching mine again. Looking for something only he knew where to find.

And he found it.

"I'm Rick Grimes."

I searched his eyes, trying to find a trace of what it was that he saw in mine - truth? Friendship? Loyalty?

I wonder if he would ever tell me.

Thinking of the bag, of the pictures, of the weapons and the lost memories, it was as though my instincts had caught a hold of me.

"Casper. My name's Casper Graham."

A slow smile stretched across his face, his eyes lighting up as the start of a new friendship distracted him from whatever thoughts haunted his mind.

#twd #rick grimes #daryl dixon #lori grimes #carl grimes #andrea twd #glenn rhee #merle dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x oc #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x oc #rick grimes x reader

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