#twd!verse

The storm had come on suddenly, the temperature dropping with it, and they'd been forced to seek shelter instead of heading back to Hilltop before nightfall. While it wasn't ideal, the circumstances hadn't tipped Jesus into any real concern for their safety. The little cabin was secure enough against the walkers, and they'd scavenged enough supplies that they wouldn't go hungry even if they were holed up for a week instead of just a night.

It wasn't exactly warm though, and whoever had left the place behind had absconded with most of the bedding. There wasn't a blanket to be found. Jesus wouldn't say he was comfortable in the brown leather jacket, but he wasn't in any danger of freezing. He wasn't sure the same could be said for Jason. He just looked cold, and he'd have taken it off and offered it to him if he thought it would fit. "C'mere, I'm cold just looking at you," he offered with a crooked half-smile, holding out an arm for him to cuddle closer for the warmth.

He should have known it was a trap. Nobody left a truck full of non-perishable food out in the open like that. He should have stuck to raiding houses, or just stayed in the goddamn woods hunting game. Daryl could survive like that indefinitely, had even before the outbreak, but living around so many people before the prison fell had changed something. It wasn't hunger making him feel hollow or driving him out of safety. He just missed having another human around.

Walkers had poured out of the back of the truck, and Daryl crouched on the top of it, safe for the moment. His crossbow was slung over his shoulder, but there were far too many to shoot. He would run out of arrows before he even made a dent in them. "Shit," he swore quietly but with feeling, his eyes flicking to the woman trapped with him. "Got any ideas?"

In some ways, things were simpler after the world ended. Simpler the way war was simpler. Live or die. Them or us. Pull the trigger or find yourself on the other end of the barrel. It was difficult to say how much time had passed when it was just him. The days didn't mean anything, all of them blurring together in the routine tasks of survival. The cabin wasn't entirely self-sustaining, but it wasn't far off. There was water and a little space cleared to grow food, traps in the woods, even a generator if he was feeling extra, but there wasn't often a need for it.

It had also been empty for a time. Had some business to take care of a ways out, and he took the long way back to make sure he wasn't followed. It had started with his family, killed by humans instead of walkers, of all things. He should have known, should have had enough experiences with people doing stupid, terrible things, to know that the dead wouldn't be the worst thing they were facing, but it had all been so new back then, dead coming back to life, watching the government crumble fast along with any possibility of a cure. He'd put down the rabid animals who were responsible, too late to matter, and since then he'd made it his business to take care of any problems like that. Bad enough they had to fight the walkers.

He knew there was someone else there before he ever stepped inside, but how they'd managed to get in, he couldn't yet say. The cabin was heavily fortified, traps set against walkers and humans alike, and they'd have to be skilled, desperate, or damn lucky to get by them all. There was nothing to announce his presence except the click of a gun, his voice gravel from disuse. "Talk fast."

Ellie had been a teenager when the outbreak happened. Though she had memories of the world before, in a lot of ways, this was the only one she'd known. Finding Alexandria had been a blessing, but much like her father, there was a part of her that could never fully settle or forget that the world outside the walls was deadly to them.

She worked guard duty to protect the city or joined Anya on scavenging missions when she started to feel too complacent on the inside. She never wanted to forget how to survive out here. They'd had to go far to slip past the circle of the Saviors and their territory, but she still wouldn't feel safe sleeping in one of the houses.

It was pure luck stumbling across the treehouse. It looked like a relic of the pre-outbreak world, and even though it was rotting in places, she was sort of charmed by it. Night fell quickly in the woods, but it was cozy up there in the trees. "Once upon a pre-apocalypse, I bet our dads would have built us something like this."

@unheald

Dean hadn't really intended to fall in with Rosita and her people when they met, but he could admit it was nice to have a few more people he could trust at his back, a little more safety in numbers when things got hairy. He'd had his doubts about Alexandria from the start, and hardly a day passed that he didn't think about bailing, friends or not. In his experience, anything that seemed too good to be true probably was, and he and Sam had always done fine on their own.

Then there was Negan. Dean still probably could have walked away if he hadn't gone out of his way to make it personal from the start. There had been something deeply satisfying about watching Rosita point a gun at him, even if it had all promptly gone to shit after that. It had taken two of Negan's guys to hold him back while he had a knife on her, and if he was being honest, he hadn't expected either of them to live through it.

Of course, Negan somehow managed to make it feel worse than dying would have. "Pretty sure that was your moment. I'll never forget you pointing a gun at that prick for as long as I live." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile, but it was hard to feel very good about it with the dirt from digging Olivia's grave still under his fingernails. Dean had killed more monsters and walkers and humans than he could count at this point, but there was a very specific cruelty to Negan's kills that he could never replicate. He always hurt the people who least deserved it.

Send a “💀 “ for a dark/violent starter [#62 “Try and run again, and I’ll break the other one.”]

Vince wasn’t fucking around as his eyes narrowed and his fists curled, prepared for her to do it again. Whatever remorse he might have felt earlier dissipated at the sight of her feeble form cradling the broken arm. Women had always been weak, the tiny voice on his shoulder muttered and it made him bare his teeth in anger. 

In a second Vince stalked across the room, backing her into the corner as his hand grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look him in the eye. “You ever think about tryin’ to break out again and you’ll be wishin’ I’d’ve killed you.” He snarled before shoving her back onto the floor. 

@lunarruled

Daryl's paranoia long predated the apocalypse. He preferred not to go into a room with only one exit, and staying at the prison had severely tested his willingness to be trapped in a space. That had fallen apart, and he'd found himself on his own again for a time, his friends scattered with no way to contact each other. Taking up with Kyleigh was a recent development, one he still wasn't sure was a good idea. He'd always been fine on his own. It was safer that way, but making real connections with Rick's group had done something to him. He missed conversation (other people's, since he wasn't much of a talker himself) and the reassurance of another living, breathing body nearby. It was too loud in his head on his own, and sticking with her stopped his mind from constantly circling around whether the rest of them were okay.

The house looked like its better days had been well before the dead started coming back to life, but the sky said there was a storm coming. They needed shelter while there was still light left to see by. Kicking in the door was easy, and nothing came swarming out at them, but he wouldn't be comfortable until they'd checked every room. He'd come to a dead stop in the hallway, his body locking up and refusing to take a step into the tiny half-bath. He could see from there that there was nothing living or dead in it, and his every instinct rebelled against the enclosed space. His shoulders stiffened at the question, always uncomfortable with other people's scrutiny, and he stepped away from the door, moving further down the hall. "Not doin' nothin'. Nobody in there."