#& beta

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Plotted starter for @betaofthedead

It'd been years since he'd been this close to a city and James would be lying if he said he was comfortable. But Clementine had asked for his help especially, even after everything that went down between them, after how he scared them and —in a lesser level— they scared him. Yet here they were, giving each other a second chance, and it was going pretty well up until they arrived to the city.

Nothing had happened, but that didn't stop James from being on edge as he stood outside the gates, at least four people standing over the gates and whispering to each other told him they weren't keeping watch, but talking about him. James kept his eyes down, grip tightening on the leader of his mask as his fingers rubbed against the seams in an attempt to comfort himself. He reminded himself that he could leave, Clementine told him so herself when it became clear the amount of time she and AJ would spend in there was undefined.

And he did– kind of. James didn't leave the main street right in front of the gates, but he did move farther away from them, finding a comfortable spot to sit on an old car that was more rust and plants than vehicle.

James took a deep breath, keeping himself busy making another hole on the old guardian leather that was his mask to pass the rope that tied it shut because some had grown too wide and made it impossible to tighten it properly. He was at it until the breeze changed and blew his way, making the familiar smell of rot and fresh blood reach him. His brows furrowed as he looked first towards the gates, finding nothing; then the other way.

He froze at the sight of the all too familiar giant standing there, a deer over his shoulder.

[voiicefound]

LYDIA & BETA ORGANISED CRIME AU FT @iam-beta

'there's not such thing as good money or bad money. there's just money.'

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Plotted starter for @betaofthedead

"This better not become a weekly occurrence." that's what Alice had told Megan the very first time she'd gotten a "pick me up" text from Megan and had to drive across town at three in the morning to get her friend out of the kind of situation people warn you to stay out to. That happened six months ago, and by now, Alice was certain she knew every dealer's house, every speakeasy bar with some extra options in their menus, every club that she suspected was little more than a money laundering operation for a gang, or the mafia, or whatever– it wasn't like she could ask.

This one, however, was new. Titan. It was an interesting name for this kind of establishment. The size, location, and amount of people waiting in line also made it look way more legit than most places Alice ended up unwillingly visiting past midnight because of Megan, but there was something about this place that was just off.

Alice didn't wait in line, from the experience she had having to go pick up Megan, she knew to tone out the colorful insults that came from the people in line. She wasn't here to party, the way she'd dressed with zero intention of showing off —which, ironically, made her stand out around people who'd taken their time getting dolled up— was enough to leave that clear as she approached the bouncer at the door.

Megan'd mentioned this place before. Her new boyfriend worked there, and he got them to put her name on the list just so he wouldn't have to go all the way to the entrance to have them let Megan in, and she wouldn't have to wait in line.

"Megan Lafferty," Alice lied as soon as the man gave her the 'you better not waste my time' look. "I'm on the list."

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Plotted starter for @betaofthedead

Joan was out. Not 'in the hospital parking lot' out, no, she was actually out. In all honesty, Joan hadn't had hopes of making it this far, not after what had happened, this wasn't her first attempt, and the previous one had ended quite badly for her. But not this time, whatever hopelessness had filled her before was gone now.

Who would have thought killing a man could fill her with such determination?

She didn't give it much thought, focused on putting as much distance between herself and that hell of a place as she possible could. Joan's legs ached from the exertion but she pushed on, her right arm hooked into a sling she'd improvised with a jacket she'd stolen from Dawn's office, more as a way to stop herself from reaching for things intent on grabbing them with a hand that was no longer there than to offer any relief. Her good hand gripped the scissors she'd used to kill Gorman tightly, blood having dried on them, and on her clothes too– hospital clothes, because she hadn't even stopped to find herself anything better.

If it wasn't because the world had gone to hell, Joan would probably be mistaken for someone who'd just escaped from a mental hospital. Good thing there wasn't anyone around to see her.

Or so she'd thought.

Eventually, her limbs refused to take her any further than they already had, and so she had to slow down, that allowed the corpses roaming the woods to catch up to her, and her scissors proved less useful against them than they were against a living but distracted individual. She'd been left with no choice but to climb onto a large fallen log, barely making it and panting hard due to the struggle of climbing it only one arm. But she managed to stay out of reach.

Now she was in trouble. As she looked around frantically for something– anything, to use against them, she spotted a large figure in the distance. At first, she cursed because she thought it to be another walker, but then she realized it was just standing there, not getting any closer, unlike the one walker that did come stumbling out of the bushes, joining the other three already trying to grab at her.

"Hey!" she called out. "You there, help me!"

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Starter for @betaofthedead

It seemed that everything that could go wrong did. Jesus couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this afraid, not for his own safety, but for the safety of those around him. He could go out on his own and face any threat, even get himself in some quite big trouble when he wanted to, without as much worrying much that he might not make it out alive. But when it came to the lives of his people, just the thought of losing any of them made his blood run cold– or perhaps it was the concerningly low temperature. It wasn't usual for it to be this cold this time of the year and yet here they were, struggling through a fog so thick they couldn't make out a discernible shape of a walker in front of them until it was at arm's reach. Perhaps global warming had always had something to do with the weather in Virginia.

Jesus realized that not all of his uneasiness came from the threat on his people's lives. No, something was wrong.

It started subtle, a whisper that didn't belong to ananyt voice he was familiar with, so soft he would have  thought he was imagining it if it wasn't for the fact he wasn't the only one who reacted to it. One of the new women, Yumiko, stood close and her head snapped in the same direction as his did when he heard it. So no, he hadn't lost his mind yet.

The second option wasn't much better: there was someone in the fog with them, and they weren't a walker.

He kept moving ahead, tackling and stepping on the head of one of the walkers that got in his way before kicking another to the ground. He didn't bother to end the second one, his eyes focusing on two silhouettes that stood ahead. One was Aaron, he could tell because, well, he knew Aaron way too well at this point, but the other one was a complete stranger, tall, menacing, closer to Jesus than it was too Aaron, but approaching Aaron while he was distracted.

Jesus didn't think. He ignored what might have been a: "What are you doing?" from Yumiko and rushed forward, dodging a walker that got in his way in his efforts to get to Aaron before the other shape in the fog did. When that proved fruitless, he changed direction, instead charging at the large figure and ramming onto its side.

Muscle memory took hold of him and his hand found its way under the leather flap of a trench coat, closing around the handle of a knife that he swiftly pulled free of its sheath, holding it half behind his thigh as he stepped back and watched the figure regain its– no, his balance, reaching with both hands under the very trench coat Jesus had just reached under of, and only finding one weapon.

"Looking for this?" Jesus hummed, holding the blade up as he spoke.

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(from betaofthedead) for javier. [ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

BLOOD RELATED PROMPTS

@betaofthedead

Due to New Richmond's location in the middle of the city, it wasn't often that they had to deal with people threatening their safety– at least not since the civil war that'd take place within the community against the New Frontier. But there were times when groups of people, the kind that didn't want to join and share, but to take everything for themselves without a care for the lives they would ruin in the process, would come to the city and do the only thing they knew how to do: hurt people.

Not all of the new frontier had been killed, some of them lived a relatively peaceful life in a the McCarroll Ranch, a ways away from any other settlement, and remained in contact with New Richmond to exchange supplies. The call they got that day was not for supplies, but for help.

A group of raiders had found the ranch, too many for the people there to deal with, and so Javier and a group had dusted off the vehicles for once, and made their way through what was now whisperer territory. Of course, it'd attracted attention and of course, Beta wasn't happy.

"We had a deal," the pack leader growled afted they'd stopped their advances through the barely visible dirt road that went through the woods.

"Man, I know. You know I know," Javier said, rushed. "But something came up, raiders are attacking some of our folks. They need our help, there's kids and–"

Javier didn't have to say much else. Not only did Beta allow them to go through, but he climbed onto the back of one of the trucks, and so did the whisperers he was with. "To ensure you're not lying," he'd said, but Javier had the feeling he'd pulled at the giant's heart strings when he mentioned children in danger.

The ranch was done for when they got there, part of it on fire. All they could hope to do was get as many people out as they could, and get rid of as many raiders as possible.

McCarroll Ranch was a mess of smoke and gunshots where telling who was on which side was impossible unless you were standing right in front of them and they tried to kill you. Despite the baseball bat might give the opposite idea, Javier wasn't a fan of close range fighting; thankfully, the whisperers were. And damn were they good at moving through the smoke and taking down people without being heard. Javier had almost swung at two different packmembers when they'd caught him completely off guard. Thankfully, he knew to stop himself in time to not ruin an alliance and end a life for being jumpscared.

Beta was the one he was able to tell apart from the others. How could he not when the man was a giant in a trench coat? Javier spotted him within the smoke, moving forward with terrifying determination, and got his attention to get the man to help him lead the children he'd found hiding in a room towards the exit.

The giant walked ahead of them, blades drawn. He looked back every few seconds to ensure that all five children and Javier were following after him; it was during one of those moments of distraction that a beam from the roof snapped, loose end swinging towards them.

"Watch out!" Javier shouted.

Instead of moving out of the way to avoid being hit, Beta did the unthinkable. His blades clattered to the ground when he dropped them, hands shooting up in time to prevent the beam from falling in their way and blocking the only. The man groaned, body shaking from the exertion.

"Get out," Beta growled, and the children did just as told.

Javier froze, watching blood slide from where the man's hands had caught the beam, and realizing he wouldn't be able to hold it's weight forever, or get away from right below it without it collapsing on him as soon as he as much as removed a hand. So he did something almost as reckless as what Beta had just done, Javier took multiple steps back, then charged forward, tackling the man.

They both crashed to the ground, but the noise they made was nothing compared to that section of the roof collapsing right behind them. Javier watched just how much they'd been about to get crushed by before he looked back and found Beta staring at him, lips barely pulling back into the start of a snarl.

"Growl at me later," Javier cut him off, scrambling to his feet and grabbing the whisperer leader's arm to pull him up, avoiding his injured hands. "Come on!"

[we-will-begin-again]

Plotted starter for @betaofthedead

The world ended and for some strange twist of fate, Lucille was still alive. She wasn't a particularly religious person, but this all just felt like a joke —a very cruel one at that— from some higher power who seemed to get their rocks off by making her deal with bullshit. She survived the cancer, survived the surgery and the lack of proper treatment because of the pandemic that broke of shortly before her surgery, and now the population of the United States —and the world, probably— was about 90% cannibal corpses.

Negan was gone. Lucille wasn't sure if he was dead or he'd left, but when she woke up at the hospital, dehydrated and starving, he just wasn't there, neither were any of the doctors or patients, at least not any that were still alive.

That was months ago. How many, Lucille wasn't sure– as if time at hospitals wasn't already weird enough and made it impossible for her to tell how long she'd been hospitalized, television, radios and cellphones didn't work so there was no way for her to know what day it was exactly. But if she had to guess, Lucille would say it had been about a whole year.

Her first winter had been spent hiding in the hospital, barricaded in the cafeteria that it had taken her days to get the reanimated bodies out of in a non confrontational way, eating the nonperishables. But as soon as summer began, she filled a car with as much water and food as the back and passenger seat could fit and left.

Lucille's breath fogged in front of her face, reminding her than any moment now it would start to snow again and she had yet to find a safe place to hide at. The car wouldn't do, cold autumn nights in that car had been hell and each day it seemed that there were more and more of the undead around, even when she attempted to stay away from big cities. Right now, she stood out of her car at a gas station in a town that though possessing some sizeable buildings, was still quite small, getting some fresh air and stretching her legs after hours of driving.

She was about to get back in the car to not waste what little sunlight she had left when she saw someone small —too small to be an adult— rush across the street, too fast to be one of the dead.

"Hey!" Lucille called out, then her mind caught up to her mouth and she wanted to smack herself. A kid would certainly not be alone, right?

But what if they were?

"God dammit," Lucille muttered under her breath before locking the car —as if that would do anything to stop anyone from stealing her shit, hopefully the covered spot where she'd parked it would make it go unnoticed— before she ran after the kid.