Chapter 15 is released. If you miss Din already and want cheering up with a lovely, detailed, completely written, regularly posted, character-based story with an original plot, in-depth worldbuilding and thorough research, I urge you to take a look 🥹
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I’ve now reached over 5K views, my mind is blown just thinking about it 🤯
❤️ Thank you to everyone reading this little tale of mine, I hope you continue to enjoy - there’s plenty more to come! ❤️
The contrast of watching heartstopper then going straight into Stranger Things s4 vol2 is like whiplash, I was so high off the joy of my little gay children finally being fucking happy then Byler had to take a massive fucking dump on all my hopes and dreams im crushed
~Trigger Warning: Typical TWD warnings. Minor Character death. depictions of violence. (minors DNI) If any other Triggers apply please let me know.~
A/N:Sooooo I took a bit of a break again and I was a bit stuck on what I wanted to do. Like I've said before I don't like how much unnecessary death is in the show but that doesn't mean there won't be any. I think some are important for character growth. I hope yall enjoy this chapter I am hoping to post another this week.
Wordcount: 2,035
Each member stood outside the doors of the now-locked shower room. They all stare in disbelief at the body laying in front of them. None of them dare to speak first until you and Daryl round the corner.
“The hell happened here?” Daryl’s question was hushed not to alert anyone who might pass through at this time of night.
Glenn’s voice is the first from the otherwise stoic group, “No bites...had the doctor look him over. He said it seems like a flu virus of some sort.”
“We are having him and Hershel going around first thing in the morning to see if anyone else is having flu-like symptoms.” Sasha’s soft, clear voice rushes out as she crosses her arms.
“I’ll help them I had a few years in as a Nurse while I was in the military.” You couldn’t help but pipe up in the meeting of the council members, even if you weren’t one yourself. Daryl glanced over at you questioningly for a moment before choosing to ignore whatever thoughts he had about it.
Carol looked over at the two of you before speaking up, “We need to get ahead of this. Quarantine his whole cell block and post a guard. Keep anyone else from dying needlessly.”
“We can’t just send anyone over there and possibly get sick too” Glenn’s conscious speaking for him.
“I’ll do it. I was already exposed to Patrick just by killing him.” You couldn’t help but look back at the boy’s body. This kind of stuff never used to affect you but this time it’s different. These people are entirely innocent. “We all need to start wearing some type of mask too. If it’s a flu its mostly spread through the air.” Pulling your bandanna from your pocket, you start tying one around your head to cover your face. “What do I tell them when they ask why I’ve locked the cell block door?”
Carol sighs as she looks over at you, “The truth...just sugarcoat it a bit. We better get a move on then. Try not to let this spread.”
With that, you take the key from Daryl and head to the cell block. Checking that everyone is in the cell block before locking the door and setting up a chair where you can see the whole cell block and its occupants.
The night goes by in a slow drag. Eventually, people start waking up and coming to the front of the block to head out for the day. The first was a dad and his two girls. “What’s going on? Is there something wrong?” His worry is ever present in his voice as his hands grip his daughter’s shoulders.
You give him a tight smile as you stand to talk to him. “We had someone pass away from this block last night. The council is putting the block on lock down until everyone gets checked out by the Doctor. He should be here soon.”
“So...we...we are locked in here? What if someone else is sick?” You are quick to step forward and put a calming hand on the man's shoulder.
“It's all under control. We have medicine to fight it off we just need to have the doctor make his rounds and once you’ve been cleared we will isolate those who haven’t been. The best thing for you to do now is take your daughters back to their room and keep them company.” The man looks down at his daughters next to him and he nods taking them back to their room. Each interaction goes about the same until the doctor finally arrives at the cell block door.
After letting Dr.S and Hershel in, locking the door behind them he fills you in on what the illness is. “It’s likely a mutated form of swine flu. It’s a fast-acting strain so if the whole cell block was exposed then they will either be asymptomatic ond non-contagious by this point. But the ones with any symptoms should be secluded from the others. I’ve already let the council know.”
Nodding you look around at the other cells. “What do we tell the others that aren’t sick?”
“I’ll have them all go to the showers to decontaminate just in case and stay in another block. This one will need cleaning.” Nodding you head to the top of the block starting from the end while Dr.S and Hershel work the bottom row of cells. Only 3 of all the people examined seem to be experiencing any symptoms. Karen, David, and the father of the two daughters Ryan. It wasn’t until the final cell on the top row that things started to look grimmer. A growl has you pulling your hunting knife from its sheath. Pulling the makeshift curtains to the side it a walker makes its way to the bars. It felt like an eternity as the man got close enough. sticking the long hunting machete through the bars he simply walked into the blade himself. Pulling back and taking a deep breath you turn to look at Hershel and Dr.S talking at the bottom of the steps.
They give pause looking at the grim look written across your features. Shaking your head and walking down to give them the news. “Who was it?”
A shaky sigh escapes you, “I don’t know his name. I only met him last a couple a nights ago when he swapped me on fence duty.” He had been nice to you and given you a fresh water bottle before taking your place.
It was then that Rick and Daryl walk through the cell block doors. “Bathroom should be clear for the others to wash up now. How’d rounds go?” Rick’s calm voice has a hint of anxiety to it.
Not wanting to have the others relay the bad news to the others you take it upon yourself. Pointing up to the cell you give another sigh, “Only one passed. Must’a been sometime in the night, he locked himself in his cell. Only 3 others are showing symptoms.”
Daryl’s eyes followed where you were pointing. His stoic features only give away the sadness and recognition slightly. “That’s Charlie’s cell. Use ta sleepwalk.” His voice was quiet as the name left his lips.
Looking to Dr.S you decide to relay any other information as Rick and Daryl head up to take the body out to be buried.
The day progresses slowly until screaming can be heard at the front gate. By the time you make sure Judith is safe with Carl and Sophia, you make your way to the fence Rick and Daryl are already on the other side of the fence leading the walkers away with the sick pigs. Pulling your hunting machete out you make your way to the other side of the fence killing off any stragglers that get too close to the truck. Daryl shouts out the window at you with half a grin and the other half worry, “What the hell ya doin’ woman? Gonna get yerself killed!”
You only smile over at the man before you slice the closest walker’s head clean in half. By the time all the pigs were dead and all the walkers from the build-up were laying motionless Daryl and Rick swing back around to pick you up. You plop down next to Rick who doesn’t seem very happy about today’s events either. You give him a knowing nod.
He gives a scoff and half smile, “Why the hell ya gotta be like that? That was stupid.”
You roll your eyes at him as you all re-enter the gates “I ain’t never been smart Rick you know that.” You wink at him and shove his shoulder. The small playful smiles on your faces fall when you both see a very upset Tyreese.
Everything seemed to happen all at once and one right after the other. On zero sleep You stand over the chard remains of three bodies. The same three that you had led to that room earlier in the day. Karen, David, and Ryan were all dead now. It isn’t until you have to help pull Tyreese off of Rick that it becomes so real and so fast. Your first thought going to Sophia and if she’s safe being here with a murderer along with this flu. Then the pain hits you that she isn’t yours to look out for anymore even if you desperately want to. At that moment you decide it's best for you to leave. This would cause problems if you don’t.
~3:00 AM ~
Sliding the last thing in your old bag you decide it's best to leave without as many people knowing as possible. Leaving a handwritten note for Carl, Rick, and Sophia laying on your bed for one of them to find. As quietly as possible you make your way to the front gate only to be stopped by a gruff voice.
“Ya really leavin’?” He has been the only person this whole time that’s been able to sneak up on you without even trying. Freezing to your spot only nodding at the man in the dark of the night. “Why? Ya found yer family here...”
Sighing at the man you turn to fully face him. “Daryl...I don’t have any family. My brother is dead. Sophia ain’t mine and well Rick was just Shane’s best friend.”
He scuffs, “That’s some bullshit and ya know it.” He starts pacing slightly like he usually does when he gets upset. You’d seen him do it a few times now.
“I can’t stay Daryl. It’s not fair to them if I do.” Turning to walk off you stop as Daryl grabs your arm just tight enough to keep you from stomping off.
“They need ya and yer just gonna leave? Sophia still needs ya. Ya’ve been protectin’ her this whole time and now you are gonna leave her high an’ dry? I can’t accept that.” His grip tightens slightly at his words.
You rip your arm from his grip. “You’re gonna have to. Carol is her mom. Not me. I only promised her I’d get her back to her family. I should have just left that first night. Would have been easier for all of them.” With that, you stalked off. Daryl tries to follow after you but you make a break out the gate and toward the woods faster than Daryl can get them to close the gate back up. Tears stream silently down your face as each step gets harder to take away from the prison that was starting to feel like a home for the first time in your life.
After finding your bike that you had hidden away from the prison you made your way as far away from the camp as you could. Little did you know they would have needed you more than ever in the next few days to come. Weeks later you go back just to check on them. You regretted ever leaving since you ran out the gates. Seeing the overrun fences and the walkers everywhere your heart shattered. It was the worst feeling you could imagine. Anger coursed through your veins as you slashed your way through every single walker in the field then all the ones in the courtyard. Even the fatigue in your muscles was pushed aside by the pure rage burning through you. By the last walker you still hadn’t found any of them. Only a few were people you recognized but the others had to be out there somewhere and you were determined to find them again and make sure nothing else would ever happen to them again.
Part 5
If you would like to be tagged in my works please feel free to message me and let me know who/what fandoms you’d like to be tagged in.
So, @fandomkaleidoscope convinced me to write Bella Squared.
Summary: Three weeks ago things changed between Beca, Chloe, Aubrey, and Stacie when they had sex. Now they can’t keep their hands off of each other. Is it just really good sex between friends? Or is there more there?
So, I’m writing an Arthur FleckxReader story because of course I fucking am.
The Laughing Ladder
You are a world weary, depressed twenty something that moves to Gotham City for a fresh start or whatever the hell that means. You mainly just want to be left alone in the big city but you meet Arthur Fleck on a rainy day and suddenly, alone doesn't work for you anymore.
Begins a little before the movie then leads into it with a few minor changes to fit the narrative I've got going.
Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation
A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.
(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)
Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07
This time: Amanda drifts. Ikora interjects. The Speaker intervenes.
-/
Everything seemed to fade in and out. One minute she’d feel like her entire body was on fire, heat and pain and everything hurting. The next, she’d feel like she was sinking in an ocean of gentle waves that pulled her down, down, until there was nothing.
When she finally starts feeling awake, that happens in bits and pieces, too. A few heavy blinks into the eyes of a young woman who speaks to her but she can’t hear the words, as though her ears aren’t awake but her eyes are. The feeling of a hand covering hers, someone moving her. Bright lights overhead. Her entire body feels so heavy and sore, like she’s been running forever, from Fallen on the roads-
Wait, she thinks, eyes shocking open in panic. Not the roads. The City. Fallen. There were-
Matron Karena is leaning over her faster than she can blink, shushing her gently, lacing their fingers. “You’re alright, baby,” She tells her in the softest hum, and Amanda wants to curl up, to push herself closer to the matron she hasn’t seen in three months, but she doesn’t think she can do much more than flex her fingers. Her mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton balls, and her eyelids feel weighed down, like her body doesn’t belong to her; It isn’t listening. “You’ve done so well.”
She must make some sound, some croaky noise from the back of her throat because the matron sits herself on the edge of the bed and continues stroking her hair. “Nuh,” She groans. “B-Benhj-”
“They’re alright,” Karena answers, knowing what she’s trying to say. “They made it out safe.” The blonde relaxes into the pillows once more. The room has a lot of sounds: weird mechanical dings and ambient blips from all sorts of sensors. “Rest a while longer,” She encourages, smoothing the wrinkles that appear on the girl’s forehead when she frowns, trying to concentrate. It’s clearly a losing battle, her eyelids close and stay that way. Whatever else the matron says is lost to her as she drifts back to sleep.
The room isn’t as bright when she wakes next. The white light that was above her before is off, she knows, because it doesn’t sear through her eyelids. She shifts, trying to get comfortable. The longer she stays awake, the more she feels an acute ache, coiling up from her toes. All of her feels stiff, like she hasn’t moved in a really long time.
“Zavala,” Calls a voice, elegant and female. It’s accompanied by a mechanical click and whir, her tone influenced by a gentle thrum of static.
A creaking chair and a rustle alert her to movement to her left, the sound of two heavy footsteps in her direction. Her eyes open in twin slivers of blue-green. “Amanda,” He says fondly, sounding terribly relieved.
It takes her a moment to focus on his face, the bright shimmer of his eyes, the intricate patterns that pulse and pull apart across his skin. The effort takes a lot, but she tries to lift a hand to reach for him. In the end, she ends up knocking her palm against his face, but he covers her hand with one of his own, holding it against his cheek.
"Okay?" She mumbles, blinking at him. He doesn't answer right away, so she wills herself to press on. "W's wrong?"
The glow in his eyes is sad, and he doesn't smile, though when he'd said her name a minute ago, it made her feel important, special. "Everything is fine," He answers, eventually. His voice sounds pinched, like he's still real concerned. "I am glad you're awake."
Her head flops to the left so she can get a better look at him. Some part of her decides then to shift, growing more uncomfortable. A starburst of pain makes her shriek, throwing her head back, her spine arching. She pants hard against the pillows. She can't think of why, her entire body is curling in on itself, reduced to the rapidly increasing pressure and agony that is her legs.
When she reaches down blindly, he grabs both her hands in his. She squeezes hard, her fingernails biting into his skin as her body tenses further. "It hurts," She whines morosely. "Make it stop."
He nods, and his Ghost zips overhead to seek out a nurse. "Breathe," He tells her, when her breaths become anxious gasps, the monitors around her getting louder. "Look at me."
She tries, but it doesn't help.
The nurse comes in with a tired looking Karena on her heels. "Okay sweetheart," The medical staff says, unscrewing a cap from a needleless syringe to push into her IV, "This will make you sleepy, but you won't hurt anymore."
Wide eyes look to Zavala first. He nods. "But-" She squeezes his hands, trying to keep him close, panic overwhelming her, "I jus' woke up-"
The medication hits her system quick, her grip slackening, eyes drooping immediately. Whatever else she was trying to say comes out in a slurry. "Dunn leaf," it sounds like.
"What was-?" His Ghost looks between the rest of them before drifting high enough to recheck the monitors.
"Don't leave," Karena informs him. In the silence that follows, she says, “Children cling when they’re hurting. It’s not about the pain so much as it is about feeling safe.”
Zavala looks to her, infinitely conflicted. "I-"
"I know," She interrupts, motheringly. Her smile is warm. "Don't feel guilty. You have a job to do. I'll sit with her when you have to go."
The nurse dips her head in a curt nod, her dark hair pulled up and out of her face. "We'll contact your Ghost if anything changes, Sir. She's already asked us to."
That doesn't make him feel better, though he appreciates the gesture. It still takes his Ghost's gentle, non-verbal insisting to convince him to leave the child, even though the curl of her hand is based on reflex rather than conscious thought. In the end it takes him far longer than it should to say his goodbyes, warring silently with himself on whether or not to give in to impulse and press a kiss to her forehead on his way out.
(He does. The matron pretends not to notice.)
-/
Ikora is nowhere in sight. He was supposed to report to her - she was on night rota this cycle due to some experiment she was working on - and though her Ghost answered his partner's requests dismissively. Though, Zavala is certain that is more to do with Ikora and Ophiuchus' communication issues than with the woman's Ghost being purposely irritating.
He really should speak to her, even if there isn't much to report. But after the second hour of fruitless communication with Ophiuchus, Zavala sends him an abbreviated missive and leaves for the Tower’s medical facility. It isn't protocol, however both Ikora and Cayde have done similar when important endeavors come up.
When he arrives, the medical staff greets him amiably enough, the same dark-haired woman that’s been tending to Amanda for the last few days waving politely before continuing her conversation with a colleague about another patient. He breathes an unnoticeable sigh of relief. If something had gone wrong, she would have stopped to speak with him, Zavala’s sure.
"I was beginning to wonder if I'd be sitting here all night," Comes a cool voice from Amanda's bedside when he steps through the threshold.
Ikora’s brows rise in a silent question. She tilts her head, banishes the tablet in her hands without another sound.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, unable to look away from her piercing gaze. Nothing escapes her notice; He should have known.
“What are you doing, Zavala?” She gestures to the sleeping girl in the bed, hooked up to all sorts of tubes and cords. “This has to stop.”
A glance in Amanda’s direction gives him pause. “Why are the monitors off?”
“My Ghost is monitoring them. They are-”
“Ikora.” He isn’t yelling, but there is an edge of fury in his voice.
She tsks. “I hardly think Ophiuchus would hesitate to notify the staff if something were wrong. Besides, I spoke to the physician. It’s a precaution.” His glare is severe. Ikora crosses her arms, unimpressed. “The monitors are projected in both the nursing station and in the hallway. No one’s being denied any information about her well-being.”
He steps between the chair Ikora’s draped herself in and the hospital bed, leaning down to look into the child’s face. Her freckled cheeks are red and fevered, but her chest rises and falls in deep, even breaths. He sighs.
“You can’t blame yourself for every child harmed by our enemies," Ikora says when he straightens. "You'll drive yourself to madness."
Scrubbing the left side of his face with his hand, he replies, "I am not. This is different."
Ikora leans back against the uncomfortable chair, making herself appear almost regal despite it. Her golden eyes widen and narrow in an intimidating evaluation. She does not ask a question. She does not have to. They've certainly been working together long enough.
"You're obviously aware of how she sustained her injuries," He begins, looking down at the girl's face. "She is a child from the home I volunteer at."
"Yes, I know." His brows furrow. She admits, "I dismissed the woman that was here when I arrived." Ikora unwinds her arms. "You've been here every day since the attack. She's barely conscious for more than a few minutes at a time, Zavala. I know you feel guilty, but-"
Zavala's eyes close. "I don't know," He confesses.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know what I am doing here," He elaborates. "But better I be here than to sit at home and lament not being here. She calls for me every time she wakes."
"So? Children want their idols to dote on them."
"It's not like that," The Commander insists. Ikora harrumphs in response, her expression souring.
"Zavala, she's not your child."
"I know that."
"Right. That's why your knitting is sitting in the corner of the room, and you've got an extra tablet stashed in the drawer. This attachment isn't healthy."
"It's not-"
"Lie to me all you want, but don't lie to yourself," She scoffs. "I don’t know what you’re thinking. You couldn't possibly take care of a regular youth much less a handicapped one-"
"That's enough."
Both Vanguard freeze, their heads swiveling meet an impassive mask and deep black robes. The Speaker tips his head to Ikora. “Leave us.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you-”
The elder Warlock blocks her path back to the hallway, intimidating despite his even tone. “I would ask that you not return here unless Zavala asks you to do so.” He steps aside, and towards the girl's bedside. “This child has seen far more hardship than you or I could fathom in her life,” He holds out a hand and his Ghost appears, undoing Ophiuchus' work on the monitors. A quick nod to Zavala later, he regards Ikora. “Do not forget that our humanity is what made us the Traveler’s Chosen, Ikora. Our bonds to the mortals of this world will only strengthen our resolve.”
The Warlock Vanguard leaves without a word, the rebuke clearly embarrassing her.
“She will not let this rest,” The Speaker tells Zavala, with a humorless chuckle. “Do not be surprised if she brings it up again next you are alone. She worries, in her own way.”
Zavala nods, already expecting the future altercation. Ikora is tenacious, hard pressed to let anything go - especially if she felt it was ill-advised.
“But I am not here for that,” He says, motioning to the chair Ikora has vacated. For Zavala to sit. “I am here to speak with you.”
