#notthegoodgrimes

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

@notthegoodgrimes

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

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

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

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

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

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

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

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

[ swat - notthegoodgrimes - harley

Drabble reply || @notthegoodgrimes

[swat] your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch.

Everyone was moving around her so quickly, Harley saw the opening almost immediately. No one was looking her way. They were all concerned about themselves and their own– as they should be. No one hardly paid any attention to her. She wasn’t their family or friend, or even their enemy. But tonight she would fight beside them– she guessed.

At least it would be an opportunity to have a little fun. It had been so boring lately, especially since Rick had closed down her maze until the Saviors had been dealt with. But maybe if they took care of all of them tonight, she could go back to her walker smashing fun tomorrow.

Harley bit her lip, focusing on the people scrambling around her. Then in the midst of the chaos, she spotted a gun left on the table. Carefully, she slid forward across the hardwood to reach for the gun. But just before she touched it, a hand came down and slapped her wrist.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, as if it hurt. Then she reached down again. This time the hand grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her back. “Rick, no–”

“Harley–”

She giggled, pushing him back with her hands pressed against his chest. Rick stiffened, grabbing her other arm and shoving her against the wall. His eyes were narrow and his teeth gritted as she continued to laugh in his face. “Dammit, Harley.”

“Awww Daddy’s angry.”

Rick gripped her arms tightly. “I know y’think this is all a game. But this is our lives on the line– our home. Do not have one of your breakdowns. People could die because of it.”

“But dying’s the best part.” She squeaked with delight.

Rick let her go, shaking his head in disgust. As his back was turned, Harley leaned forward reaching for the gun. Out of nowhere, Rick’s hand slammed over top of hers, slapping it to the table.

“No,” Rick said, picking up the gun with his free hand. “You’re not getting one of these.” He sighed as she started to frown. “Your bat’s upstairs.”

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

@notthegoodgrimes || im such trash. forgive me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vxmpirexbxrbie]

[maggie-greene-archive]

Building Something

Starter for @notthegoodgrimes. 

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

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

[tothegrave-blog1]

 @notthegoodgrimes​

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

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

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