#thewalkingdiaries

[allroundlostcause]

I just deleted the blog the-walking-diaries so if anyone wants it, jump on! I registered it when I was running that verse, but it's a great URL so have at it!

[allroundlostcause]

The Walking Diaries - announcement

Hi guys!

Much as I love you, I am not feeling this verse anymore. I know Rick and I started it but I just don't want to write in here anymore. So I am stepping away from it. Still love every person in this verse. A LOT. It's been fun! Maybe we'll plot again sometime elsewhere.

[allroundlostcause]

Friendly reminder that Buffy would never tell him. Ever. She gets a zombie bite on the outskirts of town because life just sucks /that/ much. She goes to see him one last time, tells him that she wouldn't have run. She'd have pursued it too because guys like him don't come along every day. They come along /never/ for her. She'd ask him to look after Dawn, she'd kiss him, and then she'd leave. Because no way would she let his last memory of her be him having to put a bullet in her. No way.

[allroundlostcause]

Cleaning House || the Walking Diaries || Ash, Rick and Ric

The morning was there. Alaric woke exhausted, always a bad sign, but not an uncommon one. He rubbed his eyes, thought over strategy. He and Rick had been teaching people to shoot and it was going okay; okay, not great, but since the occasional shambling undead American wandered onto their training ground and got quickly despatched he was feeling reasonably confident about it.

Reasonably.

He dragged himself off his bedroll and scratched his head, and as always one of the first thoughts he had was ‘where’s Buffy? She’d better still be alive’. Today though it was quickly chased out by the much more urgent ‘today’s the day we clean out the Lockwood manor. Tomorrow we move out of this stinking bar for good.’

It was a very sweet thought.

He stumbled to the kitchen. A lot of the faces still looked nervous as hell, and Alaric couldn’t blame them. Still he kept his own face neutral and upbeat. “Come on, guys,” he said. “We’ll be fine. You just focus on packing up the gear and getting it into the cars. We’ll be back in a few hours with news about moving on. It’s gonna be great.” There was some mumbled protest about such a small group going in to do the dirty work, and Alaric nodded. “I hear you. We’ve decided to take Brad (he had managed to stop calling him red-shirt guy), Michelle and Terry. Okay? So that’s seven. Even that’s a risk. But the rest of you… no. You’re staying here, and I’m not arguin’ about it.”

Exactly how he had never managed to introduce Rick and Ash yet was a bit beyond him but it had only been a couple of days, and their schedules had conflicted. So when he saw them both approach the breakfast table, he gave a smile.

“Whole crew’s together at last. Rick, this is Ash. Ash is a friend of mine from Boston, just lucky we caught up when we did. She’s a hell of a fighter. Ash, this is Rick. Still has that Sheriff sheen and he really knows what he’s doin’ with firearms. And his son, Carl, who can shoot about as well as me.”

[allroundlostcause]

You know that they're probably all dead right? Damon, Elena, Jeremy, Buffy. The military isn't coming for you, they never were. Might as well put a bullet in the brain of those people you got left, you'd be doing them a kindness.

No. I don't believe you. I won't.

The military might not come. Okay, I can accept that, but I won't believe they're all dead. I won't.

[destructogal]

Alaric & Buffy | Miles To Go

It doesn't stop.  It never stops.  Do you think I chose to be like this?  Do you have any idea how lonely it is, how dangerous?

Buffy closed her eyes at the memory, ran her hand over the quilt she'd pulled from one of the beds upstairs in the house.  She'd been on the road for three weeks, running on empty for twenty of those days, Mystic Falls starting to seem like a distant, almost pleasant memory.

But when the shuffling undead were trying to eat your face, was pleasant really the word you'd use to describe it?  Yes, a small voice uttered from the back of her mind.  Pleasant because Alaric, because the people he'd been holed up with and even, to some extent, Klaus - the vampire-slash-werewolf she'd met up with who hadn't understood why she'd fight for a world that was already doomed.

Buffy swallowed reflexively.  She'd managed to stave off thoughts of her three short days in Mystic Falls.  She'd spent most of her time with Ric, helped where she could - the supermarket, Ric's apartment, Elena's house and eventually Damon's - where not one survivor had been found.  He'd taken it on the chin, for the most part, taken it in a stride that included believing the military would show up on some great rescue mission and Buffy, for her part, hadn't corrected that.

Three weeks later and Buffy knew that there was no military.  She'd passed an air force base on her way, overrun by the walking dead, had narrowly missed being overwhelmed in the car Ric had provided.  So far, it was the only thing tangible she had of him.  The food and water he'd given her had dwindled into nothing and only a long, sustained fight in a little grocery store had provided her with any reprieve.

As if on cue, her stomach growled and Buffy closed her eyes.  Her food would have to last her; Cleveland was only a short while away...

----------

The thump woke her.  Buffy's eyes snapped open and she looked at the door.  It had been three days, give or take, since she'd last closed her eyes and though she'd made sure that none of the zombies could get into the house, she knew from experience that her failsafes weren't always foolproof.  

Wearily, she plucked her machete from the space on the floor beside her, senses honed and listening - always listening.  The sound wasn't the occasional shuffle or moan of a walker.  Buffy's head tilted as the noise at the door increased--And then she heard it.  Voices.

"Look at the bodies.  You're telling me some friendly neighborhood watch guy did all this?  They're fresh.  Fresh as those fuckers can be.  I'm telling you, someone's here."

A beat and then; "There's no-one here.  Whoever it was, they'll have gotten the hell out of dodge which is exactly what we should be doin'..."

Was it the fact that they'd caught her off-guard, tired after her impromptu nap that made her head outside to face off against these people?  Or was it simply that Buffy hadn't heard another human voice within three weeks, craved human contact, a voice that was not her own?

It was light out.  Buffy braced herself, peered through the makeshift peephole she'd made in her barricade and gasped because there, on the other side of the door, was a shock of red hair that was achingly, utterly familiar.  "Willow?"

-----

Good fortune had been something she'd only experienced once, so far, in the zombie apocalypse that seemed to have taken over the world.  Meeting Ric, the highlight of what could be otherwise termed as the worst few weeks of Buffy's life--And now this.

Willow, Dawn, Rona, Violet, Shannon.  All safe, well, alive.  Not zombies.  Their tale was not a happy one.  While Buffy had been travelling to find them they'd lost Giles, Xander, another couple of girls - Buffy had barely enough time to process that before they'd been chanced upon again by another round of zombies and they'd escaped mostly unscathed.  It had been Buffy's idea to go back to Mystic Falls and the others, grateful to have a place to head towards, had fallen inline.  

She'd told Dawn about Ric when they were alone, hand stroking softly through her sisters hair.  She hadn't processed the loss of the only father she'd really cared about, the loss of her best friend.  Couldn't.  There'd be time for that later when they weren't running for their lives.  

All in all, it took four weeks and even Buffy herself wondered why she was heading back to Mystic Falls until the sign on the Wickery Bridge came into view and her stupid heart soared.  She'd told nobody else about Ric.  Hinted at him, yes, but how could she explain their connection when--Two days.  They drove to The Grill, Buffy, Dawn and Willow in the front (Buffy handing the reigns to Dawn on the driving front) Rona, Violet and Shannon in the back and when they approached the bar and all seemed quiet, her heart plummeted.  

What if he was gone?  What if she'd dragged them back here on a potentially wild goose chase?  What if, what if, what if...

[meredithcheats]

aka: what I do when I want to avoid writing all together and brush up on my HTML skills

[salvatorebastardarchive-blog]

✉

Send ‘✉’ For a morning after note on the pillow

Hayley,

I thought you'd need more meat so I'm going hunting. Um.... Sorry about all the bite marks, I promise that they'll heal. Just drink the bottle I left you, it has some of my blood mixed with kool aid, should help. Generator still has fuel so you can use the microwave to heat up one of those frozen dinner thingys. I'll be back before nightfall. Get some sleep.

-Asher