( hattieadler )

      she stepped forward and hesitantly reached out towards the girl. was this real ?? god, she couldn’t TELL. her dreams had become so vivid over the last few weeks that she often woke up in tears. with a deep longing to be back within the world her mind had dreamt up. something so safe. so comforting. it felt like THIS. which terrified hattie more than anything. she didn’t want to wake up. not now. please let me have a few more minutes with her. PLEASE. 

       as she forced her way through the shock of the situation, hattie stepped forward again. doing her best to close the space between them. she wanted to gather her up in a hug and grip her close and keep her safe. because whatever had happened to her … whatever had happened to hattie … they could work through it together. they were, in a sense, HOME. even if any physical trace of that was gone. chin trembles as hattie closes more of the seemingly vast space between them. so much of her, for so long, had been CONVINCED that her entire family was gone. everyone who had raised her. everyone who had loved her. everyone she had helped look after. she was SURE they were gone. and yet …

      ❝ i’m real. ❞ to prove it to the younger girl, hattie reached out with one hand to gently curl her fingers around her free hand the moment she was close enough to be able to do so. it was a simple touch. a quick squeeze that resonated with them both. but she didn’t want to overwhelm her. not when they had just FOUND each other again. ❝ see ? ❞ she attempts a small smile too but it doesn’t reach her eyes. not many DO these days. ❝ you’re here. HERE of all fucking places. ❞ it had to mean SOMETHING. ❝ are you okay ?? god, del, i … i didn’t think i’d see you a-again.  ❞

  DELANEY HAD OFTEN heard the stories from the men and women of her camp — they were a lot of ruthless killers, and with that, came the simple fact that they had looked death in the eyes many times before. they had taken life like they were the reaper, the bringers of death and destruction, and many of them told eerie tales of their victims mouthing the names of lost ones as they passed — almost as if they could SEE their loved ones as their life was taken. delaney was witness to this phenomenon of the dead greeting the dying with open arms. hell, she’d been there once before too ! near-death, visions of her brothers and her cousins there to bridge the passageway to the other side. & oh, she wondered if this was what was happening here. 

     but as time passed by and the other spoke, it began to FINALLY sink in that this was her, this was hattie. even so, delaney felt a feeling of reluctance loitering within her soul — she was not the same girl as she once was. delaney was no longer the rebellious teenager who simply needed a bit of guiding or love. no, she was a malicious, manipulative, undeserving survivor who fought with bared and nails. any pretense of innocence that she may have had was long gone. it left the earth long ago, along with her brothers. she had CHANGED, she had grown into something ugly, something that she couldn’t claim to be proud of, especially not in front of hattie. 

     as the gap between them SLOWLY began to close and hattie reached out, delaney found herself flinching, fighting to not take a step back and run away. it wasn’t as simple as picking up where things left off and leaving the life she was now living. nevertheless, hattie remained that same, gentle soul that she had always been — the only CONSTANT in a life filled with adrenaline and chaos. she remained silent for a moment that seemed to last years, unsure of what to say and TERRIFIED that she’ll say something wrong.  ❝ i didn’t think i’d ever see you again either. ❞ delaney nods, the words just BARELY making it out of her. eventually, delaney finds her own arms reaching out to hattie, wrapping around her TIGHTLY and pulling her into a hug. it feels like the closest thing to home that she’ll ever get, and a part of delaney never wants to let go. ❝ i missed you hattie, ❞ she begins to say, words getting caught in her throat as she tries to STEADY her breaths. 

( rosescoloured‌ )

noah   could   laugh — and   he   does,   for   a   quick   moment.   is   he?   he’s   been   told   that   his   entire   life,   though   modesty   has   him   react   to   it   differently   than   any   other   boy   his   age.   the   faintest   of   a   shy   smile   that   he   hides   behind   a   sudden   scrawl   of   lines   across   the   canvas,   letting   the   silence   that   her   words   has   brought   be   lost   to   the   sound   of   lead   against   parchment,   the   frantic   flip   of   papers.   “yeah,   well   –”   noah   shrugs,   and   he   doesn’t   mean   to   take   his   eyes   off   of   delaney   while   he   speaks   but   a   small   part   of   him   feels   that   he   needs   to   …   for   reasons   that   can   easily   be   concealed   by   the   most   obvious   one   :   he’s   far   too   busy   now.   “–   you   can   have   the   best   of   me,   delaney.   is   that   okay?   you   don’t   mind?”   it’s   never   really   that   easy,   he   knows,   but   while   inspiration   takes   the   hold   of   his   shoulders   and   shakes   him   with   a   terrifying   urgency,   he   also   knows   that   there’d   be   no   one   else   he   can   leave   that   to.   “i   trust   you.”  

three   words   that   bring   back   the   voice   in   his   head,   saying   :   stupid   boy   !   you   are   a   stupid   boy,   หัวใจ   !   but   this   is   the   one   time   that   noah   finds   it   to   be   so   small,   almost   indiscernible.   delaney   takes   up   her   space   in   his   mind,   that’s   it   —   and   he   looks   up   at   her,   in   awe.   “the   luckiest,”   he   says   softly,   momentarily   caught   off   guard   by   how   the   light   strikes   her   as   she   smiles   …   and   he   can’t   be   any   more   angry   with   himself   for   not   finding   an   easier   way   to   capture   it.   “your   smile   will   kill   me   one   day,   you   know   that?”   a   short   chuckle   of   amusement   passes   his   lips,   “you’re   doing   great   —   thank   you,   really.   though   …”   lines   of   worry,   the   end   of   the   pencil   stuck   between   teeth.   “   …   i’m   trying   my   best,   but   it’s   just   so   hard   to   get   you   down   on   paper.   you   look   like   an   angel   and   i   don’t   think   i   have   the   power   to   emulate   that.”  

   THERE’S A BRIEF MOMENT  of   wonder   —   split   between   nervous   smiles,   tender   hearts,   and   plain   curiosity.   her   eyes   track   him   carefully,   much   more   tentatively   than   they   watch   anyone   else   (   well,   except   for   sidney,   of   course   !   )   a   part   of   her   worries   over   the   words   as   silence   and   sounds   of   lead   scratching   on   paper   fill   the   empty   space   between   them.   she’ll   never   voice   those   concerns,   though.   the   ones   that   cause   heartache   and   anxiety   —   those   are   the   thoughts   and   memories   that   she’d   rather   squeeze   tightly   to   her   chest.   ❝   OF   COURSE,   ❞   delaney   nods   to   the   other.   oh,   of   course   she   could   never   mind   having   the   best   of   a   good,   genuine   person.   the   best   of   him   was   maple  bars   and   hot   chocolate   with   whipped   cream   on   top   —   it   was   simple   and   sweet,   the   very   basics   of   what   she   craved.   but   she   also   didn’t   want   it   to   end   there.   she   wanted   all   of   him   —   the   good   and   the   bad.   she   didn’t   mind.   really,   how   could   she   ? 

       eyes   take   noah   in   as   he   says   the   words   —   I   TRUST   YOU.   they’re   as   scary   to   her   as   the   easter   bunny   (   she’s   never   liked   that   fuzzy   fucker   ),   but   she   breathes   them   in   calmly.   perhaps   its   because   she   too   trusts   the   source,   or   perhaps   she’s   lost   her   edge.   whatever   the   answer   is   doesn’t   matter   because   delaney   takes   note   of   one   simple   thing   :   SHE   DOESN’T   WANT   TO   RUN.   not   from   this   moment,   not   from   this   boy,   and   not   from   the   responsibility   that   entails   having   one’s   trust.   she   wants   to   keep   it,   nurture   it   like   an   injured   bird.    ❝   i   trust   you   too,   noah.   ❞   &   it   doesn’t   hit   her,   not   truly,   until   AFTER   she’s   said   the   words,   after   they   settle   in   the   air.   she   truly   means   those   words,   with   all   her   heart   !   &   she   tries   to   hide   it,   she   really   does,   but   his   soft   words   pull   her   back   into   a   space   she   can’t   get   out   of.   cheeks   pull   back   into   a   wide   smile   as   they   begin   to   turn   pink   with   bashfulness.   she   does   not   deserve   this   kindness   —   not   by   a   longshot   !   but   that   doesn’t   stop   her   from   turning   away,   breaking   her   confident   demeanor   for   something   more   demure.   she   hides   her   face   for   a   moment,   at   least   until   the   redness   and   blushing   pass.   ❝   thank   you,   REALLY,   ❞   she   nods.   it   takes   EVERYTHING   in   her   not   to   continue   about   everything   wrong   with   her  looks   :   how   he’s   only   just   being   nice   to   her. 

What’s your name? Tandy.

( hcllls‌ )

it’s  weird  to  hear  her  call  him  by  his  name   —   the  last  he’d  heard  of  her  it  was  mr.  hall.   their  last  rendezvous  was  late  after  class,   all  the  girls  in  their  short  skirts  were  gone   …   except  for  her.   working  hard  on  the  chemistry  class  she  was  failing.   her  words  surprise  him,   brows  raise.   ❝   laney   …   ❞   he  doesn’t  quite  know  what  to  say.   of  course  her  would  love  to  stay  with  her,   anything  to  make  her  happy.   he  just  doesn’t  know  how  to  say  yes.   ❝   my,    uh,    leader  might  get  mad.   ❞   he  says  with  no  real  conviction.   he’s  sure  she’s  ready  to  kick  him  out  anyways.   he  steps  forward  until  they’re  nearly  pressed  against  each  other  before  glancing  out  one  of  the  windows.   the  sun  has  already  set,   and well   …   sidney  is  a  coward.   turning  back  to  her,   he  takes  in  her  features  in  the  candlelight.   ❝   and  if  i  do  stay?   what  then?   ❞

   GAZE REMAINS ON HER OPPOSITE as  he  says  her  name.  there’s  something  in  the  way  he  says  it  that  gets  to  her,  brings  her  closer  to  him.  delaney  can  feel  it  now  as  he  takes  a  step  forward  ;  the  feeling  of  gravity  pulling  them  together  until  there’s  nothing  but  cloth  separating  them.  it’s  comforting  to  her,  being  in  between  lust,  sex,  and  true  connection  without  relying  on  the  above.  &  really  ?  she  can’t,  for  the  fucking  life  of  her,  figure  out  why  she  feels  so  safe  and  secure  being  here  with  sidney  hall  of  all  people.  ❝  sid,  ❞  delaney  repeats,  eyes  fixed  on  the  other.  she  moves  a  hand  up  to  his  jaw,  thumb  circling  over  his  cheek.  ❝  i  don’t  want  you  out  there.  not  alone.  and  i’m  not  going  anywhere  so,  please  just  stay.  ❞  eyes  follow  his  gaze  for  a  brief  second,  looking  towards  the  fading  light  of  the  sunset.  ❝  if  you  stay  ?  anything  you  want,  ❞  the  girl  assures  him  (  so  long  as  he  wants  her,  of  course  ). 

+ @hcllls​

  HE IS SUPRISINGLY GENTLE. if  there  were  one  thing  delaney  would  tell  the  girl  back  at  home,  it  would  be  that.  she  remembers  the  moments  split  between  group  talks  in  the  bathroom  between  classes  and  gossip-filled  nights  out  on  the  town  during  the  weekdays.  it  was  all  something  that  they  would  joke  about,  make  silly  bets  about.  mr.  hall  always  exuded  a  certain  masculinity  and  intelligence  that  was  enviable,  especially  when  all  of  the  boys  their  own  age  were  such  assholes.  it  was  easy  to  get  lost  in  the  dreams  of  what  could  happen,  the  what  if’s  and  all  swirling  in  their  heads.  the  only  difference  ?  well,  none  of  those  girls  were  alive  anymore,  only  delaney.  none  of  those  girls  were  here,  face  to  face  with  a  man  she  now  knew  as  sidney  and  nothing  more.  none  of  them  got  to  share  the  space  with  him  the  way  she  did  —  &  for  that,  she  was  lucky.   ❝  sid . . .  ❞  she  speaks  with  a  softness  ;  there  is  no  smoke  &  mirrors  behind  it.  ❝  you  should  stay  here  with  me.  at  least  until  the  sun  is  up.  ❞  eyes  glance  around  the  room  ;  an  empty,  hollow  house  that  once  held  a  family  now  holds  the  two  souls  of  two  survivors.  ❝  please,  ❞ she  is  practically  BEGGING  him  at  this  point,  gaze  slowly  focusing  back  on  gentle  features. 

She stood in a dress that made her look like sin, and it was fitting that her eyes drifted like smoke above her red lips. There is no Hell that is more enticing than her, drag me beneath the flames.

johnthesituation (via wnq-writers)

( shcperd‌ )

there’s a half empty pack of cigarettes in his pocket – he’s THAT kind of person ( and why wouldn’t he be ? with each smoke he has the pack dwindles down and there’s no FILLING in sight – someone should really get on that ) – that he fishes out as the question mark of a person approaches. sure, p r i d e f u l steps color the air with their sound and there’s a SLIGHT stench of iron in the air. soon enough his eyes turn to face the intruder and there she is: all glowing ANGEL coated in sin. a beautiful piece of poetry destined to be recited at some silly hall with people wearing cocktail dresses and suits – the kind of place elijah HATES. or hated, really, since it’s a rare sight to ever see someone looking half decent, especially when it comes to raiders. they’re a messy bunch, sure, but effective and he values the latter more than he’ll ever value cleanliness. fortunately, most of them actually b a t h e. a tiny blonde doesn’t seem to want to get under the water yet, however; there’s an air about her that oozes CONFIDENCE and d e l i g h t and he’s not sure he’s too keen on humoring her today. or any day. elijah sheperd isn’t exactly known for his SMILES; those few and far between glimpses of teeth behind tight lips. he finds little to smile about – rarely has. a cigarette is pressed between said lips and he delves in his pockets to find a lighter, wondering where THE FUCK he’s placed it now. a hard object on the front of his jeans answers the question; he produces a green lighter and uses it to light up the cigarette. ❝ no ? never ? ❞  he questions monotonously. human beings aren’t exactly known for their unyielding fealty and, though he himself is a man who displays an immense amount of it, he knows that as soon as this arrangement goes against his interests he’ll turn his back. fidelity is a devaluing form of currency, anyway. elijah shrugs, not interested in her answer. ❝ glad to know where your loyalty lies. remind me not to close my eyes around you, ❞ he breathes out smoke and, with the cigarette between his fingers, he gestures at her figure, ❝ especially if you look like THAT. what’d you do ? lose a game of hopscotch with a bunch of rotters ? ❞ elijah’s eyes study delaney for a minute as she QUESTIONS him about his composure. yes, he’s tense – he’s not about to tell her she’s RIGHT, though, but he might actually v e n t. he takes a puff off his cigarette and tilts his head. ❝ tell me something, blondie – if you were to get pregnant now, what would you do ? would you keep it ? ❞

   CURIOUS AND CURIOUSER, the more delaney stands there, watching him, the more curious she becomes. there’s something in him that’s almost PATERNAL ; stern, yet familiar. there’s something in there that reminds delaney of her own father. he was a man who often tried to sound stern in his words, a steady force to be reckoned with. yet to those who were close to him, namely his own children, delaney’s father was a hollow shell of a man — a man who would often ask questions, not expecting or even wanting to listen to any of the answers she had to offer. & in this, there also came a certain comfort. a familiarity that delaney didn’t even realize she could miss ( to a certain extent, of course, since her true father was a real piece of work to deal with ). she watches as elijah lights a cigarette, the scent being something of a comfort these days. an odd sentiment to know and have, but delaney could recall her first cigarette and the memories tied to it ; underneath the football bleachers of the high school, a twelve-year-old delaney huddled up with the older kids, a pinnacle of youth. it was the beginning of the end, the start of a brand new chapter in her life — the chapter that charged her descent into the unknown. & here she is now, standing before a tangle of the unknown. between the raiders, the biters, and elijah, there were very few things which delaney could count on, and the only true constant within their lives, the only certainty, was the UNPREDICTABLE nature of it all. still, no matter how low she set her expectations for the conversation, delaney finds herself a bit shocked that elijah even bothered to say ANYTHING, really. she presses her back into the wall, leaning against it with her arms crossed over he chest. ❝ NEVER, ❞ delaney ensures the man. there’s no question in her mind on where her loyalties are, no need to second guess any bit of it. his comment deserves a short-lived string of laughter. she takes it like a COMPLIMENT, eyes looking over what she can see from her own image ; clothing soaked in blood, arms crusted in the now-sticky crimson. ❝ close, but no cigar. lost a game of simon says. i guess simon didn’t say, ‘kill the douche that’s trying to steal your shit,’ ❞ delaney lets out a sigh. for a moment, delaney just watches him watch her, and something in the moment clicks that there’s complexity behind the brooding killer, something deeper. ❝ well, if i got pregnant now . . . i don’t think i’d be able to keep it, ❞ delaney admits, eyes looking down. she can’t in good conscience do that to a baby, especially not when the only way she’d be getting pregnant is by her seduction escapades used to persuade men to join the camp. ❝ but that’s just because i’m young and i really don’t think anyone would help. really ? i think if i had people that cared, that could help me . . . i would keep them. ❞ it’s an evil world they live in, yes, but delaney was a firm believer in the idea that with enough love and support, any child could make it out alive and possibly even thriving. ❝ but like i said : that’s only if i had the people and the if the father could even. ❞ it’s an unspoken truth that delaney COUNTS on not being loved enough to ever be held to her word. ❝ what’s up sheperd ? you got a bun in your oven ? a little surprise for all of us here ? ❞ she jokes, hoping to lighten the mood the best she can, but something tells her that this isn’t a completely hypothetical situation.

( hattieadler‌ )

       hattie didn’t want any issues. all she had wanted to do was gather supplies and go back to the brewery and SLEEP for awhile. because sleep was easy and she could shut her mind down for awhile and not think about all she had lost over the last ten months. but of course … her days could never go quite as she planned. not anymore. not with the dead wandering the streets and the LIVING just as dangerous if not worse. 

        a sigh passed her lips as she moved to hold her hands up; both entirely empty. there was something about the voice of the person around the corner that felt like HOME. but … it couldn’t be. because home was GONE and every little bit of comfort with it. she would never see her family again. no matter how much she HOPED she would. 

       ❝ i don’t have a weapon in my hands … ❞  she moved to turn the corner; wiggling her fingers so the other person could see that they were ENTIRELY empty. though the second she raised her eyes to seek out the girl, she FROZE. no. it couldn’t be her. her mind was playing TRICKS on her again. she was seeing what she wanted to see. hattie had been so desperate for the comforts of home lately, that everything before her was her broken mind attempting to give that to her. RIGHT ?? she could hardly breathe. for what felt like years, hattie simply stared. blinking. lips parted. hands still raised. finally, she managed to find her VOICE. though it was WEAK.  ❝ d-delaney ? ❞ 

  IT’S NOT JUST THE VOICE, its everything about the other : from the outline of her silhouette to her footsteps and the overall energy she felt. it was HOME, a distant memory of makeovers, dresses, high heels, and seemingly endless nights spent talking to each other about just about everything. it was all a piece of delaney that was so imbedded in her soul that she could never forget them, not even if she tried. yet as familiarity seemed to strike and reality came reigning down to snap her out of her trance, the young blonde found herself STILL trying to PUSH away the thoughts and memories as far as she could. she suppressed them, holding them back with her finger on the trigger, ready to SHOOT. 

       & the more she stood there and the more the person’s image became as clear as day, delaney felt something strange happen. slowly, he hands began to tremble, body stiff and unmoving, and voice unable to say a single word. whatever semblance of innocence she was holding onto was gone the moment she held the gun up to her cousin and came mere seconds away from shooting her own cousin. 

       there’s a crack in her voice as she tries to say SOMETHING, anything really to prove to hattie that this is really her, this is delaney. her hand slowly drops to her side, gun lowering ever so cautiously and finger no longer hovering over the trigger like her life depended on it. instead, there’s a certain softness about her aura that hasn’t been there since the day the apocalypse started. it hasn’t been there since the day she was FORCED to kill her own brothers off one by one. ❝HATTIE, ❞ delaney managed to push out of her lungs, the words were no more than a breathless whisper. her head tilted to the side, eyes shutting tightly for just a moment before opening again.  ❝ you better be real. ❞

( kcllwood‌ )

Kelly barely caught Delaney’s little sigh, but she heard enough to know to shut her mouth and just say yes. She wasn’t much for surprises — scaredy-cat that she was — but how could she turn down a little something from Delaney?

“No!” she insisted, matching the blonde’s pace. “Sorry, just… Surprises make me nervous.” Most things made her nervous. Not Delaney though, she could take care of herself. Kelly wasn’t built like that.

  THERE ARE MOMENTS that delaney forgets that not everyone has been hardened to the extent of her or her other friends. there are moments that she needs to remind herself that innocence is not completely gone, that there are still people out there who are able to maintain gentle, kind souls. she keeps this in mind, nodding her head empathetically to the other’s words. ❝ alright, alright. i’ll keep that in mind, ❞ delaney says, nodding once again. ❝ so there’s this little convenience store in town and normally there isn’t much but today i found THIS, ❞ delaney said with awe and amazement. she pulled out a small glass bottle of nail polish from her pocket, the vibrant reds EFFORTLESSLY catching her eye.  ❝ it hasn’t even been opened. i don’t know if you’re into this kind of stuff, but it wouldn’t hurt to offer it up. ❞

( rosescoloured‌ )

her   comment   earns   a   boyish   laugh   out   of   him.   oh,   he’s   heard   that   one   before   …   but   he   has   yet   to   react   to   it   with   irritability   or   resentment.   perhaps,   it’s   because   he   couldn’t   understand   why   he   would   ever   be   fought   over   but   he   is   well   aware   of   how   sentiments   of   the   negative   kind   are   not   something   that   he   is   (   fully,   at   least   )   capable   of.   it   isn’t   in   his   nature   and   he   glances   over   at   delaney   from   where   he   sits,   sketchbook   sprawled   over   his   lap   and   tapping   a   pencil   against   it   relentlessly,   lips   pursed.   “if   it   makes   you   feel   any   better,   there’s   not   that   many   girls   that   i   know   around   boulder.”   he   doesn’t   want   to   perpetuate   the   idea   of   violence   …   and   well,   girls   against   other   girls   (   sabrina’s   voice   rings   in   his   ear   :   ‘   mom   thinks   i’m   fighting   hyemi   over   some   guy   like,   you   couldn’t   be   any   more   sexist,   mom.   ’   )   but   he’s   here   for   delaney,   and   one   thing   he’s   gotten   very   good   at   was   to   be   there   for   her   regardless   if   the   thoughts   of   other    friends   come   to   him.

“i   think   you   even   have   an   advantage,”   he   leans   back   against   the   wall,   turning   back   to   the   sketch   before   him.   lines   littering   the   page,   messy,   but   noah   should   know   that   even   if   his   reference   is   a   beauty,   that   it   is   never   really   easy   to   start.   “i   don’t   draw   anyone   else   but   you.”   he   flashes   a   small   smile.   “does   that   mean   you   automatically   win?”      

  IT DIDN’T HURT, but   it   also   didn’t   help.   a   part   of   her   felt   like   it   was   only   a   way   to   ease   the   pain   of   the   certain   denouement   that   was   sure   to   come.   delaney   was   a   pitstop,   nothing   more.   girls   like   delaney   were   often   mere   stops   in   the   road,   places   to   see   and   find   exactly   what   you   DIDN’T   want   in   a   friend   or   even   a   lover.   she   knew   this,   she   had   been   told   this   by   people   her   whole   life,   especially   by   those   whose   opinions   she   truly   trusted.   if   all   of   that   reigned   true,   she   supposed   that   she   wouldn’t   mind   being   nothing   more   than   a   stepping   stone   for   a   guy   like   noah.   she   could   only   WISH   that   if   she   were   just   that,   then   noah   would   learn   to   surround   himself   with   better   people,   not   girls   like   her   or   people   like   her.   ❝   you’re   the   best,   noah.   ❞   delaney   resigns   whatever   worries   she   may   have   for   noah   to   SILENCE,   kept   under   lock   and   key.   he   doesn’t   need   to   know   the   true   depth   of   anxiety   she   feels   in   regards   to   her   own   self-worth.   he   shouldn’t   have   to. 

       ❝   well,   aren’t   i   just   the   LUCKIEST   gal   in   all   of   boulder   ?   ❞   the   girl   jokes   with   a   warm   smile.   really,   she   is   lucky   to   be   here   with   noah,   to   momentarily   have   his   full   attention.   if   the   sentiment   of   her   being   the   only   girl   he   draws   was   true   .   .   .   well,   that   would   really   be   something.   but   trust   issues   force   her   to   question   the   validity   of   it   all,   wonder   if   noah   is   simply   trying   to   save   face   and   tell   her   pretty   white   lies   to   mitigate   her   descent   into   darkness.   still,   she   couldn’t   escape   the   feeling   of   SUPERIORITY   over   all   of   the   girls,   accomplishment   filling   her   soul.   a   smile   tugged   at   her   lips,   cheeks   sore   from   how   long   she   held   it.  as   much   as   she   loathed   admitting   it,   delaney   was   the   type   of   person   who   vied   for   that   constant   attention   and   affection.   luckily   for   her,   noah   was   in   the   business   of   giving   it   out,   free   of   charge.   ❝   hey,   by   the   way,   am   i��  doing   this   right   ?   i’ve   always   heard   that   you   were   supposed   to   stay   still   and   stuff.   should   i   even   be   talking   ?   ❞   the   girl   questioned.

“When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever.

Alexandre Dumas (via gusty)

endless gifs of tandy bowen » 1.02 suicide sprints  

all of us, even the softest, have become callused.

the harmless have become ruthless, the warm have become cold.

the sensitive and fragile grew thicker skin with every degrading word thrown at them, every touch that was unwanted, and every waking moment their voice was silenced.

the sweet little girl in all of us remains, but she’s hiding and for good reason;

we pray they don’t see any trace of innocence and mistake it for obedience.

after all, the best defense is a good offense;

and no one but ourselves are here to protect us.

i wonder if this is bad, all the things we have become,

or if it’s the start of a revolution.

v.m

( hattieadler‌. )

out of everything, medical supplies still seemed to be plentiful. if you knew where to LOOK. every time she ventured out to ensure that their tiny infirmary remained well stocked, she always went back with at least half a bag full. she had never tried the pharmacy though because she often KNEW that would have been the first place people went if they needed anything. but her usual places were pretty picked through now and though there weren’t many survivors at the brewery, hattie preferred having a surplus incase they gained MORE.

so the pharmacy was her next best bet. but getting into the pharmacy was proving DIFFICULT. the door was chained shut. there had to be a SIDE door. or a back one. something she could break into somewhat easier. if it was locked down so well … maybe that meant there was MORE in there than she had ever imagined.

she was focused on finding the back door when she spotted someone at the end of the alleyway. they looked alive. but it was always so hard to TELL. ‘ h-hey … ’ it was stupid to call out. but what if they needed HELP? ‘ are you okay? ’ her gun was easily accessible if this ended up being the worst idea she’d ever had.

   FREEDOM IS ESSENTIAL, even in the midst of an outbreak. that was the primary reason for why she chose to be a gatherer — it gave delaney the chance to venture out on her own, be a part of a camp, and force any and all social interactions upon herself. it was a way to push her boundaries while still maintaining some sense of safety and home, and most of all, she was just lucky that joe gave her the freedom to be out as much as she was. 

       that’s how and why she found herself out now, traveling the roads alone, searching buildings for any survivors that she deemed USEFUL. it was an easy way to distract and keep her idle mind busy so that she wouldn’t have to focus on what she’d already lost and what could still be. 

        yet as she wandered down the alleyway, feet lazily dragging on the ground, delaney couldn’t help but find herself getting lost in daydreams & fairytales — a familiar voice pulling her further and further away from reality. it’s false hope tied together with a string on top. IT’S NOT REAL. still, she finds herself walking toward the voice, knife in hand and prepared to defend herself should she need to. ❝ you’ve got about five seconds to come out with your hands up in the air before i get real sick & tired of this hide and seek bullshit, ❞ delaney warned, eyes squinting with immense concentration. 

Olivia Holt

( shcperd‌. )

he’s placed himself in a v u l n e r a b l e position, he knows. such is the DANGER of shocking news. he’s going to be a father. he’s going to be a father and all he can think about is the last time his hands squeezed the life out of another man, and the recent event in which someone else’s blood painted him from head to toe. he still remembers the taste of it; copper, salty, not entirely unpleasant. he’s been a wolf for as long as he can remember – a wolf who defends his own, sure, but a wolf still. and how can a WOLF with blood-stained teeth hold a child ? how can he even touch one without shattering it – without letting his sins spill onto fragile flesh ? claire CLEARLY hasn’t thought this through. there’s a target on his back the size of colorado itself and now he’s supposed to…to WHAT, exactly ? pretend the blood and the rust and the brutality never happened ? yeah, right. that feat seems impossible even for the next lifetime, let alone this one. elijah sheperd is not a good man. not a soft man. not a sweet man. he’s not a man built for keeping tiny creatures safe; his hands are too large for that – the claws can’t help but dig in. and now…now there’s a miniature version of him, of claire, on the way, and all he can think of is the BLOOD, and how death pays for death and how he’s delivered enough of it that quite a few people would like to come and collect. he doubts murdering a baby is beyond them. he’s lost in his thoughts. he’s D I S T R A C T E D. a crocodile that sleeps is bound to become someone’s handbag, and a hunter could have very well just come into range. the footsteps sell them out. he doesn’t bother turning to face them, but instead offers: ❝ if you’re here for joe’s head, you fucked up. i’m not babysitting today. ❞

   ITS A RARE THING to see the blood of another caked onto the blonde’s hair. on most days, she’s damn near squeaky clean, an ANGELIC GLOW often illuminating for her in comparison to the other survivors. its something that she prides herself on, something that she RELIES on in order to attract the right kind of attention ( she learned early on that men wanted to protect something, they wanted to feel STRONG ), but lately it’s beginning to seem like the blood’s been tainting her skin and clothes more often than not and quite frankly ? delaney isn’t exactly sure these days. a part of her loves the thrill of it all, and another hates the fact that BLOOD is so difficult to get out of her clothes. moreover, she remembers the days that behavior like this would be cause for concern, but now, all its only reason to raise a drink to the fallen, the fighters, and most of all, THE VICTORIOUS. it was a time for animals, a time for the sinners to finally rise and take over the breast of society — and as she walked the length of the pearl street mall, raiders surrounding her — SHE FELT POWER. that is, up until she heard the familiar voice of their local guardian angel, elijah sheperd. there was something about him that both TERRIFIED her, yet also intrigued her. for the most part, she kept her distance, watching from afar and never getting too close, but today, she felt particularly empowered, and she SIMPLY could not pass up the opportunity to take the bait. ❝ joe’s head ? i would never be here for joe’s head, sheperd, ❞ delaney commented. ❝ besides, if joe died i’d probably ditch this fucking place, ❞ she muttered, eyes glancing around the room. really, he was one of the few things left that made pearl street WORTH it, and she truly did appreciate it ( no matter how much she did sass him ). arms crossed over her chest as her gaze finally settled on the man, a distant and uneasy feeling overwhelming her. ❝ i should probably be leaving this to kelly to take care of since i’m shit at this type of stuff, but are you alright ? you seem a lot more . . . tense than usual. ❞

❝ i’ll be right next to you. ❞ ( from noah ! i am: late but ilu

i am later than u r wow i love u 2