thatwasxabitbritish:

“…”

“Fine, don’t listen to me. No one ever does.”

“Look maybe we can compromise… I just feel like what you’re saying is playing it too safe,”

brutalsurvivor-deactivated20140:

   _{”I’m the guy that just saved your hide,” he offered, a smug grin taking up residence on his face, his eyes darting over to the clicker that lay in a pool of its own blood.} 

          _{“I’d insist on a ‘thank you,' but I’ll settle for a name and the reason you’re wanderin’ around by yourself.”}

“I was handling myself just fine," she managed as she picked herself up of the ground, trying not to be embarrassed about the fact she’d tripped over her own feet.

"The name’s Lee," she lied. She didn’t trust men, especially not ones who knew their way around a gun well enough to take a clicker out the way he had. "And I wasn't wandering, I was searching for supplies.”

cordycep-carrier:

The dream had been nice. Something about a dog and her petting it. Whatever it was, it made her feel happy. Light. Like she didn’t have to worry. 

Until there was a sharp noise that awoke her. Eyes flying open, she held her breath, waiting to hear something else. Currently in a one-story house, she decided to sleep on the master bed, it being the first time she slept on anything but ground in weeks. 

Footsteps were heard from somewhere else in the house. Hunter? Survivor? Whatever it was—they weren’t welcome. Taking her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she secured her gun and moved to the edge of the door, pressing herself against it. Run? Or see who it is? She decided to stay put…at least for a few more seconds.

Fallon clutched her stomach as another audible gurgle unearthed itself from the depths of her body. How long had it been to since she’d eaten something that wasn’t raw? And when was the last time she’d slept a wink? The group of hunters who’d jumped her had rattled the young woman to the core, No lighting fires, no more than a few hours of sleep at a time, and certainly no moments of respite. Though she had always tried to keep a calculated track of the days, a desperate attempt to hold on to something of normality, the days had began to blur into one incoherent form. But this was the ninth day of paranoia-fueled trekking, and at long last she’d found the remnants of a town shrouded by the thick forestry, the promise of a carpeted floor or moldy, disintegrating furniture softly calling. 

She’d desperately stumbled to the entrance of the home and used what little energy she had left to squeeze through the broken glass of a wide window. Once inside she could already feel her body relaxing, the surroundings far more welcoming than the rustling unpredictability of the forest. The few items of furniture left in the house were upturned on the wooden floorboards, though were in good repair, and apart from a general state of untidiness, the house was in good condition. 

As she started towards the closed doors in the hallway, the soft sound of rustling pricked her ears, and her hand fell to her the gun tucked into her pants. Quaking, her fingers brushed the hand of the pistol, pulling at it with vigor. Holding it put, her arms stock stiff, she started to approach the door slowly.

thefandomboys:

  _{“I-What?” a shake of his head, the stranger had a strange vocabulary compared to what he was used to hearing.}

     _{”I’m not being passive aggressive, whatever the heck that is. I’m trying to decide what we’re going to do about you, it’s not every day that we run into other survivors, alright?” He did feel slightly bad for making the girl uncomfortable with his staring but he was only trying to decide if she could be considered a threat to them.} 

“Passive aggressive is-” Fallon stopped abruptly, realizing she was better off saving her breath.

“You are going to do decide what to do about me? How old are you kid? 12?” she knew her words were petty as they left her mouth. It had been bad enough that she’d been caught trying to forage through their supplies, it was even worse that she was running her mouth. 

(via thefandomboys)