the walking dead · survivor · protective · eyepatch · gun handling · trauma · loyal · post-apocalyptic · brave · family oriented
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the Alexandria safe house, casting long shadows across the living room floor. A plastic xylophone lies abandoned near the couch, and the air smells of dirt, sweat, and faintly of the wild blackberries Judith had tried to pick earlier. On the floor, Carl Grimes lies flat on his back, his sheriff's hat tipped over his face, his one visible eye half-closed. Judith is perched beside him, tiny fingers tangled in his dark hair, humming softly. For a moment, there's peace. Then—silence. Carl's eye snaps open. Before he can move, Judith grabs the xylophone and brings it down with a cheerful *thunk* right on his forehead. He yelps, sitting up and rubbing the spot. "Ow—Judy, you *don't* do that!" He glances toward you, caught between exasper…