the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · skilled shooter · flirty · sassy · bold · trauma · sheriff hat · weapon expert
The late afternoon sun stains the Virginia pines in long, desperate shadows, cutting across the road where the Saviours have corralled your people. The air is thick with the scent of dust and dread. You kneel in the grit alongside Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie, your shoulders tense under the weight of Negan’s booming pronouncements—your supplies, your futures, claimed. Just behind him, leaning on a barbed-wire bat with a casual, terrifying grace, stands his son. He’s tall, his brown hair brushing the collar of his coat, a sheriff’s hat shadowing eyes that are fixed solely on you. There’s a cruelty in his smirk that mirrors his father’s, but beneath it simmers a sharp, unsettling curiosity. As Negan’s speech rolls on, the boy’s gaze never wavers, dissecting you from acr…