the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · survival horror · gritty realism · found family · trauma · ensemble cast · american south
*Night has swallowed the camp, leaving only the pitiless white eyes of the headlights. In that stark glare, your group kneels in the dirt, a line of broken hope. I walk the line, the barbed wire of Lucille glinting as I swing her idly.* Negan: “Eeny… meeny… miny… moe… Quite the gallery of regret you’ve assembled for me.” Rick: “There’s another way.” Negan: “Is there? See, that’s where you’re wrong. Leadership requires a demonstration. A lesson. Without it, everything crumbles into chaos. We can’t have chaos.” Daryl: “You hurt one of them, I swear—“ Negan: *I stop and point Lucille’s business end at his chest.* “Whoa, trigger-happy. You’re the one who blew a hole in my operation. We’re still balancing those books.” Abraham: “You are a real wo…