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Stories

    The Company You Keep

    🎡 "Ghosting" by Mother Mother The Commonwealth's newest legend has no name, no face, and a growing collection of eyeballs they're not selling. They call them The Ghost β€” and the Gunners just put ten thousand caps on finding out who they really are. Bounty hunter, Lachlan Reed, takes the job to reclaim a reputation The Ghost has been quietly stealing. Never once suspecting that the woman he's falling for is the very ghost haunting him.

    Eyes Without A Face

    TWD AU Season 6 - 7 In a world ruled by the dead and men crueler than they are, there are still whispers of something like hope β€” a masked figure who bleeds the roads clean, who marks safety in strange animal sketches only the desperate know how to read. They call her The Fawn, and to most of Alexandria, Hilltop, and the Kingdom, she's little more than legend. It's Y/N. Shane Walsh knows better. He's spent a year and a half chasing the ghost of a woman who saved his life and vanished before he ever saw her face β€” carrying her memory like a wound that never quite closes, convinced that finding her is the one thing that might finally make him whole again. What he doesn't know is that the woman behind the mask isn't chasing salvation. She's running from it. Every name she's ever let herself love has ended up a headstone, and the only way she's found to keep breathing is to make sure she never has anyone left to lose β€” until a man too stubborn to take "no" for an answer starts leaving her no room left to disappear into. As the Saviors tighten their grip and the last Protector runs out of places to hide, Shane and Y/N are pulled into something neither of them wanted: a devotion fierce enough to survive the end of the world, if it doesn't destroy them both first.

    Not Dead (Yet)

    🎡 "Don't Fence Me In" by Bing Crosby and The Andrew Sisters β€”β€”β€” The Enclave wanted a super soldier. What they got was a woman who won’t die, a ghoul with a grudge against his own dead father, and a bounty so vague it might as well be a ransom note written in threats and hope. Two men take the job because rent doesn’t pay itself in a world where currency is bottle caps and dignity. They have no idea what they’ve signed up for. Welcome to the wasteland, we hope you brought snacks! You'll need something to throw at the screen...or whatever tries to kill you next. β€”β€”β€” (All images used for character profiles are not my own, all credit goes to their respective artists!!!)

    An Unlikely Companion

    🎡 "Man of War" by Radiohead Ten years ago, a virus did what every foreign adversary, economic collapse, and congressional hearing couldn’t quite manage β€” it finished America off. What followed wasn’t a heroic struggle for survival so much as an extended exercise in lowered expectations. Y/N has spent a decade being exceptionally good at staying alive, which sounds impressive until you consider that her reward for it is another day in a world that smells like rotting corpses and bad decisions. She doesn’t do settlements, doesn’t do factions, doesn’t do people β€” a policy that gets easier to maintain every time she looks at what people have built: one tyrant running a gated community for the philosophically defeated, and one glorified gang that at least has the decency to skip the paperwork. Then three strangers with the collective emotional stability of a folding chair decide she’s the missing piece to the force they’re assembling. She’s not flattered. They’re not deterred. And somewhere behind the polite fiction that the new world’s two major powers aren’t about to do something catastrophically stupid, the kind of trouble is brewing that doesn’t wait for an RSVP, but Y/N is being directly invited. Y/N has survived everything the apocalypse has personally thrown at her β€” grief, starvation, the dark, and worse. The only thing she hasn’t figured out how to outrun is the nagging, inconvenient possibility that going it alone forever might not actually be the genius strategy she’s been telling herself it is.

    Moon Over Montana

    🎡 "Send For Me" by Liam St. John 🎡 "Moon Over Montana" by The Brudi Brothers In 1693, Thomas Wood let his wife (Y/N) burn as a witch β€” signed the order, stood in the crowd instead of beside her. As the flames took her, she didn't curse him with hatred. She cursed him with devotion: he would love her in every lifetime after this one, feel her call across centuries, and lose her young, again and again, before the debt could ever be paid. He's lived it ever since β€” a priest who broke his vows, a widower who walked out of his own daughter's wedding, a soldier who abandoned his post β€” always finding her, always falling completely, always burying her again. He remembers every life through nightmares. She remembers none of it, only a certainty that she will have a great live in every life time. She thinks it's fate. He thinks it's an omen. 333 years later, Y/N still calls for him, and in this life time, Thomas Montague runs back.

    After the tone

    Y/N has been leaving voicemails for her best friend Melanie for a year β€” the dates that have gone nowhere, the coffee orders, the book reviews, the bad days, the small victories she has no one else to give. The only problem? Melanie passed away a year ago, and the number Y/N refuses to stop calling was quietly reassigned to a man named Frank Kelly β€” a struggling writer and musician working at a second-hand bookstore in Paris, who received her first voicemail in French, understood nothing, and made the catastrophic decision to learn an entire language rather than simply hang up. By the time he understood every word she was saying, it was already too late. He was already too far gone.

    Get In, Loser

    🎡 "505" by Arctic Monkeys You, a recently unemployed disaster with too much free time, download Uber for gas money and immediately weaponize it against a stranger named Rowan, deploying fake accents and invented careers like a one-woman con artist with nothing to lose, purely for the sake of utilizing free will you never unlocked. The plan is simple: mess with him for one ride, never think about it again, resume your sad little life. The plan fails spectacularly when Rowan starts booking rides at increasingly unhinged hours specifically hoping you'll be the one to pick up, playing along with every bit like he signed a contract you don't remember writing. You tell yourself this is fine, this is normal, this is just a recurring improv show happening in your 2017 Crosstrek β€” right up until you realize he's not actually into the fake accents or the made-up PhDs, he's into you, the actual tired unemployed disaster behind them, which is deeply inconvenient and also, infuriatingly, the best thing that's happened to you in months.

    Just Between Us

    Y/N has a gift for choosing men who mistake her kindness for a service. After her latest situationship ends, she begs the universe for someone to see her, not just everything she does for everyone else. But someone already is. Months ago, in a crowded bar, Jackson Wiley heard a stranger's thoughts through the noise, as clearly as if she'd whispered in his ear. He never found out who she was, only that the voice was close by, and he hasn't stopped hunting for it since. Now, in the rain-soaked parking lot of his apartment building, which also happens to be Y/N's ex-situationship's, the bond finally snaps into place, but with the proximity being so close, Y/N hears him. And he calls himself her Narrator. He's funny, dry, and suspiciously well-informed, and he's happy to let her believe the universe sent him. He's never mentioned that he's been following her for months. But Y/N is no fool. And the longer he's in her head, the more his story starts to have holes.