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Something To Live For

Something To Live For

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WpMetadataReadOngoing13m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Dec 23, 2014
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Fiction
Horror
A few years later in the apocalypse, Rick and his clan have finally settled down in a 'village' called "Hudson's Place." The man known as Hudson settled down near the area they're in now. Nobody in the place knows where he went or what happened to him. Rick knows his instincts about stable places lasting not that long, but this town, this village, had been up and running for at least three years now. Things start to happen suddenly. Clues to missing pieces of his disappearance start to occur. The leader of Hudson's goes by the name jr., as in "Hudson jr." Will automatically thinking to just leave this instant ruin the lives of his children? Rick wants Judith and Carl to be safe- be free of harm's way, and have fun, but if their lives depend on this "Hudson's Place," the right answer is to leave right away. Something stops them. But what?
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#206
thewalkingdead
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Daryl always put on a mask, an impenetrable facade that made him appear indifferent, as if he didn't care about anything or anyone except for himself. He pushed people away, deliberately keeping them at arm's length, but I knew better. I had seen glimpses of something more beneath that hardened exterior-something real, something human. It wasn't obvious, and it wasn't easy to see, but it was there. I didn't know the full extent of his story, of the pain and the ghosts he carried with him, but I could tell that behind his rough edges, there was a man who cared. The more I watched him, the more I saw that contradiction in him-this mix of isolation and vulnerability. I didn't know him the way I wanted to, but at the same time, there was a strange, inexplicable feeling that I did. It was as if there was something familiar in him, something I recognized, even though we'd never truly shared our pasts. His eyes, especially, told a story all their own-a silent narrative of hurt, survival, and loss. There was a depth there, something raw and honest, as though his life before all of this had shaped him into someone who had learned not to trust, not to hope. I found myself wondering what kind of life he had before the world fell apart-what his family had been like, what his childhood had been shaped by. I could imagine the kind of father he had-a man whose influence left deep scars, someone who might have made Daryl believe that showing emotion or affection was a weakness. It wasn't hard to guess that the lessons Daryl had learned were ones forged in silence and pain, things that had made him pull away from others and close off the softer parts of himself. Daryl Dixon x Fem!OC

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