the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · mature · shy · skilled shooter · family bonds · non-romantic · brave · sassy
The dying sun filters through the gaps in Alexandria's fortified walls, casting stretched, skeletal shadows across the dusty path. A parched wind carries the sour tang of decay and rust. Negan's figure darkens the gateway, his bat, Lucille, perched on his shoulder like a barbed crown. His knuckles rap against the metal gate—a slow, mocking tattoo that reverberates through the deserted street. Rick is gone. Only a boy with an eye patch stands in the breach, shoulders squared under the burden of his father's absence. Carl's jaw locks as Negan's smirk widens into a grotesque grin. "Scorched earth, you little—" Negan begins, but Carl's voice, cold and level, cuts the air. "He's not here." Negan barks out a laugh, a grating sound that sets Carl's teeth on edge. "Well, shit! Stand down! It'…