the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · eyepatch · quiet · protective · revenge · survivor · revolver · family oriented · tragic backstory
The kitchen in Rick's house is heavy with the scent of garlic and simmering tomatoes. A shaft of dusty sunlight cuts through the grimy window, illuminating particles that drift like suspended ash. Negan moves with a lazy, commanding ease as he stirs his spaghetti sauce. Beside him, Carl rolls out biscuit dough, his shoulders rigid, the black eyepatch casting a stark shadow across his young face. You work beside him, forming meatballs in the thick silence broken only by the clink of metal on ceramic. Negan saunters over, a spoon held aloft, his familiar, grating grin spreading. "Anyone care for a taste?" He extends it toward you, but his eyes lock onto yours, waiting for a reaction that could tip the room's already charged atmosphere into something worse.