Crazy fangirl obsessed with NCIS with an intense love for Tiva!
I adore Michael Weatherly and Cote de Pablo.
My second passion is Rizzoli and Isles and love Angie Harmon!
Photoshopping pretty pics is my thing.
tiva + in the midst of surviving post zombie apocalypse
again, really tricky.
It’s been a year since the world ended.
A year of dull sliding footsteps and shots to the head and knives thrown with an expert shot. An ordinary man would have broken long ago, retreated into the shell of the human being the dead used to be. But Tony is no ordinary man.
The radio says it’s over, has been for a month, but he’s still walking beside her with casings strung round his torso, a shotgun in one hand and her own fingers in another.
"Empty." he murmurs, his eyes still scanning round the ghost of a town, doing his job. They’re in charge of checking the dead really are dead; two remaining humans to case an entire state. There’s so few of them left now.
A car is stopped in the middle of the street, doors opened as if the owner’s just stepped out for something. The neon sign in a coffee shop window still blinks intermittently, not quite ready to give up. But like so many towns they’ve checked in the past week, it’s dead. A term she’s redefined many a time in the past 12 months.
He kicks a stone on the ground and it skitters across the concrete, stopping when it reaches the curve of the sidewalk. A pool of dried blood lies by it in the dirt.
She hears him laugh quietly, humourlessly, and looks up to him with a frown. He shrugs.
"We were gonna have a kid. Zombies came to life and the day before, we thought we were gonna have a kid."
Looking down to her hand, she sees the dull sun reflecting off the gold of her wedding band. Next month marks their three-year anniversary. The first was spent in warm sheets and the second in a forest, surrounded, bloody.
"We still can," she clears her throat, "It’s a new world now, Tony. All human."
His eyebrows knit together in frustration.
"A new world in which zombies actually exist- nowhere near as cool as the movies made out. Y’know, they never covered what happens after."
She stops suddenly by an abandoned bike on the road. It’s a pink frame with purple and cream tassles on the handlebars. The white basket is torn and covered in blood and dirt.
"We’ll be okay, Tony. I promise."
He smiles slightly, squeezes her hand, and carries on walking.
If Tony were just an ordinary man, she’d believe him.