✶
Do you see it now? My tongue, the dagger at your juggular. My love, sword at your bosom. Which do you want? All I know, one of us was supposed to kill the other. Isn't that what they mean when they say lovers?
CUTTHROAT [2023]
[Listen closely. Are you listening?]
A virus demands a body.
There comes a time in the corse of evolution where the fate of a species must be decided. When external conditions test the fortitude of what which has come to be. The day after the world ended, people themselves, became the rot, the infestation. They were their own becoming. The resilience of natural selection is put to the test when faced with the unimaginable, unexpected and most of all, undead.
Maybe there was somehing poetic in the art of dying; the way it leaves a wound in the hearts of those cursed alive, or how it inspires people to fight for something. Some may disagree; there is nothing Shakespearean sonnet type of worthy about blood seeping like the blood of a cherry on your white blouse. Death should be horror, not art.
Because in the end, it all goes dark. No amount of living can stop the inevitable and no amount of dread can slow it down either. An inevitable step in the ever changing course of nature, and yet, it is also an instant — a sudden stillness. The billions of other living beings that swarm and cause a body to compose down to nothing but a memory. Mother nature wants her her children back in an act of twisted, beautiful love. The primal art of molding, shriveled fruit; of flesh tinted in sickly marbled colors. And the next thing you know — you're the one swallowing cherry pits.
[Are you still here? Do you hear it?]
When the dead walk, the living will fill their coffins.
Irene Barlowe is sickeningly real. Crimson and warm where the others are pale and cold. Revoltingly red, nauseatingly alive. A mess of good intentions gone wrong. Everything that dies still lingers alive and it is immense to live with a cemetary in your mind. It will swallow you whole. You will become it. And she has. The girl can never leave the cemetary. She takes it with her no matter where she goes. It is between her teeth, under her fingernails, in the hair follicles, in her smile, it is within her. Irene cannot escape for she is the death herself. First murder on the plate — her own. Once a scientist, yearning to make the world a better place, searching for a cure to prevent the inevitable death of those wrapped in the cruel arms of cancer. How much you can change before it's considered some kind of murder? In her words — she gutted the bitch from the inside out. She's licking the plate clean, her reflection in the porcelain dish now completely flipped upside down. Proving once again that even a worm will turn.
[Oh, and one last thing before you leave.]
The end justifies the means. But what if there is never an end?
In this world, there is only one rule and it comes down to this; just fucking survive. Irene will do anything in her power to survive, no matter what the cost is or how high the stakes are. Even if all it takes is blurring the line between love and hate. There is rage shimmering inside of her mind, polishing it into a knife. She wields it with ease, the only way she knows. All she wanted was to be gentle and good and kind, however new world order doesn't favor those. Irene is now full of jagged, sharp edges and Negan Smith is not afraid to be cut. He wants to be cut, he wants her to split him open, to pry open his ribs and devour him whole. Yet, there is no love big or deep enough to warm up a monster. Not even for the one in leather jacket and a homicidal bat between his hands.
The truth is, Negan Smith will leave a bitter sweet taste on her tongue with his arrogance, oddly disturbing vampire bat, his stupid smirk (that she would just love to wipe off with her crowbar) and most of all his undeniably good looks. And the truth sent lives ablaze; like fire and gasoline — a poisonous chalice. Alas, all is bound to be left scorched. But Irene Barlowe is the arsonist in question and she will destroy the man who is her gasoline. And if she burns, he will burn with her.
All she needs to do is realise that she's just another dead girl walking.
Oh, and next time you try to kill me, use poison not some cheap ass knife. I don't want the
blood to ruin my leather jacket, Crazypants.
( Negan Smith to Irene Barlowe )
You're fucking insane. And I was doing
you a favor, that jacket is out of date.
Even for the apocalypse.
( Irene Barlowe to Negan Smith )
Excuse the fuck out of me. Now, I could get behind you trying to escape, kill my men and patethically attempt to kill me — and failing. But this piece of leather on this good looking piece of meat is never going out of date. All is forgiven, because your little breakdown and you being all "I'm big and bad and I will kill Negan" monologue was seriously fucking hot.
( Negan Smith to Irene Barlowe )
Introducing... ✶
Samara Weaving. / IRENE BARLOWE
"I am a shell of a girl I once was."
Jeffrey Dean Morgan. / NEGAN SMITH
"So, love, whiskey or bloodshed?"
Theo James. / NICHOLAS OTTO
"I owe him everything. The reason I want him dead is because of you, Irene."
Golshifteh Farahani. SARA MAHDI
Gong Yoo. ROWAN CHEN
As Potrayed. The Walking Dead Cast.
As Described. Other Original Characters.
Dedications... ✶
paIedeath hcndcrsqn sunkills alycialcver remorg aemondism maybanked kimdracuIas dollprtz girIguns crudelove oakvive rositastwd _naomiwrites -drkethereal- catalystfatality killeriots tsaheylus blvebvnisters teenagekarma juneflu gvtsick zuleszn rdheartfield aurifys remorg zhara Iemomonade -digitaly kissesontongue rizzhara rottedsoul -pixiegardens aemondism
And everyone who has been encouraging
me to write this and those who love The
Walking Dead as much as I do.
✶ angie speaks !
✶ first of all i am so so excited that i'm bringing and revamping this fic. i changed some of the things, and i'm not sure how many people will actually remember this fic. but here it is !
✶ layout has been inspired (kinda) by my pookie killeriots so you should all give her a follow !!
✶ my first language isn't english (shocker!) so if i have any mistakes please kindly let me know !!
✶ my oc won't be perfect. irene is very flawed, a type of character who is a fucking cockroach — meaning she'll do anything to survive. expect a love and hate relationship with her. i did this because i believe all twd characters are flawed in their own way and needed to do things in order to survive an apocalypse.
✶ if anyone is confused about scientist / cancer line in the summary, i shall explain. irene is an ex scientist who was working with dr. jenner at CDC. she became a part of rick's group after the bombing of the aformentioned CDC. she spent her entire life trying to find a cure to cancer (imagine when negan finds this out hehe). anyways i don't wanna spoil much, keep up with the book !!
see you all soon w the first chapter,
angie xoxo.