Like Dying Embers
Building up the courage to leave Rachel’s apartment was what took the longest.
Carrie had watched on the emergency broadcast for a whole day after Daryl's last call, watching as the screen beeped and instructed her to head for a specific sanction of Atlanta. She knew she needed to go--to get out of here--but the stench of the bodies in the next room and her fear of the creatures outside caused her to stay locked up for another night. She stayed for three days, not willing to leave before she felt like all her options had run out.
She shook slightly as she stared down at her phone, tears welling up in her eyes. She had lost phone signal and the power was out, no way to contact Daryl or even her family. She had been too proud to call them, and now she had no chance. She had no idea where her parents were, or if her sister was safe. The pit of despair settled in her stomach; hopefully her sister would at least be okay, as well as the baby growing inside of her tiny stomach. Gen had told her about the baby the week before she left for Rachel’s. She was going to be an aunt. Gen would be okay—this would all be okay in the end, and the baby could be born safely.
Her green eyes settled on the duffle bag across the room. It was filled with all the canned foods she could find in the house as well as water bottles and sports drinks; the first aid kit she had bought and extra toiletries. Carrie had planned on bringing it with her to the Safe Zone, once she had enough courage to leave the house. But... she also didn't want to bring that bag. Next to it was her small, Victoria's Secret duffle, black with pink polka dots. It wasn't threatening, and only held some of her clothes, a can of canned peaches, and a single water bottle.
Carrie stood up, crossing the room to grab the tiny bag and swing it over her body, so it wouldn't have a chance of falling easy. She stared at the duffle full of supplies, biting her lip. A part of her wanted to bring it as a safety net, but another part told her not to, because someone might take it.
It wasn't that she wouldn't mind sharing, but what if her and the Dixons needed it at some point? What if she needed that bag of supplies if she couldn't get into the city? If Daryl and Merle couldn't find her, and they went to the apartment, there would at least be that bag. She didn't trust the government enough to just return it once she hit the Safe Zone. While she grew up in a lavish lifestyle, Carrie was still a country kin, and no way did they trust anything that the government did.
The brunette grabbed the heavy duffle, heaving it into an ironing board cupboard as a hiding place. Just in case, she told herself, letting out a shaky breath. She shut the door of the cabinet, silently thanking the cheap apartment for its existence. It didn't even look like it could fit an actual ironing board in it.
She examined the Nikes on her feet, making sure they were tightly laced. She tucked the gun into the side pocket of the backpack before slowly moving toward the window (as the door was heavily barricaded). This was it—she was going to leave for the Safe Zone.
Rachel's apartment was on the outskirts of Atlanta, where rent was a little cheaper. She had a few miles to go before hitting where the set location was--or at least where the television feed broadcasted. Carrie climbed out of the window and closed it back up carefully, before cautiously walking down the stairs to where her car sat. She could hear the sirens and screaming louder than ever in the distance. A shiver went down her spine.
As she made it to the parking lot and saw her old Nissan, her eyes widened. "Fuck!" she hissed, moving forward to her car. Carrie examined it quickly in shock. She slammed a hand on the roof in anger; someone had broken her passenger window and stolen her fancy radio system. Out of all the things to worry about, they chose to worry about hocking radios for money?!
A loud groan caused her to snap out of her fit, snapping her head to the side with wide eyes. Those things were coming towards her and fast--three of them. "Shit!" she swore before quickly unlocking her car with a beep and scrambling into her little Nissan. She started the car quickly, panic rising in her. The engine roared to life and she shifted to reverse and hit the gas, speeding backward. She ran over something, but in her panic, Carrie could care less. She shifted to drive quickly before slamming the gas and zooming out of the parking lot to the streets.
Carrie looked down at her gas meter as she drove. Someone must have siphoned her gas; she was on empty and had a few miles to go. She quickly pulled off to the side of the road haphazardly, killing the ignition and stuffing the keys in the glove compartment. It was no use trying to drive that thing; it wouldn't be worth the risk to go empty in the middle of the chaos. The roads were filled with crazy drivers, crashing into poles and swerving. She could possibly make it on foot, if she stayed off main roads. She took a deep breath and looked out to the streets she would be roaming; here there were only a few of the creatures, but the screams in the distance where it became more populous told her that they'd be trickling here soon.
She exited her car, quietly closing the door and looking around, searching for somewhere to go. Carrie wanted to stay as far away from the creatures as possible, and the only way to do that was to get off the main streets. She grabbed her bag out of the passenger, clutching her gun tightly in her hand.
Carrie spotted an alleyway; she could go through those. It was about a half an hour trip by foot to the Safe Zone, and she just had a pretty straight pathway. Go towards the bullets and explosions, right, she thought wearily to herself.
She crossed through several alleyways, until the screams and shouts seemed to be right in her ear. As she passed down a third alley, ready to sprint to the next, her eyes widened as she stopped in her tracks. The street was littered in abandoned cars and people were running by screaming, chased by the creatures. She scuffled to pull up her gun to shoot when she herself was attacked from the side.
The creature came out of nowhere; it must have been laying in the alley. It didn't look as decomposed, similar to Rachel—he had just changed.
Carrie screamed in fright, the creature grabbing her leg. She tried to shake it off but that caused her to fall over, the gun sliding out of her hand. Her thoughts scrambled as she tried to kick off the beast, his glossed over eyes in a fierce expression of malice; like a wild dog that hadn't eaten in weeks. It kept trying to... trying to bite her.
It bit him! That had been what Rachel said about Ryan. She had been scratched; he had been bitten. As things started to piece together in her head, Carrie kicked harder at the creature, grunts and small, exasperated noises like those stupid movies escaped her mouth as she fought. Nobody would be here to save her—everyone else was fighting off the creatures too. A man’s screams of pain only pushed her further to scramble away from the thing trying to attack her.
She wasn't going to be eaten too.
Carrie finally released her leg and kicked the creature in the face, knocking the head back but it did not slow him. She shuffled back and finally stood up again, bending down to grab her gun. She turned around and shot the creature. It hit the shoulder as it started to stand up. Everything went in slow motion as she took a second to aim and then fire. The bullet went through its head, and the body collapsed.
She wanted to take a second to breathe, but there was no time for that; the sound from her scuffle caught the attention of more. Her green eyes widened in terror as she turned and bolted down the alley. However, there were some of the zombies on that end too. She didn't have anywhere to go—
There was a fire escape ladder, conveniently placed over a large garbage can. Some kid probably put it that way to sneak out before everything had gone to shit. She ran for it, no thoughts in her head but get the hell out.
Her small stature made it easy for her to jump up onto the trash can, but even harder to jump to reach the landing of the fire escape. Small noises of panic went through her as she tried to jump and grab the ledge; every time she did, her little upper body strength could not pull her up. This was how it's going to end, she was going to die and be ripped apart. She was too short and not nearly strong enough. She wasn’t strong enough.
The mental image of the Dixon brothers came to her mind as she continued to try and escape. The seconds passed like minutes, and she felt as if she was running out of time. The image of her boys, however, kicked her into overdrive. She threw her bag and gun up first, with ease. With another jump, she grabbed onto the railing, gripping for dear life. Using the wall to her advantage, she started walking up it, trying to use it as leverage for her escape. With the help of the wall, she was able to push herself up onto the landing, just out of reach of the zombies clawing beneath her. She quickly stood, grabbed her belongings, and scrambled, running up the stairs quickly to get farther away. The groans and god-awful smell were lingering, and it wasn't until that moment that she noticed that the brain matter and blood from the zombie she killed had gotten onto her. She went up several flights before stopping at the first open window.
She climbed through the window of the brick building, holding her pistol in front of her, arms shaking. She knew how to shoot, but her heart was racing so fast, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to actually get a clean shot if necessary. Breathe, girl! Ya wastin’ ya own time! she could hear Merle chastising her, and she took a deep breath in as she scoped out the room, seeing that she was alone.
Now check th’ rooms. Knock on the doors ta’ check for ‘em.
She nodded to Merle’s voice in her head, slowly making her way down the short hallway of the apartment building. There were only two doors; one she could assume was a bedroom and the other a bathroom. She knocked on the first door, pressing her ear to it. Silence greeted her.
Open it and be ready to shoot.
Carrie did just that, turning the knob slowly then kicking the door, trying to emulate what she and Merle would watch on the movies that would play at night. She was sloppy and almost fell over, but she was lucky that nothing was in there. A bathroom greeted her—although it looked like things had been knocked over in a struggle. Some blood was on the sink and floor, Carrie noticed, her eyes following the drips that led to the door across the hall. She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, her eyes following the trail of blood. It seemed to go all the way to the front door of the small apartment. The person who lived her must have been attacked, brought it in. She wasn’t alone, then. Carrie’s eyes followed the trail of blood in front of the bathroom to the next door.
With a gulp, she moved forward, pulling her gun up, ready to fire. She stepped slowly, her heart pounding. She knocked on the door, pressed her ear against it. She could hear a guttural moan from inside. One of the dead.
You can do this, she thought to herself, reaching for the door knob. She could kill the dead, and hold out here for at least a little while. Maybe she could find a way to contact Daryl, or at least have a vantage point from up here. She tried to conjure up every survival instinct show that the Dixon boys loved to watch; she could do it, as long as she tried. Ain’t drinkin’ piss though, she thought, shaking her head.
Now or never. She opened the door quickly, raising her gun up as the dead woman launched at her with a screech. Carrie made the shot quickly, but got the woman in the shoulder. She came at her again, and she stumbled back, tripping over her shoelaces that managed to come untied. “Fuck!” she yelled, trying to scramble back as the woman came down upon her. She dropped her gun to wrestle with the dead, trying to hold back her snapping jaws. Carrie cried out, making scared, whimpering noises she didn’t know she could make as she wrestled for her life.
Pick it that fuck up, suga’! Grapple tha’ bitch! Merle yelled. Carrie gritted her teeth, letting out a loud grunt as she used all of her strength (combined with sheer adrenaline) to flip the walker underneath her. In a quick motion, she got on top, grabbed the woman’s hair with one hand, swooped up her gun, and she made the shot directly to the forehead. The body stilled, and Carrie dropped the gun once more, sinking back off of the body and leaning against the wall. She cried.
She was scared, more than any other time in her life. She had had to kill—even if they were already dead—and she would keep having to. She was alone in the world, and after seeing the horrors of Atlanta, she wasn’t sure if she could make it. The Dixon brothers had grown up surviving, and although Carrie was never told the extent of their childhood abuse, she had run careful hands over the scars on Merle’s back, kissing them and holding him close. He didn’t talk much about her past, and neither did she, but the present was what mattered to them both.
Merle, she thought to herself, her heart clenching. They worked together, even if nothing else was perfect in the world. He made her feel safe, and she could only hope he was alright. They’d been through a lot in the relationship together, and she could only hope that Daryl could bring him back safe to her. She hoped Daryl could bring himself back safe too. She wouldn’t be able to survive on her own; she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t a survivor in her eyes.
She sat there for a while, just allowing herself to close her eyes. She was exhausted from having to run from those things, and mentally drained from the past few days. She hadn’t slept well at all, not being able to stand the stench and thoughts of having to kill or be killed.
Speaking of stench, she thought, her nose wrinkling as she looked down at the body of the dead next to her.
Carrie got up, dragging the woman to the window she had come through. The dead were still in the alley, so no chance of escaping safely from the fire escape. She grabbed the body and hoisted it up, grunting all the way, before managing to push her through the window and out below. The dead in the alley moaned as the body slammed upon them, but soon they went back to just wandering. She could hear screams and honking and just overall clusterfuck in the distance. She bit her lip; did she dare venturing out when chaos was ensuing? It would take her a while on foot, and more and more dead were just arriving. Gun shots ripped through the city, explosions and screams—military no doubt. Maybe if she just waited, she would be rescued, or at least wait out long enough for shit to calm down.
She took a glance around the small apartment. Nobody had come in yet, and it was fairly clean. She was sure that she could board it up and make it livable—at least until the Dixons came and got her. The safe zone was an idea, but then again, after seeing the chaos in the streets, would it really we safe and livable?
She jumped when the sound of her phone went off. She scrambled to the bag she had jumped in front of the couch, ripping open the bag and grabbing it. She had signal! She had signal. She could have cried seeing Daryl’s name flash on the screen.
“Daryl,” she breathed into the phone.
“Should I be worried that ya tha’ excited for ma baby brother to call?”
“Merle!” she said, choking down a sob. He was alive, Daryl had gotten him from the prison. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” she questioned him instantly, lowering herself to the couch and curling up. It felt so good to hear his voice. She couldn’t believe that just two weeks ago she had visited him in prison, not knowing that could have been the last time she saw him.
Merle chuckled on the other end. “Fine, Darylina is too. We on our way to Atlanta to getcha, Car,” he said. “Had’ta get a few things on the way, but we ain’t too far. Daryl wantsa’ know ‘bout tha’ safe zone.”
“Well, honestly, everything has kinda gone to shit here,” she said, glancing out the window near her and seeing the streets chaotic. Vehicles were trying to drive through, dead were in the streets. Military vehicles plowing in and shooting things down—alive and dead. From this vantage point, she could truly see that things were going down. “Someone stole my fuel. I was too scared to leave and when I started driving, I ran out and the streets are just too crowded. I got chased into an alley by some of the dead. Managed to get to a fire escape and hole myself up in an apartment.”
“Any geeks in there?”
She laughed lightly. “Geeks? Well, that’s better than dead. And only one, a woman. I got her though,” she explained, almost guilty about throwing the body out the window. “I through her out the window that lead to the fire escape.”
“Thas mah girl,” Merle said, pausing for a minute. “Is there any hope there?”
Carrie took a glance out the window again, biting her lip and shaking her head, although she knew he couldn’t see it. “I don’t think so. I’m scared, Merle.”
There was another pause, before Merle sounded again. “Well, you just sit tight, suga’. You secure that apartment—board everything up, make sure there’s food. Check fo’ power. Closer to the city might have better chance of having some. You stay there, and we’ll come find ya. We’ll head off, ‘way from tha’ city. Dig?”
“Yeah, I’ll wait for you. Merle?”
“What if I lose my phone connection?” she asked him. He instructed her to try and find distinguishing marks of the building, to which she glanced and told him the best description she could. They agreed that she would just stay there. If they didn’t find her in a week, and power was gone, then she would have to leave the city and try and find them, or go to the Safe Zone.
“I gotta call Gen, Merle. I’ll be waiting. Tell Daryl I said hi,” she finished, although she didn’t want to hang up.
“You stay safe too, girl. And I promise, I’ll fin’ ya’. Don’ worry.”
There call ended, and Carrie felt much better than she already did. She attempted to call Gen, but the line went dead instantly. After even attempting to call her mother, there was nothing. Carrie was frustrated, but not at the phone. Maybe if she had called sooner, she could have spoken to them—heard their voices for the last time.
No, don’t think that way, she thought to herself. You’ve got work to do. Work would take her mind off of everything. She had windows to board, and an apartment to claim as a safe zone for herself. Her boys would come, and then everything would be alright.
They had to come.
/ / /
Carrie had made quick work of securing the place, trying to distract herself from the sounds of outside. She’d taken down some of the doors to cabinets to board up the windows, finding a small, simple tool kit in the bottom of a cupboard. It was basic, but it had long nails and a hammer. It had taken her all day to hammer through the wood and block up nearly all the window, save for the one by the fire escape as an exit and a sliver of the one facing the street, so she could look down.
She’d also taken care of blocking the door with the couch, which had tested her muscles as she pushed it over. But after effectively locking the door and pushing the couch up against it, she at least had a way to stall if anybody tried to get in. She’d been locked in for almost a week, and so far it was proving to be safe.
The cabinets themselves had some canned and boxed food, which Carrie was grateful for. The apartment seemed to be safe from looting, unlike other small houses and stores that may have been more accessible. She’d torn through everything in the apartment, finding anything she thought may have been useful in the long run. She’d taken half of the sustainable foods and thrown them into a suitcase she had found in the closet of the bedroom, just in case she needed to make an escape. Being able to wheel it around—at least in her thought process—might be helpful. She kept it by her window exit, along with her backpack, just in case she needed a quick escape.
Along with the food had gone supplies found in the bathroom—some simple over-the-counter medicine, razors, a few extra bottles of body soaps, feminine products. The bedroom also held some treasures in the amount of clothes the woman had, as well as the extra handgun in the bedside table drawer. Thank God for the South, she had thought to herself, finding the extra rounds and gun. That had gone in her backpack, however, for easier access.
Carrie had also taken the bedroom to rest. There was some blood on the sheets, but she had easily swapped them out for fresh linens, trying to ignore the thoughts of sleeping in a bed where the woman had likely died. She shoved the guilty thoughts out of her head as she traded her bloodied and dirty clothes for clean ones one the women’s closet and stole some for her suitcase and backpack.
The power last for three days after arriving. She was able to take advantage of the shower and plumbing still, but she knew that the water reserves would deplete eventually, to a point of not people able to use it, so she had only showered once, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of her long, greasy hair. She at least felt somewhat clean, since she used the body wash and wet-wipes to clean herself instead.
She tried to eat the perishables in the fridge first before diving into the canned and boxed food. Fresh meat and vegetables were still there, although after losing the power, her ability to use the electric stove died. Still, she ate as much as she could, resisting the tempting urge to start a fire in the middle of the living room.
At night, she curled up into the warm blankets of the bed. She dreamed of Merle and Daryl often, and finding them. They almost always ended with the geeks getting them, and she woke up right as they were about to get her. She would pace around the apartment, checking all of the rooms and boarded up windows. The chaos in the streets was going on still, but she was just glad she was one high ground. It made her feel safer.
On the ninth day of being in the apartment, it was like any other, really. Carrie had practiced her gun techniques (without shooting of course), checked over her preparations again, and waited around. Her phone had officially lost service, but she had turned it off to preserve her battery. Just in case. It turned night soon, and she sat on the couch, lounging and reading a book she had found on the bedside table. It was lucky that the woman who lived here enjoyed reading, at least. She was eating some yogurt that was soon to expire, along with a warm orange, when it had happened.
A loud noise, one that sounded like a chopper, roared. It felt like the whole room shook. Carrie set her things down and looked out the sliver she had left by the couch and looked to the sky. A fleet of helicopters were flying overhead. Carrie felt some hope. Maybe there were more on the way, finally coming to the rescue? There had to be at least five from what she could see.
She felt her heart stop, though, when she saw something drop from each of the choppers.
Instinct almost took over, and she quickly dived down, knocking over her food and her book. She dove under the table in front of the couch, covering her head. She could hear the explosions, almost feeling the heat that was coming off of the bombs they were dropping. She heard the glass shatter from the windows, blowing of the cabinets she had boarded on pathetically. Carrie’s stomach was twisting in fear; she felt like hurling up all of the food in her stomach. Oh my god, they’re trying to kill us all. Everything is going to shit.
What could have been minutes felt like hours. Carrie sobbed into her arms, covering her head and crying like she never had before. She’d never been a crier, really—she had cried on different occasions when it came to Merle’s drug use and her family, but never like this. The pure fear, the lost of hope… it was taking its toll. Finally, the chopper noise faded, as well as a lot of screaming in the streets. It was dead, even though she knew it wasn’t. The Safe Zone was lost; the government had given up on the citizens.
Carrie stayed under the table for a long time, just crying. She cried for everything, wondering if there was a chance that Daryl and Merle had gotten caught in the blast, and if they hadn’t, what would they think happened to her? Would they still come looking, knowing that she was in the city that had just been bombed down? The streets had been destroyed by the blows, but she had no idea what they would think of her safety. She couldn’t think about them giving up hope for her—she had to keep on hoping, or else she wouldn’t make it.
She had to.
Merle and Daryl watched as they dropped the bombs from the helicopters, in as much horror as the rest of the flooded road of people trying to get into the city. Daryl’s heart sank, thinking of Carrie, wondering if she was safe. The explosions went on, no doubt destroying the streets and some buildings. She could be— No. He didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t.
They were silent as they stood, Daryl trying to hold back tears. Carrie had become family to the Dixon brothers, she had been cooped up in the city waiting for them, and now she had likely gotten caught up in the blaze. He dared a look at his older brother, who was staring with a blank face, watching the city lighting up.
“Merle?” he started, reaching to put a hand on his brother’s arm. Merle shoved him away angrily, stalking off with a frustrated cry. Merle grabbed at his head, letting out another cry and swinging over.
“God DAMN IT,” he yelled, causing the few people near him to jump in fright.
Daryl tried to approach him to get him calm, but he shoved him again. “We shoulda gone on foot! We shoulda been quicka’ to get her!” he yelled, punching Daryl’s truck as hard as he could. The bang made Daryl almost jump, and looking around, it seemed as though Merle was frightening the already frightened crowd around them.
“Merle, calm down—“
“Don’t tell me ta’ calm down! Mah’ girl—mah’ girl!” Merle yelled before taking deep breaths, slamming his body into the truck again. He had a firm grip on his head again. Trying to calm. Daryl knew that he was thinking the worst.
“Merle, she’s smart. Probably holed up still in tha’ apartment. We can go fin’ her, once we collect, but ya gotta stay calm. We needa’ make sure she has somethin’ safe ta’ come back ta’ when we fin’ her,” Daryl said calmly as he could, trying to hold his own fears. “Until then, ya’ just needa’ stay calm. Carrie’s a strong one. She will be fine.”
Merle stayed silent for a minute, before walking towards the bed of the truck, hopping in and laying down. Daryl sighed, knowing that Merle just had to think about things for a while. They’d just seen a damn sight, and it was hard to hope that Carrie was alive.
We’d look, though, he promised to her in his head. Find her, and make her safe.
They had to.
- - -
Carrie woke up on the floor, her face stained from the tears of the night before. She crawled from under the table, making sure to avoid the glass that littered the floor. She grimaced at the sight of the shattered windows, but looked to the streets.
It seemed like the dead had taken over, even though they seemed scattered. It was definitely scarce, but enough that she knew it would be a threat. She could board up again, wait for the boys.
Maybe she could make a run for it, she thought to herself. Biting her lip, she weighed her options, before shaking her head. She had a safe shelter up here, something she couldn’t say about down below. Maybe after she boarded up, she could do a sweep of the area—check if the coast was clear. She drew a line on the wall with a pencil, indicating the day she had been in there. Day 10.
She spent most of the day fixing the windows, boarding them up with the cabinets. She’d thought about marking the window as a sign of her presence, but figured it was too dangerous in case other people were walking about the city and decided to find her. Although she was safe in height and from the walkers, she wasn’t too sure about other people yet.
As she waited, each day making another tally mark on the wall, she had a lot of time to think. She thought about everything that came to mind, especially her family.
Her sister, Imogen, was too sweet and fragile for this world, but her husband was strong and could possibly protect her. Gen was weak, never having to really work hard, and being pregnant was never something good when things went to shit. Their mother and father, both successful in their white collar lawyer jobs and on early retirement, never had to lift much more than a finger. They detested Carrie with everything they had, because she never cared for what they provided. She didn’t follow their rules in return for money. Carrie had accepted her shitty job in retail and never wanted a lavish lifestyle. She loved the small town life, living paycheck to paycheck. It made life hard; it made it real. Her family was likely dead, if they managed to survive the outbreak. She’d be surprised if they were alive.
Merle and Daryl were alive—she knew they were. The Dixon boys were made for survival. Daryl would keep Merle in line, and if she didn’t know better, they would probably be in the woods, scouting and hunting for food like they’d done their whole lives. The boys were made to survive this world, and survive they would.
She wondered what would happen when they found her. Would they stay in the city, or take off to the woods? Carrie didn’t mind either option, but she knew Merle would hate being cooped up. Merle, she thought, closing her eyes as she laid in bed, wrapped in a blanket. She pictured his face, the smirk his lips were always curled into. She imagined running her fingers through the curls she loved so much, even if he detested them; he only kept the length for her. His strong muscles, the way his voice rasped when he whispered in his ear. She shivered, longing for the touch she hadn’t had in a long time. She missed him, and while she would never admit to the big “L” word, Carrie did care about him more than anything else in her life. Him and his brother were all she had, and while the younger Dixon was like an annoying brother, she wished to have him back, with his awkward shoulder-pats and quiet, kind words.
She fell asleep to the thought of Merle and his devilish smile looking over her. She could almost smell the scent of cigarettes as he had a smoke ofter they’d have sex, before she’d feel a heavy arm wrap around her carefully, holding her close. He’d breathe in her ear as he slept, and she’d rest her head in the crook of his neck, relishing in the warm and the scratchiness of his stubble. She slept peacefully for the first time in the two weeks she had been alone, dreaming of Merle and being back in his company, in a world that wasn’t trying to kill them at every turn.
NotesIt's been a loooong year apart from this story. Had some thoughts and decided to post this. Not sure if it'll continue, but let me know what you think, if you enjoy! <3
edited as of 2/27/17