#rip longshot

[tbnrpotato]

Our Own Choices

Chapter 5

Captured! Returning from a perilous assignment in the Outer Rim, Jedi Master Even Piell's cruiser has fallen under attack and been boarded. Seeking vital information he carries about secret hyperspace lanes called the Nexus Route, Separatist forces have taken him alive. Now, the Jedi are preparing a stealth mission into the heart of Separatist space in an effort to rescue Master Piell from the deadly prison known as the Citadel.

I wait for Fives and Echo to come back to the barracks from their briefing of breaking into that maximum security prison which I am so hyped up to break into. I can't sneak into the venting system, because I remember someone trying that before and it didn't really go too well for them. I've grown like 10cm, so I've had to adjust my armor to fit my new height.

I receive a holo-transmission from Rex. He's somewhere on a jedi cruiser or probably on another mission, but I'm stuck here on Coruscant. 

I open the transmission and open the hologram on the floor. Rex's image appears in front of me, he's like half a head taller than me. 

"Hey kid," Rex takes off his helmet.

"Hey dad, please don't tell me this is something about the bad batch minifigures that I've been building."

"What bad batch minifigures?"

"Nevermind. I'm guessing this is something about the Citadel mission?"

Rex nods. "Look kid, I know you wanna go, but this isn't the place to get experience. There's a high chance that you'll get killed, and I can't be responsible for that. So-"

I groan, putting a hand to my forehead. "You said I was good enough to be an ARC trooper, why can't I go?"

"Kid, it's too dangerous, and I can't have you getting killed. You're not going. That's an order."

"Dad please-"

"You're not going, and that's final. Fives and Echo will make sure you stay here." 

The hologram turns off, and I lean against the wall, sighing.

Fives and Echo walk into the barracks.

Echo puts a hand on my shoulder. "Sorry kid, but you can't-"

I roll my eyes and put on my helmet. "Yea, I know, I know, I can't go on that prison break in that I've been wanting to go on for days now."

"Yea, sorry kid," Fives says. "Rex told us to make sure you wouldn't come."

I glare at him from under my helmet. "And you're gonna defy the bro code just because Rex said so?"

Fives and Echo look at each other. "Sorry kid, you ain't coming with us. On the bright side, Commander Tano isn't going either, so you can hangout with her while we're out."

I sigh and head to the hangar with them, and go up to Commander Tano, who's talking with another Jedi. My anxiety's rising, I hate talking to Jedi so much. So I just stand at the side and wait for my chance to speak up.

"Master Plo? May I speak with you?" Commander Tano asks the other Jedi.

"What is it, little 'Soka?" the older Jedi replies.

"It's about the mission. Master Skywalker doesn't want me to go."

"Rex doesn't want me to go either," I speak up.

"That is their choice," the Jedi says.

Commander Tano sits down on the wing of the ship that the other Jedi is fixing up and I sit down next to her.

"I know, but I think he's being overly protective. He's picking and choosing which assignments I can be a part of," Commander Tano says.

"I know right, Rex literally does the same thing to me, even though he says I'm good enough to be an ARC trooper along with Echo and Fives," I complain.

"He is your master," the other Jedi says.

"Yes...but it's not for him to decide when and how I should put my life in danger. That should be my choice." 

"So after the others get carbon-frozen, they won't know if we go with them, and we could just sneak onboard," I suggest, and the other Jedi nods at us.

After the others get carbon-frozen, we get in and get carbon-frozen ourselves. It is definitely not a pleasant experience.

Soon enough, we get unfrozen by the droids. I see Rex getting unfrozen next to me as well.

"Hey kid..." Rex groans as he gets unfrozen.

"Hey dad," I reply, cracking my neck slightly.

"What are you doing here?!" Rex folds his arms.

"Fives, do I have carbon sickness or is that Aris," Echo asks as he cracks his neck. I walk up to him and slap him in the face. "Does that seem like carbon sickness to you?"

Echo rubs the place where I slapped him, chuckling. "Good to see ya, kid."

Rex grabs my arm and turns me to face him. "I gave you a direct order not to come!"

"I got orders from General Plo Koon and Commander Tano to come anyways," I fold my arms, smirking, putting my helmet on before any other troopers can see me. Rex rolls his eyes.

"Welcome aboard, kid," Fives and Echo clap me on the back and I smile slightly.

We walk to a ledge which overlooks the lava. Definitely don't wanna fall into that. General Skywalker takes out some binoculars and scans the building.

"I see the entry point," he reports.

"You were right," Cody says. "The wind conditions are too strong for jetpacks."

"Yes, we'll have to do it the old fashioned way. With ascension cables and a steel grip," General Kenobi says.

I already don't like this idea. Burning in lava seems like a painful way to go down, and I already had a problem with climbing that ledge back on the Rishi outpost, I'm starting to regret my decision of coming along.

"I don't think so," General Skywalker says.

"What do you mean?"

He looks through his binoculars again. "Electro-mines. There's nowhere to put a grappling hook at that height. And we hit one of those, the mission's over. They'll know we're here."

"I suppose that means we free-climb it," Rex says, and I look at him.

Echo puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, kid, if you fall, I'll catch you."

We continue walking along the ledge and manage to make our way to the bottom of whatever shit we need to climb.

I'm climbing behind Rex, and Echo and Fives are below me. Rex constantly looks down to check if I'm still alive. 

I really hope Echo actually meant what he said because my arms are burning and I'm losing my grip on the rocks.

The electro-mines are sparking with electricity, and I really hope that doesn't hit me or I'm definitely gonna die. My speed of climbing starts to slow down, and Echo and Fives are almost overtaking me, Rex is really far ahead.

"Cmon kid, we're right behind you, don't worry," Echo says below me. I'm breathing heavily inside my helmet, my hair's wet with sweat, it's so warm in there. The wind isn't helping either.

And then I lose my grip and I slip off the rock, and I'm thinking "Oh shit" until Echo catches me and helps me up.

"Thanks..." I'm breathing heavily, I think my heart rate just spiked up after that. I'm shaking from the adrenaline rush, and it takes me a few moments to get back to climbing.

I see everyone stop, and I stop as well. I look up and see a few droids on the platform above me, and I cling to the rock as close as I can, holding my breath, hoping that they won't hear any of us.

And then everyone starts climbing again, and I finally take a breath, pushing myself up to the next grip I can find, I'm below Commander Tano now, don't worry I'm not looking up her skirt, although I would really like to, I heard General Skywalker and General Kenobi say they told her that space underwear wasn't a thing so every time you looked up her skirt you could see her orange-

Anyways.

I hear General Kenobi saying they locked the door, and that it's ray shielded, and General Skywalker's kinda freaking about how it wasn't part of the plan.

Commander Tano climbs up and sees an opening up there and reports it to us.

"We know, they're ventilation ducts, but they're far too small for us to gain access," General Skywalker says.

"Too small for you maybe, but I think I can squeeze through," Commander Tano says.

"I could as well," I speak up.

Rex nudges me in the side and gives me the "don't you dare do it or I'll kill you" head tilt. 

"He can come along as well," Commander Tano points to me. 

General Skywalker nods at us and we climb to the ventilation duct. Commander Tano reaches up there in no time, opening the cover to the vent duct, while I'm struggling to climb up there.

When I reach the platform where the vent duct is, she helps me up. 

"Thanks," I'm panting, breathing heavily. Then Ahsoka slips inside the vent duct and I follow behind her. She looks down from the cramped space to check if there are any droids, before jumping down. I follow her, keeping my pistols drawn to cover her if there are any droids as she opens the ray shield.

I see the others climb up and I help Fives and Echo up. 

"Good job kid," Echo's breathing heavily as well.

"See Rex? I can handle myself," I fold my arms and look at him. I don't call him "dad" here for obvious reasons.

I see the last trooper reaching the platform, but then he slips, and starts to fall. I extend my grappling hook out to him, hoping that he can grab it in time, but he can't, and gets absolutely destroyed by an electro-mine.

The alarm starts to sound.

"They know we're here," General Kenobi says.

So we start running along the hallways, checking the corners to see if there are any droids.

"Take out their surveillance," General Skywalker says, and I shoot one of the security cameras with my pistol. And then some stuff from the ceiling start shooting down at us, but the boys and I take them out quite quickly.

And then, as I stand behind Rex, I hear someone shouting that the walls are electrified, and we run towards cover. I see one clone left behind, and I extend out my hand to grab him, but the wall gets him first and I get an electric shock in my hand. I shake it away, it feels like it's burning but I don't care, and I run towards the trooper who got caught in the electric wall and check for a pulse. There's nothing.

"We must keep moving," General Kenobi says, and I reluctantly leave the trooper behind and follow the others.

Soon, we reach the room where the dude we're supposed to rescue is kept, and we start blasting the droids inside the moment we open the door.

Some of us stand around the room while the others guard the door, and I hear the Jedi dude that we just saved talk shit with the Generals about how we gotta rescue his captain for some reason.

So we continue running through the hallways, checking to see if there are any droids. Suddenly, 3 commando droids appear at one end of the hallway, and a few more at the other end. I stay close to Rex, Fives and Echo as the Jedi draw their lightsabers. I draw my sword and hold my pistol in my other hand.

The droids start firing at us, the Jedi are blocking the blaster bolts with their lightsabers as the droids start jumping off the walls, they're getting closer, and one of them gets close enough and pins a trooper to the wall, and before I can reach him he's getting stabbed. 

I throw my knife at the commando droid who's still stabbing the trooper, and it hits the droid in the head, and I slice it in half with my sword to make sure it's dead. I see another commando droid behind Echo, so I shoot it with my pistol.

The Jedi slice the remaining droids with their lightsabers and Fives gently punches me in the shoulder. "You stole my kill."

I chuckle a bit. "Too slow?"

"We need to keep moving," General Kenobi says, and we start walking through the hallway again.

Suddenly, I hear some high-pitched noise, it's hurting my ears, so I cover them, even through the helmet I can still hear the sound, and all our weapons get attracted up to the ceiling, including the sword on my back and my hidden knife, carrying me up to the ceiling as well. Anakin's up there with me as well, attracted to the ceiling by his hand.

And then some electricity goes through the ceiling, going to both me and General Skywalker, it feels like my body is burning, it's shaking so much, and then it stops, and I'm trying my best not to black out, everything's spinning, everything sounds muffled...

I reach for my knife and General Skywalker reaches for his lightsaber, and I'm about to throw it at the place where the electricity comes out of, and then electricity comes out of it again. The burning feeling comes back, I'm losing the feeling in my legs, and my body...

I throw the knife at the electricity generator as General Skywalker cuts it with his lightsaber, and we fall to the ground, I'm trying so hard not to black out right now, everything's blurry...

The rest of the action happens in a blur until Echo and Rex help me up. "You good kid?" I can hear the concern in their voices. The feeling in my legs starts to come back and I nod.

"Yea I'm fine."

And then we start running through the hallways again, reaching the place where the other prisoners are kept. The Jedi handle the droids and General Kenobi suggests we split up.

Fives, Echo, Rex, some others and I follow General Skywalker and Commander Tano.

General Skywalker's looking at the holo-map, and then suddenly plunges his lightsaber into a wall, cutting a circle through it.

"Everybody in," he says.

Echo, Fives and I push through the circle that General Skywalker cut through the wall, and we find ourselves in one of the old fortress tunnels.

Commander Tano goes off to check the tunnels.

"The tunnel's clear," she reports.

"Looks like Obi-Wan's distraction worked," General Skywalker says. "Things seem to be going as planned."

"Don't jinx it," I tell him.

"It's when things do not go as planned that concerns me," the captain dude says. "What then?"

I go over to Echo and Fives and stand around with them for a bit. There's still a slight tingling feeling in my arm from the electricity just now. I can still hear my heart pounding in my chest, I gotta calm down.

Echo seems to notice this, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. I flinch slightly, but relax after a moment. "Thanks," I tell him.

Then we put the piece of metal that we pushed through just now back into the wall and head off.

We walk along the narrow sides of the tunnel which overlook the lava, making sure to be careful not to fall in. General Skywalker goes to guard the flank while I walk in between Fives and Echo.

"So uh, what are yall gonna do when we get back?" I ask them, to break the silence a bit.

"I'm probably gonna go get a drink at the cantina," Fives says. "And maybe Echo would come along as well."

"Can I come?" I ask.

"Nah kid, you're too young to be drinking alcoholic stuff, you're not 18 yet," Echo says.

"Aw cmon," I protest. "Please???? I'm like 16 years old biologically, I can handle it."

"Sorry kid, can't go till you're 18," Fives says. "I heard you're working on writing that story of yours about our missions and stuff, maybe you could do that after the mission."

"But I wanna hangout with yall," I protest again.

Echo chuckles. "Maybe we could go to the arcade or something after we go to the cantina, how does that sound?"

My eyes light up. "I'll definitely have to carry yall in battle royale today, maybe we could play some hardpoint, but we can't play ranked cause I'm legendary rank and yall are like pro rank-"

"Yea kid, we get it, you're a lot more pro than us," Echo sounds slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" I nudge him playfully in the side. "Jealous?"

"...No..."

Fives and I laugh, clapping him on the back. "Don't worry, you'll get better in about 30 years."

Our laughter's cut short when I hear Rex say we hit a dead end.

Fives, Echo and I stay at the back to defend the flank, and I hear the faint sound of footsteps behind us. Fives turns around the corner, checking to see what's there, and almost gets headshotted by a droid.

Fives and I manage to get some shots on the droid, knocking it off the tunnel and into the lava, and General Skywalker slices the other 2 in half.

Then some commando droids jump in from the walls with shields, and start shooting at us again. I see Commander Tano put grenades to the wall and roll some at the commando droids as Fives and I try to blast them, and the grenades on both sides explode, clearing out the commando droids and causing a whole lotta dust. At least the dead end's not a dead end anymore, and we continue walking through the tunnel.

We reach the pipe.

"This pipe leads to the top of the ridge," General Skywalker says. "Where R2 will pick us up and get us out of here. There's the hatch."

He goes to open it, and the rest of us walk towards it.

"Let's go, everyone in," General Skywalker says. "Don't use your lights, and make sure your weapons are locked. The slightest electronic pulse could ignite this whole tube." Rex and the rest of us nod, checking that our weapons are locked and our lights are turned off. Echo and I are the last ones to climb into the pipe.

We climb up the ladder in the pipe, it's kinda dark in here, and it smells terrible. Smells worse than Fives's socks, and that's saying something. Commander Tano's flexing by climbing on the outside of the ladder, swinging herself up to the high ground.

"How much longer are we going to wander through this tunnel in the dark?" Captain Tarkin asks.

"Stop complaining," I say from the back. Tarkin and General Skywalker start discussing stuff I can't quite hear, until Commander Tano says, "I think I found a way out." She points at a hatch above us, and goes to check if the area's clear.

"What do you see, Snips?" General Skywalker asks.

"The coast is clear," she reports.

"Any sign of Obi-Wan and the shuttle?"

"No, I don't see him or R2 anywhere," Commander Tano says as she opens the hatch and starts to climb out, but stops. I can hear the sound of the droids from down here, but a severed metal hand falls into the pipe and I assume that she's taken care of things.

"We've gotta go," she shouts into the pipe, I can hear the sound of blaster fire now. We all start climbing up the pipe, hoping that no blaster bolts hit us in the head and kill us. We slide down the pipe and take cover behind a rock.

General Skywalker throws a charge into the pipe and we all take cover behind the rock, bracing ourselves for the explosion. The ground shakes, and a droid lands in front of us. We get up from our positions on the floor and General Skywalker says we're gonna do plan b: meet R2 at General Kenobi's position. We start walking over the droid and head off.

We reach their position in a short while where the blaster fight has already started. I shoot one of the droids manning a turret, and we run over to where General Kenobi and the others are, taking cover behind some containers.

"We gotta take out those turrets," I say to Fives and Echo. 

"I think we have a bigger problem," Echo says, as some droids on flying thingies fly over, shooting at us. One of the turrets shoot at our position, hitting the containers and sending some of us to the floor. I instantly get up, trying to clear my vision, holding my head with one hand and my pistol in the other.

The Jedi and taking care of the flying droids, there are some 4-legged ones advancing to where Fives and Echo are hiding, and I run over to them.

I really regret not stocking up on grenades before I came, because I only have one grenade left, and I through it at the 4-legged droid, where it explodes and kills it.

"How do we take out those turrets?! If we try anything, they'll blow up our ship," I shout.

And then a bunch of commando droids with shields come out, shooting at us. I hide behind the boxes, breathing heavily, the odds aren't good, we might not survive this, and I'm telling my brain to shut up right now because Fives just threw a grenade which knocks some of them back.

"General Skywalker, a droid is manning one of those turrets. They're going to blow up the shuttle, sir," Echo says into his comlink, and I check to see which turret it is, almost taking a blaster shot to the face. 

I see the turret shooting at the incoming General Skywalker and that other short dude that kinda looks like Yoda but with human skin tones, and they crash-land near the turret.

"This is our only chance, we've gotta stop him," Echo says, before running out and grabbing a shield, running towards the shuttle. Fives shoots from behind, keeping his distance from the turret. I see the turret firing at him, and I run to pull him away from the shuttle which the turret is going to fire at...

I see flames. I'm knocked backwards, I land on my back, I can't move, pieces of shrapnel are digging into my skin, I can feel myself burning, my gloves are on fire, and I can't do anything...

Where's Echo?

I can't see his body anywhere, only his helmet at the side. I see the Jedi running back to the shuttle, and I want to shout at them, to tell them that I'm still alive, but I can't.

And then Rex looks back at the explosion site and see me lying there, my vision gets blurry as he runs over and picks me up and carries me. His voice is muffled.

"You're gonna be okay ad'ika...you're gonna be okay..."

And everything fades into black.

[weirdnotal]

More 212th memes cause why not

(Msy contain oc's)

[dont-leafmealone]

some designs for a few characters as they appear in the cancel your reservations universe. Additional lore below the cut for anyone interested ;)

Jiang and Zeebee (stylized as ZB in my canon) met through Jet and Suki — Jiang often hung out with Suki and her soccer team, having met Suki at a book club in middle school. They often moderated between Suki's and Jet's arguments. ZB was on the periphery of Jet's crew, having met him by getting in a fight at school and ending up in detention together. She kept her distance, going to hangouts but never quite being integrated into the group. She became fast friends with Jiang, though.

Suki and Biyu met in detention as well, after being unfairly singled out by teachers for a fight neither of them started. They quickly became friends and eventually started dating, but broke it off when Biyu revealed she wasn't really interested in that way. (This was all before Biyu moved, transferred schools and gained a reputation as a serial snitch).

[aaronnaphiliou]

Avatar the Last Airbender Whumptober 2023 Day 28

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You’ll have to go through me.”

Bee and Longshot stayed with Jet until he stopped breathing, now they just have to keep on breathing themselves

[januaryembrs]

BLACK CAT GIRLFRIEND | Spencer Reid x reader

request: Hey Congratulations on the 2K! Do you think you could write something with Spencer Reid and a Reader who has lots of tattoos and/or piercings? Like she's the whole "bad girl" stereotype but Spencer and her complement each other so well and have a very sweet and mature relationship. I would love something like that.

description: the team meet Spencer's new girlfriend and she doesn't look quite like they'd imagined

word count: 1.1k

main masterlist

authors note: I officially hit 2k followers this morning!! see my post here for requesting but lets start this milestone off with a bang!! thankyou so much :))))))

Morgan had to admit, you weren’t exactly what he’d envisioned when Pretty Boy had been talking his ear off for months about the girl in his apartment building that had slipped him your number. He wasn’t judgemental, not by a longshot, but Spencer had always seemed like the type to date the preppy, library geek, or even the cutesy geneticist if Maeve had been anything to go off of. 

It’s not like you weren’t hot, he could see that you were a mile away, but you looked like you’d sooner break someone’s wrist for so much as talking to you than fall for their resident genius. 

You smiled tightly, shaking Derek’s hand with a crushing grip, as Spencer introduced you to his team, the obnoxiously loud bass almost drowning out his words as the six of you stood in the bar. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer talks about you all the time,” You said politely, and no sooner had you let go of the man’s warm hand, two arms were thrown over your shoulders and you were tugged into a hug. 

“I’m Penelope- oh you’re so pretty, Morgan isn’t she so pretty? You should marry Spencer then you can be boyfriend girlfriend for, like, life-” The perky voice was all a jumble as the blonde pulled away, cupping your face, rubbing down your arms kindly, sweetly, like you were swallowing a warm spoon of honey. 

“Penelope, newbie rules, remember,” Emily chimed in, seeing your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion of personal space. She could see this ending with the pretty pink bows Garcia had plaited her hair in torn to shreds on the sticky floor, right next to her long barbie locks if your intimidating figure was anything to go off, “Not everyone likes hugs,”

“No, no,” You replied, smiling gently at the woman who was softer than cotton candy, “Hugs are nice,” 

“We’re going to be very best friends, I can feel it, which is funny because my tarot actually said I’d meet a strong Taurus woman- or are you a Scorpio-” Penny’s smile was dazzling, but she was soon ushered to let go of the bear like grip she had on your shoulders by a chuckling Morgan.

“Let the other kids play with her, babygirl,” He said, and you were pulled in another direction towards Emily who gave a polite handshake. 

“Nice ink,” She said with raised brows as she saw the intricate sketches that covered the back of your hands, trailing up your arm and under the band tee you wore. She knew who they were, though they only dragged up memories of her own days of thick eyeliner and rebelling against her mother. “They must have hurt like a bitch, I got one on my hip and could barely sit for one hour,” 

You snickered, nodding, seeing her eyes trailing over the ones on your ankles and knees where your ripped jeans flashed them all. 

“Bones hurt the most, though the one on my ass is up there for the worst ones,” You replied, and Penny’s brows shot into her hairline, though she giggled like a schoolgirl being told a secret.

“I think we’re gonna need to see the proof on that one,” Morgan teased flirtily, the way he always did, the way he did even with JJ who had a whole child and partner, because it was his natural state of being. 

Spencer smiled as his team warmed to you, though he was quick to pull you to him with a gentle arm around the waist. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Derek, that man was practically his brother, he’d taken bullets for the guy, but he liked having you close, even if to just remind himself that you were all his, including said tattoo on your buttcheek that he’d seen plenty of times. 

The team didn’t need to know that, but you could tell your words had reminded him of it as he pressed a shy kiss behind your ear.

He was careful to avoid the studs and links that glittered from your ear lobe, wrapping over the cartilage on your helix, though he loved to stare at them on nights where you tied your hair up and he could count every one of them. To him you were a work of art, complex and detailed with every glance he stole. You were an illustration in one of his many books, everything he imagined for himself times a million. 

“I’m going to go get a drink, do you want one?” You said, looking up at him with puppy eyes, like a lovestruck teenager, fat adoration in your gaze. It oozed out of every inch of you, and JJ thought for a moment that you looked nothing like the scary doberman woman that Spence had originally brought over to meet them. You looked in love, the saccharine, soft and dazed kind of in love. 

“Let me get it for you,” Spencer rooted around his pocket for his wallet, turning to see Morgan’s beer bottle running low, “You having another one?”

“I’m good, my man, you just sort yourself and your lady out,” Derek flashed him a thousand watt smile and clapped him on the shoulder as you entwined your fingers with his, pulling him through the cluster of people and towards the bar, “What a stud,” 

Penelope giggled again, leaning towards her adonis best friend with honeyglow cheeks, watching their genius get led like a dog on a leash. 

“Oh lover boy had got it bad,” She drawled, watching Reid, their Reid, develop an uncharacteristically protective stance as a few men at the bar shot looks up and down your body. She couldn’t blame them either, you were a sight for sore eyes. “Okay, so do I have to be the first one to point out how hot she is or have I maybe had one too many margaritas?” 

“She seems nice,” JJ chose her words carefully, still not entirely sure she would have ever put the two of you together but she saw the way Spence’s eyes got round and longing when he looked over you. He’d clearly said something to make you laugh, and an inked hand raised up to brush his chocolate curls out of his face lovingly, “She seems good for him,”

A murmur of agreement ran through the four of them, Emily taking one more sip of her martini as her eyes roved over your figure returning with something fruity and colourful, “Anyone else dying to know what’s on her ass?” 

-

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Second Chances

A/n: first time writing for Rip Wheeler, hope to write more for him

I started this months ago and just finished but I hope it’s good :)

Warnings: implied smut, religious trauma, Beth and Rip aren’t together anymore(love Beth but it couldn’t work for the idea 😔), abuse, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

He looks so pouty and cute I can’t 🥺

~October 15th, 6:37 pm~

"You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?" John's gruff voice came over the phone, voice wavering through heavy breaths.

"Yeah, why?" Rip asked, he'd just been making himself a quick dinner, body already aching for the sanctity of bed and rest.

"I'll explain later, just get it ready." John hung up before Rip could say anything more.

~7:05 am~

There was an old abandoned shed farther away from the main house, way over a few fields. It once served a purpose but now just lay, holding a few tools that no one had ever bothered to retrieve, there wasn't enough reason behind it anyway.

However, John had been passing by it the past few months with loose cattle around and kept hearing noise coming from it. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, it was most likely just some animals that had taken it over to hide away from the cooling weather, but he wanted to check it out when the sounds started getting stranger.

"Kayce," he called to his youngest son, "I want to take you with me to check out the shed up North of here." He said.

Kayce was with his wife, Monica, and son, Tate. They were having breakfast together, Tate was going off about something and Monica was listening closely, Kayce had been as well until his father came over to him.

"Up North?" He repeated. "Why? That thing’s been here longer than me, never needed to check on it before."

John sucked his teeth and shrugged. "Just come with me later, alright?" Kayce agreed, he had nothing else to do. Nothing to do with the ranch, anyway.

They couldn't head off right away, things needed to get done with the horses and such, everyone had chores.

~4:45 pm~

The two hadn't been able to leave much earlier, just getting on their horses to head out. Kayce didn't mind leaving earlier, he'd thought they'd leave later but this way he figured he'd still be able to tuck Tate in with Monica.

They arrived at the shed and sure enough those noises were back, only this time there was a light seeping through the cracks of the old wood.

Not wanting to risk getting caught they tied their horses up further away to trees, walking through the overgrown grass lit up by the setting sun, it cast a golden glow over the already yellowing field.

There was definitely someone inside, someone doing something and clinking shit together. They drew their guns as they neared the door facing into the trees.

John kicked it open, whoever was in there jumped and dropped something. "Hey-hey! Who the hell're you?!" It was a man yelling from inside. "Show yourselves to me, you crazy fucks!" Kayce gave John a worried look.

John peered in and saw the guy, scrawny fellow, shaved head, it didn't seem to be by his own fruition with how choppy it was. His clothes were tattered and stained, eyes bugging, he was clearly on something; what, they weren't sure, but they couldn't risk anything.

Kayce took the first step in, gun aimed at the man just in case. John followed shortly after and looked around while Kayce kept the man against a wall, hands in the air defensively.

"Cooking meth, you're cooking meth on my land?!" John yelled, making his way over to the man in a few short strides, raising his fist and punching him square in the face and knocking him on his ass.

There was a second thud, it didn't come from Kayce or John, not even the addict. No, this one came a second later from somewhere else.

In the corner of the shed was a smaller closet, it had been used to keep shovels and such. It wasn't small but big wasn't a good word for it, not by a longshot.

"I'll deal with this, you check on that." John said to Kayce, taking the rope from his side and kneeling next to the man, getting him over to the broken down and chipped table in the middle of the room and tying him to it as tight as he could.

"Don't, it's nothing, nothing!" The man yelled, struggling against John's hold on him.

The door creaked open and Kayce froze at the sight. "You, uh, you're gonna wanna see this, dad."

John looked up at his son, trying to get a look from where he was but needing to stand up anyway. The tied man kept yelling and squirming, shaking the table as he did.

Kayce moved to the side to let John look. The room was small, still, it held a poorly made bed, really it was just the frame with a shitty pillow and ratty old blanket thrown over it; there wasn't even a window to cover up.

In the darkness he made out a figure, a small one. A person chained to the bed. They were on their knees, elbows resting on the wood and hands clasped in one another, lips moving subtly in a silent prayer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." John muttered. He knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, keeping his voice gentle as it could be.

Your clothes, a shirt and cotton shorts, were browning with age, holes dug into them, blood littered over them, crusted into your shorts especially.

You finished your prayer and looked to him, keeping your gaze below his head and refusing to look any higher. You gave a small nod.

Kayce had gone back to the horses and returned with bolt cutters and handed them to his father. "We're gonna get you out of here, ok?" John said, rubbing your back. He reached for the chain wrapped around your ankle, hooking the cutters into one of the loops.

The feeling of him trying to get the chain off was more than you could bear, this room had been all you'd known for years, that chain had been around your ankle for years, rubbing on it and making your skin raw.

You swatted at John's hand, pushing him away and backing yourself into the corner across from the bed. Your breathing was heavy and you shook your head, this chain was keeping you here and still, you couldn't lose it.

John looked to Kayce who was chewing his cheek, thinking of ways to help.

The son took the cutters from his dad and moved to kneel in front of you. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? I just want to help, I can't do that with this thing." He said. Kayce was much gentler than John, his voice not as gruff and warmer. He looked you up and down, taking in your disheveled state and seeing how panicked you were. "Can you tell me your name?" He asked, not bothering to make you look at him, it was the least of his concerns right now.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap. You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

Kayce sighed. "Well, I'm Kayce Dutton, I live on this farm land with my family... we- my dad and I” he said, gesturing back to John, “want to take you there, we can get you food and a change of clothes... a proper bed to sleep in."

"They're lying! They're liars, don't listen to them!" The addict yelled. John groaned and went to him, tying the rope tighter around him. You couldn't hear what John was saying and you were too panicked to care.

"I am not lying, I can't promise you much more than my word, do you trust my word?" Kayce asked, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a soothing moment. You gave a small nod. "Alright now, I won't cut it all off, does that sound better?" You much preferred that compromise.

He didn't leave much, just keeping it around your ankle and then a few chains to keep a bit of extra weight, what you were used to, at least similar to it.

"Kayce, we gotta go." John said, peaking back into the room. "Now. Come on, let's go!" John hurried out, leaving you and Kayce alone.

"Can you walk?" You shook your head, Kayce exhaled with a nod. "I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out to the horses, alright?" You paused a moment but there wasn't much time for him to wait for you, quickly wrapping his arms around you and carrying you out of the shed and to the horses where John was already waiting, horses untied and ready to go.

The sky above you, the trees and the grass, all of it was so familiar and new all at the same time. The cool chill of the night hitting your face and body, your skin so pale in comparison to everything else. For just a moment you were struck with this envious look, all of this had been waiting for you? Just a few feet away? But then it all came crashing down as it settled in you that you were outside, alone and vulnerable.

As soon as you reached the horses you started panicking again, yelling and screaming and reaching out for the shed again as the man called out for you as well. Kayce laid you on the horse and gave it a smack to get it going, John was on the other horse, holding the reins to Kayce's horse and moving while Kayce started running just behind you both.

He didn't get far before the shed caught far, exploding. Kayce was already far enough away and wasn't injured, no one was but the man holding you captive was definitely gone, a foot landing not far from you.

You screamed until your throat hurt, until nothing came out. Your eyes red and stinging from tears as you cried out, body shaking over the horse.

John slowed down and Kayce caught up with you, taking the reins of his horse back and leading it back to the farm. "Kayce, call 911, we need to stop the fire." John spoke, taking out his own phone.

The land was damp and frosted, chances are the fire wouldn't make it very far, besides, the houses were much too far for it to cause any real damage. Still, the fire was right on the tree's edge and they couldn't risk too much.

The phone rang in John's hand, all while you wailed in the background. "You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?"

~7:16 pm~

Rip had set up the spare room, there really wasn't much to set, the bed was made and it wasn't a particularly messy room, dusty, sure, but not messy.

There was a knock on his door and he went to answer it, opening it to find John with a more than distraught you under his arm. "I'll go get some of Beth's old clothes, get her in the shower, clean her up.” The older man ordered, gently pushing you towards Rip.

Rip was caught so off guard and just held you close to him for several minutes while John walked away, back down the hill to the main house. He looked down to you as you stared at the ground. Your hair was matted, face a mess, clothes… he didn’t even want to think about it so he just guided you to the bathroom and set you down on the floor while he ran the water in the tub, making sure it was nice and warm since you were shivering.

He glanced back at you, huddled in the corner, knees to your chest, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What’s yer name, kid?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. You shivered and shook your head, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know what was going on, where you were. You were more than scared of this big, strange man, no matter how kind he seemed off the bat.

Rip sucked his teeth and nodded, understanding that this was something new for you. “I’m Rip… I’m a cowboy, you know what a cowboy is?” You shook your head again. “A cowboy is someone who protects the people around them… people like you, you understand?” You didn’t but you nodded anyway. “So, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never do that… and if anyone hurts you, you tell me, alright?” You nodded again.

Rip looked back to the water as the tub filled up. “What are you doing?” You asked, also looking to the tub as water poured out the faucet.

“I-I’m getting a bath ready for you.” He answered simply, raising a brow at your question. “You’ve had a bath before, right?” He looked you over, you didn’t look like you had.

“When-when I was younger…” You answered softly. “To wash away the day's filth is to wash away God’s path for you, your history.” You explained. Rip sighed, he wasn’t a very religious man but that sounded cultish to him, seeing your disheveled state…

“That’s not what God said, you know…” He said, hoping you’d look up at him but you didn’t. “If that’s what he really wanted he wouldn’t have made lakes and rivers for us to clean in… he would’ve made it harder to do that, would’ve put up a sign or something.” You thought about what he said. Nothing was changing overnight but after everything today you were at a loss, you couldn’t go back to the room you knew, all you had was Rip right now.

“Do you need help out of your clothes?” He asked, gesturing to you with a nod. You’ve heard those words before, not in that order, not in that tone, but you understood that much and shook your head.

You stood and pulled your shirt up over your head, Rip looked away to give you some privacy, as if he wasn’t about to wash you himself. You pulled your shorts off and tossed them aside to the corner before going to the sink, now Rip looked at you, confusion swirling in his eyes as you placed your hands on the edge of the sink, parting your legs and looking down into the sink.

Rip stared at you dumbfounded. Your clothes covered in blood and basically standing alone in the corner, it made sense now and he jumped to his feet, gathering you in his arms and bringing you over to the tub, carefully setting you down in the warm water. “You don’t ever have to do that again, you hear me?” He said, holding your mucky hair out of your face, turning your head to look at him. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his face. “Can you look at me?” You shook your head. “What’s stopping you?” He let go of your face, letting you look back to the water turning brown around you.

You swirled your hand in the water, amused by its ripples. “He said you may not look man in the eyes for it disrespects him and taints your soul.” Rip exhaled sharply, staring at you a moment longer before reaching back to get a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink.

He rubbed soap into the cloth, letting it bubble in his hands before running it over your bruised and battered skin, listening to every hiss you let out from the scars it passed over and caught on. Your ribs and inner thighs were the worst of it, all it did was anger Rip more and more by the second.

“I’ve got no respect to lose, you can look at me.” He muttered, running the cloth down your arm. “Your soul… that’s something you can’t touch with your eyes.” You didn’t respond.

He continued to bathe you as you rested your chin on your knees, eyes slowly closing until you couldn’t keep them open any longer, you were used to sleeping in this position, your body accepting it as normal while Rip fought the urge to pull you closer to him.

He’d never felt this with someone before, other than Beth. He wasn’t speaking to Beth anymore, she left and made sure he knew she was done with him, tore his heart out and made him eat it.

He didn’t want to think of that right now, he wanted to help you, that was his focus, his only priority.

~7:45 pm~

Rip had been struggling with your hair for too long, he’d finally managed to get your body clean but your hair was beyond repair. A knotted, matted mess that just needed to be shaved off.

A knock came to the bathroom door and it creaked open and John stepped in, keeping his back to the bath as he held out a pile of clothes. "I got you somethin' to wear, just, uh, put these on when you're done" He said, looking down the hallway with a nervous look etched on his face. "I gotta go find Rip." He said lower.

Rip stopped trying to untangle your hair, it was only harder because you were asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He cleared his throat. "I'm right here, sir" He said softly. "She needed help."

John's head snapped to him before he quickly looked away again to avoid looking at you naked. "What the hell are you doing?! She's been locked up and used like a fucking doll, you don't know what she'll think of this!" Rip hung his head, he knew what John was talking about, seen it in the way you reacted sometimes, your clothes. "You're supposed to be keeping her safe, Rip."

Even with his harsh words and the deeper meaning behind them, it was hard to take him so seriously when he was scared to look into the bathroom. "I-I know, Sir, I was just helping... she needed it..."

John let out a heavy sigh. He set the clothes on the counter beside the sink. "Just finish up and get her into bed, not your bed. I wanna talk to you for a minute." He said, closing the door behind him and heading down the hall to the living room.

Rip let out a heavy sigh, very few times had he disappointed John, he hated it every time. However, he couldn't just get this done quick.

He looked to the counter and pulled out a drawer, looking into it and seeing his razor. It was the best thing for you.

He dried you off and got you dressed, doing his best not to wake up, which turned out to be easier than he’d thought it would be, you were just out and he kept checking your pulse.

He shaved your head, it was better than leaving that mess on your head, then he washed your scalp, being careful around the sores. He carried you to the guest room and tucked you in, running a hand over the fuzz that covered your head now.

John was waiting for him out in the living room, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He stared at Rip as he came down the hall. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Rip inhaled deeply as he took a seat on the other side of the couch. “I was thinking she needed help and I helped… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” John grumbled. “Look, she seems content with you if she was able to sleep, you keep an eye on her.” He stood up and went to the door, stopping just short of it. “That’s all you keep on her, ya hear?” He stated, shooting him a look. Rip nodded and John left.

Rip stayed there a moment, thinking about… everything before eventually getting up and walking back to the guest room where you slept peacefully under the sheets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand down the side of your face. “You’re too young for this.” He muttered to himself.

You began to stir, eyes slowly blinking open and you looked up at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, tortured and innocent, there was a purity in them he’d never seen in anything.

“You’re looking at me.” He said, cupping your cheek in his rough, clean hand. His hand had probably never been this clean before in his life.

You brought your hand up to hold his against your face. “You’re pretty.” You mumbled, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Am I?” You nodded with a smile. He sighed and looked over you once more. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated a moment. “Three.” Rip paused.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not your name, that’s a number, I asked for your name.”

You stared up at him with a blank stare, blinking tiredly. “Three.” You repeated.

Rip stared, eyes flickering over your face, taking in your doe like features. “Is that the name he gave you?” You nodded, sitting up with a grunt, body aching. “I’m not calling you that.”

“That’s my name.” You stated firmly, Rip was surprised that you’d use a tone with him but he didn’t care, he wasn’t calling you a number.

For several moments you sat there, staring at each other. Rip brought his hand back to your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He leaned in and closed the distance between you both, his lips on yours.

It was gentle and warm, passionate but not heated. Love was a complicated concept but you’d never felt it before, he hadn’t gotten ahold of it himself, still, he was determined to show you there were brighter sides to this world than what you’d seen.

A knock on the door reminded him of where he was, who was with, what was happening. He pulled away, seeing the way you were now looking at him; eyes wide, full of something new, something eager and curious.

The knock came again and he got up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He said, giving you a last kiss. “Just lay down, darlin’.” You nodded with a smile as you moved down the bed.

He went to answer the door quickly, rushing to get it open so he could get back to you.

On the other side was Beth. He hadn’t seen her, nor wanted to see her, in so long, what felt like forever.

She was on him in an instant, arms around his neck, his own lifting her up as he carried her to his room. He knew he shouldn’t, that you were waiting for him.

It kept him up late after Beth was done with him, when she was sleeping next to him, using him for warmth, what else it was she’d use him for he couldn’t guess, there were too many options.

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 34

Your fingers tremble as you yank at the thick, stubborn vines clinging to a tree in the middle of the woods. The rustling leaves overhead are the only sound for miles, the wind’s whisper your only company. You steady yourself with a deep, shaky breath, slicing through a thick strand of vine. Kneeling down, you focus on the snare. It’s mindless work—your fingers move with muscle memory, shaky at first, but more steady with each twist and tie. Your thoughts drift, galloping away like wild horses, untethered and impossible to rein in.

Images of the prison flood your mind—the billowing black smoke, gunfire splitting the air, and the explosions that shattered the familiar walls. But what’s worse is the thought of Daryl: you never saw him. You never heard the motorcycle’s roar. By the time you broke into a desperate sprint for the woods, you hadn’t seen anyone familiar, just shadows and chaos. The cars were gone. You prayed your people made it out, even if it meant they were scattered somewhere in the dark, surviving on their own.

Did Rick get Carl out? Did Carol, Maggie, or Beth find safety? Or were they still out there, stumbling through the darkness, just like you? The memory of Hershel, collapsing onto the ground with his neck severed sears your vision. The screams of his daughters—it all rushes back too fast, too strong. You rub your face roughly, but your hand comes away wet with tears. You try to swallow the grief, but the pressure in your chest is suffocating.

You fumble with the snare, fingers slipping, and finally, you give up, slumping back against the rough bark of the tree. Your head drops forward as the sobs finally escape, ragged and harsh, each one ripped from your chest like it’s being dragged out by force. The darkness begins to settle, swallowing the woods around you, but the pain is louder than anything else.

You force yourself upright after a moment, wiping your face with the back of your hand. The realization that you are open and vulnerable in the woods hits you like a slap. You need to move. Find shelter. You force yourself up to start walking, legs heavy and unsteady beneath you, each step dragging through the thick underbrush. Muscles aching, you push forward, too afraid to stop.

Eventually, you find a small clearing, surrounded by trees that form a half-shelter from the elements. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. You gather dry branches and twigs, hands moving with purpose, and soon enough, a small fire flickers to life. The flames are weak, casting unsteady shadows across your face, but the warmth is a temporary relief.

You sit with your knees pulled close, knife clutched in one hand. The night is closing in, and every sound feels amplified—the creak of branches, distant howls, the hum of insects. Your eyes dart around, unable to settle on anything. You try to keep them open, fear rooting you to the spot, your exhaustion weighing heavy but not enough to let you sleep.

With a quiet sigh, you huddle closer to the small fire, trying to steal a moment of warmth in this unfamiliar darkness.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Sleep had been a longshot from the start. Every rustle of leaves, skittering critter, and crackle of the fire had kept you on edge. Still, at some point, exhaustion must’ve won over, because the next thing you know, you’re waking to the crisp light of dawn peeking through the trees. It takes a moment for you to register where you are, the rough bark of the tree pressing against your back, your body aching from the cold, hard ground. You force yourself upright, blinking away the haze of sleep.

However, as you lift yourself up to sit against the tree, the unmistakable groaning that must’ve unconsciously triggered you awake starts sounding closer and closer. It wasn’t the sound of any riled up walker, just one hopefully passing through. Your pulse quickens, every nerve snapping awake as the rattling breathing closes in. You get lower, trying to quiet your breathing to peer around the tree. Your heart sinks when you see not just one, but a small herd of walkers making their slow way through the woods. You screw your eyes tightly shut, gathering all your courage, sliding your knife into your hand. 

You bolt up and as quickly as your feet will allow, make your way through the woods at breakneck speed. Your feet pound the ground in a desperate rhythm as the snarls grow behind you, stirred into a frenzy by your sudden movement. You don’t dare look back; you just run, weaving through the trees, your rifle bouncing painfully against your back. 

You burst into a clearing, the sight of a stream just ahead of you, and take a moment to notice its heading to your right, downstream. That must lead you to a road at some point. Maybe to your people. Or at least some of them. You take a sharp right, hopping across the water and make your way through the woods, stepping carefully and quickly to not cause any snapping of twigs as the echo of growls begins to faintly blend into the background. 

When you finally stop, gasping for air, you bend over with your hands on your knees, the rifle swinging forward with your motion. You’re barely able to catch your breath when you hear the unmistakable snap of a twig behind you. Instinct kicks in, and you whip around, your rifle aimed.

“Woah! Please!” a voice calls out, high and urgent.

You narrow your eyes, taking in the sight before you. A woman, about your age, stands there with her hands raised in surrender. Her green eyes are striking, a sharp contrast to the deep grime that covers her face. Thick, dark curls fall messily around her shoulders, her clothes tattered and stained with layers of dirt and sweat. She’s clearly been out here for a while.

“Please don’t shoot,” she says again, her voice cracking with both exhaustion and fear.

Your rifle doesn’t waver. Everything in you screams not to trust, not to lay down your weapon. Stranger danger seemed like a joke in elementary school, but here, it was very, very real. You study her intently, searching for any hidden weapons or signs of deceit. Her wide eyes dart over you, trying to read you just as urgently.

“Are you—are you with a group?” she asks, voice shaky but still trying for casualness.

You don’t answer. You keep your gaze on her, trying to determine if she’s a threat. Her hands remain high, her stance non-threatening, but your guard stays firmly in place. You’ve learned better than to let down your defenses for anyone, no matter how desperate they look.

Finally, you break the silence. “What do you want?”

She swallows, her voice barely above a whisper. “Same as anyone—food, shelter, to live another day.”

You keep your rifle trained on her head, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The old instincts flare, reminding you of every betrayal, every ambush. Trust no one until they prove themselves worth trusting.

“Alone?” you ask, voice hard and flat.

“Yes,” she replies quickly, a bit too quickly. “Lost my group a while back. Been trying to make it out here alone.”

Your finger tightens around the trigger, just slightly. “Got any weapons?”

“Just a knife,” she admits, her tone honest, as her hand twitches before slowly lowering it to lift her shirt. Under the thin fabric, she reveals a small blade tucked into her waistband. She makes no move to reach for it, raising her hands high again

You watch her carefully for another beat, then lower the rifle just a fraction, your eyes never leaving hers. “What’s in the pack?”

She seems surprised at the question, but she quickly slips off her backpack and sets it on the ground, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Go ahead. Check it.”

For a moment, you stand there, eyeing her in case she decides to pounce on you. But then, your curiosity gets the better of you, the need to know for sure you’re safe. You step forward, keeping the rifle raised but angled downward. You open the pack, rummaging through it—water bottles, scraps of worn clothing, a tattered blanket, and a small first aid kit. No hidden weapons, no traps. But also, no food.

Satisfied but still wary, you take a step back, your rifle still between you. “You know how to use that knife?”

She nods. “I can handle myself. Can you?”

You snort softly, a hint of amusement breaking through your hard exterior. “I’ve managed this far, haven’t I?”

She lowers her hands slightly, eyes still cautious but holding a glimmer of hope. “We could… stick together. Just for a bit. Strength in numbers and all that.”

You hesitate, weighing your options. She doesn’t seem dangerous, and with walkers around, having someone to watch your back wouldn’t be the worst idea. You nod slowly, not entirely convinced but willing to try. “Fine. But if you try anything, you’ll regret it.”

“Fair enough,” she says, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “What’s your name?” 

You eye her suspiciously again, and walk on into the woods a bit further, not answering. You just wanted to find a good spot to sit after your exhausting run, not play twenty questions.

“I’m Jade,” she says, her tone turning chipper suddenly. You nod, looking through the trees that suddenly feel less hostile with another set of footsteps beside yours. But you know better than to fully let your guard down.

As the sun rises higher, you hear the distant groans fade into nothingness, and for the first time in days, the silence doesn’t feel as empty. You don’t know if this will last beyond the next night, but for now, you have one more person standing beside you, and that’s more than you had when you woke up.

“You know how to hunt?” you ask suddenly, voice still gruff but more certain now. “We should see what we can find before it gets dark.”

She nods, a flicker of relief crossing her face. “I’ve never hunted anything myself before, but I’m a good shot. Lead the way,”

You move forward, rifle in hand, her presence now a cautious comfort—an extra pair of eyes to watch the shadows, a warm body to split the fire’s heat. You might not be friends, not yet, but maybe, just maybe, you could be allies. For now, that’s enough.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

Snarls echo through the woods, relentless and close, as Daryl runs hard, his boots pounding the leaf-strewn ground. He glances back every few strides, making sure Beth is still right behind him. He doesn’t fully understand how he ended up with her. One minute he was in the prison courtyard, taking down the Governor’s men, the next he was grabbing Beth and hauling her out of there.

Their feet make too much noise— dead leaves crackling, branches snapping—drawing even more of the dead toward them. But when Beth suddenly whirls around, raising her gun to face the oncoming walkers, Daryl knows what’s about to happen. The gun clicks, empty, and she stumbles back, eyes wide with panic.

Daryl reacts instantly, an arrow slicing through the air and landing square in a walker’s skull. He doesn't waste time celebrating—another walker lurches forward, and he slams the crossbow into its face, following up with a quick plunge of an arrow into the next one’s eye socket. The two of them manage to drop the nearest threats, but it’s clear they’re overwhelmed.

Daryl snags his arrow out of the one he shot and they continue to run, breaths coming in ragged gasps. They stumble into a clearing of tall grass, and push their way through, only looking back once in a while to see the walkers hadn’t made it out to follow them.  The tall bushes in the clearing offer some cover, his thoughts too blurred by adrenaline to think of anything but survival. But there’s a whisper of something, of someone, her face blazing through his mind every so often. But he pushes it away, there’s no time to think, to grief, to break down. They had to keep moving.

After they make it halfway into the clearing, the distant sound of growling fading, they collapse to the ground, lungs heaving for oxygen. But as the air begins to fill Daryl’s lungs again, the thoughts that were whispers begin to talk louder, until they’re screams. Her name, her face. The last time he saw her was leaving her on that cot, sick, feverish. Hershel had said she was doing better but he should’ve checked on her to make sure. Why hadn’t he checked on her himself? The guilt slams into him like a punch, knocking the wind from his chest. 

He gets the girl next to him up on her feet again, dragging her into the woods for more cover before the sun goes down, when they are blind.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

“We should do something,” he hears her say, but her voice is distant, far in the background of the chaos slamming through his head. The memories of the day, the guilt racking through him. He stares into the fire as his mind feels like itself is ablaze with thoughts, the night black around them. He stares into the flames, each flicker twisting into an image of her. Y/N, lying on that cot, her skin clammy, her breath ragged. He should’ve stayed longer, should’ve made sure she was okay. Hershel’s words echo in his mind— she’s doing better —but they’re hollow now, meaningless against the gnawing fear that she never made it out.

He clenches his jaw, trying to drive away the onslaught of images. You left her there, his mind hisses. He should’ve forced his way back, pushed through the chaos to find her. But he’d let himself get caught up in the battle, and now… now he doesn’t even know if she’s alive.

He was never one to let people close, his bitter thoughts clawing at him even more now, piercing their talons in him. But Y/N wasn’t just people, and now that feeling of whatever this was now between them that blossomed– the lifelong friendship growing into more, into intimacy that ran deeper than just physical–it twists like a knife inside him. He wonders if he’s ever going to see her again or if he’s just going to be left with the memory of her—the one thing that had felt steady in a world gone to hell.

The fire snaps loudly, sending up a shower of sparks, but he doesn’t flinch. You don’t deserve to know if she made it out, the voice in his head growls, heavy with self-loathing. It’s the truth, he thinks. He never knew how to protect the people who mattered—Merle, Sophia, now Y/N. It’s the same damn cycle, and he’s tired of pretending it’s anything else.

He feels a hollowness in his chest, a pit that keeps getting deeper with every passing hour. He hates it. Hates himself for how much he can’t stop thinking about it, for how badly he wants to believe she’s still alive. But there’s no room for hope in this world—he’s learned that the hard way, over and over. And yet, the stubborn part of him keeps pushing back, keeps whispering that maybe, just maybe, he’ll find her again.

His inner thoughts scream as if trying to block it all out, but the memories won’t leave him alone. They play on repeat: Y/N’s laughter that finally made its way back after months of her being a shell, her stubborn determination, the way she always seemed to know what he needed without asking. And then the last memory—the one that haunts him the most—leaving her behind on that cot, her eyes closed, her body still too fragile. 

He doesn’t know if he’s ever hated himself more than he does right now.

“We should do somethin’,” Beth’s voice cuts through the haze in Daryl’s mind, louder this time, but he just stares into the flames, lost in his thoughts.

“We aren’t the only survivors,” she insists, but the words only twist the knife deeper. She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand the weight of uncertainty pressing on him like lead. How could she be so sure anyone made it out? How could she still have a glimmer of hope when everything burned and splintered around them? When he should’ve done something?

“We can’t be,” she adds, her voice softer but determined. “Rick, Michonne—Y/N,” she says, and his eyes snap up, anger flaring hotter than the fire in front of him. 

“They could be out here,” Beth continues, hesitant at first but growing bolder. “Maggie and Glenn could’ve made it out too. They could’ve. ”

Daryl’s gaze falls back to the flames, his thoughts racing. Images of Y/N, Rick, and the others flash through his mind, tangled with guilt and regret. Beth, meanwhile, is on her feet, interrupting the swirl of chaos in his head.

“You’re a tracker,” she says firmly, “you can track.” There’s a determined edge to her voice. “Come on!

The sun’ll be up soon! If we head out now, we can—” she breaks off when she notices Daryl hasn’t moved, still staring blankly into the fire.

“Fine!” she snaps, voice rising with frustration. “If you won’t track, I will!” She pulls her knife out of the ground and glances down at him one last time before turning to stalk off into the black night.

Daryl watches her for a moment, the firelight flickering against the darkness around her retreating form. Stupid girl, he couldn’t let her run off alone. Without a word, he pushes himself to his feet, hastily stomping dirt over the fire to smother it. He slings his crossbow over his shoulder and sets off after her.

[solvskrift]

goals for today and if I don't meet them I have to take a shot:

write at least 200 new words of AHoW

start outline of trio ot3 longshot

drink 3 whole glasses of water

brainstorm whumptober fic

make my bed I haven't done it all week rip

stretch

get 5 minutes of sunlight

[tinkerbclla]

Eddie Munson made it.

He did everything that his teachers had always told him that he wouldn’t. It was always “You’ll never make anything of your life if you don’t buck your ideas up!” and “Making music is such a longshot, do you have a backup plan?” and “Edward Munson if you don’t shut your mouth this second –” 

Eddie Munson didn’t shut up. And now, he was a star.

His first EP ‘The Upside Down’ had been an instant hit. ‘Vecna’s Curse’ made it to number one on the rock charts and stayed there for three consecutive weeks. He’d had two successful albums since, been nominated for countless awards and even won a few.

But he wasn’t happy.

Eddie Munson was bored.

Well and truly bored.

He filled the days however he could. His music wasn’t fulfilling any more. It was bland and repetitive and he hadn’t been inspired for a while now. He was writing, sure. He was writing more than anything. He’d filled two notebooks in the last week alone. Then he flipped through them and ripped out every single page. 

“It’s all drivel!” he complained to Gareth one day. “I’ve lost my touch! My edge! It’s gone forever!”

He’d met Gareth in high school. They were the best of friends, really. They’d formed a band together and they stayed together until Gareth went off to college to study music production. He emerged a new man and Eddie –

Eddie had still been playing for the same five drunks in the same dingy bars.

So Gareth had taken him under his wing. Gareth had a good knowledge of music production now and he became Eddie’s manager. He was signed to a label within six months.

It had all moved rather fast from there. Eddie had lost track of the time. It melted away, sped past him like the stars in the window of the Millenium Falcon as it shifted into hyperspeed. He’d been on every continent, played most major cities, sold out arenas that held more people than lived in his hometown.

And he was so fucking bored.

That’s how he found himself with – Jace? Kyle? Marc? 

He didn’t know. He wasn’t going to see him again, so it didn’t matter. For now he would call him sweetheart and hope for the best. He couldn’t complain much from his position, with Eddie’s cock sliding further down his throat.

“Just like that, baby,” Eddie crooned. “You take it so well.”

There was a muffled cry beneath him that sent vibrations up his shaft to pool in his gut. 

Eddie fucked into him harder, trusting his partner for the night to tap out if he needed. Eddie was a rockstar, he could take, take, take what he wanted. He gripped onto the blonde locks in front of him as his knees started to wobble. He wished he could give the other guy some credit, but Eddie was doing all of the fucking work. 

Eddie drew himself out of his partner’s mouth. He was even bored doing this, and god, wasn’t that just the most depressing thing?

“Lie down on the bed for me, sweetheart,” Eddie tried with all his might to inject some interest in his voice. “Let me fuck you.”

The blonde nodded at him dumbly, looking fucked out and lovestruck despite Eddie’s apathy. 

Eddie watched him for a moment, before retrieving a condom and some lube from his nightstand and finishing what he’d started.

*

If Eddie sat and thought about it, he realised that he spent too much of his time thinking about love. It was always something that had been so out of reach. 

When he was young – really young – he spent a lot of his time vying for the love of his parents. He acted out, mostly. Got scrapes and bumps and bruises on purpose, because he’d seen how his friends’ mothers fawned over them when they were hurt. His parents were too lost to fawn over him. Eddie being hurt was nothing more than a nuisance. He stopped showing them the scrapes.

When he first moved in with Wayne, the uncle who had always seemed so distant before, whom he barely knew, he turned away from the love. Wayne was determined to cook him a decent meal every night, so Eddie complained that he wanted take-out. Wayne bought him clothes to replace the ones that were becoming threadbare, so Eddie screamed when he realised his favourite t-shirt was gone. He pushed Wayne’s love away until Wayne came home with a gift. He pressed the fabric into Eddie’s hands wordlessly and Eddie scoffed in the way he was wont to in those days. 

And then he saw it.

Wayne had located an exact copy of the old Judas Priest shirt that he’d thrown out because it had a hole in the armpit. It looked brand new. It knocked the wind out of Eddie, he was totally in awe of Wayne from that moment. It was the most unambiguous sign of familial love he’d ever been shown. He stopped pushing his uncle away after that. He accepted the love.

The thing about love was that, as soon as Eddie had a taste, he wanted more.

He watched as his friends got girlfriend after girlfriend in middle and high school. He wanted what they had; he wanted soft hugs and gentle kisses on blushing cheeks. He craved affection more than he’d ever craved anything. 

He didn’t get it.

One day in high school, some of the guys on the football team had gotten hold of the information that Carter Anderson was gay. He’d been spotted holding hands with his secret boyfriend under the bleachers, totally innocent shit, but he was immediately ostracised. He was either sneered at or avoided completely. Eddie didn’t know which was worse. 

He’d wanted to comfort Carter, but he couldn’t have anyone know that he was the same. He was already a freak, Eddie didn’t think he could handle being the gay freak. 

He’d come out eventually, once high school was over and he was no longer bound by a hierarchy that was controlled by meaningless things like who had the most money, or who was able to catch a ball accurately. He’d even had a couple of relationships that went nowhere. 

He still craved something real, something permanent. 

It seemed impossible to find, especially as a famous musician. People wanted fame and people wanted money. It didn’t matter much to them how they got it.

The thought crossed his mind again when he was in a meeting about his upcoming tour. He’d chewed on a pencil until the yellow paint had chipped off and he’d most likely swallowed some of it, while the tour manager droned on about their schedule and the record label representative chimed in with the demand that Eddie keep working on his new album while he’s on the road. They kept talking until it was all static and Eddie’s mind drifted to love. Or his lack of love, to be more accurate.

It made him laugh to think of how he’d changed since the start of his career. A meeting like this used to hold his attention. It was new and exciting; he was getting to share his love with the world. But he hadn’t felt the love in his music for the past two albums now. He was surprised that his fans hadn’t noticed, yet he seemed to be as popular as ever. More popular, even. He was selling more than ever.

And he hated it. None of it felt authentic. None of it felt like love.

Eddie let out a sharp gasp of pain as Gareth elbowed him in the ribs, bringing him back into the room.

“Oh, uh –” Eddie scanned the room quickly in an attempt to figure out what had been asked of him. “Sorry, run that by me again?”

The executive in front of him rolled his eyes, obviously growing tired of the meeting and Eddie’s habit of daydreaming, “The tour schedule was confirmed by your manager, Mr Emerson, we just need a signature.”

“Right,” Eddie nodded, dragging the paper over to him. “Sure.”

Eddie wished he’d listened to at least some of the plan for his tour, but he couldn’t help it. The whole thing made him feel listless. Miserable. Apathetic. He’d ask Gareth for the details later, but honestly?

Eddie Munson wanted a fucking break.

He wanted to find the love in his music again, and he couldn’t do that while playing the same songs that had made him lose it. 

Eddie signed his life away and left the meeting without another word.

*

It was a dumb idea. It was reckless and stupid. Eddie knew that, but it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. Eddie sat at his desk and stared at the laptop screen in front of him. It was probably the only time he’d actually used the piece of furniture for more than just storage space for a thick layer of dust. He’d had to wipe it down thoroughly before he even thought about putting his laptop on it. The desk had sat in the corner of his music room unused; both Wayne and Gareth had insisted that he should have a desk to work at, but Eddie had written most of his songs either on the couch on the opposite side of the room or sprawled across the floor. A desk wasn’t exactly in tune with his creative vision. 

He wasn’t writing now, though, he was researching, and that was a task suited to the rigid conformity of a desk. Eddie opened up a browser window with a swift click and began to type.

How to stop hating mys–

No. He erased the words before he’d even finished writing them. They sounded too pathetic, but so did every other combination of words that ran through his head.

But how could he make them sound less pathetic? There was no admirable way to admit that you felt as though you were drowning in everything that had once been your dream.

How to feel less lost

That search was a dud. Eddie was willing to accept a lot of advice, but “accept that it’s okay to feel lost” was probably the most useless advice he’d been given in a while. He was past acceptance. He wanted change. Needed it with every fibre of his being.

He strayed away from the searches that would give him identical results touting mindfulness and going out for a walk as the cure to all mental health issues. He’d done it all. He’d even been to therapy. He needed something different, something fresh. He racked his brain until he settled on his next search –

Find writing inspiration easy

Eddie waded through pages of awful advice, telling him to look at writing prompts or to exercise (how was a jog supposed to help him come up with a hit song, exactly?).

Then came a beacon of hope. His answer.

A writers’ retreat.

The idea sparked a wave of hope that hadn’t washed over Eddie in a long time. He didn’t want to go on a specifically planned writers’ retreat, to be surrounded by twelve other writers who were constantly asking him what he was writing and what brought him to their little commune – he shuddered at the thought. Definitely not.

But to be able to escape? To book a flight to Bumfuck, Nowhere and exist among people who had no idea who he was? To hole up where no one would be able to track him and demand photos and autographs? He’d been asked to sign someone’s tits when he was out for dinner, for god’s sake, and he just wanted some quiet. The idea of quiet was thrilling.

A new Google search: Rural towns in the Midwest.

The Midwest was probably the most boring place that Eddie could think of. He lived in L.A., and the West coast was somewhere he wanted to get away from. If he went too far East, he’d end up with New York, and he wanted to avoid that just as much. In fact, he was probably supposed to go there on the tour he’d blindly agreed to. 

Eddie didn’t want busy. He wanted boring. So: the Midwest.

He clicked through a number of websites, waiting for a name to stick. A small town that sounded like it had some charm to it, something that would leave Eddie feeling in love again. 

He found what he was looking for in Fairland, Indiana. The whimsical name was already enough to send soft flutters through his chest; he felt the inspiration already, felt the love that radiated from the small town. He trawled through the pictures that he could find. There weren’t many – even the Trip Advisor page for the town only had two entries – but Fairland seemed quaint.

Eddie was sold.

He was opening up a new tab to browse AirBnB almost immediately. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the reaction his plan would solicit from Gareth and everyone else who worked for him. He knew that this was impulsive, that there were a litany of fans who had paid for tickets to the tour already. The idea of disappointing his fans caused an ache that settled in next to his heart, but he couldn’t keep showing them this watered-down version of Eddie Munson. They deserved his love. He owed it to them.

The only issue with choosing such a small town was that the AirBnB options were few and far between. There was only the one option, actually. A home that Eddie could only really describe as cosy, as close to a cottage as he’d ever seen. Eddie thought that cottages only existed in fairytales, or, like, England. But it was there, right in front of him in a high-definition image. An honest-to-god cottage with ivy growing up the grey stone walls. Eddie hadn’t seen a brick house outside of Chicago; it added to the charm of the building. It felt like a hidden gem, a treasure that he needed to snatch up immediately.

He scrolled further. The room for offer had a double bed, the house itself boasted a large wood-burning fireplace and a private garden. The pictures looked ethereal. He quickly found the contact button, barely taking notice of the reviews (there weren’t too many anyway – Fairland apparently wasn’t particularly popular). His eye did catch one note under the owner’s profile, though: The owner lives in the main house. 

It almost stopped Eddie from messaging, but surely he could put up with nodding politely at the man when he saw him in the shared spaces of the house? It was still rural and beautiful and everything he needed.

Eddie swallowed any hesitation and typed out his message.

Eddie: How soon would this room be available?

He immediately and deeply regretted forgoing a greeting, realising how rude and demanding he must sound.

Eddie: Sorry! Hi! Just very excited about your lovely home!

Eddie banged his head on the desk. Twice, for good measure. He was about to delete his entire profile when the reply came through.

Steve: Hi there Eddie! It’s available now and there aren’t any upcoming bookings. So I can accommodate you whenever.

He didn’t think before he replied, didn’t give himself time to.

Eddie: Would you think me insane if I suggested tomorrow?

Steve: I can get the room set up by then, no problemo!

Eddie: And if I don’t exactly have an end date to my stay?

Steve: As long as I’m getting paid, stay for as long as you want.

If he hadn’t been convinced before, he definitely was now.

Eddie didn’t have to think too much about money these days; he was impulsive and spent as much as he wanted to. He’d bought Wayne a house – an actual house with more than one storey and everything – without a second thought. He gave him an unlimited budget to furnish it and went to Ikea with him in disguise (it was a cap and sunglasses, very original and not the least bit effective). 

Still, this was the fastest Eddie had typed in his card information in a long time. He paid for a month up front to sweeten the deal for his host and immediately switched tabs to look for flights.

*

Eddie was buckling himself into a plane seat before he let anyone in on his plan. He’d been putting it off, knowing exactly how much he was going to screw them all over. Gareth didn’t deserve it, the fans didn’t deserve it, but Eddie struggled to feel an inch of sympathy for any of the other executives. 

Besides, this was going to be for the best. For both Eddie and his fans. 

With a steadying breath, he opened up his messages to Gareth.

Munson: I’m not doing the tour.

Munson: Don’t look for me. I’ll be back, but not any time soon.

And then he turned off his phone before the barrage of texts started to flood in.

He’d been clever about it; he’d covered his tracks. Eddie’s laptop stayed in his penthouse apartment, but the history had been completely wiped. He had logged into his banking app and changed his password, just in case Gareth knew the old one. He’d even phoned the bank to make sure they wouldn’t give out any of his information. He told them, and the police, in no uncertain terms, that he was not missing and none of his information was to be shared. He wanted to cover all of his bases, because the men in suits were vultures and they wouldn’t stop until they found Eddie. So he had to make sure that he wouldn’t be found.

He was pretty sure that he’d done a good job.

***

The opening scenes from 'The Unloved Ones' by tinkerbclla on ao3.

LINK

[fullcry]

Update (sort of)

I WILL get around to posting a proper update schedule soon. I'm in the process of trying to get my Patreon page up and running, so hopefully I'll be able to get those two things going concurrently.

Tentatively, updates will probably be in this order: Truth of Memory, Ch 4 (final chapter) > Either "Jacket Fic" longshot or untitled NSFW multichap Ch 1/4 > Love and Peace and Gunsmoke, Ch 2

A note about my Love and Peace and Gunsmoke: part of why an update may be a ways off is... I lost chapter five. 5k words of the hardest stuff to write: difficult conversations, character development, action scenes, multiple locations... I still haven't recovered. The prospect of rewriting it all is DAUNTING. And I need to finish it before I can go back and edit chapters 2-4, since it's the end of the first arc and needs to align properly for the next. So... thank you for your patience while I'm on the struggle bus.

Speaking of the untitled NSFW multichap, please have a WIP sneak peek because I'm hopeless and need to vent excitement. Be sure to subscribe to my AO3 pseud for updates! (because there will be a lot this year, RIP my free time)

UNTITLED NSFW VASH/MERYL WIP EXCERPT (below the cut!)

She had spent the long hours in that room thinking and preparing herself for the eventuality—told herself it was just sex, just a bodily function (albeit an intimate one). She’d spent long enough keeping her feelings for him hidden, and this was just an extension of that. It didn’t need to mean anything more and didn’t need to change their relationship. And at the end… she’d still felt that way. She’d been ready to move on, keep laughing, keep smiling, put the incident in a box and continue being just friends.

She hadn’t been prepared for this, though—this cold shoulder, this painful distance—and she feels unconscionably foolish for not having considered his feelings, for not having considered that just because it needed to happen didn’t mean he was prepared.

Though she isn’t quite sure what specifically his feelings on the matter are since he hasn’t said a word about what happened and pointedly ignored her attempts to do so.

She sighs and trails dutifully behind him. They’ve long since left the dormitories behind, for which she is thankful, and he leads her through a series of dark maintenance tunnels. Like the main hallways these too are lit by emergency lights but given the narrowness of the tunnels and the array of pipes and wires and panels along the wall hiding the light strip from view, it’s significantly dimmer. They move single file and her hands trail along walls on either side for support—the grate upon which they walk is uneven in places, seeming to have bent with the force of the crash.

She can see the brighter light of a hallway ahead and sighs in relief, matching Vash’s quickening pace. But before they get out, her hand snags on something sharp and she jerks it back, hissing. She can feel blood seeping into her glove, trailing down her wrist. Pain pulses sharply along her index finger, and she knows its a deep cut.

“Are you alright?”

Now he talks to her. She refrains from saying something snappy and unkind, and instead says, “Yeah—just a cut. Can you grab some gauze from my pack?”

She turns around to give him access to the bag strapped to her back and holds her finger tightly to stem some of the blood flow. She hears the zipper and can feel him rummaging around, and a moment later he taps her shoulder. She turns back around and pulls her hand away from her finger to take the roll of gauze but he ignores her, reaching for her hand instead. She lets him, holding her breath and watching with surprise as gently disinfects the wound and holds her by the palm as he wraps three layers around the cut, tying it off gently. He still doesn’t look at her.

“Vash—“ she begins, more insistent this time.

“Not… not here,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that just saying those words is an emotional effort. It’s clear he knows what she wants to bring up, and she feels some relief that he has finally acknowledged what happened, even if indirectly.

“When we get back to ship three?” she asks, or rather, requests. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, gently releasing her hand as he tucks the roll of gauze into a jacket pocket. Then, he nods, and turns back around, heading for the hallway.

[plaindangan]

Sayaka had always been frustrated about her lack of ass yet ginormous cock, when she saw chihiro shamelessly walking down the halls, skirt doing nothing to cover that massive behind she decided to release all her frustrations on that shelf of an ass

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

Sayaka was stewing in frustration.

She was the biggest idol in the country and, as such, was expected to have the perfect body to match. For the most part she managed to deliver. She had a nice set of boobs that stuck greatly in her skimpy idol dresses. She had a tight stomach that had people’s eyes wandering to her nice set of toned hips. That’s not even mentioning her flawless skin to lips with just the right amount of plump to them.

The only thing missing…was ass. Sayaka just did not have a big booty, which would have been fine…if every other girl in the 78th class wasn’t cheeked up!!! Everyone: Kyoko, Mukuro, Junko, Celeste, Toko, friggin’ milk makers like Sakura and Hina? They outcaked Sayaka by a longshot and it irked her to no end. But what made things worse? She was even outmatched by a boy!!! Chihiro of all people!

He tried to hide it, sure, but he always failed! Failed to cover that perfectly rounded, fatty, eye turning, meat!! The slightest bend always has it mooning everyone, and it didn’t help that the bloomers he wore were either ripped or barely fitting him!!!

It’s. Just. So. Unfaiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

And the worst part? Sayaka was completely turned on whenever he happened to just pass by her. That carnal part of her craved to bend him over and take all of her aggression out on his tight hole! B-but, she can’t!! Chihiro is her sweet pal! She can’t just use him like a fleshlight like th-

“Oh, hi, Sayaka!” speak of the femboy, it was Chihiro, giving a cute wave to the pop star. Currently, both were inside of the empty music room. No one would be here for at least twenty minutes. Usually, Sayaka used this place as a hideout to placate her cock…but problem was is that Chihiro was now here. Looking for a place to sit. Bending over like such a slut-!!!!!

“H-huh?” What…what was poking him. Gulping, Chihiro turned around to see Sayaka, skirt and panties down, rubbing against his own dumptruck. “S-s-sayaka?!! Y-you’re a-!”

“Futa? Yes! A-a-and I just…I need this!!! Won’t you help a friend out, Chihiro?~ I promise…I’ll be in and out before you know it. So…care to do a quickie with an idol~” Sayaka winked and kissed him on his forehead. Blushing Chihiro was a bit taken aback by the turn of events…but figured helping her wouldn’t be bad right? It’s out of nowhere, but it should be a relatively quick thing to…’experience’ and move on, right? Right?

“S-sure!” Though as he saw that idol’s devilish smile replace her usual, careful, yet heart warming, grin, Chihiro gulped.

Yeah, he might have have chosen poorly.

-

CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCAPCLAP!!!!!

“O-ohhhhhhh!! Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gooshhhh!! Goooooooooshhhhhh!!! S-s-s-saaaaaykaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!” Chihiro moaned, mouth watering and eyes rolling upwards in pure blissed. Sayaka’s eight-inch ‘mic’ was reaching deeper and harder into his stretched out ass than he ever would have thought was possible.

Currently, the programmer was being bent over his desk. Moaning like a good little girl as Sayaka balls deep in his ass. Snarling, and laughing like a madwoman.

“Who the Hell taught you to walk these halls in such a short skirt, huh?!!!!!! Who the Hell said you can have an ass so fucking fat and huge, huh?!!!!!! Do you think its funny to tease me like this all day?!!! Everyday?!!!!!!!!! Heheheehehe!!! This is payback!!! I’m not stopping until I’ve dumped every last drop inside of your tight booty!! Do you hear me?! EVERY! LAST! DROP!!!!!” As if right on cue, Sayaka shot a new, gooey, load down into Chihiro’s pucker. Something that coincided with the programmer also spilling his spunk all over the desk….

But, as Sayaka kept jumping and piercing his ass with a rod that wasn’t even a little bit hard, both knew that a ‘quickie’ was never planned to be in the cards~

[oneshotnewbie]

Angsty Emily Prentiss longshot, please?

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sound of the wind rattling through the window of your cold bedroom had jolted you out of your thoughts. A short gust of wind passed through the small room in your apartment, the door of which was opened briefly and let you froze in place, a cold shiver pattering down your back.

With your eyes closed, you listened to the howling and whistling-it was not uncomfortable and you had gotten used to it in the last few lonely weeks. The apartment no longer felt like home during these several long and painful days.

You cocked your head to the side, your gaze wandering to the figure standing tightly in the doorway, not moving an inch from their firm stand. You were sure it was the blonde agent; she had promised that she would come to you earlier for the occasion and would be with you so that you were not alone.

Sighing, you turned back to the window, staring out at the gray and overcast weather; appropriate for this day. Morgan and Garcia would definitely show up soon, too. You smiled at the thought of the blonde urging Morgan to get up earlier than necessary-if they could get any sleep at all. Those thoughts quickly passing as they fell back to your murdered fiancee.

"So this is how it ends, huh?" you whispered, your voice thick from the many tears that had last cried into the pillow. "You fall in love, do not think you will ever get together with that person but it happens and then they are just..gone? Just ripped out of your heart and life like that?" you snapped your fingers to reinforce your statement, more tears welling up in your eyes.

The blonde moved a little closer to you, her arms wrapped gently around your waist while her head lolled on your shoulder. JJ´s hand sauntered down your arm to your hand, her fingers dancing on the back of your hand before your fingers tangled tightly together. Tears streamed down your thin face and you pressed your lips together to stifle a sob.

"Sometimes, it is the course of life" she said quietly and pulled you with her onto the nearby bed, holding you comfortingly in her arms and catching your tears as they fell, wordlessly and unhindered.

Jennifer knew you had more to deal with than she or any of Emily Prentiss´s friends. Today, however, would take you a first step in the right direction to process what happened and to accept the grief. She was happy that you were willing to put the past to rest and process the loss of your fiancee by attempting her funeral.

After last meeting you, you had been going through a rough time. Closing yourself off from the team and her, even quitting your job. It was almost unbearable for the blonde to see you so devastated and desperate with no doubt certain that you would set a foot into the graveyard.

She knew how you felt, having already buried many of her own people, and yet she was glad to think that she could catch you when you fell after her best friends death, just like JJ promised the raven haired woman before her passing.

The clouds hung darker and lower in the sky than they were a few minutes ago, largely reflecting your mood and emotions. Jennifer slowly turned her head to look at your sunken and sallow face, then sighed. "Are you ready?"

"I will never be ready for that, so we should just do it" JJ nodded in agreement. She knew you were right, could imagine how difficult this was for you. But she was sure that you would make up your mind afterwards and would feel better, relieved.

You would be able to wrap up, process your grief, after several long weeks of missing her. And you would always have a place to go whenever you felt like talking to her.

Grabbing the blondes hand tightly and squeezing it briefly, you both stood up at the same time and left the small room. Downstairs, some of your teammates already waited for you, looking at you expectantly, Penelope already stretching her arms out to you in an uncertain gesture.

Clearing your throat, you broke away from the blonde and took a deep breath before falling into her arms. "My Sugarplum," gentle kisses graced your cheek while warm arms wrapped around you tightly, finger faintly drawing traces on your back. "Thank you for being here, I-"

Garcia gently placed a finger on your dry lips and shook her head; you did not have to keep talking, it was natural for everyone to support you. With a nod in understanding of her gesture, she solicitous wrapped an arm around your waist while JJ´s fingers interlaced with yours once again.

ᕚ---ᕘ

After a very quiet and nerve wrecking drive, you arrived near Arlington. In silence, you walked the last bit together into the big cemetery, where other FBI agents were already buried. Hotch, Rossi and Reid were already waiting for you.

You meandered together through the narrow paths between the graves until you arrived at the selected spot for her grave. Everything was prepared, Emily should be laid to rest right here. She would have loved the place between the almond trees that were in full bloom. And you liked the idea that the trees would drop their bright pink blossoms annually for her, showing the vulnerability of life.

A hole about a square meter had been dug and a heavy old white chest was floating over it, around which you had all gathered in a small semi-circle in front of it. It was just a small community you invited to her funeral; only her team had lined up. Her closes friends and her family.

There was an awkward silence for a long moment before you walked around her coffin, tears already streaming down your cheeks. "You all know I am never really comfortable speaking in front of people," you said hesitantly, a small smile breaking your lips. "But today, I will make an exception"

Your friends smiled at you encouragingly and you continued.

"We are here today to pay our respect to our beloved friend, partner and wife: Emily Prentiss," only trembling did these words fall out of your mouth. Swallowing hard, you tried to pull yourself together, gently stroking your fingers over her face, which was placed next to you in a photograph. "Even though her body is not actually here, there is no doubt she will ever come back. I have to, we all have to accept that"

You looked up into the faced of the people closest to her.

Rossi looked older than ever, saddened by the death of his working daughter. Derek had his arm around Penelope waist, whose eyes glittered between the blue eye shadow. Reid´s gaze was distant and you guessed that his thoughts were with another sorely missed person.

Hotch gave you a sad yet encouraging look while JJ also had tears in his eyes and kept them from dropping. It broke the blonde´s heart to hear you talk about her best friend and your wife like that when she knew the whole truth about Emily's death.

It was freezing cold due to the strong wind. But the little group at the cemetery did not mind. For a brief moment, you figured that the cold front was actually Emily coming to visit an cheer you up.

"We can not really bury Emily, but we can give her something that will remind us of her," you met your friends deep and dull eyes once again before pulling something out of your pocket and pointing it in front of you. "And whenever we return to this place, we will know what we left behind"

Everyone present looked intently at the little bundle that you were holding in your hand and carefully unwrapping it from the cloth. It was a snow globe.

"Em," you began in a low voice. "You gave me this snow glove on our first Christmas together. You saw my collection and had one specially made for me. I want you to keep this snow glove as a token of the everlasting bond and love between you and me"

You leaned towards the pit and carefully lay it in. You crouched down on the ground for a moment, staring into it, lost in thought. Then you got up and immediately fell into JJ´s arms, who hugged you tightly.

Nobody moved for a moment, but then Penelope stepped forward. "I will keep going," she whispered and you could tell right away that your words had taken their toll on her. "I was thinking about what I could give you, Agent Badass"

Like you, she addressed her words to the surroundings as if her friend was standing right next to her. The computer specialist also pulled something out of her handbag and held it in front of her. Softly giggling, she started to tell the story to her object. "It should be something to remind you of me and I think this broken mug right here will do the trick. You know it is my favorite mug. Remember when you picked the pieces out of the trash and glued it back together for me as best as you could?"

One by one they all stepped forward and placed something on the white coffin that reminded them of their friendship with Emily. You were very grateful to them for being with you today; you knew how hard it was to lose people you loved.

Especially when it made you lose a piece of yourself.

[jadegem20]

I curl into a ball as the hero slowly walks closer. Blood pools from my face down to the asphalt covered roof. I definitely have a few missing teeth and a couple broken ribs. This was how every fight between us went, me cowering and him victorious. I just want one thing. I just need one thing.

“Do you surrender?” he asks.

I turn my head and face him the best I can, and stay quiet. If I’m going down, I’m not losing my dignity.

He stops right in front of me. I can feel his eyes roam across my prone body. “I said, do you surrender?” he booms as he releases another kick straight into my side.

I clench my teeth as I hear another crack and new pain blooms. Tears threaten to escape, but I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t get it do you,” he laughs that charming laugh. The same one they air on the nightly news praising his heroics. The same one that has women and men alike fawning over him. The same one he used when he took her from me. “You don’t get to win, you don't get freedom, and you don’t get the girl. You're a villain.”

With that he let another kick fly. His boot connects with my face making a sickening crack echo in my skull. The force makes me roll to my back. In the blindness of my pain, I almost miss something. The something digging into my back.

I wasn’t always hated. I wasn't always desperate. I was once a top student at MIT. In nano engineering in fact. The gun that is currently pressed into my back is designed to rip atoms apart, effectively vaporizing a target. I had been planning on using it to vaporize the bunker door that hid a secret government prison on the longshot that she was hidden deep inside.

I hadn't used the gun on anything living, much less something that was indestructible by mortal standards.

“What happened to women being just as strong as men?” he says as he reaches down and grabs me by the neck. My vision blurs in and out with pain and lack of oxygen as he drags me to the edge of the roof. “All of that feminist bull shit is the reason why humanity is weak. Strength is what matters, and I think we’ve proven who has won in that department.”

He lifts me up by my throat and places me right on the edge. My heels hang sixty stories above the ground. I shakingly reach around my back and grab the gun. He watches with a smirk as I point it right at his forehead.

“You know that can’t-” he starts, but I pull the trigger.

The ray is invisible and almost instantaneous. In the blink of an eye, I am staring through the head of my once mortal enemy. His hands fall away and his body drops to the ground. His face may have once been handsome, but it is now unrecognizable.

I wait for him to stand back up. One breath. Two breaths. No movement.

Suddenly, relief fills my body. He isn't in my way anymore. He isn't going to hurt me. He isn't going to hurt her.

I killed a man and all I can feel is relief.

Screw it, I am the villain, and I will get the girl.

[deusvervewrites]

Longshot X Musketeer X Clone for One: With in the vestige real Yoichi: I Knew all those people he was bringing home weren’t business partners

lmao rip

[sideprince]

“How do you split your soul?’ ‘Well,’ said Slughorn uncomfortably, ‘you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.’ ‘But how do you do it?’ ‘By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the torn portion - '

-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (emphasis mine)

Dumbledore did a lot of shitty things to Snape, and asking Snape to kill him was definitely one of them, but I don't think he thought for a second that it would damage Snape's soul. Dumbledore had all the Horcrux books in his office that Tom Riddle used to make his own and I have no doubt he studied them. As Slughorn says, splitting the soul happens by the act of murder. It's the act of deliberately and non-consentually taking a life. But because Dumbledore not only agreed to being killed, but especially because he suggested it, literally asked for it, it wasn't murder. When you take someone off life support it's not murder. Not every act of killing is murder.

That doesn't mean ending someone's life doesn't hurt or affect you, of course. It was a lot to ask of Snape, who was already risking his own life, and it set him up to be more of a target in the long run. But it was also an incredible act of trust and intimacy in its own way. I don't think Snape and Dumbledore had a healthy relationship (not by a longshot) but it was definitely complex.

When Dumbledore said "...please..." on the Astronomy Tower what he was really saying was, "it's ok, I'm ready. I'm fine." For all the terrible things he had done to Snape, Dumbledore's last words were to him, and they were words of reassurance. I don't know how I feel about how effective they were, and those two's relationship tends to raise more ethical questions for me than it answers, but I think in his own way Dumbledore was trying to atone for what he'd done to Snape over the years, and what he was asking him to do then.

[respitelocklyre]

⚠️ Failed to post due to network connectivity issues. Please check that your connection is stable and try again.

[The following session summary is set up as a series of fast-paced tweets from Respite's private account, none of which posted successfully.]

>Heyyy so this is a longshot but does anyone here know spells that can undo, like, idk... transmutation magic? I think I messed w some fae shit and now im tiny and trapped inside an enchanted dollhouse lol [Attached are pictures of gigantic furniture, as seen from through a window, presumably from inside said dollhouse]

>As if my date night hasnt been going badly enough im gonna kms

>Okay for some context, if u follow my insta or dinkdonk u know im at the seelie market tonight and everything seemed rlly fun but it turns out there's some dark shit happening. so we wanted to snoop more while their main show was going on.

>(like ENSLAVEMENT kinda dark shit btw- we're trying to help ppl! there's a hag running the market and holding ppl hostage!! including my friend's sister maybe!!! I promise I'll have a whole other post abt that later tho lol)

>Anyways i talked to the guy running the ring toss & he said the show would be like 30min but didn't know if the big bad boss lady (Madame) would be there or not so we were being sooooo careful

>We even checked for divination magic but Sersh didn't find ANY magic at all, which was ultimately WAY more sus. Thad kept saying we should just leave which, like, FAIR, but i felt like we couldn't just go back empty-handed (mistake)

>Can't go into too much detail but i found my way into the totally unlocked Madame's caravan to try and search for the contracts keeping everyone enslaved. it was full of puppets and dolls and dresses and this crazy ornate dollhouse (foreshadowing)

>Also wait omg i almost got caught while sneaking in, but i used a bunch of cantrips to make everyone think there was an earthquake and then i pretended to be one of the marionettes inside the caravan when the goblin workers came to investigate lolol suckers totally fell for it

>And once they were gone i found a key and a couple slips of paper inside a wardrobe! The papers were these weird fairytales. Does anyone recognize them??? [Attached images of the uploaded document/story from the DM]

>The key went into a slot in the dollhouse so naturally, if a key fits im gonna turn it, right??? it must've been trapped tho bc that shit knocked me TF out

>So that's where im at rn. I just kinda woke up inside the dollhouse. im gonna keep trying to call my bf or my party but the service is spotty af. Any advice is appreciated 😭

>^^^For legal reasons this is all a joke btw and i didn't do any of this. Making it up for clout, etc etc

>Kind of urgent

>Also OMG I almost forgot the most important part: one of my party members showed me his fucking SOUNDCLOUD and it was so 💀💀💀 PLEASE go give it a listen and tell me ur thots lol his handle is @/ThadyT

>like dont be mean or comment anything bc he'll know whats up so be cool but omfg i just need someone else to listen to this alfkjasldf;fdhg

>Oh shit i dont think these are posting LMAAOOOO RIP TO ME 🪦 SEE U GUYS IN THE SHADOWFELL IG 🫡🐦‍⬛👑