#film cops doing their job

[beardedmrbean]

WINCHESTER, Ohio (AP) — Seven law enforcement officers have sued rap artist Afroman, accusing him of improperly using footage from a police raid on his Ohio home last year in his music videos.

Four deputies, two sergeants and a detective with the Adams County Sheriff’s Office brought the suit earlier this month, claiming invasion of privacy. Other law enforcement officers who were involved in the raid are not named as plaintiffs.

The plaintiffs say the rapper, whose real name is Joseph Foreman, took footage of their faces obtained during the August 2022 raid and used it in music videos and social media posts without their consent. They say that has caused them “emotional distress, embarrassment, ridicule, loss of reputation and humiliation."

The plaintiffs are seeking all of Foreman’s profits from his use of their personas. That includes proceeds from the songs, music videos and live event tickets, as well as the promotion of Foreman’s Afroman brand, under which he sells beer, marijuana, T-shirts and other merchandise. They also seek a court injunction to take down all videos and posts containing their personas.

The suit names Foreman, his recording firm and a Texas-based media distribution company as defendants. In an Instagram post made Wednesday, Foreman vowed to countersue “for the undeniable damage this had on my clients, family, career and property.”

Law enforcement officers were acting on a warrant that stated probable cause existed that drugs and drug paraphernalia would be found on Foreman’s property and that trafficking and kidnapping had taken place there, authorities have said. Those suspicions turned out to be unfounded, though, and the raid failed to turn up probative criminal evidence. No charges were ever filed.

When cash seized during the raid was returned to Foreman, it appeared that hundreds of dollars were missing. A subsequent review by the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation determined that deputies had miscounted the amount seized during the raid itself.

Foreman is best known for his songs “Because I Got High” and “Crazy Rap,” which were both featured on his album “The Good Times." He is also known for his political activism and announced last December that he plans to run for president.

[mariocki]

La tarantola dal ventre nero (Black Belly of the Tarantula, 1971)

"Yes, I've always told you to drop it, it's true. But now... you're not giving up. Not now. And I don't really care about the movie. If they're out to get you, it means the murderer is afraid of you. It means you know what you're doing. He's afraid of you."

[drzibs]

its so funny to me, because i went into good omens a die-hard david tennant fan. like he’s my favorite doctor, ive watched most of broadchurch, hes like my emotional support bbc actor. and this is not me saying i love him any less, bc thats not true! hes a brilliant actor and a lovely human and is one of, if not, my most favorite actor of all time.

but mr. michael sheen…………. i have Words for you sir.

//all good words i am in awe of you my guy//

[anotherpapercut]

sometimes people will ask me about working in a library and I have to find a gentle way to tell them they literally would not last a day working in a public library

[snazum]

being a creative sucks never do this. (vent below sorry)

it's constant swinging of i love what i make and want to make it i need to make it now now now and FUCK FUCK FUCK MY LIFE I wna to die a little bit, everything is pain and tiring and the world sucks and why can't i just do things and im selfish and terrible and not even that good at art

[elmmni]

guess who's about to be insufferable about spiderverse!!!!!

[racefortheironthrone]

Nobody is making anyone go into scriptwriting. No one is born in a Netflix company town where their dad takes them into the script mines at age 12. Fuck writers who want to get paid more than once for the same job. They should only get residuals AFTER all the people who do REAL WORK, like construction, grips, costume, makeup & animators etc. Most of them are much better at their jobs than writers especially for streaming services, and they are what screenwriters can lean on & novelists can't.

People need to realize that the unions for white collar people like WGA or SIEU or NEA (public sector unions are why cops who kill the people they were supposed to serve & protect remain employed get pensions) is not the AFL-CIO or any other historical union fighting for the lives of the people who built the country's industry and made it run, any more than the NRA are the Minutemen of 1775 New England.

First, go fuck yourself, you fucking scab. No, seriously - you don't come to my blog and spout off about what workers deserve unions and decent pay and what ones don't, like it's your fucking decision. The intellectual labor that writers perform is just as real as any other work done on a film set - "all who labor by hand or brain" is the inherent logic of industrial unionism for a reason.

Second, writers aren't asking to get paid more than once: residuals are deferred pay, you absolute moron. In Hollywood, whether it's writers or actors or voice talent or whatever, you get a small fraction up front - it's usually an ok check, depending on the union's day rates and so forth, but you can't make a living off stitching these together - and then most of your pay comes from monthly royalty checks that provide you with the income you need to live off when you're between jobs.

The problem is that, historically in Hollywood, residuals have been structured with a very long "tail" - the payments start out relatively low and then get more generous over time as the show has more seasons and (presumably) goes into syndication. This doesn't work with streaming's new business model, where increasingly shows are getting 2-3 seasons max and streaming services have become increasingly quick to not just cancel shows but yank them off their servers in order to avoid paying residuals.

So what WGA writers are fighting for is a system that ensures writers (but also actors and other creative workers, because the unions pattern bargain) get a fair share of the show's revenue, even if the show is only given 2-3 seasons.

Third, the U.S labor movement would not exist today if it wasn't for white collar workers and public sector workers. About half of the U.S labor movement - 7 million workers - is public sector, and those workers are overwhelmingly women of color, mostly working as either teachers or postal workers. Likewise, about half the U.S labor movement is made up of white collar workers, and we're graduate students and adjuncts and lab researchers, teachers and social workers, administrators and IT departments.

I'm both public sector and white collar, and I'm a member of an NEA union. I'm an adjunct professor who earns $6,000 a course and it's my job to get working adults with jobs and families who've never gone to college or who've been out of higher ed for a decade to graduate with a bachelor's or a master's. If you don't think that's real work, you're free to research and write all the lectures and powerpoints, deliver those in an entertaining and educational fashion, answer a flood of questions from students who need help navigating academia, and then grade all the midterms and finals and research papers.

[fallrafwe]

,,OBSESSED”

a/n: this is based off a request 😍🥰 also i might’ve put some parts that were inspired when drew was in a short film called up the hill 🤷 sorry for taking days to write this im having hard times and i struggle writing sometimes

warnings: dark!rafe, strong language, NONCON, piv, unprotected sex, baby trapping, choking, hair pulling, fake orgasm, cream pie, fingering, edging/orgasm denial

summary: dark!rafe and pogue!reader never truly get along so rafe decides to teach her a lesson

After meeting Rafe for the first time, he started talking to you all the time, you met him at a party, but you have no idea why he seemed to like you, you were a Pogue and working two jobs. Making time for him was the hardest thing to do, two different schedules everyday. He always insults you about not making time for him, manipulating you or gaslighting you, even going as far as to hurt you if you didn’t take a day off, he wouldn’t even care if it got you fired, whatever he wanted, he would get, he made sure of it, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Coercing you to have sex with him was always a common thing, and you couldn’t even care anymore. You did it just so he would leave you alone. He could ask you to do it somewhere, and even if you weren’t in the mood, you would do it anyways. Today though, it was a bit different. Rafe had knocked on your door on your day off, “Rafe? What the hell are you doing here?” you asked. He didn’t respond, just bumping your shoulder as he walked in. You scoffed at his carelessness, “Okay, Rafe, you can’t just fucking walk in here whenever the hell you want!” you yelled, closing the door and going after him as he headed for the kitchen.

He caught you by surprise when he turned around, and grabbed your wrist. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, talking to me like that, drop the fuckin’ attitude.” He said, glaring into your eyes as he towered over you. The height difference made you intimated, as well as his tight grip. “Okay. Can you please just get the fuck out?” You said, trying your best not to say anything too bad, but still wanting him to leave. He shook his head and shoved you against the wall, your front facing the wall. He brought your arm to your back and pulled it to the side, making you shout in pain, “Ow, ow, Rafe! Stop!” you yelled the best you could, your face being squished against the wall.

“You’re a fuckin’ Pogue, so learn your place, yeah? Y’need some dick in you to learn?” He laughed quietly as you struggled beneath him. You writhed as you eventually worked up the courage to bring your foot up and kick him, making him fall back slightly. He exhaled as you ran to the front door, staying there before you pulled out your phone, “Get the fuck out, or I’m calling the cops, Rafe! I’m not joking!” you screamed. Each time he took a step, you turned away from him with caution, making sure he didn’t leave your view. He nodded, “Call the cops and see what happens.”

His hand twisted the door knob, opening the door and walking out. How could he make a threat right before he left? Rafe was a fucking psychopath and you should’ve known that right when you met him. You took a deep breath in relief, running over to the door to lock it. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, that was your worst interaction with Rafe yet, and you didn’t know what to expect next, but you didn’t wanna be near him to find out.

So you didn’t go near him, you ignored his texts, his calls, and not once had he come to your house. You were at the point of relaxation, not caring what he had to say to you, he was not one of your priorities. You could work without having him beg you to take off, try to hurt you or manipulate you. For once in your life, you felt free from the grasp he had on you. He was obsessed over you, sometimes it felt like you had more control over him, but you knew that was never true. Rafe would do anything for you to stay with him, for you to hook up with him, and today proved it.

Three huge bangs came from your front door, the sound reminded you of knocking, but with the side of somebody’s fist. The loud thudding didn’t stop til you answered the door, and there you saw Rafe standing in front of you. Your jaw was dropped, but that’s how both of you were on the couch, you straddling his lap and kissing him passionately. His tongue was fighting yours, making you moan into the kiss. You could feel his bulge pressing into your clit, you felt disgusted but continued anyways. A hand traveled up your waist, resting on your tit, you felt it squeeze which made you take your mouth off his. “Rafe, look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” You breathed heavily as he stared into your eyes, he took his other hand and pushed your head against his, continuing to make out with you.

His hand went up higher, eventually resting on your throat. You felt him lightly squeeze, you brought your hand to his and led his hand to your cheek, letting it rest there instead. You guys continued to make out until he took his hand and placed it on your throat once more, you pulled out of the kiss to tell him to stop. Once you did, his grip tightened. “What are you doing? Stop!” You said, trying your best to pull his hand off. His dark, blue eyes stared into your eyes, and this was one of the many times you truly felt scared of him. “What? Can’t breathe?” He asked, tilting his head sideways barely as he looked at you struggle, it felt like your airway was closing in on you, and it practically was. “Rafe— Rafe, stop.” You managed to get out, your hands clawing at his, it only made him squeeze tighter.

“Stand up.” He said, the demanding tone could be heard in his voice. You could barely hear him, everything was like ringing in your ears. A quick slap brought you back, and you could feel a hand being taken off your throat. You were shoved off his lap, falling on the floor then standing up quickly. His presence made you quake as he turned you around and led you to a table, one hand forced your head down as he worked his belt with his free hand, the belt was then used to tie your wrists together, acting as a pair of handcuffs. The fact he did this with ease made you wonder how he could do it, did he practice with others? Has he done this before? That was something you never doubted. The fabrics rustling made you sob.

“Rafe, stop, please!” you yelled. His response was almost immediate, “Shut the fuck up, don’t wanna hear y’talk unless it’s those sweet noises, yeah?” he said carelessly. The whole interaction had you scared shitless, how rough was he gonna be? Was he gonna hold back? Was he gonna do anything else? It had your heart beating through your ears, anticipating his next move. The feeling of his tip rushing through your entrance made you cry out in pain, the burning sensation of him stretching you out made you want to die. It took no time for him to start plowing into you, his hand starting to grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back. “Fuck, this pussy s’fucking sweet, just f’me,” the way he slurred his words made you think he was pussy drunk already.

The burning sensation had you sobbing, tears staining your cheek as they dropped down onto the wooden table. His thrusting only got more aggressive, the way he moved made you so uncomfortable, and the way he did this without giving it a second thought, you knew he took things far, but not this far. Your only option to escape was to fake your release, just to make him stop, since he always wore a condom, it made this even worse. Moans filled the air, but you weren’t thinking straight, so you weren’t able to distinguish if they were real or fake, it felt like every time he thrusted he was hitting your cervix, which could explain the desperate moans as he continued. “Yeah? Y’like the way I fuck your pussy, huh? Such a fuckin’ slut, just for me, too.”

Wetness burned through your pussy, beating you at your own game. Realizing you liked this made you sick, so you didn’t wanna have an orgasm, or else you would feel even more pathetic than you already felt. Your pussy pulsated around his cock, making him groan, his grip on your hair only getting tighter. At this point, he was recklessly pounding into you, the only thing that mattered to him right now was his pleasure, partially yours too, his ego was too big, so if you came because of him, it only boosted it more, knowing how good his sex game was. “You gonna fuckin’ cum on my cock, hm?” He asked, you nodded, knowing you were lying. Your movements were practically forced by yourself, and you expected him to not know.

Rafe’s cock twitched in your pussy as it squeezed around him, pulling him in. He let loose of your hair, putting both of his hands on your waist and gripping. “S’fucking close, gonna cum in you.” All of a sudden, everything you were doing was ceased. You felt a pit in your stomach, “What?” you asked, and you only did so because you thought Rafe was joking, you thought he was gonna play it off as a joke, that was exactly what you were hoping for. “You heard me.” He said, giving you more thrusts before eventually letting his cum fill you, riding out his orgasm in your pussy. Your eyes were squeezed tight, “Rafe, Rafe, what the fuck did you do?” you whispered. You felt him pull out, the feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of your entrance. “You didn’t wanna follow what the fuck I say, I’m not gonna follow what you say. If you just— just fucking listened to me, I wouldn’t have done that.”

His hands pulled you up, turning you around so your back was on the table, you felt his hands feeling around your body. His head leaned in towards your neck as his left hand cupped your cunt, “I know you didn’t cum. So you’ll give me as many as I want, alright?” his boxers and pants were already pulled up, making you glad. Thoughts were already racing about what you were gonna do about it, his words made your body shiver. Tears filled your waterline as he started fingering you with both his ring finger and middle finger, his fingers were curling up, hitting your g-spot. A moan slipped out of your lips as he worked his fingers. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in closer, boosting his ego was the last thing you wanted to do, but it felt so good, you needed more. He was pushing his cum back inside you as he moved in and out, tears running to the sides of your face.

You were right on the edge, recognized by your squeamish body movements and loud, pornographic moans. Rafe pulled his fingers out, a loud gasp escaping your lips, you tugged on his hand with one of your own, “You want me to keep going ?” he asked. Your head nodded, “Okay. Tell me you’ll keep the baby.” he said, without any emotion at all. You were unsure, and you didn’t want a baby, but it was Rafe. He was a fucking psychopath and you already knew if you tried to get rid of it anyways that he would do insane things, he’ll ruin you for life. He could tell you were hesitant about saying it, hell, you were hesitant about even seeing him again after this, but he would force his way into your life anyways. However, during sex you acted like a completely different person, so your subconscious answered for you, “Fuck, okay.”

Even if you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smirking as he dipped his fingers back into your aching cunt that was already painted with his cum. Your head kept nodding as he kept going, you were lost in a state of pleasure, the way he pressures his fingers against your g-spot made you think you were going insane. His hand moved faster and faster until you let loose all over his fingers, moaning loudly as he let you ride your orgasm out. Your arousal was evident when he pulled his fingers out, “Was crying f’me to stop, now look at you.” he said, laughing softly. He looked at you and shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Your tongue instinctively sucked on them, he grabbed your jaw as you did, “I’m staying here with you, every fuckin’ night. You’re keeping that fucking baby.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and took his hand off your jaw.

The way he talked to you like you were a dog who had to follow their owners every command scared you, he was only doing that so he wouldn’t leave you, but maybe that was what you wanted. You wanted him to force you into doing everything you didn’t want, you needed him in your life, or maybe it was due to all of his gaslighting and manipulating to think that he was all you needed. It wasn’t though, you just needed to be away from him.

[kinsey3furry300]

Disney's Robbin Hood marries Maid Marian at the end of the film. Since marriage between commoners and aristocracy were illegal in the time period, we can infer then that Disney's Robbin Hood uses the cannon from Richard Grafton's 16th century Chronicle at Large or latter, when Robbin Hood goes from a yeoman to a member of the aristocracy, either the Earl of Huntingdon, or the later lord Locksley.

This fox is, and always has been, a member of the aristocratic 1% defending his inherited wealth, power and privilege. His vendetta against Prince John and his denouncement of him as a tyrant is personal as Prince John infinged on the rights and privileges of the Nobles, which was illegal, and lead to him taking up arms abd leading a guerilla campaign, and as soon as a Absoulute monarch he personality agrees with returns, he bends the knee in exchangefor a pardon, the restorationon his estates, and a policaly benifical marrage.

Behold the friendly face of Absoulute hereditary power!

In DnD terms, this verson of Robbin Hood is Lawfull Evil, fighting to uphold his own legal power and staiuts against an usurper.

Sad to say it given, he gave me my sexual awakening, but this fox is, and always has been, a fascist.

I mean I'd still fuck both of them but the sex with Rob would be far angrier.

This fox, this guy right here:

He's just a depressed millennial with childhood trauma running a gig economy job. He's not even doing anything particularly illegal, as shown by the only thing Judy (a frighteningly effective cop) can find to charge him with is tax evasion. He's a high functioning borderline genius level guy running street scams due to racial profiling barring access to higher education and better jobs, and once someone gives him an in he proves very very good at solving crimes. He had no ideological stake in this, he's in DnD terms true neutral tending towards chaotic neutral, but he does risk his life to stop and actual fascist coup that was happening hidden behind a facade of public safety (looks at canera), which is something. He's an everyman antihero who sells out for a job with helthcare and/or bunny boobies at the first chance he gets, very relatable.

This Fox, is and always has been, Moray grey.

and he fucking knows it, the sexy beast.

In conclusion, Disney has always been a Conservative company filled with left leaning creators, and Sometimes thier furry kink critique of the current system leaks out and they are at their best when it does.

[eldritchneuro]

I have a theory that the reason so many people who were introduced to Trigun via '98 dislike Stampede, and vice-versa, is because each text is positioning the audience to view it from a completely opposite lens.

'98 does the same thing that its sister show, Cowboy Bebop does, which is to lure you in with the premise of turning your brain off for some good, simple fun, only to slight-of-hand you into realizing that oh shit there's themes, and now you've got a 15-page video essay.

Trigun Stampede does not want you to do that, in large part because it's a far denser text. There's like 7 different main themes and ideas bustling around and multiple story elements are told almost exclusively through film language (see Tesla, red-blue-purple color theory, and probably multiple more that I can't summon from the top of my head). It wants your brain on and intensely focusing the entire time and then you go on to write a 15-page video essay.

The tricky part is that you have to somehow communicate to the audience that you want them to do this, which is a hard ask because any hints you drop to hey, focus! aren't gonna be obvious enough to picked up by those people without being obtrusive.

The dramatic tension built up in episode 4 is built off of Wolfwood and this game of traitor-or-not that the narrative plays. 'Why is this man alone in the desert in completely inappropriate dress?' 'Why does he have a cross?' 'How is is he not dead?' and 'Okay so he's somehow survived this far but he's also just been hit by a fucking truck!?'. These are all questions that the story wants you to ask, because they help build up Wolfwood as being hella sus.

Enter Roberto, who conveniently has asking questions be his entire job. By having him explicitly point out various things throughout the story like this one, it signals that these are things we should be focusing on, especially since he's set up as someone who's been around the block a few times.

Here's some more examples of Roberto showing us what to remember, all from just the first episode:

This helpless guy they found in the desert has a gun on him. Why does he have a gun on him?

2. Cowardice is a matter of perspective, and perceived cowards may just be under pressure that we can't see (this is clearer in the English dub, where iirc the word 'experienced' is used rather than 'privileged').

3. This one's a red herring! Vash is, in fact, very tough, but this line still contrasts him against being perceived as naive even by someone as experienced as Roberto.

4. Fuck them cops (based)

Of course, the flipside is that Roberto will not live to see the end of this season. But much like how he leaves Meryl with the newfound experience she needs, he also leaves the audience with the curiosity that we will need going forward.

[lilbitdepressed27]

Jenna Ortega x Fem!CopReader

Summary: you are a cop and Jenna's girlfriend

Warnings: fluff, angst

WC: 2.8k

Author's note: hope y'all like it sorry for any mistakes:)

Jenna lived a very busy life. From her schedule going from barely busy to being offered rolls for every possible roll she could dream of. She knew accepting the roll of Wednesday was going to either make her or break her career. She knew accepting such a popular roll would bring her more attention. It had become rare when she had free time. From all the filming she'd have to do, to all the interviews and photo shoots. It had been so exhausting. Physically and mentally. There were moments where she'd cry herself in to a panic.

There had been only one person who could calm her down. And that was her girlfriend of two years and half. One call from her was enough to calm her down. Just to hear her girlfriend's voice was enough, even when she was thousands of miles away. She truly did love her job, there was nothing else she'd rather do. But there was moments where she wished it didn't take so much of a toll on her.

But the moment she was offered a moment of peace she'd hurry back to L.A. Like how she was right now, she was only a few minutes away from her shared home. Although she knew her girlfriend was still working. She couldn't wait to surprise you. You had no clue she was coming home today.

She'd never forget the first time she met you. The way you looked in your uniform was a sight that had her feeling like she was drooling. Seeing you in you uniform never got old. She remembers the day she first saw you like it had been yesterday.

The police had been called on to the set due to a fight breaking out between two crew members. She remembered the day clearly. How two cops had shown up, one being a tall white man. He had been an attractive man she won't deny it but nothing had prepared her for the tall woman that followed behind him. Never had she seen someone so attractive, so breath taking. The way your arms flexed when you had to physically restrain one of the crew members.

The moment her eyes connected with yours, it felt like it was love at first sight. Something she had never believed in before that was until she saw you. The small smile you had shot her way had her heart racing. She knew in that moment, you'd be someone special in her life.

And she wasn't wrong.

Upon arriving at your house, she saw that your truck was not parked in its usual spot. She had hopped that you'd be home by now, but now she could surprise you when you got home. Thanking her driver as she got her bags and headed to the front door.

She couldn't wait to surprise you, she could only hope that you weren't in any more danger. She had her updates on you by one of your coworkers that was of a sister to you.

*

It had been a long day at work. After you got attacked by a few guys, after a stop gone wrong. To being involved in a shot out. All that had happened in the first five hours of your shift. You were sore and bruised. And just so tired. It was good thing your captain gave you the next three days off. You loved being a cop. It had been your dream job since you were a kid. But getting shot at was something you'd never get used to.

"Go rest L/n, you earned it. The last thing we need is for your girlfriend to be angry at us like last time. Who knew she could be so scary." Your friend Aaron who was also police officer joked.

"Hey don't underestimate the short latinas now Aaron."

You chuckled at the newest rookie. Celina was such a great change into the department. You knew she'd be a great cop.

"I'll see you guys later." You bid your goodbyes with a laugh. You really couldn't wait to get home. To lay on your bed and sleep. Well after talking to your girlfriend of course. You missed her a lot, FaceTiming wasn't enough nowadays. But it was the only thing letting you see her beautiful face. She had been away filming for the new season of Wednesday. With her no longer being in Scream 7. She a had bit more free time.

So with that in mind you hurried your way home. With L.A traffic it had taken a bit longer for you to get back home. Feeling relief once getting to your house. You hated coming home to an empty house, the times Jenna would be at home you were quick to get used to her being there. Your home felt so alive when she was home. So the times she was gone, the house felt so empty without her.

Shutting the door behind you, you were only two steps in when you froze in your tracks when you saw the back door open. As a muscle memory you went for your gun that was on your hip. But came back empty seeing as you showered and changed back in the station. Your personal weapon was in a safe, in your room. That was upstairs.

With your training coming at you, you were quiet as you made your way further into the house. Clearing every room you passed. Hoping that your training officer Harper's hand to hand combat would come in handy. There was noise coming from your gaming room. Even with your job, you still had time to game for a few minutes.

But if someone was in your gaming room. You knew they were most likely stealing. You had expensive equipment in there. Equipment you bought and other things Jenna bought you. The lights in the room were off, the only light in the room was coming from the hall. Meaning you could only see the figure of the intruder.

Using the wall as cover. They seemed small, easy enough for you hopefully to intimate them and if they react you could take them down. That's if they had no weapons.

"Police freeze, don't do anything stupid." Using your police voice. One of authority. You had to turn on the lights. Make sure they didn't have any weapons before you could fully come out of your cover.

"Mmm what are you going to do with me Officer."

"Jenna?" You turned on the light, smiling when you realized in fact it was your girlfriend who you hadn't seen in person the past four months. You had her in your arms in seconds. Your arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Her squeal was like a blessing in your ears. Her own arms wrapping themselves around your shoulder. Returning your hug just as tight.

The kiss that followed was filled with some love and so much more. You couldn't believe she was here with you. You couldn't believe that after four months she was back in your arms. The pain and soreness from your day was completely ignored, and honestly forgotten.

"God I missed you so much." You pulled away resting your forehead onto hers. With her legs wrapping around your waist you led her to your shared room. Hearing laughter as you continued to kiss all over her face.

"Put me down. I know you're bruised. Angela called me. Let me see you."

You should have known. The woman you work with, the ones you looked up to, they were more like sisters. Angela, Lucy and Nyla. They had grown fond of Jenna and you knew your girlfriend had grown a bond with them. So it was no surprise they told her about what happened today. With a sigh you took of your shirt. Revealing all your bruises and scraps.

You heard her gasp at the bruises.

"Hey I'm okay. Nothing I can't handle."

But she stayed looking at your bruises. Her fingers hovered over the bruises afraid of hurting you. Once she had heard what happened from Angela. She had been quick to try and call you. It was no surprise that you didn't answer. When she couldn't reach you, she had gone straight to the internet. Seeing the short videos of you being attacked. The way you were brutally assaulted by those men. It scared her how often you came close to dangerous situations.

"It still scares me. I don't want anything to happen to you."

You pulled her closer to you, wanting to comfort her in any way you could. "Baby look at me." Taking her cheeks into your hands, pulling her gaze away from your body to your eyes. Offering a gente smile.

"I can't promise that nothing will happen to me but I can promise that I'll try my very best to come back to you." Lightly placing pecks on her lips till you felt her smile.

"I know but ugh why can't you just work for me as my bodyguard or something." She complained as looked up at you, her hands creasing your bare lower back.

With a laugh you lead Jenna towards your shared room. "How about you tell me how filming went?"

"No how about you use that police voice, officer. I've been very bad."

It was good thing you had the next few days off. Seeing as you didn't get any sleep, the ache and soreness of the day was completely forgotten at the sight of your beautiful girlfriend's body.

*

"Oh my god you look so cute!" Jenna had put on the documentary you had been in. The documentary had been about a once famous celebrity, he's rolls had dried up, leading him into making cult of the students he was teaching.

It was a whole thing.

You were in a seat in your dress blues, you honestly looked awkward. "No I don't! I look like I'm constipated." You protested you didn't want to do the documentary in the first place. But your captain had kinda forced you. Seeing as you were one of the first cops to arrive on the scene.

"No you don't. Such sexy cop and you're all mine."

Her arm that was wrapped around your waist tighten. Her head was that had been resting on your chest was lifted as she looked up at you. Her eyes full with so much love.

"All yours." The smile you got return had you feeling like you won the lottery. Her smile was like a light in a dark room.

Lightly kissing you before pulling away to watch the parts of documentary you were in.

"Why can't we watch Wednesday? I was getting to the good part." You played with her long wavy hair. Gently scratching her skull, feeling the way her body basically melted on top of yours. You could tell she was tired. The way her eyes were fighting the sleep. A part of you wanted to take up her offer of being her bodyguard. You knew she struggled to sleep when she was busy. At least if you were with her. You could make sure she actually rests and take care of herself.

But you also loved your job. You had worked hard to be in the position you were in now. Not to mention the family you had found. You couldn't just leave them.

"You know I hate seeing myself on screen." Her finger traced random shapes on your bare stomach. Making sure not to hurt your bruises. Being back in your arms was everything she had wanted for the past months.

"But I love seeing you in action I-" You let out a laugh at the sight of her raised eyebrow, the suggestive smile she shot your way. "Stop, get your dirty mind out of there." The actress only let out a laugh, her smile only growing, it was a sight you loved dearly.

Jenna laid her head back down on your chest. Looking back at the television seeing you answering questions with your 'police officer' look. It was a look she found attractive, you looked so serious, so professional.

"Officer Y/ln, you've been an officer for three years now. Was this your craziest experience?"

She watched as you let out a short laugh, "Not even close. But this was one goes down as probably one the weirdest."

"Oh what was the craziest?"

"Mmh I don't-Oh! Tell them about the time a party mistook you and Bradford as strippers!" Was heard from behind the camera.

You had prepared yourself for the full on belly laugh the actress let out. You had once told her about that incident. You had never been so mortified and embarrassed in your life. Hearing the filming crew laugh had you chuckling as you clearly saw the blush on your own cheeks.

"Oh my god I can't believe Lucy brought that up."

"Me neither. Tim was pretty embarrassed as well."

The rest of the day was spent with Jenna in your arms. Taking advantage of the free day you both had. You couldn't ask for anything more.

*

"Just be safe okay?"

You were now back at work. The days you had off had passed way too fast. Your lovely girlfriend was still at your house enjoying her own free time. You were working the night shift for the next few days, along side your partner. Leaving for work had never been so hard. A part of you didn't want to leave Jenna's side. You had been so comfy laying on the couch with her before you had to get up and leave for work.

"Y/LN! Let's go, we have to question victims of a drive by."

And with that you were of to do your job.

*

The sun set and it had become dark out. The street lights came on, the streets empty, as faint sounds of yelling and gun shots rang out. The two officers trying their best to escape the suspects of the drive by they had been called to investigate further. With the ammunition quickly running low and their radios down they had no other option but to run from the suspected killers. Running into an apartment complex hoping they'd find someone that could help.

~

Jenna sat back on the couch watching the documentary you were in once again. She couldn't get over how attractive you looked on tv. While she waited for you to get from work, she made herself busy, by cleaning the house(which she didn't have to do much. You're a clean person.)

She also texted you. You always texted back. Even if the text was short. Most of your night shifts were always quiet. So you'd respond to her in full length texts. And when you were actually busy a simple thumbs up emoji would settle her nerves. But the last text she sent you was thirty minutes ago. By this point she would have gotten a simple emoji. But she was yet to receive anything. You hadn't even opened the text.

She couldn't help but to worry, her gut was telling her something was wrong. So she called one of your coworkers. Angela. Hoping the older woman could settle her nerves.

~

More gun shots rang out, the two officers had tried their best. Doing everything they could possibly do with the little ammunition they had left. Yet at the end it had not been enough. They were still out numbered.

Cutting through an alley had not been the smartest decision on the officers part but yet they had no choice. The only sound they could hear was of the dogs barking aggressively, the sound of their boots hitting the wet hard pavement and their heavy breathing.

Those criminals were out for blood and it was the exact thing they were getting. As they drove in from the other side of the alley successfully shooting one of the officers.

The shooting stopped as one of the officers successfully put down the two criminals. Their moment of relief quickly came crashing down at the sight of their partner on the floor.

The cries, the begging for their partner to stay down, to remain calm felt like they echoed. The cries for help as their partner chocked on their blood before going limp. Completely unaware of the criminals sneaking behind.

The officer noticed a moment too late, not being quick enough to reach their gun before the gun fire rang out once again.

**

It was two hours after she got off the phone with Angela when there was a knock on the door. She had moved quickly to reach the door. Swinging it open when she saw that it was Angela on the security cameras.

Angela didn't have to say anything. The look on her face said it all.

"No. No. No."

The cry was filled with denial, pain, heartache. The older woman could try to comfort the short actress. Although there was absolutely nothing she could do.

You were dead.

Gone.

:(

[damianwaynerocks]

ya know how it’s canon that damian was taking acting lessons with carrie? and that he was really good at it?

what if that’s his civilian job when he’s older?

like we know some of the bats have civilian jobs. bruce, obviously, runs WE. tim is CEO. dick is a cop.

what if damian’s civilian job is an actor?

i know it wouldn’t make total sense bc he’d probably have to leave set randomly in the middle of a scene because he’d have to go on a mission but hear me out.

we know he loved acting because he gets to be someone else. carrie says this:

and then damian says the same thing in super sons

yeah he could’ve been saying that to fuck with jon but because carrie said the same thing, i think he was being honest.

and besides, look at how he played that old man. that is a jolly old fella and i personally read it in sweet old man voice.

and the disguises he always chooses when going undercover are outfits like these

and yes you could say that it’s just a gag bit the writer put in to be funny or you could say that that’s how damian feels like “normal” people dress and he’s trying to fit in but to me!! i feel like it’s him trying to be the opposite of how he is. you know, being somebody else.

plus he’s so good with voices. he could easily put on any accent necessary.

and so i think he would be an actor. yeah, he wouldn’t be able to be in gotham all the time filming movies and stuff, but personally i love the idea of damian being like dick and moving out of gotham to become his own hero/person.

he’d get the opportunity to experience what it’s like to be someone else, someone who wasn’t taught to kill someone before they could walk, someone who wasn’t forced to grow up way too fast, someone who doesn’t have to risk their life every single night, somebody who doesn’t have to hold possibly the world’s biggest secret. he could embrace being a completely different person, even if it’s only for a few hours at a time.

and imagine how funny it would be for the batfamily to turn on their tv and watch their mean, stern little brother have a wide smile with an australian accent in a romantic comedy.

jason storming out of the manor after damian insulted him 30 times and then he turns on his tv to get his mind off it and there damian is on a beach searching for treasure side-by-side with tom holland

damian in a wired google search interview and the first result is “is damian wayne robin?” and damian just sighs.

damian on a press tour in an interview and he’s just shooting the shit with jennifer anniston.

tim watching the tiktok edits of damian and just silently fuming at the comments that are like “he’s so babygirl”

damian getting an offer for a star wars movie and yeah, he might hate star wars because the lightsaber duels follow no sword fighting etiquette but he takes the role anyways so that tim can’t watch his beloved star wars without seeing damian wielding a light saber with ewan mccgregor

would dc do it? no definitely not and logistically it wouldn’t work because crimefighter hours probs do not mesh with 14 hour days on set. however!! imagine damian in a buzzfeed puppies interview.

[mcflymemes]

TO CATCH A THIEF PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 1955 film, adjust as necessary

not only did i enjoy that kiss last night, i was awed by its efficiency.

left in a hurry, huh?

i'm in love with you.

now that's a ridiculous thing to say.

you're leaving fingerprints on my arm.

[name], why bother?

my only comment would be highly censorable.

some nights a person doesn't need to drink.

the book you're reading is upside down!

they came for me an hour ago.

i called the police from your room and told them who you are and everything you've been doing tonight.

why don't you own a place like this?

the pastries are light as air.

even in this light, i can tell where your eyes are looking.

i haven't stolen a piece of jewelry in fifteen years.

what do you think of my kitchen?

now, let's get down to business.

now i am going to have you investigated.

coincidence can be terrible.

how many did you kill?

you are a man of obvious good taste in everything.

my nerves could stand a drink.

say something nice to her, [name].

you make the choice.

you're here in europe to buy a husband.

the man i want doesn't have a price.

so this is where you live?

thank you. you've been most unkind.

if i'm ever hungry, i'll eat someplace else.

what can i do for you, [name]?

you need clothes and money?

take my boat and go to the islands.

i'm thinking of going home to america.

i wouldn't put it past you.

it has to be somebody who knew every detail of my technique.

you don't believe me any more than the rest.

i don't like running, hiding, and leaving a trail of doubt in everyone's mind.

i shall defend you when i can.

the police are chasing the wrong man.

they're all looking for you.

i only made one mistake.

i was talking about the fireworks!

doesn't it make you nervous to be in the same room with thousands of dollars worth of diamonds, and unable to touch them?

you're mad.

if they catch you, nobody will believe what you say.

you have a rare skill for inspiring confidence.

i only do one favor a day.

look, if you don't want to do this...

you're getting us wet!

a man should never regret his past.

what's on your mind?

i was just thinking about you.

i work for a living.

you can't touch me.

i don't know what you wanted. i know what you got.

in that case, we should hurry.

may i ask you a personal question?

if you're caught, would you be angry with me if i pretended that i was going to give you up to the cops?

act as if you're a pretty girl out for a ride.

don't buy any new clothes with the money yet.

nobody will ever recognizes me in these.

we're both taking a big chance.

what happens to you if i'm caught?

you made a bad choice of profession.

suppose it falls into the wrong hands.

why don't we enjoy our lunch first?

i don't want to seem impatient.

for what it's worth, i only stole from people who wouldn't go hungry.

i'm sorry for ever starting in crime.

i look back with horror on every job i pulled.

something bothering you?

i'm having dinner with them tomorrow.

i will continue to complain.

want me to buy that for you?

i have an intense dislike for it.

[ichorai]

sorry ; daryl dixon.

track three of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

words ; 7.9k

themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au

warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan

main masterlist.

Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”

The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy. 

Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”

A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified. 

“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face. 

“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop. 

“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”

A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of. 

The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk. 

“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”

“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt. 

“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight. 

More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.

“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set. 

Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”

Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready. 

From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group. 

Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.

“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm. 

The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”

Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.

“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort. 

The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon. 

“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table. 

Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”

You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”

Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we’d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”

Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly. 

“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.

“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.

Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”

The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign. 

Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt. 

“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear. 

The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.

You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.

“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up. 

Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”

The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”

Reluctant, Carl nodded. 

Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach. 

If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.

You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.

Wouldn’t they?

The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.

“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead. 

Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.

“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”

Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet. 

“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through. 

The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.

The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.

Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was. 

You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well. 

A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV. 

“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried. 

“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”

Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”

“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”

“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”

It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.

Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”

A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.

“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry. 

It was then that the RV came to another stop. 

This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.

“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features. 

Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”

With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”

Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”

More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.

“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”

The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”

Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”

A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”

“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”

A beat of silence. 

“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”

Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.

“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”

“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”

“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.

Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders. 

“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.

Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”

“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”

Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year. 

“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry. 

“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”

Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more. 

After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.

“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”

You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”

It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you. 

“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!” 

The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face. 

The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—

Until you came face to face with the source itself. 

Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.

Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face. 

Rick looked destroyed. Devastated. 

You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you. 

Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away. 

From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route. 

“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”

When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.

Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”

“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”

“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form. 

Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.

Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you. 

“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.

With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides. 

“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”

A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck. 

And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught. 

Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.

I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you. 

“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back. 

“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”

He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago. 

The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges. 

And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression. 

“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”

Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”

The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”

He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him. 

“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”

Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man. 

“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”

Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.

“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”

Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”

On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”

Chuckling, Negan moved on. 

You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”

Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.

You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.

Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”

“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”

The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”

“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”

And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

But it was all futile. He noticed anyway. 

He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you. 

“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”

With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.

“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”

“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face. 

Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll. 

Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”

Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”

Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”

Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.

“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!” 

“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.

Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?” 

The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine. 

“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”

He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”

Abraham. “Minie.”

Michonne. “Mo.”

Glenn. “Catch.”

Daryl. “A tiger.”

Rosita. “By.”

Eugene. “His toe.”

Sasha. “If.”

Aaron. “He hollers.”

Carl. “Let him go.”

And so on he went. 

My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.

Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham. 

No. No… no… no…

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!” 

And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.

Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.

His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it. 

Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek. 

“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”

When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”

Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.

And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.

“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”

Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him. 

Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.

“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”

Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.

And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.” 

A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”

“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.” 

“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”

Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”

A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.

“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”

Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.

A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream. 

Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat. 

Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.

“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”

After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”

Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over. 

“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!” 

With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.

Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out. 

Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.

You shut your eyes again. 

“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood. 

Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”

Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”

Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”

Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”

Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”

The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him. 

“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs. 

“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”

They were gone for hours.

During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest. 

But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls. 

The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.

When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.

“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan. 

Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.

Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”

Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”

After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”

Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.” 

You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple. 

“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.

Carl didn’t move. 

“Kid… now.” 

With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man. 

“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.

“Am I a what?”

“A lefty,” clarified Negan. 

Carl scowled. “No.”

“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”

Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative. 

“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”

Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.

“Simon, you got a pen?” 

Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?” 

Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”

Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”

“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”

“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”

Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes. 

“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.” 

Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”

Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”

Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”

“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”

“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”

With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.

“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”

Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off. 

But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.

The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Frantically, Rick nodded his head. 

“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”

“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.

“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.

Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”

“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”

Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief. 

And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now. 

Right?

“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”

To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.

“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?” 

“Daryl,” said Pornstache.

“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”

“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”

Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.” 

A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards. 

“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”

“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!” 

One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”

You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.

The both of you had lost so much today. 

And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.

Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Firefighter Friends

Requested Here! This was requested as a part 2, but I made it a prequel to Firefighters: Friend or Foe!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!wife!firefighter!reader (these keep getting longer)

Summary: After you become a firefighter, your friends convince you to make a funny video. Tim walks in while you're filming and finds a new reason to tease you.

Warnings: fluffy fluff! OC firefighter Jay flirts with Lucy, mentions of pregnancy at the end.

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (the look on his face when he finds his wife filming the video)

“You can’t hide forever. I’ll figure out what you’re lying about eventually.”

Huffing, you press your face closer to Tim’s neck. His arms are around you, so you know he’s just trying to tease you, but you’re not sure how to tell him.

“If you don’t love me anymore, just say so,” Tim continues.

“I got a new job,” you whisper.

“What?” Tim asks, gently pushing you away to look at you. “When? Where?”

“I got a new job; I’ve been working on it for a while. Just… didn’t know how to tell you I guess.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

You mumble your answer, looking down so Tim can’t hear you. He taps a knuckle under your chin, his eyes steady on you.

“A few years.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s amazing! It’s amazing, right?”

“You won’t think so.”

Tim raises your left hand, pointing to the wedding ring on your finger. “This means I’m amazed by everything you do.”

“Stop,” you plead. “I’ve been working toward becoming a firefighter.”

“Did Darry put you up to this? I knew he was a bad example,” Tim replies.

“Tim, I’ve been… I seriously want to be a firefighter. To do some good.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant it like that. Tell me more?”

Tim nudges his hand between your cheek and shoulder, attempting to ease your shyness and encourage you to stop hiding from him. You shrug your other shoulder, leaning toward Tim.

“I finished training a few weeks ago, passed the qualifications and everything, but there weren’t any openings,” you begin. “Until Darry’s chief retired and one of his team members got promoted.”

“And you took his job? Well done.”

“You’re not going to leave me now that I’m a firefighter?” you ask softly.

“Are you kidding? If I can make you this shy just by being your husband, imagine the possibilities when we’re rivals at work.”

You groan, attempting to climb off Tim’s lap, but he holds you in place, laughing as you turn away. Becoming a firefighter, accomplishing one of your dreams, is a big deal, but you’re already starting to regret it.

“I’ll ask Bailey for pointers,” you murmur.

“Sure, you will.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“LAPD’s meeting us there,” Jay announces as the fire engine turns out of the station. “Bank robbery gone wrong and a fire broke out.”

“Where’s the bank? Please tell me it’s in Mid-Wilshire,” Darry replies, glancing at you.

“It is…” Jay pauses to check the map before finishing, “in Mid-Wilshire.”

“He’s not going to be there,” you tell Darry. “And stop.”

“But it’s fun!” Darry and Jay cheer together.

Darry and Jay are two of your best friends. They’ve been by your side through everything, and now that you are a firefighter, you like knowing that they have your back. Despite their constant teasing and efforts to make you shy, they support you in everything, and when you’re in your turnout gear, they are your equals. But not a moment before.

“I know you think Tim is hot,” Darry begins.

“Think?” Jay scoffs.

“But the goal is to put out the actual fire. Need you to remember that.”

Darry bumps his fist against your shoulder, but you look toward the window. If Tim is there, you will do your job and then deal with him. Most people don’t view running into their spouses as something to be dealt with; most people aren’t married to Tim Bradford, having to spend every moment fighting not to let him get to you. You love him, and he loves you, but your shyness is an invitation to him.

“Maybe you should just ignore him,” Jay recommends. “Like the dirty, no-good cop he is.”

“The day this one can ignore Tim Bradford is the day I-“

“We’re here,” you interrupt. “Sorry for this conversation to end, though,” you add.

“It’d be nice if she was as shy with us as she is with the husband,” Darry tells Jay.

“Hey, I’m Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders.” She looks over at you and smiles.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Officer Chen,” Jay replies, smiling as he leans against the truck.

“You’re blocking the hose, Jay,” you tell him, gently pushing him out of the way.

“Maybe we could talk after then.”

“Sure,” Lucy answers with a laugh. “Fire takes precedence though, right?”

“One would think,” you grunt, pulling the hose toward Darry.

The fire roars and Jay jumps to action, helping the rest of your team put it out. All bank employees and customers were out before you arrived, so saving the building and the block is your priority. Keeping your eyes away from the crowd to avoid finding Tim is included in that, of course.

✯✯✯✯✯

“No way!” Lucy exclaims when she sees Jay take off his helmet. “I follow you on TikTok!”

“You’re kidding,” Jay replies. “Do you have a favorite dance? I’m trying to convince my friends to do one in turnout gear, but they won’t.”

“I’ve been trying to get Officer Bradford to dance with me, but he threatens to get me fired every time I ask!”

“Oh, I know someone who can convince Bradford.”

“Jay!” Tim yells. “Do not bring my wife into this!”

You shake your head as Tim approaches you, his eyes roaming over you to ensure everything is okay.

“Wait, that’s his wife?” Lucy asks behind you.

“Boot! Find something to do.” Tim watches her leave, then turns back to you and smiles. “Maybe there is a future for firefighters.”

“I’ll see you at home tonight?” you ask, changing the subject.

“Not if you keep up the shy act and can’t look me in the eye.”

Dipping your chin, you ignore Tim’s chuckle. He hugs you quickly, whispering a half-true apology before returning to his shop.

“We need to get back to the station now,” Jay calls. “It’s urgent.”

You climb into the truck beside Darry, but Jay won’t give any additional information.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What was so urgent?” Darry asks.

“No, keep the gear on,” Jay says as you begin unhooking your coat. “We need to do this.”

He raises his phone, showing a video of three people dancing together. 

“You made us rush back here to dance with you?” Darry asks.

“Not just dance, no. Our video will be way better. I think we dance in a few clips, then play with the hoses, just show the internet how cool firefighters are.”

“Uh, I’m out,” you interrupt. “Being on camera isn’t my thing.”

“Keep the helmet on,” Jay answers with a shrug.

“Jay,” Darry sighs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “This is the only good idea you may ever have. I’m in. She is too.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, but they begin planning what to do rather than looping you in.

“And we turn the lights on, of course,” Jay adds.

“Oh, yes!”

“Guys!” you yell. “What do you want me to do?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim rolls his head to the side, cracking his neck as he climbs into his truck. He looks at the clock and smiles when he realizes he has time to surprise you before you leave the fire station. He drives to the station but freezes when he walks inside.

The interior lights are off except for the lights on the engines. Two of them are parked side by side, and there’s music playing. What really catches Tim’s attention is the firefighters dancing and playing jump rope in the flashing lights.

✯✯✯✯✯

Jay turns on his music, and you begin dancing and playing with him and Darry while his phone records everything. His official instructions were, “Have fun! I’ll edit it later.”

As you climb onto Darry and Jay’s backs, topping a pyramid, you feel like someone is watching you, but you’re having so much fun that you don’t stop. Darry says your name as he picks up one end of the hose. Jay swings the other end, and you rush to stand between them, jumping over the hose every time it skims the floor.

“Dance break!” Jay yells, lining up behind you and Darry for a choreographed dance.

They grab your arms at the end, and you jump, kicking your feet up before swinging back. You giggle as the music ends, leaning over to catch your breath. A slow clapping brings your attention back up.

“Wow,” Tim calls slowly, leaning against a fire truck. “That was… something.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask softly, standing straight.

Jay and Darry remove their helmets, but you keep yours on to hide the embarrassed look on your face and the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Enjoy the show? We usually charge extra for cops, but the first visit’s free,” Jay teases, ending the video on his phone.

Tim nods slowly, his eyes still on you. “Are you gonna take the helmet off?”

You shake your head, pressing your gloved palms against your thighs.

“Do I need to come take it off?”

Shaking your head harder, you step backward. Tim looks at Darry, who shrugs before nodding. Tim takes a few long steps toward you, placing his palms under the sides of your helmet before lifting it over your head and tossing it to his left.

“Thank you,” Jay says as he catches the helmet.

“That was the cutest thing I have ever seen,” Tim says quietly, smiling as he holds your face toward him.

“Shut up,” you whisper.

“I came to surprise you before taking you home, but you surprised me.”

“Tim.”

Tim says your name, shaking his head. He points toward the locker room, and you drop your head to go change. You roll your eyes when you hear him start laughing.

As you exit the locker room, Tim is lying on the floor with Jay’s phone in his hand. He’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe, and Jay and Darry are leaning against the fire truck in a similar state.

“I’m quitting,” you call loudly.

Tim laughs louder at your bold claim, rolling to look at you. He copies one of your dance moves as he stands, reaching out for you. You miss him throughout the day, and that’s the only reason you accept his hug.

“I hate all of you,” you mumble against his shoulder.

“I’m sending the video to Lucy before I post it,” Jay announces.

“I’m moving to a foreign country and getting a nicer husband.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tim whispers in your ear.

“No, I don’t. As long as Jay doesn’t send you the TikTok link.”

“I did one better!” Jay yells. “I sent him the uncut original!”

You practically fall into Tim’s arms as you pretend to cry. Tim catches you, though he laughs the entire time he tells you how much he loves you.

✯✯ 8 Months Later ✯✯

You’ve been sitting in the same spot since you got home from your doctor’s appointment. Tim will be home soon, but you haven’t decided how to tell him. The door opens, and you look up, hoping to know when the time is right.

“Hey, we just got Darry’s wedding invite,” Tim says, tossing the envelope toward you. When he sees your face, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You swallow rather than answer, handing him the small printout. The ultrasound changes everything, including your job, but as Tim’s smile grows and he pulls you into his arms, you know you can handle all of it with Tim at your side.

[weepylucifer]

Disco Elysium if it was a Hollywood Blockbuster

(inspired by the trailer by @brainrotdotorg)

Harry has to have a glowup arc where he regains his faith in his job and ability to be a good cop. The police isn't criticized here apart from maybe some handwaves at "a few bad apples" rhetoric. In the climactic moment, the phasmid appears and tells him it is his duty and his destiny... to reform the RCM

Because we don't have time for a nuanced take on addiction in this 90-minute movie, the narrative just turns on a dime halfway through to portraying Harry's alcoholism as rugged and badass instead of pathetic, or he suddenly stops drinking when he gets his groove back, with no withdrawal effects shown. The whole thing about speed helping him be better at his job doesn't factor in; Harry drinks and does drugs because he's sad about Dora and there's nothing more to it. All he needed was to buck up and focus on being the best cop in all of Revachol

Klaasje is portrayed as a one-dimensional scheming femme fatale. Her backstory doesn't really come up. She's dumbed down so that Harry can triumph over her, and is also genuinely attracted to him for some reason, "I am Sherlocked" style

Ruby is either cut entirely, or she's genuinely a predatory lesbian and that's it. If the latter, she shoots herself in the head in front of Harry and Kim and they make a MCU-style "Well that happened" quip about it

No political quests! We don't have time for that. Actually, both communism and fascism are only mentioned once in a backstory dump as stuff that happened in a bygone era. If anything, the film ends up really riding for moralism by complete accident

The film makers don't really know what to do with Kim, so he gets reduced to a guy that stands around and delivers snarky one-liners

The Hardie Boys are in one short interrogation scene, not quite enough to make casual moviegoers care when half of them are gunned down

Fan-favorite characters such as Cindy, Cuno or the Speedfreaks can be seen once in the background of a group scene, but have no lines (you KNOW hollywood couldn't handle the Cuno). It's announced on the director's insta as "a little easter egg for eagle-eyed fans"

Joyce has a way more active role, but also her character turns into an utterly flat "milf girlboss" type who gives Harry and Kim direct instructions on what to do, Madame Director style. The movie writers pat themselves on the backs for being more progressive and feminist than the source material. Also she has nothing to do with the mercs, they just sort of... appeared. Don't think about it too hard! It's stressed repeatedly that they're "rogue agents" and it's really nobody's fault that they're there

Evrart is a corrupt mob boss and that's it. He will be played by a skinny actor in a fatsuit. He also doesn't help find Harry's gun, Joyce has someone retrieve it offscreen so she can gravely and meaningfully hand it to him just in time for the mercenary tribunal

The Deserter just kinda being a shitty sad old man would be too anticlimactic for our summer blockbuster, so he is rewritten to be some kind of evil mastermind. Maybe he even directly communicates with Klaasje and tells her what to do, again "I am Sherlocked" style

The tribunal absolutely does end with RCM backup triumphantly arriving to save the day, led by Jean who underwent a mini-arc offscreen about putting his differences with Harry aside because at the end of the day, they're both cops, and goddamn it, cops help each other. He dramatically takes the wig off and chucks it on the ground to signal his character growth, and everything

No homo-sexual underground thought. The Smoker on the Balcony is allowed to show up in one scene, where he flirtily waves at Kim and Harry. Kim nods at him. Disney's first gay character--

There's a moment where Kim talks to Jean, expressing doubt about Harry. Cut to Harry doing something goofy across the room from them. Jean briefly glances at it, shakes his head, turns back to Kim and says gruffly: "He's a loose cannon... but he gets the job done." This is supposed to be a good thing