#no good deed goes unpunished

[green-eyedfirework]

“Rose,” Dick said very seriously to the girl perched on his hip, “You need to shift.  Now.”

“I can’t,” she said, tightening her grip on him.  Dick cursed under his breath—the sound of footsteps was getting closer, and the blood trail would lead them straight to him.

But that was fine.  He’d be fine.  The merling clinging to him would not, and he just needed her to shift back to fins.

“Rose,” he said as soothingly as he could, and finally gave up and slipped into the water.  It was cold, and it stung badly in his scraped-up feet.  Rose shrieked and clung even tighter to him, nearly strangling him.  “Rose, please, your pod is right past the rocks.  Just shift and swim.  You can do it.”

Rose’s breaths were coming short and fast, and she—she was shaking.  Fuck.  She didn’t even try to deny it again, just tightened her grip with nails that were too hard and sharp to be human.  The footsteps were getting closer, accompanied by shouts.

Dick could try to hide with her, somewhere in and around the pier.  Safe waters.  For a human.  Hide until the poachers went away and he could calm her down and talk her into shifting and swimming out of the bay and towards the coves, where he knew the Wilson pod lurked.  It would be fine.

Or the poachers would find them, and he’d get Rose captured all because he wouldn’t swim out into the waters of a pod that’d nearly killed him once.

“Okay,” Dick swallowed, and tried not to think about dark claws and one icy blue eye and the scars that stretched down his back.  “Okay, I’ll take you home.”

~#~

It wasn’t easy to swim out of the way with a human-shifted merling clinging tightly to his back.  Dick was losing breath faster than he should, though that might’ve also had something to do with the way his heart was pounding.

They’re not going to try to kill you this time, he tried to tell himself.  Last time he and Grant had nearly killed each other, and Slade had been planning on finishing the job before Joey stopped him.  Last time they’d had a reason.  This time, he was returning their lost merling.  He was helping.  They wouldn’t attack him.

“Come near my pod again, and I’ll strip the flesh from your bones.”

They might attack him.

It was slow-going with Dick’s frequent stops to remember how to breathe, and saltwater getting into all his wounds and stinging them badly, but he forced himself on.

Out of the bay, water turning colder when they hit open sea.  And then back towards the rugged shoreline, wild and untamed.

Gods, he hoped they hadn’t moved.

The waves were turning choppy, and Rose whimpered, wrapped around him like an eel.  “Rose,” he murmured, “We’re almost there.”

She didn’t even raise her head from his back.

By the time the shoreline was in reach, Dick was wheezing for breath and barely treading water.  He needed to just—drop off Rose.  And leave.  He was willing to walk through the wilderness with torn-up feet if it meant not having to swim back.

He stilled.

Something crawled unpleasantly down his spine.

“Where are they?” Rose whispered into his ear, eyeing the same, ominous, empty waves.  They were close enough to the coves that someone should’ve greeted him.

Greet him they did.

With a hand around his ankle.

Rose shrieked as they plunged down, and Dick yanked at her arms the same time he kicked at the fingers wrapped around his leg.  He couldn’t protect her, not from a mer, and ripping her arms free meant her nails scored long, stinging gashes on his shoulders, but he managed to break her grip and shove her at the surface.

The fingers around his ankle squeezed, claws biting deep a second before something in his ankle cracked.

Dick’s scream was lost to air bubbles.

The water was dark and roiling, and his eyes were stinging, but he could make out blond hair and orange fins.  An all-too-familiar snarl was below his captive foot, and as Dick watched, the viciousness transformed to something more malicious.

Grant bared long, sharp, serrated teeth, and twisted Dick’s broken ankle.

Pain shot up like a fiery dagger, and Dick didn’t have the momentum to kick out at him.  There was another blond, another set of orange-and-black fins and Dick signed help right before they crashed into him, claws first.

It punched the last of his oxygen out, and Dick wheezed helplessly, stuck underwater, dark spots covering Joey’s angry face and furiously flashing signs.  Dick couldn’t read them, couldn’t understand—they really were going to kill him this time, an unarmed human against even a single mer was no contest.

The darkness covered more and more and—his ankle was free.  Dick kicked frantically at the surface with one working leg, and ended up choking on seawater when he finally broke for air.

No amount was enough, Dick couldn’t draw deep enough a breath to stop coughing, and his treading was beginning to slow as his muscles burned.  Shore was too far away, a blurry smudge in his vision, his path blocked by silver hair and a scarred face.

Rose was clinging to her father, still in human form, so at least Dick had succeeded at getting her home safe.

He just wasn’t going to succeed at getting back alive.  No matter how desperately he clawed at the water, he couldn’t hold himself up forever, not with stinging wounds and a leg radiating fire and his face was wet with more than seawater as he gasped for air.

The only member of the pod who had helped him last time had already attacked him, and Dick didn’t have the breath to beg.

He didn’t have the breath, period.

His nose dipped before the waves, once, twice, thrice before Dick could no longer force it back up.

He blinked, and there was water above him.

His lungs were burning.

His muscles were burning.

Everything went slowly, creepingly, suffocatingly dark.

~#~

“No!” Rose shrieked, directly into his ear, and Slade had to grab her before she launched herself into the water.  “No, he’s drowning!”

Slade made a sharp, irritated sound, and the human was pulled to the surface again.  Completely limp, but still breathing.  Grant’s face was poisonously dark as he supported the human’s face just above the waves, but Rose’s half-garbled explanation had insisted that Dick had saved her and brought her home.

Slade was not inclined to think charitably of a human, especially a human that had once already attacked his pod, but Joey’s expression had gone from furious betrayal to confusion, and Slade knew he had no choice.

“You can’t kill him,” Rose insisted. “He helped me and brought me back.”  She turned to face him, eyes wide.  “Papa, please.”

His daughter had been kidnapped for days, she was still not calm enough to shift back into mer form, and Slade couldn’t even have the pleasure of tearing his claws through human flesh?

“Are you sure he helped?” Grant asked darkly.  “This could be just a trick.  Get close, and destroy all of us.”  His grip tightened on Dick’s throat, and the human’s breathing grew more labored.

“He saved me!  He got hurt protecting me, and you just attacked him!”

Slade had weathered enough tantrums to know when one was starting, and his annoyed click cut through the rising squabble.  “Enough,” he said shortly.  “Take him to the cave.  We can ask our questions when he wakes up.”  He was bleeding as well, Slade could smell it, which meant they had to treat his wounds.

Humans were so annoyingly fragile.

Slade clutched Rose tighter, and let the knot of worry slowly loosen now that his daughter was back in his arms.

~#~

Everything hurt.

From the stiffness in his chest to the brief flickers of stinging pain all over his body, he felt like a wrung-out towel.  He could smell the sea, and hear the sound of waves against stone, and even taste the salt on his lips as he dragged his eyes open, exhausted enough to fall straight back to sleep.

Rose.  The poachers.

No—he’d taken her home.

But then where was he?

Dick pushed himself up on an elbow—cold, hard stone underneath him—and nearly collapsed back down when the world spun dizzyingly around him.  His stomach was gnawing at him, his throat felt ragged and dry and on the verge of a cough, and he had to curl over and put both hands against the ground to shakily push himself up.

He was—in a cave.  On slick, wet stone, shivering and trembling, the water a few feet away.  His shirt was gone, and there was a blue-green paste smeared over his shoulders and his chest, covering slices made by mer claws.

“You’re awake,” a voice said coldly—a voice he recognized, and Dick was scrambling back before he recognized the silver-haired figure pulling himself out of the water.  No long, powerful tail, poisonous orange splotches on black scales, but Slade looked terrifying in human form as well, tall and broad and muscled.

Dick forced himself up, but he didn’t realize just how slick the stone was, and his broken ankle woke up with a vengeance when he accidentally shifted his weight onto it.  He nearly cracked his head open as he crumpled, but he landed half in the water instead of completely on the stone, and, in the jolt of icy shock, he slipped all the way in.

Run, screamed some part of him ancient enough to recognize a predator, and Dick ended up swallowing seawater in his panic.  He was more flailing than swimming, but as long as he got away from Slade—

A flash of orange-and-black scales in front of him, and Dick immediately back-tracked.

Orange-and-black behind him, cutting him off from the mouth of the cave and the grey skies beyond.

A dark, glaring face beside him, teeth bared in threat.

Getting into the water had been a mistake.

Orange-and-black spun around him in whirling flashes, neatly blocking any escape, and all Dick could do was press against the cave wall, trembling all over.  One attack by that powerful tail could break his ribs.  One slash of those sharp claws could gut him.  If they didn’t just pull him down and watch him choke and splutter and drown.

Dick didn’t realize he was clawing at the wall behind him until his fingernails started stinging.

Everything was blurry.  Someone was making a sound like a dying fish, gasping and breathless and frantic.  Dick was slipping into the water again, or maybe the water was rushing up to meet him, his heartbeat deafening in his ears, his lungs burning.

Something slammed into him, hard enough to bruise, and Dick wheezed as bands of iron tightened around him, holding him fast.  “Stop it!” snapped a familiar voice.  “You’re scaring him!”

Dick tilted his gaze until he could see long silver hair.  Below them, an orange-and-black tail flicked idly.  “Rose?” he rasped.

[finleyforevermore]

"kill them with kindness"? wrong! ELEKA NAHMEN NAHMEN AH TUM AH TUM ELEKA NAHMEN

[gale-gentlepenguin]

“No Good deed goes unpunished.”

A trope where the hero does something out of kindness or morality that results in a villain being able to perform an action that results in something 100x worse.

The hero maybe spared the villain, because murdering them would have taken it too far. Maybe the hero helped what appeared to be a civillian from danger only for that person to become the threat they are facing.

It rocks the hero to their core, wondering if they are the ones doing more harm than good. It is taken as moment where the hero either learns that mercy can only go so far, or maybe that it’s the price of a hero that you can never know. Being a hero is hard, being good is hard.

[its-time-to-rise-above]

Guess who listened to wicked!!

[jedi-lothwolf]

Whump: The Musical Day 2: Wicked ("No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.")

Fandom: Star Wars (bad batch time zone but not the batch)

Warning: referenced and an attempted suicide of a side character

Summary: Caleb stops a man from killing himself. When some citizens see this they report him to the authorities.

    Why did Caleb have to save that man?

    Roofs were a good place to travel when you didn't want to be found. The ex-padawan learned that pretty fast. Being above everyone had its advantages. Seeing everything that was going on below you made being someone everyone wanted dead at but safer.

    But then he came across a man who was ready to jump. Before Caleb could stop himself he started to talk. "Sir?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

    The man looked panicked as he turned around. "Get going kid. You don't want to see this." Before he could say anything, the twi'lek jumped.

    Running to the side of the six story building, instinct kicked in and Caleb reached for him. Before the man hit the ground, he found himself levitating. There was a look of surprise on his face, as well as the faces of the people nearby.

    The danger the child had put himself in, hadn't made it's way to his fears yet.

    Caleb ran down the stairs. Skipping steps made him reach the bottom quicker. Bursting though the metal doors, the boy ran to find the man who was still sitting on the sidewalk. "Sir?" He started. "Are you okay?"

    Crying, the man tried to smile. "Thank you kid. I'm okay."

    "So, what's been going on?" Caleb said as he sat next to the older man.

    "You're a child."

    "Then let's find someone for you to talk to." He stood again and extended a hand to the man. The Twi'lek nodded and took his hand.

    "Do you have any family or friends?" As he spoke, Caleb started to feel the eyes on him. He realized what had happened. Shoving the thought off to the side, he starts to lead the man away from the crowded street.

    "No."

    "Same" was the first thing that came to Caleb's mind but he figured he probably shouldn't say that.

    "How about I take you to the nearby hospital? They can help you there."

    Despite the look of defeat in his face, the man agreed.

    They took the scenic route. Caleb knew he needed to avoid larger streets. With the empire around and with them knowing he was around, hiding was important.

    As they closed in on the hospital, a voice came from behind them. "There! Get the Jedi!"

    Turning around, Caleb looked at them. Then he turned to the man, "I have to go. Please, take care."

    Then it was time to run. The padawan did a lot of that. It hurt, having to run away from the man. Every part of him wanted to finish taking him to the hospital.

    The imperial presence on the planet was a large one. Hiding, Caleb ducked into a building. Then he started to run for the roof. They seemed to be his only safe place. He always liked sitting in the highest place he could find at the temple.

    The kid made his way to the stairs. Tripping over some stairs on the third floor, slowed him down. His ankle was sore.

    On the stairs of the sixth floor, imperials caught up to him. The door was in sight. Pushing the men down the stairs, Caleb threw open the door to the roof. Without looking back, he jumped to the next building.

    After a while of jumping from building to building, Caleb took a break. Out of breath, he started to curse himself out. Why did he have to save that man? Jedi  instincts were going to get him killed.

    "No good dead goes unpunished I guess" he whispered. It seemed he almost lived by this saying. Every time he helped someone, something bad happened to him. Maybe he should learn to control his companion. Maybe he should have just let the man have his way out.

    Listening to his surroundings, he deemed it was safe to wait a few more minutes. Sitting down, Caleb looked at his ankle. Luckily, he had just twisted it.

    It was time to move. There was a nagging feeling in the kids heart that told him he needed to make sure the man had gotten to the hospital alright. It wasn't too far, even if he had been running in the opposite direction.

    The stairs down the building he had ended up on, creaked as he walked down them. Opening the door, Caleb faced the night. The beautiful sunset that had previously painted the sky, was gone. It was a pretty sight to kill yourself too. The red and orange in the sky would have matched the red on the pavement as well as the orange of the man's skin.

    Caleb snuck around, trying to find a discreet way to the hospital. "Why am I doing this?" He muttered. "This is gonna get me killed."

    After a while of walking and a few close calls with the empire, Caleb found the hospital. Seeing the nurse reach for the phone sent a cold chill down the kid's spine. "Excuse me?" He said, his voice going up a few octaves. "Did a Twi'lek come in earlier to be admitted to the psychiatric ward?"

    "Are you family?" The nurse asked, setting her phone down. She hasn't been calling about him.

    "No, I'm the person who stopped him and brought him most of the way here. I just-" he sighed, trying to keep from crying. "I just wanted to make sure he got here okay."

    The nurse came around from her station. "He came in. He's been admitted." She put her hand on his shoulder. "You're a good kid."

    "Thank you. I'm just doing my job." That probably sounded strange to the poor nurse.

    "Can I call your parents, I'm sure they'll be proud of you for saving that man's life."

    What did he tell her? She was right, Depa would be proud. "My Mom's out of town. I'll just head home."

    "Okay. Stay safe."

    "Can I do me a favor?" He asked quietly.

    "I'm sure I can." The girl kneeled beside him.

    "Can you tell him I got away safely? That I came to check on him, and if the empire asks, can you say I was never here? I'm just trying to survive and every time I do something to help people, it always gets me caught and I'm just so tired." Tears welled in Caleb's eyes and the nurse tightened her grip on his shoulder.

    "Of course I can." She pulled him into a hug and Caleb started to cry. It had been so long. The boy wasn't sure how long he had been there, but by the time he stopped crying, his throat was sore and his eyes hurt.

    The nurse let go of him and walked around the counter. Grabbing soothing she walked back over to him. "Use this to get you something to eat. This is a safe place for you."

    "Thank you. For everything. Hopefully this doesn't hurt you. My Captain, Styles-"

    "You fought in a war?"

    Instead of answering, Caleb continued his sentence. "He used to say that no good deed goes unpunished. Just be careful." Before she could ask any more questions, Caleb made his way to the door.

    The nurse caught up to him, "hey kid." She kneeled down beside to make sure no one else would hear what she had to say. "May the force be with you."

    There was something comforting about hearing that. "Thank you." With that he left the hospital and shortly after that, the planet.

[journalofanobody]

Struggling just to keep posting, I become a traitor.

As I've been recovering from surgery these past two weeks, I've been trying hard to keep posting, to give something, however little, to my friends and followers here. Quite frankly, many times while posting I have battled a terrible tiredness while simply trying to post an interesting mix of things for those who have faithfully continued to look at my blog and my poor little poems.

Sometimes the fogginess nearly gets the best of me but, at the end of each evening's posting, I feel pretty good about what I have done here. Not great, just pretty good. And for now, that's plenty.

However, mistakes occur, as I learned this morning. A follower whom I was actually beginning to see as a potential friend, wrote to thank me for all the support and advice I have given her during her persecution by trolls here and then revealed to me that she noticed that I had reblogged something from one of them. This, she concluded, is evidence that I was now one of that group of her "enemies" who were "tightening the noose around her blog." I was shocked.

Often, in my current state, I am completely absorbed in just finding aesthetically pleasing content, and barely notice who the original blogger was, and this, I guess, was my undoing. I was now a "betrayer" of a friend and thus belonged to the enemies and internet trolls she claimed were pursuing her. Needless to say, I was hurt and disappointed that she could not consider the context of my trying very hard to post even while recovering from major surgery.

Funny, even as I was reading it, I was ready to apologize and ask her to point out which post it was so I could remove it but, alas, I found that I had been blocked and her blog deactivated. Judgment had been rendered and no appeal was possible,

Now, sitting here, thinking about this, I recall the small herd of trolls I had to deal with when I first started this blog. Some of my friends here were following and reblogging from some of those people and, when I mentioned it to them, they said it's just reblogging of images, nothing to do with our friendship or "sides" being taken. And I thought it made sense and got over it.

I didn't speak out in defense of her trolls, or even reblog a lot from them. One image got through and, even if I had noticed it's origin, it would have seemed wrong to deny the source of it. And so what?

I'm not up for this sort of nonsense right now. I feel like I'm back in high school with warring cliques, or in Donald Trump's circle being forced to care about whether the boss feels betrayed. But this person I was dealing with was no high school girl, or some prickly fascist, this was a well-educated, cultured, kind person, and this is precisely why I find it more disappointing and sad than all the sorts of people I usually imagine behaving this way.

It's a small bump in the road of my recovery, a wee ding on my spirit, and it makes it all that much harder to trust people on this site, but then, who cares? Society unravels even at its upper reaches, among people from whom we would reasonably expect better.

I think I am just going to take a few days off from posting here. My time might be better spent just reading, sleeping, and trying to get myself fit to work again.

A weary good night from a slightly sadder Nobody,

Michael

[newathens]

talking abt fic at work and just remembered the time i read the most gorgeous beautiful poetic pjo fic and went to the tumblr they linked because i wanted to send them a comment right in their inbox cause i loved it that much. and i was blocked

[narvaldetierra]

No good deed goes unpunished IV

*Comes out from her cave as if it had been here the whole time*

This was one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic. I'm so excited to finally share it. The GIF I used here, was the inspiration for the events I wrote about.

Just ignore the fact that I published the VIII chapter and I didn't make a post.

I'm so excited about this one that I want to share a few extra things I did while writing, that don't show up in the chapter. It contains spoilers, so look for it later or at your own risk.

First I have to say that I learned A LOT of names from medical stuff in English by doing the translation. That was awesome!

But what I wanted to talk about here was that sometimes I get obsessed with research for my stories, sometimes I even waste all my free time on it without writing anything. And sometimes not even half of it ends up in the story. This said, I did A LOT of research for this one, to try and make it right.

Like, when I decided that Patterson would end up in Port Alberni. The first thing I did was to go around the city with the street view mode of Google Maps, just to get to know how it was and to have a more accurate idea of what Patterson would see from the hospital window.

Then, my goal was to make it unclear where she escaped from, so Patterson is told she walked from Parksville, which is part of Madeline's deception. According to Google Maps, it would take approximately 9hs 54 minutes to walk that distance.

But she wasn't in a city when escaped, but out in the woods. My next steps were to find at least two other places that had a similar distance to walk but weren't cities.

After a few hours, and thinking about changing the city Patterson ends up in, I found two options: Rosewall Creek Provincial Park and Clayoquot Plateau Provincial Park. (Minuto más, minuto menos)

Like, she didn't need to be exactly in those places, but it helped me to picture what she had seen on the road while walking in the snow.

Something that I find curious is that this last distance, which Google stipulates would take 10h 42 minutes of walking, would take only 48 minutes in a car.

Anyway, to finish this self-exposure of how obsessive I can be, another two things I Googled were the date of the first snow in British Columbia, and the sunlight hours there. This is to get a rough idea of the light according to the hours I imagined the different scenes, and the time of the year this is happening. It may be important for future chapters.

I Googled a few more stuff, but it doesn't matter, you get the point.

Thanks for reading 🧡

[whumpflash]

Acacia Aneura: 1027

for Angstpril, Day 10: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished (alt)

cw: noncon drugging, slavery, dehumanization, violence, adult language, brief emeto mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

1027.

Sonora left him alone to register for the auction, and had come back with a little tin placard strung on a short length of rope. Draped it around his neck, over the collar.

1027. That was him now, a fucking number. He wanted to run, the second she'd left him unattended. He wanted to, he could've, he didn't. His best chance at freedom stolen by the fucking drug.

The auction wasn't set to start for a good while yet, but that didn't mean Judd got a moment's peace. Some bullshit informal part came first; strangers stopping to look him over, Sonora chatting them up, telling them all he could be good for, how versatile he could be for a buyer's needs. A blank slate, moldable with just a little training.

He wanted to throw up. But he remained motionless on his knees, let the conversation buzz and roll past him.

He didn't even lift his head when the pair of boots stopped a foot in front of him.

Not the first time it'd happened. Hands had reached for him a few times, checking his teeth, his eyes; testing the muscle in his arms, legs, torso.

Bite them, his mind screamed each time. Hit, kick, curse, at least try to push them away, for fuck's sake.

All pointless commands, when he was at least a week deep in Compliance.

This particular stranger didn't reach for him though, instead tapping their foot on the ground, as if trying to get Judd's attention.

"Bully."

Recognition pierced through the haze like a needle, tugging a thread of clarity after it. Barely anything, but he held on all he could, head lifting to meet the eyes of the man who'd started this chain reaction of misfortunes.

Skye.

The older man's hat was pulled low, a dust mask pulled up to cover his nose and mouth, but Judd didn't think he'd ever be able to forget his voice. His eyes.

"You—" he began, his voice barely able to hold a whisper.

"Sh." Skye looked over his shoulder. Sonora was engrossed in a conversation with a trio of potential customers, and no one else was even glancing their way.

"Not here to buy you, if that's what you're wondering," Skye said.

He wasn't. Judd was wondering if he was here to profit, if the wine crate had been a trap, a step towards taking him captive. Because if he hadn't fallen for it, someone else would've. If he'd just left the kid alone, he wouldn't have to be here, he could be back at his camp, he could be free.

In that one moment, Judd was grateful for the numbness the Compliance granted. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of an enemy.

Skye knelt in front of him. "Never meant for this to happen, y'know. I'm gonna help you, but you gotta work with me, okay?"

Help him? Whether intentional or not, he'd caused this mess, and now he wanted to help him? Any other day, Judd would've told him to fuck off. Spit in his face. But right now, he only nodded silently.

"Good. Once someone picks you out, once they start taking you away, that's when I'll act, alright? Wanted you to know ahead. Give you a fighting chance. I can see the drug in you."

And then he was gone.

×××

"You're up, 1027." Sonora unhooked his chain, led him up the narrow steps of the stage.

By some miracle, or maybe due to his own silence, the slaver hadn't seen fit to dose him again before his trip to the stage. The fuzziness that formed a barrier between his consciousness and the world was gradually receding, but Judd was determined not to let it show. He wouldn't throw away what could be his last chance, no matter who it was that had handed it to him.

The auctioneer's voice droned on and on as Sonora pulled him in front of the gathered crowd, pointing out how strong he looked, how pretty he was, rattling off all his potential uses, calling out a starting bid.

From there, it went fast. Buyers clamoring to claim him, to outbid one another as Sonora's grin grew and grew. Judd didn't let any of the words reach him. It didn't have to be his life. He had a chance, he just had to avoid fucking it up.

He barely noticed when the bids were done, when his chain was passed to a man dressed in clothes that were a little too new to be belonging to a local.

City dweller. If he failed to escape now, he'd be taken further than he'd ever been, surrounded by people who thought Wastelanders were no better than animals.

Judd wanted to look for Skye, as the man led him back through the market, but he forced himself to keep his head down. If it came to it, if Skye was nowhere to be found, he'd act alone. 

Not that he'd get very far with the ankle cuffs on…

He scanned the path ahead, angling his course slightly when he saw a jagged stump protruding from the dirt on one side.

Fucking acacia.

Judd stepped so the plant would catch his chains, not even trying to soften his fall when it tripped him. He nearly took the city man down with him as he fell.

As the man cursed, looking back to see what had happened, Judd only knelt with his head bowed, as if demurely waiting for permission to stand back up.

"Dammit… Let me get rid of that. Stay."

Like he's talking to a fucking dog. But Judd stayed, hiding a smile as the man unclasped the shackles.

"Up," he said. "Let's be going."

Judd obeyed, keeping his eyes downcast in case the man glanced back. He couldn't try anything yet. Not until they made it out of the market, away from the crowds.

Once they reached the edge, Judd found he could pick out the man's transport a mile away. One of the fancy models he'd only ever heard about; a silvery, enclosed pod to keep out the sun and wind. Under different circumstances, he'd be excited to even see one. Right now, he'd do everything in his power to avoid setting foot onboard.

He was watching the city man's movements, trying to gauge when would be the best time to try and run, when a dark mass lunged forward, knocking Judd's buyer to the ground.

Skye.

"Run, bully, run!"

And run Judd did, seizing the chain around his neck and yanking it from the city man's grasp, even as his buyer began to scream for reinforcements.

He was running, but where was he running? Into the wastes? Barefoot, barely clothed, with no water, no way to protect himself?

A sharp whistle drew his attention and he saw Skye to his right, sprinting alongside him.

"Follow me! Got a speeder."

Thank fuck. Judd could hear shouts behind them. They had a head start, but once the slavers and shoppers reached their own transports, they could still be overrun. He had to trust that Skye had accounted for that. He had no other option.

The older man had surged ahead, making a beeline for a landspeeder parked in the distance.

Four hundred meters away. Less.

Judd put on a burst of speed, eager to get ahead of his pursuers, to put the last few weeks behind him—

—and was stopped short, a force on his collar suddenly cutting off his air, yanking him off his feet.

The pressure didn't let up right away, and Judd clawed at his throat, momentarily confused at his change in orientation. Why was he staring up at the sky? Why wasn't he running?

Then all of a sudden he could breathe again, and the city man was standing over him, blood leaking from a cut on his lip.

"Wasteland bastard," he panted. "I'm gonna make you real sorry for that—"

Skye reappeared in a flash, but this time the man was ready, sidestepping his attack. Judd pushed through the pain in his throat, aimed a kick at the man's legs, but even as he went down he knew it was too late.

The rest of the market was coming crashing down on them.

As Judd thrashed on the ground, sending wild kicks and punches in any direction, as hands seized hold of him, pinned him to the ground, secured his wrists— he found Skye's eyes, shooting him a pleading look.

For what, even Judd wasn't sure. To help him? To run away and save himself? Because Skye had at least tried. He'd tried to help, and even if it was his fault, that counted for something. He deserved to get away.

But he didn't. Didn't even fucking try. He stayed, trying to beat the slavers back, trying to get Judd back to his feet. He stayed, and he fought, until he was bleeding and breathless on the ground beside Judd, held in place by three men.

"I apologize sir, I didn't realize it'd be so much trouble." Sonora's voice, somewhere above him.

The city man huffed. "I'm sure I'll come to enjoy the challenge," he said, though he didn't sound happy.

"What should we do with the other one?" another slaver piped up. "The one who attacked you. Should we kill him?"

"No," said the man. "No, don't bother."

Judd could hear the smile in his voice, slick and unpleasant, as he continued.

"I think I'll take him with me."

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles

×××

[pinkshiori]

So in Wicked, when Elphaba sings No Good Deed Goes Unpunished, do you feel your whole exhausted soul break with hers, or are you neurotypical ?

[anti-cosmofangirl]

When will you learn?

When will you learn??

That your actions have CoNSeQuEnCes

[inksandpensblog]

[brute-forces file folder open] "are you TRYING to get caught?!"

This isn't referencing any specific scene or future plans for the No Good Deed series; in all honesty I just out of nowhere got this image in my head of Dark peering at Orange through his chains, and I decided I simply had to draw it.

Of, course, a setup like that needed context. My initial idea was that Dark did it out of an attempt to alleviate his own boredom. It wouldn't be out-of-character for him, I've already had him mess around with them in other goofy ways ^_^

But then I thought "hey what if I made it dramatic" so I did that instead and now it's got symbolism XD

The two of them have a lot of ground to cover before they reach the point we saw them at in the birthday special.

[phoenixthemenace]

Till Death

Day 20. Alt- No good deed goes unpunished

Johnny gradually told Roy a few of the details of his life before living with his aunt, and they were more horrifying than he'd imagined.

"Is that why you sleep with your arm over your face?" Roy dared ask one day.

"So they couldn't hear or see me crying?"

Roy nodded.

"Yeah, that's part of it. It also hid that I was awake, waiting, watching for them."

Roy couldn't respond. He didn't know how.

He was still angry with himself for wanting Charlie that night, when he should have been focused on Johnny.

He loved Johnny.

Didn't he?

He was so certain that Johnny was his great meant to be, that these longings he felt for Charlie confused and scared him. Plus he knew Johnny needed help. Needed someone to talk to, and he wasn't sure he was strong enough for that. For Johnny.

Maybe his love wasn't what was best for him.

It surprised Roy that Johnny didn't mind hearing about Charlie. In fact he was, in many ways, a better guardian of Charlie's memory than Roy himself.

"I'm sorry." Roy had whispered once, early in their relationship, after having woken from a nightmare screaming Charlie's name. Johnny’s gentle caress and soothing voice calmed him.

"For what, Pally?" He asked, cheek resting against Roy's hair, arms snug around him, anchoring him to reality. To now.

"Doesn't it bother you? Charlie, I mean."

Johnny was quiet for so long that Roy pulled away to look into his face. He was met with adorable confusion.

"Nnnoo…" He answered slowly. "Should it?"

"Most people would be jealous, I think."

"Oh. Huh. I guess I could be jealous if I tried. If you want me to, but I think I owe the guy a lot."

"How do you mean?" Roy was startled pulling farther away, his own confusion written on his face.

Johnny smiled, framed Roy's face with his hands, kissed him, then cuddled him back down into his arms and nuzzled into his hair.

"He helped you figure you out." He said. "If you hadn't loved him, you probably would have come home and married Joanne and been miserable for the rest of your life. And he made you happy."

"What if he'd survived."

"We would just be friends, and I would be happy for your happiness."

Roy didn't quite believe that anyone could be so altruistic, but Johnny seemed genuine. He failed to realize that Johnny simply loved him that much. That Johnny would gladly trade places for Charlie in an instant if he thought it woukd make Roy happy.

But he let Johnny comfort him and ask questions. Roy let himself talk freely, ultimately admitting that he didn't know where Charlie was, so he couldn't visit his grave.

Johnny gently encouraged him to find out. That, for some reason, filled Roy with rancor and he'd lashed out at Johnny, who tried to be understanding, but couldn't hide the flash of hurt in his eyes.

Which made him even angrier with himself. He could barely explain to himself why he didn't want to know, didn't want to see the ridiculous shit Charlie's parents probably did, the monument to themselves for having a war hero son.

Not for the son himself.

Or worse, if they still denied him, and he languished in some unidentified hole in a weedy unkept paupers grave.

His Charlie deserved better.

So did his Johnny.

"Hey Pally!" Johnny called out as he bounded energetically through the door to Roy's apartment. "I've got a surprise for you!"

Roy had just stepped out of the shower, so he went out into the hallway in all his glory.

"I hope it's what I think it is."

Johnny tossed his keys and an envelope onto the entry table and grinned, his eyes sweeping Roy head to toe and back again.

"It is now."

He kept staring.

"God." He said. "You're amazing."

"Johnny. My surprise?"

They raced each other to the bedroom.

"I'd say that as far as surprises go, that was pretty good."

"Good? Good?! Roy, that was incredible!" Johnny grinned, bold and cocksure. Roy kissed him.

"I'm going to need another shower."

"Not until I give you this." Johnny ran naked from the room. Roy laughed at his easy exhibitionism. He was back a few seconds later. Roy sat up and leaned against the headboard, Johnny right beside him like an eager puppy.

He handed Roy an envelope and the pleased excitement in his face made Roy stop to kiss him again. Johnny broke the kiss quickly.

"Open it! Open it!"

Smiling at his lover's enthusiasm Roy looked at the return address and his blood ran cold. He didn't even read the letter.

"You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?" His quiet voice was hard and cold.

He watched the light drain from Johnny's eyes. A savage anger welled up inside and his rational mind seemed to recede and watch himself from a distance.

"Get out."

Johnny sat frozen, his expression one of utter shock.

"Get. Out."

Somehow, Johnny was suddenly on the floor scrambling on his hands and heels out the bedroom door where he curled into a ball as Roy threw his clothes, boots and finally the letter at him.

"Leave the key." He snarled before slamming the door. He sank, tearless, to the floor. It was hours before he was calm enough to think.

Oh God.

What had he done?

[jasthelarrie]

Chapters: 60/60 Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Original Malik-Payne Child(ren), Original Styles Child(ren), Original Tomlinson Child(ren), Original Horan Child(ren) Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Divorce, Single Parents, Grief/Mourning, Cupcakes, it takes a village, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Court Proceedings, Custody Battle, Allegations Of Child Abuse, Just Allegations, Chill, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Slow Burn Summary:

A misinterpreted gesture of kindness pits newly-single father Louis against a kind-hearted Harry who only wants to help.

“I don’t need your pity,” he seethed. At Louis’ words, Harry frowned.

“You don’t have it.” Harry’s voice was quiet. Hurt. “I’ve been where you are. I don’t pity you, Louis.”

“Pity or not, you were out of line,” Louis growled through gritted teeth. “I didn’t ask for your help and I definitely don’t need it.”

He was hanging onto restraint for dear life. He wanted to scream in Harry’s face. He wanted to make him feel as shitty as he’d just made Louis feel. He wanted to embarrass Harry the way he’d just embarrassed him.

“I’m doing just fine without your charity. Keep your ‘good deeds’ to yourself.”

[jedi-lothwolf]

Whump: The Musical master list! Firstly I had a great time coming up with ideas for these prompts! This is truly a very unique challenge! I look forward to next year's! Hopefully I'll post everything in time and finish it!

To make finding stories you may like easier, I have color coronated everything. Summaries and notes/warnings are with the stories! I hope you enjoy them!!

Fandoms: The Bad Batch, Star Wars, The Owl House,

Day 1: Cats (Second Chance)

Day 2: Wicked ("No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.")

Day 3: Jesus Christ Superstar (betrayed)

Day 4: Les Misérables (Survivors Guilt)

Day 5: Heathers (Reluctant Whumper)

Day 6: Newsies (Chronic Pain)

Day 7: The Last Five Years (I will not lose because you can not win.")

Day 8: Day 8: Hades Town (Deals)

Day 9: Sweeney Todd (Razers)

Day 10: Rent ("Feels Too Damn Much Like Home.")

Day 11: Bare: A Pop Opera (Outing/Religious Trauma)

[tsunadadudi]

I'm recording my entire meeting tomorrow if only for my own validation, but I may contact a work friend to add it to the suit she's building against the company for attempting to defraud her out of wages