#west rim trail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!

He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.

Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes

Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.

♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.

♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.

♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.

♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.

♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.

♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.

♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.

♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.

♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.

♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.

♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself.

♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.

♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.

♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.

♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.

♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.

♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.

♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”

♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.

♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.

♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.

♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.

♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.

♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.

♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.

♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.

♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.

♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him.

♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.

♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.

♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”

♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.

♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”

♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.

♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.

♡ Not at first.

♡ A light brush of the hand here and there.

♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.

♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).

♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.

♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.

♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that

♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.

♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?

♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.

♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.

♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…

♡ Domestic.

♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.

♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.

♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.

♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.

♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”

♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.

♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.

♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.

♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.

♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.

♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.

♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.

♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.

♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.

♡ He wants something else.

♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.

♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.

♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.

♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”

♡ Relationship.

♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.

♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.

♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.

♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.

♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.

♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.

♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.

♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.

♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.

♡ Or painful.

♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.

♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”

♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.

♡ He also stalks you in his own home.

♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.

♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.

♡ Until he offers them to you.

♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?

The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.

♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.

♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.

♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.

♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.

♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.

♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.

♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.

♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.

♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.

♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.

♡ “Open it.”

♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.

♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.

♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.

♡ Your favourite song.

♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.

♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.

♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.

♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…

♡ Tears.

♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.

♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”

♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.

♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.

♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.

♡ You couldn’t take it.

♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.

♡ And you broke down.

♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.

♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.

♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.

♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.

♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.

♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.

♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.

♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.

♡ Was this…

♡ Empathy ?

♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.

♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.

♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”

♡ Things changed after that.

♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.

♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.

♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”

♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.

♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.

♡ Ashamed.

–

♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.

♡ But something about tonight felt...off.

♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.

♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.

♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.

♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.

♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.

♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.

♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.

♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.

♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.

♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.

♡ You needed him alive.

♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.

♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.

♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.

♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.

♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.

♡ Don't.

♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.

♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.

♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.

♡ Fear.

♡ In its purest and most carnal form.

♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.

♡ “Help me.”

♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.

♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.

♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.

♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.

♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.

♡ Not this time.

♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.

♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.

♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.

♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.

♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.

♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?

♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.

♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.

♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.

♡ So what was stopping you ?

♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.

♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.

♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.

♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.

♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.

♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why.

♡ So...you stayed.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost

4K notes · View notes

paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 10 months

Text

close to home | chapter fifteen

plot: when the reader falls ill, Daryl leaves to get medicine. Meanwhile, things worsen at the prison, and Daryl nearly doesn't make it back in time.

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,704 Warnings: violence, blood, sickness A/N: thanks for reading!

You didn’t hear that Sasha had fallen ill until later that day. You’d overheard someone talking about her when you stumbled into the bathroom to splash your face with water. You were boiling, despite the relatively cool indoor space. You were also shivering and achy on your feet.

After the craziness with Tyreese, you went to wash up and get something to eat, but by the time you returned to the cell, you were so dizzy you had to lie down. And when you woke up a couple of hours later in the afternoon, you felt like this.

You heard another rumor of a council meeting taking place and wondered why nobody came and got you while you went to the prison section where you met. You were only halfway there when you had to start using the wall to help you walk, and sweaty handprints left a trail behind you.

“She wasn’t in her cell when I went to get her. I’m not sure where she is,” You heard Carol saying as you approached the door. You started coughing as you slowly walked in. Everyone turned to look at you, but it was Daryl your eyes landed on.

“Daryl… something’s wrong,”

***

When Daryl saw you enter the room, he was on his feet and approaching you in a second. He’d managed to get to you as your knees gave out, and all your weight was put on him.

“Son uh bitch,” He cursed, looking at your sweaty face. Your eyes were rimmed red, and you looked like hell.

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” Carol said, hesitating to come over to you.

Daryl looked around the room, “Don’ everybod’ help at once!” He yelled.

“I don’t feel good,” You muttered, and he looked down at you again before looking at Hershel.

“What can we do?” He asked, “We ain’ lettin’ her die like this.”

“The illness won’t kill me,” You said as he helped you into one of the chairs.

Daryl looked up at Hershel, “Come on, old man, tell me what we gotta do,”

Your uncle looked at you sorrowfully and then at Daryl, “That veterinary college at West Peachtree College, that’s one place people might not have thought to look for medicine. We need to treat the symptoms. It's those that... that'll kill her.”

“That’s fifty miles from here,” Michonne said. She looked down at you and tried to control her panic.

“I’m goin’,” Daryl said, “As soon as we get ‘er to bed, I’m goin’,”

***

Getting you to the quarantine cell block was the longest walk of Daryl’s life. You seemed heavier in his arms, and your breathing wasn’t even. Every time he looked down at your face and saw how pale you were, he thought he was going to throw up. His heart was beating wildly, and his stomach sat like a rock.

The thought of leaving you behind in the cell block almost made him pause outside the doors, but for the safety of everyone else, he knew you had to be in there. So he pushed on through, breathing through a bandana.

Sasha sighed loudly when she saw him carrying you in, and she helped him find an open cell and get you settled. When someone yelled her name, she told Daryl she would look after you and then she was gone.

Daryl carefully laid you on the bed. Your face was sweaty, and you were shivering at the same time. He checked your forehead; you were burning up. Some part of him wanted to put a hole through the wall, but it was concrete walls, and he wouldn’t be able to help you with a broken hand.

“Daryl,” You mumbled.

“Imma go out and get you some meds,” He said, looking down at your pale face. “It’ll be all right, promise,”

He didn’t stick around to hear anything else.

***

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it was dark when you woke up. You still felt as sick as you did earlier but a little clearer-minded. And your uncle’s voice from a few cells down forced you onto your feet.

The cell block was full of people coughing and groaning in pain. You wanted to lie down and join them, but that wasn’t who you were. So you slowly made your way to your uncle, who shook his head when he saw you.

“You should be resting,” Hershel said, closing one of the cell doors.

“I can help,” You said, following his actions and closing the doors. You couldn’t tell if people were dead or just sleeping, and you didn’t have the energy to check. But you forced yourself to keep moving. You closed another two cells before you started coughing again, and you leaned against the wall for support.

A hot metallic sensation filled your mouth, and you started coughing up blood. You tried to yell for your uncle, but you couldn’t make a sound. You could barely hear the sound of Lizzie yelling and then gunshots.

You glanced around the room and saw a few walkers roaming around. Above you, Lizzie was leading a walker down the hallway. You cursed loudly and grabbed your machete, aiming for the nearest walker. It took everything out of you, and you collapsed beside the dead body. Your body was too heavy to move, and you couldn’t respond when you heard your uncle yelling for you.

But you watched him lead the other walkers up the stairs and the following gunshots. You coughed up more blood and managed to get to your knees.

“(Y/N!)”

You looked up at Maggie as she ran toward you. “Stop, stop, I’m fine! Uncle Hershel… needs you…I think it’s Glenn….”

She nodded and went to find him, leaving you alone.

***

“What the hell….” Michonne said as they approached the prison.

Daryl stared at the section of the prison fence that had been pushed down, and thoughts of the prison being overrun filled his mind. Tyreese sped up and quickly reached the courtyard, where Carl and Rick were waiting.

“What happened?” Michonne asked as they all got out of the car. Daryl listened to Rick’s story as they grabbed the medical supply bags.

“Gunshots were coming from A,” Carl said.

Daryl didn’t need to hear anything more as he and Tyreese quickly ran toward the cell block. The two of them got into the block quickly, and the smell of sickness and death was heavy. Tyreese went off to find Sasha while Daryl looked around for you.

The sound of someone struggling to breathe caught his attention, and he ran towards the back of the block, finally finding you. Crimson blood covered your mouth as you choked on the liquid in your lungs, and your body was shaking as you were asphyxiating.

“Hershel! (Y/N)!” Daryl screamed, dropping to his knees next to you. Your face was blue, and your eyes were closed as you struggled to breathe.

“Get her on her side. She’s choking to death,” Hershel yelled from the second level.

Daryl carefully moved you so you were on your right side, and blood poured from your mouth as your body shook.

“Did you get another valve mask?” Hershel said.

“In the bag!”

Your uncle was quick as he dug through the bag. He momentarily glanced at you in fear before finding the mask and pulling it out. “On her back, careful now,”

“She’s dyin’!” Daryl yelled, grabbing the side of your face as more blood spilled from your mouth. Your chokes were getting harder, and your body was shaking furiously.

“Hold her down!” Hershel yelled.

Daryl pinned your arms down and used his body to hold your legs while watching in horror as your uncle started shoving a pipe down your throat. Your body struggled against the intrusion, and Daryl had to look away, trying to block out the painful gasps as you continued to choke. Your body was thrashing uncontrollably, and Daryl tried his hardest to pin you down.

“Come on (Y/N)!” Your uncle yelled.

Finally, the pipe set in, and air-filled your lungs. Your body stilled, and Daryl looked at your blood-covered face. He blinked away hot tears and sat back, watching your chest rise and fall with each pump.

“Maggie’s up there keeping Glenn breathing. You need to do the same for her. I have to get the medication ready with Bob,” Hershel said.

Daryl hadn’t even noticed Bob had shown up, and his anger towards the man dissipated when he remembered that Bob and Hershel would be saving your life.

“Slow and steady, every few seconds,” Hershel said, quickly showing Daryl how to pump the air into your lungs. After a second, he passed the pump to Daryl.

He blocked the sound of Hershel and Bob’s conversation and stared at your face. There was blood everywhere, and it still had a tinge of blue. Your hair was coated in blood, spit, and bile. Your skin was pale and sticky with sweat. But your chest was moving in rhythm, and he couldn’t be more thankful for showing up when he did.

He couldn’t stop tears from falling this time and allowed himself a few seconds to grieve what had happened. You had nearly died before him; he almost didn’t make it. And the idea of you not being around anymore would’ve been enough to bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on them.

He wanted to hold you against his chest, feel your heartbeat, and hear your laugh. He wanted to roll his eyes at your stupid sarcastic comments and watch your eyes light up when you spotted a trail using the tracking skills he’d taught you. He wanted to see you frown when you took down an animal and then shake your head in agreement when he told you it was for the best. He wanted to cry at the idea of you almost dying and wrap himself around you to keep you there.

But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he sat there and kept a steady rhythm and brought life back into your body.

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

349 notes · View notes

venerablemonk27 · 6 days

Text

Last weekend I was planning to drive out to the west side to pick up a load of birdseed. My coworker had told me that he was out at Tiedeman's Pond the other day, and I said to myself, "I bet there's ducks on that pond. I better go check." So I grabbed my camera bag on the way out the door. And folks? There were ducks.

[ID: A male Wood Duck swims on a pond of rippling blue water from left to right. The duck is presenting his entire profile to the camera, from glossy green head to dark tail tip. He has a brown body, more burgundy at the breast, with finely scaled tan and gray flanks and just a hint of teal peeking through on the wing. Each color patch is bordered with a brilliant white stripe, including a lovely pattern on the face and head. His head feathers are swept back in a longish crest that looks black except for the iridescent green where the sun has caught it. This contrasts with a striking bill in orange gradients with a white patch on top and black tip. His eye is a bold fire engine red. End ID]

I was surprised to find multiple pairs of Wood Ducks very close to the edge of the pond, because these guys will usually fly at the first sign of a human in the area. I can only assume they were desensitized by the frequent groups of walkers out with their kids and their dogs.

There were lots of other ducks to be seen: Lesser Scaups, Hooded Mergansers, Buffleheads, Ruddy Ducks, Mallards. But most of these were way out at the center of the pond and not interested in being photographed. The only exception being a small group of Ring-necked Ducks that were diving for food near the cattails.

[ID: A male Ring-necked Duck swims from right to left on the pond. It is glossy black, with light gray flanks fading to white towards the front. His bill is medium gray in the middle, black on the tip, with a bright white border around the edges, circling the nostrils, and separating gray from black. His eye is yellow orange. His feathers are beaded with water droplets from diving for food. End ID]

But it wasn't just ducks on offer that day! Spring means birds migrating back from the south and hungry from the long flight. I got to watch a pair of Great Blue Herons show up and immediately begin hunting.

[ID: A Great Blue Heron is standing in a pond, with a freshly-caught goldfish in its bill. The Heron is standing with its legs completely submerged in the water, with its long neck coiled back as it pulls up the large goldfish. The Heron is several feet tall, mostly gray, with white on their head and a dark blue cap with long trailing feathers at the back. The goldfish is at least eight inches long, and the Heron appears to have speared it on their long upper mandible, which glows orange from the bright sunlight filtering through from behind. End ID]

I was very happy to see that the Herons were doing their part to control the non-native fish population. This one had speared a very large goldfish, and had to think a minute about how to eat it. They dropped the goldfish back in the water only to recapture it for swallowing head-first. Their partner looked on from a short distance away, not having found anything while I was there.

[ID: A second Great Blue Heron slowly wades by, hunting in the shallow part of the pond. This one shows a flash of dark-blue tail feathers, and the direct sunlight offers a nice view of their bright yellow dagger of a bill and their pale yellow eye rimmed in baby blue skin. End ID]

And it wasn't just water birds that were attracted to the awakening pond. This American Crow flew down to the edge to see what small morsels might be crawling around in the mud.

[ID: An American Crow stands at the edge of the pond. The Crow is facing away from the camera, with the sunlight glinting off their glossy black feathers. They are looking toward the camera in profile, showing one brown eye and a chunky black bill. End ID]

The Black-capped Chickadees were out too. This pair had found a nice little tree cavity, and they may have been excavating it further to use as a nest.

[ID: A Black-capped Chickadee peeks out from a tree hollow, holding a small bit of something in their bill. They are just a couple inches tall, with a gray and tan body, and a predominantly black head. They have white cheeks that start at the small black bill and extend back to the neck. They are staring inquisitively at the camera, with little bits of what looks like wood stuck to their face. End ID]

The two Chickadees seemed to be working in shifts, one keeping watch outside while the other one went in to prep the house. I wonder how many generations of birds have grown up in that little knothole...

[ID: A second Black-capped Chickadee perches on a thin branch with delicate feet. They are sitting very still, keeping watch while their partner works in a nearby tree cavity. There are a few tiny flecks of what might be wood on their face. End ID]

Though, the bird that gave me the most excitement on this walk was a new one. My partner teases me, saying that I have to check every seagull to see whether they're a Herring or a Ring-billed. But on this day I had found a Bonaparte's Gull!

[ID: A Bonaparte's Gull floats out in the middle of the pond. The Gull is white with light gray wings and black wingtips. Their head is mostly gray with patches of white, possibly because they're in the middle of molting to grow their breeding plumage. End ID]

The Gull was hanging out with a nice flock of Lesser Scaups, and I knew I had a lifer in my binoculars as soon as I saw that gray head. Every so often it would take off and fly around the pond, looking for tasty fish to snatch from the surface. They never wandered all that close to me, but I got a few nice shots of those wings.

[ID: The Bonaparte's Gull flies low over the pond, on the hunt for small fish. With wings fully extended, it is apparent that the black wingtips are just a thin crescent at the tip of each primary flight feathers. The Gull is in the middle of a down stroke, head forward, orange feet tucked neatly beneath fanned gray tail. End ID]

For only visiting on a whim, this was a very productive walk. I saw 35 bird species, seven for the first time this year, and one for the first time ever. I suppose that's why birders wait all year for spring migration to start.

26 notes · View notes

moosemonstrous · 4 months

Text

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - bottle it up

“Oh Lord, he’s twelve,” Maria mutters under her breath. Carol elbows her in the side. “I didn’t know he was an actual child!”

“He’s nearly nineteen,” she says and immediately winces. Maria’s eyebrows travel all the way to her hairline. “Shut up.”

“Nearly nineteen? And you signed off on this?”

“We were both his age when we joined up.”

“Yeah, to a boot camp! Not to punch demons in the face!”

Carol refuses to sound like a middle-aged man defending his choice of a date. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s already weird!” Maria lowers her voice when Ivanov gives them an unimpressed look from across the control room. “It is! And even if he wasn’t barely legal, remember what happened with Spector?”

Carol smiles at Scott, who hates when people are whispering around him because God forbid anyone has a conversation that doesn’t directly involve him. Which is kind of a mean thing to think about a co-worker, but someone cleared out the fridge in the rangers’ quarters and Carol isn’t getting her yoghurts back until the next shipment comes in. Shatterdome catering isn’t big on dairy.

“Victoria said there are no indications in his scans,” she says as quietly as she can without actually whispering.

“Well, there are no indications Maximoff is a dick, and we all know the truth about that.”

“Maria!”

“Captains,” Ivanov clears his throat. “I see you are ready to join the discussion.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce the new guy?” Carol can hear Maria bite her tongue on ‘kid’. This is why she never comes along to the strategy meetings.

And this one is a lot more crowded than usual. Tony thinks they’re on the brink of seeing a Cat-5, so ever since the destruction of Horizon Bravo it’s all hands on deck, every time. They have a full complement of comm and monitoring officers at every available station, instead of the usual skeleton crew. With their newest addition comes Amadeus, even though he has a history of being kicked out for being disruptive. All the excitement of the last few days must have gotten to him, though, because he’s merely scrolling through the news feeds rather than actively winding up the Romeos.

Who are standing on opposite sides of the room and very obviously not on speaking terms. Great. Hopefully the prospect of hazing the new guy will unite them before go time.

“This is Robbie Reyes, joining us with Hell Charger,” Ivanov says. Reyes stands next to him like it’s taking his entire spine not to hide under the table. “Which is why we need to talk tactics, if you’re quite ready.”

The thing is, the Hong Kong jaegers got pretty good at figuring things out as they’ve gone along. They might not all have liked each other, but they were a good team. Only Qi and Qiao are no more, and the whole debacle with core replacements grounded the triplets for the second demon in a row. They can’t have a rotation, they don’t have enough firepower, and now they are getting a solo pilot who should, as the kids say, be at the club instead. Everyone around Carol is getting younger and more fragile by the second, and it’s starting to feel like she has an expiration date.

Or maybe she’s just grumpy because Clint hasn’t even tried to pretend he isn’t hiding something when they spoke. Or because she doesn’t like Tony messing with a tried and tested formula again, like every previous attempt didn’t end in tears. Or because Ivanov has always been so damn careful, it puts her on edge when he starts to take stupid risks like this. Or because she didn’t tell Maria exactly how young Reyes was, because she knows it’s too young and has no idea what to do about it-- Take a pick, apparently.

Maria silently squeezes her elbow.

“We are at T plus five hours, and the lookout confirmed the demon is heading west of the Breach.” Ivanov points to the screen showing air footage of a trail of bubbles on the surface of the ocean. The screen below is a heat signature – a big one. “Our readings show a category four, two and a half thousand feet. Special properties as of yet unknown, but Miss Grey is monitoring for any tells.”

Jean waves a hand from over her station. “The press already have a name, Razorback,” she says, never taking her eyes off the reports coming in. “A private underwater drone recorded an extended lumbar vertebrae.”

Pietro chuckles. “The devil works fast, but the press works faster.”

“That’s no way to refer to Miss Walters, Corporal.”

“Could really use Typhoon with this one,” Alex huffs in the general direction of the Weis. The triplets all shrug simultaneously – what can you do? Crimson Typhoon is one of the oldest jaegers still going, so it was naturally the first candidate for extensive repairs. “And now we have an experimental rookie to watch out for.”

“He has you beat at sim scores, Summers B,” Amadeus points out. “Although I guess that’s not hard.”

To his credit, Alex doesn’t lose his temper immediately. “Who invited the nerd again?”

“He’s here to monitor Hell Charger’s output,” Ivanov says.

“And Major Brooks’s recommendation is that Mr Reyes stands back to guard the Miracle Mile while Coyote Tango, Romeo Blue and Eden Assassin take on the demon.” Uh oh, Amadeus is using proper titles. “So this last-minute switch-up nonsense puzzles me a little, Colonel.”

“Merely a proposal. Put forward by Corporal Maximoff, to give proper credit.”

“As a joke,” Wanda cuts in. Pietro doesn’t deny it, which means it probably wasn't and he’s using his sister to get out of having to admit it's a terrible idea. “Assassin doesn’t do well with small targets.”

Ivanov wasn’t really going to put them on beastie defence, was he? Stuck between the Colonel and Cho, Reyes seems to alternate between wanting to shrink and puff up. With that eye still bruised – it’s really taking an awful long to heal – he looks like someone beat him up behind the bleachers. When Carol glances at Maria, she can already tell what’s on her mind. “No,” she hisses.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

Ivanov is clearly sick of the chatting. “Do you have a suggestion, Captain Danvers?”

Carol shoots Maria one last look before turning to the Colonel. “Just that we should stick with Eric’s plan. Hell Charger is still largely untested.” And you can’t hit the kill switch outside of a five hundred mile radius, but she’s not going to be the one to mention it out loud. “I’ve seen Reyes wipe the floor with the recruits, I’m sure he can handle the vermin.”

Oh god, is he blushing? Carol just knows the next family dinner will have a new guest. And when Maria hears about the baby brother, too...

Jean raises her hand to get everyone’s attention. “It’s emerging,” she says. “Changed course towards Taipei. Fourteen hours until contact, Khatyrka confirms they are standing back.”

“We better get ahead of it, then.” Fourteen hours always sounds longer than it really is when you account for final checks and transport times. “Eden Assassin on point, us and Romeo Blue on flanks?”

Maybe because they have a rookie on board, or maybe to get it all over with, for once nobody tries to argue just for the sake of it. Ivanov brings up the map of the Philippine Sea onto the table screen to pin locations down and each team’s respective air support officer descends around it to sort out the logistics.

As the rangers start filing out to get their kit going, Carol can’t help but notice that Reyes seems to be meeting his ASO for the first time. She stays back to watch him for a moment – she can’t imagine getting into a jaeger on her own. It’s better that he’s nervous rather than cocky–

Then, Ivanov puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder, and just for a moment his expression changes from mildly confused to positively murderous.

#ghost rider pacific rim au #robbie reyes #carol danvers #carol is tired and petty #I might be projecting #also who knew the no editing rule sucks when I actually do the math!#do you know how long it takes for a kaiju to get from the breach to a coast? because I do now

28 notes · View notes

nearlydark · 1 month

Text

Can you spot the hikers :)

West Rim Trail, Zion National Park

Portra 400 🎞️

#personal #film photography #my film #35mm film #stay broke shoot film #film is not dead #35mm #canon ae1 #Utah #zion national park #hiking #nature

7 notes · View notes

virtie333 · 1 year

Text

One Year Ago

I almost didn't post this. I wrote it for catharsis, but a friend said I should post it as it may help others. I can count on one hand the number of people who know about this. I don't know, maybe I'll delete it....

One year ago today, while cleaning Chester’s paddock, I made plans.

A few days earlier, I had received an email from my brother-in-law that involved some very hurtful and offensive accusations. My sister responded a few days after that, but not with an apology. She defended him, and added her own opinions.

When someone you have loved and trusted your whole life essentially says you are worthless, then it must be true.

So, the next day, I made plans.

I would have to complete my will, first. I would have to make sure Chester went to a local rescue. He wasn’t ridable and though I know a friend might take him as a ‘pasture pet,’ if push comes to shove and they ran short on money, he would be the first to go. The rescue would care for him, and I would make sure that if ever they could no longer do so, they would euthanize him.

My brother would get the other animals and all my belongings. He could sell my truck, trailer, etc. and use the funds to care for my dog Jackson, my cat Rodney, and Stache, the barn cat I had just brought home from work a month earlier. He would take care and love them.

It would have to look like an accident so my life insurance would pay out. God forbid my sister would have to pay for my funeral! I am an avid hiker, and there are trails very close that follow the canyon rim, with a 60 to 100 foot drop straight down. I usually hike with Jackson, but I could say I was leaving him home because he was sore. It would be very easy to slip while checking out the view. It’s happened before up there.

Could I actually do it? Was I brave enough? It was the only way. And I needed to do it soon.

That was my plan.

But wait. I can’t do it right away. Moon Knight just started, and I waited so long for this show and it’s even better than I had hoped and only two episodes have aired so far. I really want to see the rest. It takes my mind off the pain. I’ll wait.

Then I started posting a new story I had written. I didn’t think it would be very popular, as it was very different from my last, popular one, but I have loyal readers. I can’t just leave it unfinished, and have them wondering what happened to me. And I can’t post it all at once, because that will give away the fact that it was planned. So, I’ll wait.

An acquaintance that hated Moon Knight complained and criticized it over and over and I finally broke. I said things. I don’t regret them, because they were the truth, but I immediately became the villain to the rest of the group. Once more, I was reminded that I was unimportant, that my thoughts and feelings were inconsequential. How could I tell them? How could I explain this show literally kept me alive?

So, I waited.

A spark of hope. My brother and I worked toward a future we could both live with. I prayed, and found that I began to believe again for the first time in a long time. The story I was posting, the one I thought would not do well, became my greatest hit. Not only did its success thrill me, but once again, I had something to thank for keeping me alive.

Though low on funds, I made a trip west, to California, to meet up with my best friends in the world. They were the only people I told about my plans. They made sure to let me know how grateful they were I hadn’t followed through. I loved every minute of Galaxy’s Edge and I continued to hope for a better future. And I waited.

The hope was realized just before Christmas. My future wasn’t as dark and scary as it had been. Unfortunately, the loss of Rodney just before New Years kept me down. I was still depressed and full of non-stop anxiety, and on the anniversary of my mother’s death, I once more started falling into that darkness. I left a group I cared a great deal about because I realized a lot of my anxiety was coming from there; it’s hard caring more about people than they do about you. I bawled my eyes out while I clicked that ‘leave’ button, but I don’t regret it. It’s been over two months and only two people have even noticed I left. That says something right there.

Now, for the first time since Tariq got very sick in November 2020, I actually have the desire to do things. I’m not working and writing just to keep sane. I’m reading again. I’m playing with Chester. I’m taking Jackson on walks. I’m going back to mass, not because I have to but because I want to. I still resent my brother-in-law, and I’m still waiting for an apology from my sister, but I’m not holding my breath. I’m still alone. I’m still uncertain of my worth. But I have my animals, including two new cats, and my home. I have plans. New plans. Better plans.

One year ago today, while cleaning Chester’s paddock, I made plans.

But today I’m alive. And I’m happy. All because I waited.

Don’t give up. Things WILL get better.

#suicide awareness #tw: suicide #depression #anxiety #worthlessnesses #family issues #loneliness #hope #fanfiction #moon knight

40 notes · View notes

indynerdgirl · 1 year

Text

Topgun AU Ideas

As I was scrolling through the Topgun tag on AO3 the other night, I realized that I was starting to see the same tropes and AUs over & over again. And while not a bad thing at all, personally, I'm just starting to get a little bored of reading the same story over & over.

So I started thinking about what kind of AUs I would love to see in the Topgun fandom and then I started making a list and it kind of spiraled out of control. Oops. 😆

I now present to you all my somewhat organized list of AU ideas! And feel free to use them for any fandom, I was just thinking about Topgun as I came up with them all. It's also by no means an exhaustive list so I probably missed some obvious ones.

Military AU ideas: Pentagon/Joint Chiefs/White House Advisor (think The West Wing but for the military - this is the one I've been dying to see someone tackle!) Navy JAG NCIS Blue Angels Air Force Instead of Navy Astronauts/NASA Test Pilots Naval Academy Instructors Adversary/Aggressor Squadron Office of Naval Intelligence Sailors Instead of Pilots Submariners Instead of Pilots Naval Flight School Instructors (Aviation Preflight Indoctrination, Primary Flight Training, Intermediate Flight Training, and/ or Advanced Flight Training)

Character AU ideas: Natasha is Maverick's daughter/niece Bob is Maverick's son/nephew Natasha is Ice's daughter/niece Bob is Ice's son/nephew Maverick is Amelia's father Penny Is Also a Pilot Penny’s Father Is An Air Force General Obligatory Goose/Carole/Ice Lives AUs Maverick’s Dad/Mom Lives Any of the younger pilots is the kid of one of the other 86 boys

And a whole lot more under the cut!

American Historical AU ideas: Colonial/Revolutionary War Post-Revolutionary War Lewis & Clark War of 1812 Mexican-American War/The Alamo Wild West (good guys or bad guys) Organ Trail The Gold Rush (California or Alaska) Pony Express Civil War/Reconstruction Transcontinental Railway Cattle Drives Industrial Revolution/The Gilded Age WWI Bootleggers/Rum Runners/1920s Jazz Age Great Depression/Dust Bowl WWII Korean War Vietnam War 1950s/Greasers Moon Race/1960s NASA 1980s/The Cold War

Other Historical AU Ideas: Ancient Greece/Rome Middle Ages Renaissance Tudor Elizabethan Georgian Regency Napoleonic Victorian Edwardian

Fandom AUs: The West Wing Firefly The Avengers Agents of Shield Star Wars Star Trek Harry Potter Percy Jackson Ocean's 11 Mission Impossible Bourne Tom Clancy/Jack Ryan Jack Reacher John Wick Friends New Girl Supernatural How I Met Your Mother Chuck Downton Abbey CSI Jurassic Park Indiana Jones The Office Parks and Rec Pacific Rim

Other Profession AU ideas: Coffee Shop Book Shop Bakery/Candy Maker Winery/Distillery Restaurant/Chef Bartender/Bar Mechanic/Car Repair Shop Doctor/Medical/Hospital Firefighter/Police Officer/Detective Wildfire Firefighter Florist Tattooist Gardener/Gardening Horse Racing Motorsports (NASCAR/F1/Motocross, ect) Professional Sports (baseball, football, hockey, soccer, basketball) Rodeo/Bull Riding Olympians Air Racing (it’s a real thing!) Actors (movie or stage)/Celebrity Ballet Dancers Teachers College Professors Lawyers/Judges National Park Ranger Cruise Ship Pet Groomer/Veterinarian Farmer/Rancher Banker/Financial Bodyguards Zoo Museum/Living Museum Musician/Band Mall (everyone works at different stores at the same mall) Marketing Archeologist Spies Reporters/Journalist News Anchors Lifeguards Assassins Criminals/Thieves/Heist Bounty Hunter

Misc AU Ideas: Royalty/Lost Royalty Time Travel Fae/Fairy Mermaids/Selkies Witch/Wizard Werewolves/Vampires Fantasy/Magic (including modern/urban settings) High Fantasy Dragons Soulmates (color blindness, first words, timestamps, matching marks, can share emotions, Red String of Fate, can share dreams, can see/talk to each other in dreams, can write on each other's skin, telepathic, Soulmate Goose of Enforcement) Omegaverse/ABO (not everyone’s cup of tea, just putting it out there!) Roommates Pirates High School College Mob/Mafia Fairytale Arranged Marriage Accidental Marriage Fake Dating/Engagement/Marriage Superhero/Villain Apocalypse/Post-Apocalypse Forbidden Love Boarding School Space/Sci-Fi Road Trip Summer Camp Immortal/Reincarnation Hallmark Movie Amnesia Pen Pals Resurrection Animal Shapeshifter May this list inspire all of you amazing fanfic writers out there! 💜

38 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 8 months

Text

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 7

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 8

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I highly recommend reading it here, as I am more likely to post on ao3 and not update here in the future as the story progresses

Warnings: blood, gore, fighting

Word Count: 4509

Masterlist

Tired patrons meandered through the tavern, searching for breakfast before their hard days’ labor. The bustling and merriment of the night were traded in for half-lidded eyes and quiet exchanges. Jaskier, despite taking forever to wake up, seemed to be the most energetic of anybody else there. However, you were truly the most awake.

“So,” Jaskier said, “where to?”

“What do you mean?” You looked at him over the rim of your tankard as you took a drink.

Your expressions were muted; surrounded by strangers and townsfolk that could turn on you at any moment, you never gave anything away. Yet Jaskier could see the hints of emotion in your eyes, so adjusted to reading Geralt after so long. He knew your cold neutrality was a barrier, and through the carefully laid bricks he could see the curiosity in your question.

His fingers rubbed against each other as his nerves caught up to him. He wasn’t shy by any means, but since Geralt yelled at him, his mind seemed to always find ways to second guess himself. He wasn’t sure if he should be asking questions; if he could. But you didn’t shut him down. You didn’t give any hint at all that you may have been annoyed with him. He had to cling to that.

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to be traveling around, looking for monsters and things to kill, and, uhm,” his fingers fiddled with the handle of his tankard, “well, I need a guide to Oxenfurt. If you’re heading that way, that is. I don’t wish to…” He watched your eyes trail to the side, brow furrowing slightly as you thought. “Impose.”

“Are you looking to winter there?”

He nodded, emboldened by the question. “Yes! I have a little townhouse there, and usually the University hires me to lecture. Talk about my adventures and,” he gestured, “heroic deeds.”

You nodded slowly as you tried to picture a route from Hengfors all the way through Redania. “It’ll take a month to get there, if the weather holds up. We can follow the Braa river west until we hit Tridam and head south from there.”

“You’ll really take me with you?” His eyes lit up. Without even knowing it, he leaned forward over the table, as if being closer would reveal more truth in your slitted eyes.

“Of course, Jaskier,” you answered easily. You allowed yourself a barely-there grin, easily missed by the other patrons. “That’s why you’ve got Adhara; so you can keep up with me.”

He huffed a laugh, relaxing back into his chair. “You won’t regret this, Viper. I promise…” His shoulders fell. His eyes got a distant sort of look to them, and his smile dimmed, as if he only just realized what he was about to say. He swallowed. “Things will be different.”

Jaskier was nose deep in his journal, mumbling to himself as he scratched out words and rewrote descriptions.

On your way out of town that morning, you’d passed by the town notice board, and hidden under Gwent challenges and requests for eggs, lay a contract for a nest of Drowners. Simple work for good enough pay. Enough to make back for the cost of breakfast, anyway.

The fight with the Drowners had passed by so quickly - and the bard had never before been allowed to be so close to a fight - that he had rushed to get down every single thought he had in the moment. Unfortunately, now he was left with the terrible endeavor of translating his own words. He’d been at it for almost 30 minutes now. On the rare instances he wasn’t chattering away, you gave him silence to work.

Except, for the last 30 minutes, you’d had to keep Bayard at a steady pace right beside Adhara to keep her from trialing off the path. She was well-trained and obedient, but Jaskier barely had a hand on the reins in his eagerness, and the nearby river looked perfect for a dip.

You cleared your throat, and after a moment Jaskier realized it was to get his attention. Bright eyes stared at you like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You smiled. “How was your first Drowner experience?”

He chuckled airily and at last tucked the journal and pencil back into his pack. The question was rhetorical, he knew. It was obvious to anyone the event had tickled the artist within him, and he knew you’d been aware of his mad scribbling. Still, he grimaced playfully. “I didn’t realize they were quite that ugly,” he joked.

You huffed a laugh. You were free to do so, by now miles away from the judgemental eyes of townsfolk. Jaskier enjoyed seeing this side of you. It was a breath of fresh air after Geralt’s forever stone-cold exterior. “Wait ‘til you see a Rotfiend.”

His hands held tighter to the reins, eyes searching for an explanation. “A Rotfiend?” he enunciated. “What’s that?”

“They’re horrid,” you scowled. “Imagine a walking corpse, bloated, with skin sloughing off. Where one is found, more are sure to follow. They build their nests on old battlefields - anywhere there’s lots of death, really. The worst part, though, is when they die.”

Jaskier leaned toward you, trying to get as close as possible, as though it would provide him with even more information. He was always eager to learn, even as his face curled in disgust. “What happens?”

“They explode.”

He centered himself in the saddle, scoffing. “Now you’re just messing with me.”

“No, I’m not!”

“They explode?! Like-” He motioned his body exploding, starting from his chest and leaving him in an outward burst. “Explode-explode?”

You nodded.

He shook his head. He refused to believe something as vile as you were describing did something like blow up. “You’re messing with me.”

“They do! They explode and release clouds of poisonous gas!” A wide grin spread across your face as you tried explaining the monster to the bard. You couldn’t remember smiling like this since your time at Gorthur Gvaed. “The good news is one explosion can set off any others close by. One after another, all bursting into red clouds. I once had five of them die that way.”

Your head snapped to the side as a twig snapped. It was too far away to have been one of the horses. Jaskier didn’t notice as you pulled Bayard to a sharp stop, trotting on ahead. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Jaskier. Stop.”

Like a flip was switched, you were a Witcher once again. Yellow eyes scanned the forest edge like a predator searching for lunch. The rippling of water was the only sound.

All at once, you realized what was wrong. The birds stopped chirping. How long ago had they fallen silent? You were so caught up with Jaskier- You cursed yourself for making such a stupid mistake.

Before you could absolve yourself, you were falling off Bayard’s back. You screamed as the harsh impact sent shock waves through your spine. Bayard startled and reared on his hind legs, scaring Jaskier’s horse into doing the same. The bard couldn’t get a hold of his mare’s neck fast enough. He swore as he fell on his back right beside you.

He turned, ready to help you fight off whatever was attacking, whatever was scaring your horses, but he was stopped in his tracks by the arrow sticking out of your shoulder. Bright red pooled around the wooden shaft. The archer had found a gap in your armor. The only barrier the projectile had to pass through was your undershirt, now somehow darker as the blood stained it.

You clutched at your shoulder, digging your fingers into your arm as your mind screamed for you to rip it out. Get the arrow out. Get it out of your arm. It took all your willpower not to listen. You writhed against the dirt road and fallen leaves.

Bandits poured from the forest edge. A few broke off to calm the horses and prevent them from bolting. Two dragged Jaskier up to his feet by his arms and held him there, no matter how much he wriggled or fought back. Another, possessing an air of power and control, chuckled as he leaned over you.

“It’s not easy to get the jump on a Witcher,” he cackled. A muddy boot pressed down on your shoulder. You cried out through grit teeth. “But getting the jump on a Viper? That is, truly, something special.”

You grabbed the dagger at your hip, covering the handle with blood. The end of a longsword met your throat before you could drive it into him. He tsked, shaking his head. “Drop it, or we start breaking that one’s fingers.”

For a moment, Jaskier wasn’t sure what you’d do. He watched with a racing heart as you glared up at the bandit. Your fingers tensed around the hilt. One of the men holding him wrenched his hand free, grabbing hold of his fingers. And for a moment, you stared at him. Only for a moment. As brief as a whistle. And the dagger was dropped to the ground.

“A wise choice,” the bandit commended. He removed the blade from your throat, but pressed harder on your shoulder. You squirmed under his boot, a scream ripped from your throat. “Nilfgaardian scum.”

Anger boiled in your soul, like a bubbling pot of stew over a fire, ready to overflow. When the adrenaline subsided, all you had left was your rage.

Bayard and Adhara anxiously stamped their feet across the camp as gruff men pulled off their packs and saddlebags. You could practically feel the way Jaskier tensed when they grabbed his lute. Thankfully, they did little to harm it aside from tossing it onto a pile of potion ingredients they had no use for.

Blood dripped languidly down your arm, leaving a warm, sticky trail in its wake. The arrow held back the majority of it, like a dam holds back water. Having to keep your hands behind your back, clasped in place with no doubt stolen shackles, however, pulled at the wound, allowing enough to slip through to worry Jaskier.

He glanced around the camp. The leader of the group watched his underlings ransack your stuff, searching for anything valuable. They wouldn’t find much other than your money. Jaskier didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried for this.

When he determined the bandits were far enough away, he ducked his head closer to yours. Your snake eyes hadn’t left the leader since you were captured.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

As though snapped back to reality, you blinked and finally looked at him. It was not in a casual, carefree way. You did not look at him like he’d just come back from a night bar-hopping and performing for coin. There was so much fire behind your eyes. When you scanned him over for any hint of injury or harm to his person, all he could think of was the way you defended him atop the mountain. When you turned from yelling at Geralt and ushered him away; the way the anger had taken several minutes to actually fade from your body, despite the soft smile you wore. You did not answer his question.

“Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head. Where relief should have been was a hole, filled to the brim with guilt. He wasn’t hurt. He was perfectly fine, aside from the fear that spiked his heart rate and picked at his fingers.

But he could have been. He could have been hurt. And it’s all your fault.

“Hey!” The sharp shout startled Jaskier into leaning back away from you. The leader crossed the camp quickly, sneering down at you. “No talking.”

You stared silently up at him, defiant. He began to step away, foot turned toward the horses, but he stopped. A wicked grin pulled at dirt-covered cheeks. He chuckled, all too pleased with his realization.

“Boys, we didn’t just catch a snake,” he beckoned. The others stopped what they were doing, dropping your things and gathering around to hear what their leader had to say, like sinners in church hoping for their priest to provide them with salvation. The leader knelt down in front of you. His face was inches away, and his breath reeked of tobacco and ale. His voice changed to a low hiss. “You’re Nilfgaard’s prized Viper.”

A murmur arose between the underlings.

“You’ve got a pretty price on your head.” A gloved hand reached out and touched your cheek. You jerked away from the touch. “Just the head, mind you.”

The hand trailed down your throat until it brushed against the silver of your medallion. The snake engraved on it seemed to pull back, prepared to bite the finger, but it was only a trick of the light that scattered through the canopy overhead. He stared into your eyes as his hand wrapped around the metal, and in one quick tug, the string broke. An emptiness replaced the ever-present weight.

“Of course, you won’t be needing this anymore, eh?”

He chuckled as he stood up, briefly scraping the edge of the medallion across your cheek just to see you flinch away. His eyes only glanced over Jaskier. The bard’s popularity was lost on the bandit. For that, you were grateful. To them, he was just another bard, not one of the most famous, who traveled with the White Wolf and sung songs of Witcher glory.

The leader turned. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the men went back to work. Wood and grass was piled up in the center, and soon enough a fire was crackling away. They pulled out the dried meats from your bags and they tore sections off of a loaf of bread, and they sat laughing amongst themselves around the fire as the sun grew lower in the sky.

Jaskier sighed mournfully. He scowled as he watched them rip chunks from the jerky with their teeth and slosh ale between bites of bread. He only looked away when he heard your cuffs clinking together.

Your fingers felt around the metal, feeling out where it was locked, where the chains attached, and which was weaker of the two. You watched the group, but you weren’t staring at food like he’d been. When a bandit glanced over, your fingers stopped moving. As soon as he looked away again, you felt around more.

Jaskier, as soon as he realized you were trying to be sneaky, looked away. His eyes darted between the group.

Ducking your head, you whispered to the bard, “I need a distraction.”

“What kind of distraction?” The question came out more anxious than he intended. He didn’t fancy the idea of being bait, but you’d both been stuck here for hours and he was more than ready to get as far away as possible.

You ran your fingers along the chain again. It was sturdy, but all you’d need is one broken link. The real issue came with the execution. “I need 2 minutes.”

He sighed. He didn’t fancy getting beat up for an escape, either. But he nodded anyway. He’d entertained worse crowds, surely he could draw their attention long enough.

With some effort, he pushed himself up to his feet. His legs were numb from sitting on his knees so long, pricks and pins sticking him every stumbled step over to the fire. He grinned widely despite the situation.

“Gentleman!” All conversation died, replaced with glaring eyes and grotesque sneers. “You seem to have done quite well for yourselves out here. It would be my honor, as Jaskier the bard, to sing a song to your greatness!”

Some of the thugs chuckled. “You’re gonna sing us a song?”

He nodded. Their eyes all followed him as he circled around the group, pulling their attention further away from you. As soon as they were no longer faced that way, a dim orange light emitted from behind you. “I could sing for you all through the night and morning! Or until that one,” he gestured his head to one of the thugs that swayed in his seat from ale, “falls over, leastaways.”

They all laughed. The ones closest nudged the drunkard playfully. They all fell quiet when the leader uncrossed his legs and sat forward. Cracked lips curled around browning teeth. “Go on, then,” he encouraged. Yet something lingered beneath the words, as a snake slithers unseen under bushes. Something dangerous. He stood and paced around Jaskier, standing too close behind him. The bard swallowed as hot breath touched his ear. “Sing for us, little bird.”

With little time to think of all the songs in his repertoire (most of which revolved around a Witcher), the first song that didn’t deal with a White Wolf slaying beasts heroically was the song he sang. And though without a backing instrumental or the assurance that they would know the song and join in, Jaskier endured. For the few seconds he got to sing it, that is.

“Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger. Come quell-”

A gloved hand grabbed his hair and pulled hard enough he almost fell to the ground. As it was, he was bent over backward trying not to have his hair ripped out. The leader leaned over him. “Not that fucking tripe.”

With another sharp tug to his hair, Jaskier was flung to the ground by the horses. He winced as he landed hard on his shackles.

From across the camp, sharp yellow eyes watched helplessly.

“Try again.”

A rough sigh passed the bard’s lips like a huff. He was just as powerless as the Witcher he traveled with. The thugs watched as he floundered. His lips formed half-thought lyrics, before he stopped himself. His heart raced as he sang the next song.

“The fairer sex, they often call it-”

You watched as though in slow motion as the leader swung his leg in an arc, rubber sole catching Jaskier across the cheek. The momentum sent him to the ground. Their laughter burned your ears as they watched on. With his hands still clasped behind him, Jaskier fought to get away from the crowd. His cheek was pink, though not twinged by the humors of alcohol. And from a small cut beneath his eye fell a drop of blood.

You saw red.

In one final burst of Igni, you felt the chain break apart. It glowed red as you forced yourself to stand. For a moment, everyone was too distracted bullying Jaskier, until you cut off one of their heads with their own sword.

The fear in the leader’s eyes was worth all the pain. Had you been a wild beast, you would have relished in their terror. Soaked in the way they stepped back, tried to find a way to get their weapons, try to figure out an escape. But you weren’t. And all you could think of was getting Jaskier out of there.

“Touch him again,” you hissed, “and I will ensure no god will recognize you when I am finished.”

Clinging to the last of his confidence, the leader scoffed. You could hear the waver in his voice. “You’d kill us all, for what? A bard?”

“In a heartbeat.”

All color drained from his face. He shoved his men forward to fight while the coward grabbed Jaskier and dragged him backward into the trees for protection.

Truthfully, you didn’t remember most of the fight. You recalled your injured arm becoming useless halfway through. And you distinctly remember a sharp, burning pain along your spine the more blows you took and the more men you felled. By the time the last grunt had fallen to your stolen sword, you were covered in gore and viscera.

You stepped lazily over bodies as you crossed the camp, one arm limp and the other hanging from exhaustion. The sword was heavier than your daggers, and required a completely different fighting style than you were trained in. Even at a disadvantage, you’d wiped out the entire camp so quickly you would have been praised back at school.

“Not one step closer!”

Your feet stopped at the edge of the campfire’s glow. Just beyond, back pressed up against a tall oak, was the bandit leader. Jaskier was trapped in his hold with a knife pressed to his throat. He tried not to squirm under the threat to his life, but the fear radiated off of him so thickly you could smell it through hints of vanilla.

“No closer or the bard gets it!”

You almost chuckled. “You’d kill your only bargaining chip?” You took a step forward. “Really?”

The blade pressed tighter against his neck. “I’ll do it, I swear!”

For a long moment, you both stared, studying each other. You watched the way Jaskier swallowed his whimpers down. The way the bandit’s gloved hand trembled. The silver glistening in his pocket.

“What do you propose?”

He blinked. “Drop the sword.” Your fingers tightened around the hilt. “Drop the sword and I’ll let him go.”

Jaskier thought for a moment you would refuse. The blade caught the firelight as you contemplatively shifted its weight in your grasp. He hated how shocked he felt when you did finally drop the sword. And the relief as you kicked it away from yourself.

The bandit waited a moment to ensure you weren’t trying to pull a fast one over him. Then, he lifted the knife from your bard’s neck, and shoved him forward. You grunted as you caught him, as he stumbled into you roughly. You held onto his sleeve when he gathered himself, stepping away from you, and watched over his shoulder as the cowardly leader ran away.

Jaskier sighed. It was shaky, filled with relief and disappointment. “You’re going to let him go?”

“That wasn’t part of our deal,” you answered lowly. Jaskier felt untethered when you released him and swept up the sword you’d kicked away. At the edge of the treeline, you used your whole body to gather the momentum, and threw the sword at the retreating figure. It spun through the air and landed on its mark. The bandit collapsed to the forest floor. “Stay here.”

The command was quiet and held no real power behind it, but Jaskier complied nonetheless. He watched from afar as you stepped clumsily over protruding roots.

The leader, gasping in agony, clawed his way along the ground. His gloves were hastily removed and chucked aside in hopes of gathering more traction. He screamed as the sword in his back was ripped out carelessly. A boot kicked him onto his side, and another forced him to lay on his bleeding, gaping wound. Blood stained orange and brown leaves indiscriminately.

“Mercy!” he cried. His face contorted into a gross facsimile of the man he once was. Tears clouded his vision and poured down his dirty cheeks. His hands clasped in prayer. “Mercy, please!”

You aimed the tip of your blade at his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed against it. “You hurt my bard,” you reminded him. Your voice was quiet; a mere croak of what it usually was. But the threat it carried remained as powerful as if you screamed it. “You ransacked our horses, ate our food, stole my medallion.” You twisted your grip on the blade so your palm faced you. The sword stood straight up against the hollow of his neck. “I have no mercy left to give.”

Steel sheathed itself within his neck. You watched remorseless as blood pooled in his mouth, and as he coughed and choked on it. Taking his life was all too satisfying.

With a groan, you reached down and plucked your medallion from one pocket, and the key to your cuffs from the other. You used the trees for support as you stumbled back to the camp. Jaskier met you at the treeline and pressed his body into your side to keep you upright. You held onto his sleeve again.

“Are you alright?” he whispered. He didn’t wish to take his eyes off you, even as you turned him away so you could free him from his shackles. As soon as they were off, he was facing you once again and holding you by the arms to support you.

You couldn’t find the words to answer him. Were you? Half your body was numb; the other half burned something fierce. You felt no remorse taking so many human lives, but guilt festered like an open wound when you spotted the blood on his cheek. Without thinking, you raised a hand and brushed it away.

Jaskier stayed by your side, holding you up, as you shambled toward the horses. “Need to move on,” you muttered. Were those spots in your vision? “We can get a few more miles down the road if we-”

“You’re bleeding, Viper.” He pulled you to a stop. “You’re covered in blood - I’m covered in blood.”

“You barely got a splatter on you.”

“The sun’s already beginning to set and there’s fire and food aplenty here. We should stay and rest, not charge off into the night!”

You shook your head. “Monsters’ll smell this blood. Ten minutes, tops, we’ll be fighting off rotfiends and- and everything else.”

Irritated, he looked around the camp. He really didn’t want to sleep surrounded by corpses, but you! He’d watched the fight. It was messy and sloppy, and you’d definitely be bruised in a few hours. He wasn’t entirely certain you hadn’t broken anything. Surely it would be best to patch yourselves up first?

You didn’t wait for him to argue any more. Bayard saw you approaching and met you halfway. Without a command, he laid down so you could easily mount him. Jaskier begrudgingly helped you settle in the saddle the bandits neglected to remove, and he watched as Bayard stood as carefully as he was able to avoid flinging you out the seat.

You fought to keep your eyes open as you watched Jaskier find something to step on so he could mount Adhara. Your body screamed and begged for rest. For the pain to end. But you couldn’t sleep. You refused to, when Jaskier could still be in danger from the monsters that lurked in the dark woods. No. You’d ride a while longer, and then you could rest.

Barely tugging the reins, you guided Bayard from the wooded clearing. Low hanging branches scratched against your face, but you couldn’t find any part of you that really cared. You could hear Jaskier grumbling as he pushed the branches aside.

As you neared the road, the sound of trickling water returned. Oh, the things you’d do to slip right into that cool river. Horse hooves clopped mutedly against the dirt road. Every step rocked you gently. Dark spots overwhelmed your vision, and finally your eyelids closed. Jaskier screamed your Viper moniker as he watched you slide limply off your horse once again, and collide with the hard ground below.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonsimp

@cool-ontherun-world

#fanfic #fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #jaskier x reader #jaskier #jaskier the bard #witcher jaskier #the witcher jaskier #x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gn reader #cross posted on ao3

13 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 11 months

Text

“Honey We’re Shrunk!”: Chapter 1 (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Royal was right, there was something weird about that hole in the west pasture. So what happens when Rhett, (Y/n), Amy and their kids wake up one morning and find that they’re only as big as a flea? Shit’s bound to ensue somewhere.

Tagging: @sebsxphia and if anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know

Wabang, WY

May 30, 2023

“Oh c’mon you fuckin piece o’shit,” Rhett growled under his breath as he fiddled with the truck engine.

His phone suddenly started ringing, startling him before Rhett knocked his head on the rim of the hood, drawing a loud yelp from his mouth. Cursing the truck under his breath, he hit pause on the currently playing song before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi yes, is this Mr. Abbott?” the woman on the other end asked.

“Yes this is Rhett.”

“This is Indira Singh, Amy’s teacher,” the woman replied. “Would you mind coming down to the school? I believe your brother tried to pick Amy up after school hours.”

“I’ll be right down,” Rhett answered before hanging up.

He was lucky he hadn’t thrown the phone halfway across the garage. He may not have been Amy’s biological father but she was still part of his family.....his daughter regardless.

Rhett quickly threw his shirt back on and hurried out to Royal’s truck, just as Royal was coming down the driveway. “You good boy?” Royal asked.

“Gotta go dad,” Rhett answered tersely. “I’m fuckin pissed.”

“The fuck happened now?” Royal enquired. “Trevor run through (y/n)’s rose-beds?”

“Perry tried to get Amy from school.”

Royal’s eyes went wide as Rhett hurriedly started the truck and practically zoomed out of the driveway, the furious cloud of dirt trailing behind him before Royal loped off to the pasture.

Amelia County Steiner School

2:50 pm

The classroom was full of the usual organized chaos surrounding the afternoon dismissal and the last day of school as your eighth graders put up their chairs onto their desks, the clack of the wood marrying together with the chatter of the students as they gathered up their backpacks and bid you farewell for the day.

As soon as the last student had left, you opened up your bag, suddenly seeing a text message appear on your screen from your husband.

Rhett: I’m downstairs with Amy’s teacher.....Perry tried to pick her up.

You: WHAT THE FUCK??!!!

You felt your face going hot and a bloom of fear in your chest as you quickly gathered your bag and shut the door to your classroom behind you, hurrying down the stairs to the school lobby where Rhett was standing with Amy, her teacher and two other members of the school administration.

“I was about to message you and tell you to come down,” Brian O’Donnell told you.

“Well, my husband beat me to the punch,” you quipped. “What happened?”

“I caught Perry trying to pick her up and sneak her out of the school,” Mrs. Singh explained. “Brian heard her screaming in the halls and stopped him.”

“Did the cops get called?”

“Joy said she’s gonna try and track him down,” Brian explained. “Other than that, nothing major happened.”

“Thank God,” Rhett sighed, full of relief. “Listen guys, thank you for your help. It’s always appreciated.”

You and Rhett thanked the teachers, Rhett promising that he’d have a few fresh bales of hay to give Indira’s husband for their horses the next time they crossed paths. You both walked with Amy to go scoop up Hannah in her first grade classroom and then up the beaten dirt path to the kindergarten building where Tatum and Tanner spent their days during the school year.

“Alright ghouls, everybody in,” Rhett told them as he buckled Tatum and Tanner into their seats.

As soon as you had all shoved into the truck, you were off and headed for home, eager to get there, but also dreading what you would find when you got there. The six of you drove in near silence back to the house, hardly saying a word, while Tatum and Tanner had already fallen asleep. Rhett put his arm around you and drew you a little bit closer as the town of Wabang began to turn flatter and more rural. Within a half hour, you were home, the big house on the Abbott ranch pulling right into view.

Cecelia came right down the path, squinting in the late afternoon sun as she came to help you get the kids out of the truck. You didn’t even need to ask about what was going on. All too often in the past when she came down the path from the house, did you know what it meant.

“All good Ma?” Rhett asked.

“No, your dad’s absolutely rip-shit right now,” she sighed. “He’s gonna tear Perry a new one if he comes around and I don’t want the kids around for it.”

Rhett nodded, knowing what a toll this had taken on his mother for the last eight years. Ever since you and Rhett had taken full custody of Amy when she was a baby, Perry had been relentless. You were surprised that Royal hadn’t had a heart attack yet, coming home from a doctor’s visit with a note to try and find a way to lower his blood pressure.

You and Rhett helped to offload the kids while Cecelia and Winona Redwood, one of her closest friends, came to take them on a trail walk, hoping it would tire them out and keep them out of the house for a while. As much as you wanted to go back into town, you knew you had to get dinner ready and feed the family later. Rhett had to finish helping Royal fix the west pasture fence, but thank God the school year was over and the lighter workload could begin.

Gonna be a long day.....Rhett thought to himself.

West Pasture

Abbott Land

7:30pm

“Alright, looks like we’re good for the night,” Royal concluded, clipping the last wire on the fence.

Rhett didn’t say a word, but only nodded at his father.

Royal sighed. “Bud, listen....”

“Dad it’s fine,” Rhett told him. “They caught him before he could get Amy out the door.”

Royal felt awful. It still troubled him to think that Perry was coming after you and Rhett for taking Amy, going to whatever lengths he felt was necessary to irk the hell out of the two of you. “If he ever comes around here,” Royal told him. “I’ll try and chase him into the bullpen for you.”

Rhett and Royal shared a good laugh about the matter, musing on all the cruel and unusual punishments they could possibly dole out to Perry if he ever showed his face on the Abbott land ever again.

All of a sudden the horses began to snort, neigh and rear on their hind legs while the tiniest hint of a shudder rippled the ground beneath Rhett and Royal’s feet. They shot each other a quizzical look before venturing a little bit further off. The horses had completely moved to the other end of the field, a few of the foals skittering towards their mothers or their sires while Rhett’s big Kiger Mustang tossed his head and and snorted. There it was, the one thing he and Royal had been terrified to see. Their hearts were close to beating out of their chests, their palms growing clammy and the hairs standing straight up on the backs of their necks.

The hole.

“Holy fuck,” Rhett said breathlessly.

“I can’t believe that fuckin thing’s back,” Royal hissed.

The two of them crept closer to the hole, the goosebumps on their bodies going absolutely crazy. It was as though they could hear a beast within with loud, whale-like moans ready to emerge from the terrifying maw that had opened right up in the ground.

Rhett and Royal slowly backed away and once their backs were turned, the broke into a run, heading straight from the pasture to the house, never really minding the horses. They skipped a few steps coming up the porch before they slammed the door shut behind them.

“You ok?” Royal asked.

No answer. Only the few silent breaths and the rise and fall of Rhett’s chest.

“Rhett?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Rhett answered suddenly. “Yeah I’m good.....I’m good.”

“Go on up to bed,” Royal told him. “(Y/n)’s probably waiting for you.”

Rhett forced himself up the stairs, trying to keep the thought of you in the back of his mind, but all that seemed to pop in was the hole, that infernal drop into nothingness that made him shudder and the fear in him stir.

He entered your shared bedroom and kicked off his boots, hanging his hat on the bedpost and pulling off his shirt before throwing it into the wicker hamper next to the computer desk. The coolness from the mini-splits on the wall hit his sweaty skin as he crawled under the thin blanket on his side of the bed, his arm snaking right around you as the last shreds of sunlight darkened the room.

“Babes?” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

You rolled over and kissed his lips, happy to have him in bed next to you. “Just waiting for you,” you said sleepily.

Rhett pulled you in closer before you began littering his face with kisses, your fingertips running over his nips that hardened from the cool air and your gentle little touches.

“Wanna get outta here,” Rhett mumbled as he settled in, burying his face in your neck. “Wanna take the kids and go to Bozeman already.”

You kissed his lips again. “We will,” you assured him. “Soon enough.”

“Wish I was the size of a flea,” Rhett mumbled again. “Give the shithead an itch so bad he’ll think it’s chicken pox.”

You laughed a little, pressing yourself closer to Rhett as you stroked the back of his neck, your fingers tangling a little in the curls that were forming. You lived for moments like this, when it was just the two of you, side by side without a worry in the world.

***************

In the dead of night, beneath the full moon, the ground around the hole rippled like the water after a pebble had been tossed in its midst. The horses neighed as they moved away, a blueish-white dust emerging from the hole and rolling across the land like a mist towards the house. The dust snaked its way through the windows and curled around the beds of the six sleeping Abbotts, working its magic until it disappeared into thin air.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #outer range

15 notes · View notes

thorsenmark · 6 months

Video

flickr

A Setting of Mountains from Turkey Spur Overlook (New River Gorge National Park & Preserve) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A view looking to the west from the Turkey Spur Overlook at the end of the Grandview Trail in New River Gorge National Park & Preserve. My thinking in composing this image was to angle my Nikon SLR camera slightly downward and create a more sweeping view across the river gorge with hillsides and mountains to my front. That would also help minimize the more overcast skies that were really kind of blah, for lack of better words. For post processing this image, I used NX Studio Edited to make basic edits with white balance, contrast, color saturation and brightness. I could then export a TIFF image to Color Efex Pro 4 and make more advanced edits with a recipe that brought out a more realistic color present that day.

0 notes

randadrives · 2 months

Text

An overview: Moab pt 2

I arrived at a good time of year, as July and August are the hottest months for the area. Tourist season is known to be the months of May and October. The weather is mild then, but the crowds are plentiful. I hadn’t realized that people from all over would be visiting, considering it took me so late in life to learn about it! Parked behind my tow trailer the first night was a converted semi-truck full of about 50 people from Germany touring the U.S. The main reasons for this would be the National Parks. Southern Utah has what is known as The Big or Mighty Five: Zion and Bryce Canyon toward the west side of the state, Capitol Reef more in the center, and Moab’s own Canyonlands and Arches. Delicate Arch, found in Arches, is the image of what most people think for Utah, being on the license plate and on several versions of the Utah quarter. I visited both Canyonlands and Arches twice, and Capitol Reef once, so I can speak for those but not the others yet. Unpopular opinion, but Canyonlands, slightly southwest of Moab, is my favorite of those three. The vast sights, the deep canyons, the wildlife, the diversity in colors of the rocks, and the hikes along the rims are breathtaking. It’s a large park, which I didn’t realize before my first visit, and it is separated into districts. I have only visited the Island in the Sky district, and the White Rim Overlook trail was a fantastic choice if you can only do one there. I also hiked the Mesa Arch trail, which is another famous spot in the state, as well as Grandview Point. There are plenty of pull offs along the main drive to see the views if not hiking, and there are more difficult hikes, as well as some back country hiking, which I plan to make it back there for. While visiting I was ecstatic to just drive and see the crows, ravens, mule deer, and lizards. The most popular park, next to Zion, is Arches, named for being home of over 2,000 natural stone arches. During the busy time of year, Arches requires a timed entry reservation to enter between the hours of 7:00 am and 4:00 pm. I always made sure to get there well before 7, as the crowds have already started early to take in the phenomenal sunrise views. In addition, beating the heat was important to me. I’d make it a habit to start a hike by 5:30 am and be done for the day by 8:00 am, just to avoid the soaring temperatures. There is no shade to be found in this park. I ended up hiking to Delicate Arch twice, as I had some visitors who wanted to experience it. I think I’ve seen most of the main arches that can be accessed along the main road, and did most of the shorter hikes. Honestly, this may be controversial, but Arches NP is slightly overrated IN MY HUMBLE OPINION. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cool. Especially the first time. The rock formations are wild and most of the time it feels like you’re in Jurassic Park. I have an appreciation for it, but I won’t go out of my way to go back again. I do encourage everyone to go once and decide for yourself where it ranks! The crowds and sharing the hiking trail with so many tourists was not appealing. I’m not sure if the off season would be better, but it does get cold in that area and I’m not a cold weather hiker. Also, there is a 100 ft tall phallic-shaped rock seen from the road called “The Phallus.” If that doesn’t make you want to go, I’m not sure what will. Last, but definitely not last in ranking, was Capitol Reef. I did not have high expectations because honestly no one had given me the suggestion to go, and I didn’t hear people talk about it much. It was a bit of a drive so I stayed at a campground in Hanksville, UT. Hanksville is in the middle of nowhere, I did not have great cell service, but it was beautiful and I had a nice, refreshing time there with just myself and the dogs away from the hustle and bustle of Moab for a couple days. I was told ahead of time to make sure to get some pie while I was there, and after a bit of research I found that I needed to visit the Gifford Homestead to purchase said pie.

Go to part 3!

#hiking #nature #travel #lifestyle #moab #rv #utah #national park #state park

2 notes · View notes

gravelish · 5 months

Text

Salt Lake City to Tucson

22 September - 13 October 2023

My last post was on September 14th, just before I headed to Salt Lake City to start my long-anticipated ride to Tucson. Since then I’ve had an amazing three-week adventure on the bike, I’ve had numerous enjoyable rides around Seattle, and I’ve spent hours going through the resulting photos and notes. But I’ve also struggled with my motivation and my interest in maintaining this blog. Regardless of what I end up doing with the blog, I thought it would be good to write up a summary of the recent trip. Whether I flesh out individual days of the ride or whether I continue to post about future rides remains unclear.

======

I rode out of Salt Lake City on Friday, September 22nd. I rode into Tucson on Friday, October 13th. Along the way, there were 22 days of amazing landscapes and incredible riding. I traveled around 1150 miles (50+ miles/day, more than 450 of it on gravel roads and dirt tracks. I suspect I walked my bike a total of 4-5 miles on steep or rough segments. There was 83,000’ of climbing, including several sustained climbs of 4-5,000’. Much of the first week was spent climbing to or riding above 10,000’. I camped a little less than half the nights. I never took a full day off, though I considered it in Flagstaff.

Highlights. There were a lot of them. Big Cottonwood Canyon and Guardsman Pass. Skyline Drive on the Wasatch Plateau. The aspens in the valley of Sevenmile Creek. Hell’s Backbone Road. Scenic Route 12 from Boulder to Escalante. Bryce and Red Canyons. Camping at Rock Point on the edge of Marble Canyon. The South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The San Francisco Peaks. The Mogollon Rim and the amazing descent to the Salt River.

The weather was great, except for some rain in southern Utah that required a major detour to avoid muddy roads and added two days to the trip. Temperatures were cold at night, particularly on the Wasatch Plateau, but it was great during the day. Heat was never a problem during the ride itself, though the weekend after I got to Tucson, temperatures rose into the high 90s.

My route evolved over many months of pouring over maps and checking online sources. Some of the territory was familiar to me and that influenced decisions about places I wanted to visit (or felt okay skipping). I wanted to experience as wide a range of landscapes and geologic provinces as I could. I wanted to avoid busy highways, but I also didn’t want a route that was too rough and too remote for my bike or my capabilities (particularly riding solo).

The result was a wonderful mix of roads and trails. Almost 600 miles of my route was on the Western Wildlands Route (courtesy of Bikepacking Roots), a north-south route from Canada to Mexico that parallels, but lies farther west than, the better known Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

Here’s a list of each day, showing mileages and elevation gain. I may eventually work up descriptions of each day and link them here, but haven’t done so yet. I posted fairly regularly on Instagram (@gravelbeach) and that remains a source of photos and limited narrative.

9-22 Salt Lake City to Brighton 28.4 miles 4122’

9-23 Brighton to Currant Creek Summit 41.8 6634’

9-24 Currant Creek Summit - Scofield 67.6 5012’

9-25 Scofield - Skyline 45.1 5467’

9-26 Skyline - Salina 66.5 3856’

9-27 Salina - Fish Lake 44.2 5748’

9-28 Fish Lake - Posey Lake 54.1 4385’

9-29 Posey Lake - Boulder 23.7 2440’

9-30 Boulder - Cannonville 64.7 4176’

10-1 Cannonville - Hatch 33.1 2342’

10-2 Hatch - Kanab 57.4 2440’

10-3 Kanab - Page 76.8 2449’

10-4 Page - Rock Point 45.4 3348’

10-5 Rock Point - Cameron 65.1 1997’

10-6 Cameron - Grandview 47.6 4519’

10-7 Grandview - Kelly Tank 54.0 2709’

10-8 Kelly Tank - Flagstaff 35.6 2405’

10-9 Flagstaff - Kehl Springs 72.5 3618’

10-10 Kehl Springs - Young 64.9 3459’

10-11 Young - Globe 67.6 6032’

10-12 Globe - Willow Springs 53.7 4172’

10-13 Willow Springs - Tucson 61.0 1696’

LINK to Ride with GPS: Collection of all 22 rides

TOTALS (numbers vary depending on later corrections):

1170.6 miles (53.21 miles/day) (1884 kms)

690 miles paved / 480 milesunpaved

83016’ (3773’/day) (25,303 m)

My bike and my gear worked out well. I rode my Salsa Warbird with a bikepacking setup. I’m on 42mm tires (tubeless). I had no tire problems, despite sharp chunky volcanic rocks and the potential for goathead thorns. My suspension stem and seat post make the rough roads a little less jarring. My only mechanical problem was a missing chain ring bolt that I discovered on the second day and was able to get fixed. I replaced the brake pads in Flagstaff. Shifting worked fine (and continues to work smoothly after shipping the bike home and adding another few hundred miles around here).

My body held together, despite turning 65 on Day 4. I never had any problems with altitude besides the labored breathing you’d expect from 5000’ climbs to 10,000’. My lips were badly chapped and my skin got darker. My hands and seat were sore at times, but that was to be expected and was never an obstacle. My legs were sore when riding, but recovered quickly.

I’d been thinking about this ride ever since I wrapped last year’s trip from Whitefish MT to Salt Lake City. It was an inevitable second chapter to what became an epic ride that stretched from border to border (a one day’s ride from either end). Combined, the two-part adventure covered 2200 miles and 130,000’ climbing over 40 days of riding.

#bike journal #bike #utah #arizona #westernwildlandroute #bikepacking #biketour #salsawarbird

4 notes · View notes