shes smelly

Office-mate who loves CNN but doesn't understand how televisions work is destroyed by that which she loves most.

I work in a small office with only 6 people. The way the office is broken up I share my office with another person, so we’re essentially facing each other. It’s away from the other offices, so we’re kind of left to our own devices. I’ve been working here for about three years now, and have always gotten along with my office-mate. My old office-mate left to start a family, so I’ve been alone for a bit before they hired Marge.

Marge is what you’d find if you googled “worst office-mate.” She brings in smelly food she eats at her desk, she plays loud music in our shared space (even after being asked not to), she fights with the boss on every little thing, she’s nosy (always asking me where I’ve been when I walk back into the office, and I’ve literally caught her listening in at the bosses door). She asks me invasive questions, and when I finally snapped at her to mind her own business she acted like I’d personally assaulted her.

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Super quick translations of the new character profiles:

Stage 1 boss: Etanity Larva, The Butterfly Youkai Close to the Gods (Yes, her name has a different typo in her profile)

Species: Fairy; Power: To scatter butterfly scales

A Swallowtail Butterfly fairy. That said, she’s not just the adult, but also the larva and the pupa, so you could say she’s a growth and rebirth and metamorphosis insect fairy. Like Cirno, she’s being powered up from how she normally is. She’s gone berserk, so to speak. The incident, after all, is about fairies going berserk. She’s normally very gentle, and even in battle she’s more interested in picking up power-up items. When she senses danger, it seems she releases smelly danmaku from her antennae.

Boss 2: Nemuno Sakata, the Mountain Hag whose passed beyond this transient world

Species: Hag; Power: To consecrate ground.

Lives on youkai mountain. Hags are a solitary race that rarely interact even with each other, so naturally they don’t talk to others much either. However, when they do interact with others they’re extremely businesslike. They have an agreement with the tengu to give them their own space and leave them alone. It’s often thought that people who disappear on the mountain were eaten by hags, but they actually send back the adults and adopt and raise the children. The reason is unknown. She herself has no interest in the world around her, and there’s very little information on this uncivilized part of Gensokyo.

Boss 3: Aunn Komano, the Divine Beast who adores gods

Species: Komainu; Power: To find gods

A komainu with the nature of both a Shishi and a Komainu at the same time. Both Komainu and Shishi have a peculiar nature: they will seek out places where people worship, like the Hakurei Shrine, Moriya Shrine, or Myouren Temple, and decide to guard them on their own. It’s in their genes, but they’re not really all that strong, so they often lose. She was headed to the Hakurei Shrine for a flower viewing when the incident broke out. She’d only wanted to go get drunk and watch pretty flowers, but somehow ended up fighting. She really didn’t want to fight a shrine maiden, but ended up enjoying herself regardless. She found a bottomless well of power deep inside her, and a chill ran up her spine. She realizes that something grave was happening in Gensokyo, even if she doesn’t know how or why.

Office-mate who loves CNN but doesn't understand how televisions work is destroyed by that which she loves most

Hi! Long time lurker, first time poster. I told this story to my friend and she suggested I post it here, so here it is for your judgement/enjoyment!

I work in a small office with only 6 people. The way the office is broken up I share my office with another person, so we’re essentially facing each other. It’s away from the other offices, so we’re kind of left to our own devices. I’ve been working here for about three years now, and have always gotten along with my office-mate. My old office-mate left to start a family, so I’ve been alone for a bit before they hired Marge.

Marge is what you’d find if you googled “worst office-mate.” She brings in smelly food she eats at her desk, she plays loud music in our shared space (even after being asked not to), she fights with the boss on every little thing, she’s nosy (always asking me where I’ve been when I walk back into the office, and I’ve literally caught her listening in at the bosses door). She asks me invasive questions, and when I finally snapped at her to mind her own business she acted like I’d personally assaulted her.

She HATES Trump, which, I mean, everyone in this office does, but she feels the need to CONSTANTLY TALK ABOUT HIM. She is CONSTANTLY relating headlines and giving her commentary, it’s like we have CNN on at the office. I honestly wouldn’t find this so irksome if she didn’t call him a racist in one breath, and in the next lament that there “are not enough white doctors” in America. Whatever. I only bring this up because of what happens next.

Since she loves to be outraged by Trump she needs to watch CNN as much as possible. And again, I just want to point out that we’re ALL outraged by Trump, we just don’t talk about him constantly - and gleefully. It seems like she enjoys hating him. While WE are all sick about the racist shit happening across the country, it seems like SHE is enjoying the unrest, like she loves to be outraged. It seems inauthentic to me, and for whatever reason her attitude offends me.

Anyway, she needs to watch CNN. So, on her break she heads to the office break room which is shared by everyone in the building (like 300 companies). The TV is set by default to CNN but sometimes someone will change it. I noticed that, since she is electronic illiterate, she cannot figure out how to change the channels on the flat screen TV (she asked me for help but I told her I didn’t know how lol). I noticed that she got really upset one day when the TV wasn’t turned to CNN, and complained to the front desk reception (lol wut?) who dutifully sent the maintenance man up to change the damn channel.


So, since I am a petty person, I downloaded an app that can work as a universal remote. I synced it to the break room TV and, since I take my lunch before her, I’d switch it away from CNN from the comfort of my chair. No one is in the break room while I’m on lunch, so it’s not disruptive.

Every day I’d take my lunch, relax in the break room, and watch the nature channel. Every day Marge would demand that the maintenance man go up and switch the channel for her. I don’t know if they offered to “teach” her to change the channel, or if she’s just too stupid to figure it out from watching, or what, but every day she is upset, and every day she comes back from lunch complaining that “this whole office is against me.”


This went on for a while. BUT, one fateful day I was heading to the bathroom when I heard a commotion coming from the first floor lobby. I wander over and look over the railing to see Marge squaring off with the girls at reception, yelling at the top of her lungs.


(Side note: she totally has the “I want to speak to your manager” haircut)

The poor girl at reception says something back, I can’t really hear since she spoke at a normal volume, but I think it was along the lines of “our maintenance person is busy” because Marge continues with:


She was yelling all sorts of things, some of which I can’t even remember. The gist of it was that Marge felt the staff of the office building was personally attacking her by not switching it to CNN on demand.

I get an idea and sprint back towards our office. I vault over a desk, skid around a corner, fling open our door, and compose myself before calmly walking by the bosses office, stopping in his doorway and tilting my head.

“Do you hear that?” I ask, innocently.

“What?” He asks, looking up from his work.

“That yelling - do you hear that?”

The boss gets up with a curious look on his face and I shrug and walk away. He walks out of the office and out onto the landing, just in time to witness Marge call a tearful receptionist an “incompetent idiot.” and “a stupid Mexican” (I know, she’s a racist pig, that’s part of why I’ve been messing with her).

Boss watches quietly for a minute before going back into his office. I sit down at my desk and get back to work. Soon, Marge storms in, still angry. She’s grumbling and visibly upset.

Boss calls her into his office. Meanwhile, the clock strikes 6 and I pack up to leave. I can hear muffled yelling coming from bosses office but it’s time to leave so I grab my stuff and head out.

The next morning I head to work and notice something is different right away. I walk into my office and see that everything that belonged to Marge has been cleared away.

She’d been fired. My boss bought the receptionist a bouquet of flowers to apologize and fired Marge. I’m told that she didn’t do much work anyway and they probably won’t replace her.

Now I not only am rid of the most hateful bitch I’ve ever know, but I have my office all to myself now.

I’m pretty pleased with myself, honestly. And my boss.

Edit: Maybe I shouldn’t have added the bit about Trump, but I thought it was important to show her hypocrisy as one of the reasons she’s deserving of petty justice. I didn’t mean for the comment section to focus on the politics of it or devolve into name-calling, though I probably should have guessed it.

Look, bottom line: There are shitty people who are democrats, and shitty people who are republicans. There are also great people who are democrats, and great people who are republicans. Marge was a shitty person who happened to be a democrat - this says nothing about anything other than that she is an awful, hypocritical person. If you’re using this to justify hating on democrats, or republicans, blindly, then you’re likely just as bad as Marge herself.

Imagine Jagged Stone being the reason and a driving force behind Marinette's Career taking offp

Imagine Jagged Stone getting really tired of people just not getting his style. The clothes that are chosen for him are boring, his new Image Consultant wants to turn him into a ‘XY-wannabe’ (needless to say they didn’t last very long) and his record contract with Bob Ross Music was torn up after a final explosive argument even though he reached number one again.

The only bright spot seems to be the album cover that the cheery middle-school student, Marinette, designed for him. Everything about it was him and she even added a smelly-sticker that had the whole ‘sweat and leather’ thing Rock ‘n’ Roll was about. Also the shades she gave him were pretty sweet. So he figures he’d personally give her some back stage passes to his latest concert as a thank you and maybe to see her again because her facial expressions are hilarious. 

Marinette arrives at the Palace to pick up the tickets and she practically falls over herself thanking him for the tickets. For convenient Plot Shenanigans, her sketchbook falls out of her bag while she’s thanking him and Jagged sees just how much talent Marinette has and where her true passion lies.


Imagine one thing leading to another and Marinette finds herself commissioned for a jacket for Jagged to wear at his next concert.

She makes the jacket and Jagged adores it. He loves it so much, he has to be talked out of making Marinette his personal fashion designer by Penny, his new contractor and Fang (though it’s definitely a close call and it’s only the fact Marinette hasn’t finished high school stops him [Education is important]).

So he does the next best thing. He hires her on a semi-regular basis.

Imagine Jagged and Marinette end up meeting often to discuss styles, colours, textures and general fashion choices.

Imagine Jagged hiring Marinette to make various accessories and clothes for various publicity events. (Though he does take into account of her schooling and doesn’t overwhelm her with commissions.)

Imagine Jagged Stone and Marinette becoming good friends to the point he gives her special behind-the-scenes access to publicity events so she can be inspired and he becomes something of a mentor when dealing with fame and publicity. She talks to him about the odd boy issue (he is no help at all because he just laughs at her) and Chloe being Chloe and how she gets discouraged about her designs occasionally.

Imagine Jagged bragging about the sweet, talented student that made his accessories for an award ceremony to other celebrities and on television. (He wanted her and her family to come too but it was a school night.)

Imagine Marinette wondering where all these commissions from celebrities are coming from and why Jagged looks a bit too pleased with himself every time she brings it up.

Imagine Jagged celebrating loudly when Marinette receives several summer internships from various fashion companies after seeing her talent even though she is so young.

Imagine Marinette’s fashion career taking off through various celebrities and public figures all adoring her designs . It becomes a thing where people begin to brag about having a 'Marinette Special’.

Imagine Jagged encouraging Marinette to push her limits and use her intuition to create the best designs possible for each of her commissions. (All of her customers love her for it.)

Just Imagine that it’s all Jagged Stone’s fault Marinette’s career takes off so early.

Submitted by @my-insanity-is-an-artform

No, but seriously, Scotty and Keenser are going to be such proud uncles to Jaylah as she rips her way through the Engineering track at Starfleet Academy

Returning Home Headcanon [Pevensies]
  • Mr. Pevensie first notices the difference in his children’s eyes
  • The children have a look that makes them seem older than they really are
  • Like they’ve seen things children their age shouldn’t have seen
  • It scares him
  • Because their eyes mirror his own
  • Haunted, tired, eyes that have seen war and death
  • But that isn’t possible right?
  • What death could they have seen in Professor Kirke’s mansion?
  • Their eyes also seem older
  • Like they know things only adults know
  • They’re wiser, and Mr. Pevensie realizes that
  • Mrs. Pevensie notices something else first
  • She notices her children’s independence
  • Like one morning, she goes to the kitchen and sees Lucy making pastries
  • Since when did she know how to bake?
  • And Edmund knows how to unhitch the horses from the carriages
  • When before, he used to claim they were “too smelly”
  • She notices the change in Edmund and Lucy the most
  • But she sees differences in Susan and Peter
  • They’re less worried and protective of their younger siblings
  • It’s like they know they can take care of themselves
  • Susan and Peter carry themselves differently
  • They don’t rely on their parents anymore
  • And though it hurts Mrs. and Mr. Pevensie
  • They know that their children have grown up
44335557! (10)

Do not reuse, edit or copy and of my work(s). ©
Part 10 of an ongoing series, enjoy :)
A fanfic for a more Mature audience due to violence and language. Read at your own risk :)

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language, Mention of drugs and Adult themes.)

Summary: Your group of friends have gotten on well for years, but what happens when a divide is caused by joining the wrong people? School AU
OT5- Baekhyun, Sehun, Jongdae, Minseok and Chanyeol.

Word Count: 2,016

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15 Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21 Part 22  Part 23 Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28 Part 29

A/N: In regards to the GIF; I know not all of us reading this fic are Asian and so ‘Y/N’ does not look like this, however I just thought it was really fitting with what I wrote and so please don’t take the woman in the GIF as a literal representation of what ‘Y/N’ looks like, it was just appropriate in regards to what happens later on in the fic. :)
P.S. It’s 3AM and I’m tired so sorry for lots of grammatical errors.

You found that you had ended up at Chanyeol’s house. You walked all the way there since you needed to cool off and you decided it was probably time to see how he was doing. You knocked on the door and waited for a reply.

“Chan? It’s me. Y/N.” You called through the letter box as you waited for him to open the door. You looked and imagined how hard Chanyeol must have been working to keep up with the rent of the house, feed and clothe his family and still treat his siblings at the end of it all. You could hear crying and screaming from the other side of the door and you were positive that the noises belonged to Hani, she sounded extremely distressed even more so than usual.
After a few moments the front door opened revealing a dishevelled tall man which you almost didn’t recognise as Chanyeol. Your mouth dropped open at how bad he looked. His eyes were beetroot red and heavy bags were hanging from underneath. Untamed was not a strong enough adjective to describe Chanyeol’s hair and he smelt less than fresh. “Goodness me Chanyeol…” You whispered as he silently stepped aside and let you in. The house was in complete darkness as the curtains were still drawn. There was rubbish strewn across the floor and tables and you could hear Hani crying from her play pen. The closer you got to her, the stronger the smell of piss became.
Chanyeol was not coping.
He sank down into a slump on the floor holding his knees up to his chest as he slowly rocked his body back and forth whilst looking at nothing in particular.

“Chanyeol when was the last time you changed Hani?” You asked him as you wrinkled your nose at the putrid smell.

He didn’t reply.

You sighed as you sunk down opposite him, you cupped his face in your hands and brought his head up so that his eyes were level with yours.

“Chanyeol, don’t worry. Youngjae will come back.”

“Don’t say that…” He groaned, a tear escaping his eye. “He’s probably already lying dead in a gutter somewhere.”

“Woah Park Chanyeol! Less of the negativity please. Youngjae needs you to be strong for him right now and Hani also needs you too. I know this is hard but you need to breathe for a moment and realise that this isn’t your fault.” You leaned forward and hugged him close to your chest. He smelt rancid, Chanyeol had never been in this type of state before; this was most definitely the worst you had seen him. “Hani needs a shower and you do too.” You continued as you pulled away from him and slowly stood. “Have you been feeding her?”

“Rozz has.” He mumbled; his face melancholy and drained of any pigment it once had “She’s been coming round.”
You nodded lightly. You weren’t aware that Rozz had been keeping an eye on Chanyeol but you were glad she had been.

“Shower.” You pointed towards the stairs. “We’ll talk when you and Hani are both clean.”

A while later and Chanyeol and Hani were both downstairs clean as daisies, but their happiness wasn’t present. Hani seemed more agitated than usual and you assumed it was because she had sensed that something was wrong and noticed the absence of her younger brother, her screaming and crying had become much more frequent and it sounded more agonised. You weren’t sure if Chanyeol had told her what happened or if she’d even understand what he would be saying but you knew that she was aware of the imbalance.
You had cleaned up before the pair of them had returned downstairs to join you again. He looked the slightest bit better now that he was clean. He sighed as he sat on the sofa next to you, Hani taking a seat on his lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want to ask you how you’ve been because I know that is a stupid question…but exams are coming up Chan…”
He rolled his eyes, as though that were just another problem added to his list of already existing issues. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to talk about exams. “Prom was a disaster.” You mumbled.

“Yeah…Rozz told me. I’ve been meaning to ask if you were okay but you know….” He looked at Hani and back to you again. You nodded quietly.

“I’ve been okay…although Baek.” You sighed. “He’s been hanging around with Nel…and Reiji. Sehun said there was something wrong with him, but he never got round to telling me what it was.” You frowned as you remembered why you had ended up here in the first place.

“Oh, so you and Sehun are talking now?”

“No not really.” You sighed. You were fed up with Sehun, he had been treating you like such crap lately and now he was wasting your time; you should have been at school working your ass off for your exams. If wasting your time was a new way for him to get back at you, then he had really hit a new all time low. Your phone began to buzz; looking at it slowly you saw Sehun’s caller ID show up on the screen. You scoffed as you rejected the call.
So now that he had had his fun time he thought it was okay to call. You slowly rose from the sofa and stretched.

“Listen Chan I have to go, but please call me if you need help and please keep hope, okay?”

He gave you a weak smile as he closed his eyes.

“I don’t think I can Y/N. There’s only one thing worse than someone being dead and that’s them being missing. I have no closure; I don’t know if he’s dead or alive and it’s ripping me apart bit by bit. I don’t know if he’ll walk through the door today or tomorrow, or if he’ll never come back at all.”

Your house was silent as you sat in your room; you were home alone. Your mum had a conference half way across the country at early hours in the morning and so she was staying at a motel not too far away from the venue.

Are you sure you’re okay. You’re not scared? You can always invite one of your friends round if you need it’s dark you know.” Your mum stressed, her arm flailing about on the screen of your phone.

Mum I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Just go to sleep you need to wake up early tomorrow. I’ll speak to you soon.

Okay; I love you smelly.” She gave you an air kiss and hung up. The silence was almost deafening as you lay still on your bed listening to the sound of your heart beat. You screamed at the sudden buzzing of your phone.


I’m telling you now if you don’t stop calling me –!”

“Look, shut up. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh so now that you’ve had your little play around you find that Baekhyun is important? Prick.”

“Yeah…that was a faux pas on my part.”

“Faux pas!?” You shouted in disbelief. “Sehun you nearly had sex in front of me! Who’s the fucking low class scum now?”

“No I didn’t you’re exaggerating. If you think I’d actually have sex in front of you then you’re stupid. I’ll be round in 10 minutes I’m close by.” He hung up the phone. You’re face was tense with anger. How dare just demand you around, why did Sehun insist on treating you like you were nothing.
You felt a sinking pit in your stomach. Ever since he had called you low class scum you had felt insecure as though you were worth much less than he was to an extent and in a way it was true, maybe that was why he was allowed to treat you the way he did. The social hierarchy was never going to change and maybe it was time that you noticed that. You felt mortified as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Maybe you were low class scum? After all, your family was in plenty of debt and you were just about surviving.

You jumped at the sound of a loud bang on your front door. You frowned staying in your spot on the bed, you didn’t want to see Sehun; not at this time. But then there was a series of loud knocks. You hissed as you rose from your bed. “Fucking idiot.”
You slowly made your way down the stairs; his knocking still vibrating through the walls. At this point he was going to wake the neighbours. “What?!” You hissed as you swung the door open.

You frowned as you looked at the figure in front of you. They were wearing all black, just like Sehun but the structure was not that of Sehun’s, in fact this person was shorter you couldn’t make out the face as they were wearing a black mask and a black cap. You took a step back as you breathed shakily.

“I-I think you’ve got the wrong house.” Your eyes were wide with precaution. This individual looked extremely ominous and you were beginning to feel frightened. “Sorry I’m not the house you’re looking for.” You whispered as you began shutting the door, but the individual stuck their foot through the threshold stopping you from doing so. Your heart began to beat crazily you were so scared that you couldn’t form any coherent sentences.
There was a bright flash and a loud bang followed by a high pitched noise; the noise and impact knocking you to the ground. You lay their stunned, unable to move. Your hearing had gone funny and you could barely make out your surroundings. All you could hear was your name being called faintly in the background and you struggled to see past your blurry vision.

“Y/N? Y/N…?”

You looked up slowly as you opened your eyes to see Sehun staring down at you, his body was positioned directly above yours with his hands either side of your head, this time around you actually saw concern in his face. “Are you okay?”
You shook your head slowly as he straightened his back and helped you sit up right.

“I don’t know what happened.” Your whispered. Your hands were shaking and you were still somewhat disoriented

“You were flashbanged.” He cleared his throat as his face returned to it’s normal blank expression. “I was just pulling up outside when I saw him throw it, but I didn’t catch the face. You need to be more careful from now on.”
You frowned in his direction.

“Why would I need to be more careful from now on, what are you talking about?”

“I….just – you got attacked at prom so… you should be more careful.”

“I never told you about what happened to me at prom.”

“Yeah…one of the guys must’ve told me. It’s no big deal.”
You saw Sehun bite his lip nervously; something you had never seen him do before and it scared you immensely.

“Why are you doing that?” You frowned harder as you stared at his teeth gripping his lips as his brows knitted closer together.

“Doing what?”

“Biting your lips Sehun.” You moved away from him and inch or so.

“I want to talk to you Y/N… about Baek”

You felt that familiar twist in your stomach again, this was the second time in a day that Sehun had made it sound as though Baekhyun was in trouble and you were beginning to develop an increasingly bad feeling.

“Why what’s wrong with him? Please tell me he’s not hurt.” Worry crept into your voice and you winced at the thought of Baekhyun being in any sort of pain.
Sehun shook his head softly as he slowly rose from the ground.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, but his expression wasn’t as polite this time around.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’ll live.”

“Alright, well then let’s take a drive.”

Tags: @mentiny @exo-spn

Managerial Enslavement

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Another story from for a follower. Interestingly enough she shares a name with another previous story request. Don’t get them confused, folks, they’re not connected.

Enjoy and keep the requests and the comments coming.


If there is one thing that Rachel had learned, working the music industry, it’s that the egos of her coworkers were almost as fragile as musicians that they worked with, and they were almost as temperamental.

She had worked hard, working her way up through the ranks of her employer, a small, but well-known, music studio in Austin Texas.

Texas wasn’t a well-known for its treatment of women at the best of times, and the music industry was still somewhat in the dark ages. She had worked hard, and she had been focused. It had paid off and she had worked her way up to the co-manager of the marketing department and she took her job very seriously.

In fact, she sometimes took it more seriously than anyone else did. Having great musicians, excellent equipment, and engineers, all of that was important, but if you didn’t market it right, it wouldn’t matter, and soon nobody would be making any money.

Unfortunately, there was still the stigma the strong woman and what would’ve been a “go-getter attitude” in a man, was just being a huge bitch in her. It didn’t help that those that didn’t take her seriously, due to the fact of her relatively slim, 5’5” frame, that made it very easy for people to underestimate her, only made that mistake once.

She had no qualms at all about looking the said person right in the eye and raking them over the coals and putting them in their place, audience or not.

It didn’t matter who it was, if you were wrong, if you weren’t doing your job the right way, you would face Rachel’s wrath. She had left more than one co-worker or subordinate seething in rage at her matter-of-fact delivery of their shortcomings.

The thing was, she didn’t do it to be cruel, she just wanted the job done, and unfortunately, she had a slight blind spot for the repercussions of what she was doing. In short order, she had developed a reputation and she was willing to take full advantage of it.

If the reputation of being a hardcore bitch could get people to do their job without her having to actually be a bitch, then so much the better.

In reality, she was a very nice person. She liked people and she liked to make people smile, but at work, she had to be the Mr. Hyde to her normal everyday life kindhearted Dr. Jekyll.

It was, she had learned, the only way to get things done.

Unfortunately for her, small men with bruised egos had long memories and that would eventually turn out to be her undoing.


It was a normal Friday night, just like any other night she was finishing work and it was long since dark, and she’d sent everyone else home long ago; she worked best on some things when she was by herself. Mostly because she didn’t have to bother the putting on airs.

She could just be who she was and get the work done.

Tonight, she was setting up everything for the following week, since she was taking a well-deserved vacation.

As she left the studio, and headed for her car on automatic pilot, as she had made this trip so many times the past, she didn’t pay attention to the instincts within her. Instincts honed by millions of years of human evolution that warned her the predator was nearby.

The first indication of trouble was when the hand clamped over her mouth, and the arm wrapped around her waist. She tried to scream, but of course, the hand left no room for the sound to escape and her small frame was easily picked up and thrown, none too gently, into the back of a van.

The impact in the rear of the van knocked the wind out of her, and by the time she got her wits together and her air back to scream again somebody had already stuffed something into her mouth blocking the sound once again.

Then there were multiple sets of hands upon her. Her own hands were yanked behind her, and she felt duct tape wrapped around her wrists repeatedly pinning them in place. Soon her high-heeled shoes were gone and tape wrapped around her ankles and then her knees. She continued to struggle and fight, but as increasing layers of the tape were wrapped around her body, her movements became less and less effective and, eventually, became little more than symbolic efforts.

Then, to her horror, she recognized a voice that whispered gently, yet mockingly in her ear, “you didn’t think we were gonna let you get away with it forever, did you, you stupid bitch?”

She knew that voice, it was Jonathan, one of the people in her department that she often had problems with.

Jonathan thought he was a lot better at his job that he really was, and when he failed at his job, he blamed everyone else but himself.

The sad part was, he had the skill, and he was an intelligent and well-educated individual if he would just listen to those that tried to help him, rather than blame and attack anyone and everyone when he messed up, he’d be pretty good at what he did. Instead, e relied on the fact that he was the son of a friend of the owner, and the chances of him ever being fired were virtually nonexistent.

Rachel didn’t want him working in her office because he wasn’t reliable, and his presence was practically caustic to the office environment. She’d stopped giving him jobs to do because she just couldn’t count on him to get them done.

He confronted her several times about that saying, how is he supposed to impress anybody if he wasn’t given the opportunity to do so?

They had had an argument two days ago, and tempers had flared as he, once again, asked why he wasn’t being given assignments would help him improve and move up. He even accused her of trying to keep him down because she didn’t want him to show her up. That had been the last straw and she had pointedly told him, “I can’t count on you, we can’t count on you, how and why the fuck would I give you extra responsibility when I know you’re going to fail?”

For a moment, she had been afraid that he was going to attack her; the cold dark angry look in his eye had made her shudder in fear.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, he’d gotten himself under control and said, “you’re going to regret that.”

She tried to report the not so veiled threat to her boss, but he had blown it off as, “the kid’s just shooting his mouth off”

now apparently, the “kid” was very serious.

She tried to call his name, hoping to reason with him, with them, but whatever they stuffed in her mouth and taped in place made intelligible speech impossible. Soon, the inside of the van was filled with the sounds of clothing being torn as her clothes were shredded from her body.

Rachel started to fight even harder, as she knew there was only one thing that removing her clothes could precipitate.

They were going to rape her.

Not if she had anything to say about it, and she continued to fight and kick and even caught one man with her legs doubled up but it wasn’t enough.

They simply held her down, using their own body weight to overcome her relatively ineffectual strength.

Eventually, she was rolled over and sat up, and that’s when she noticed that the other men were all wearing masks to hide their identity. Only Jonathan’s head was uncovered, and he held her head in place, his arm wrapped around her throat, as he whispered in her ear, telling her how much he was going to enjoy teaching her a lesson. How much he was going to enjoy putting her in her place, “once and for all.”

Finally, they arrived wherever it was they were going and she found herself carried, unceremoniously, into a basement. When they got to the bottom of the stairs they all stopped for a second, giving Rachel a chance to look around the room and see all the things scattered around. She realized, with a shudder of fear, that they had been planning this for a while as there was a multitude of equipment and gear all around and hanging from the walls. She wasn’t an expert or anything, but even she recognized, almost instinctively, that the gear had basically only two purposes; to bind her in place or to hurt her.

They carried her over, to one area and her legs were untapped but soon bound to a long pole that kept them apart, her arms were bound tightly behind her, and a large wooden block was bolted around her neck and then suspended from the ceiling.

Jonathan laughed at her as he lowered a foul-smelling bucket over her head and said, “smelly bucket for a smelly cunt.”

She growled and yelled in gagged protest as the men tied her tits and proceeded to fondle and molest her helpless tied body with their hands and even a vibrator.

She raged and fought, having no idea, that this was just the beginning of her ordeal.


Rachel was losing track of time and as a result, she didn’t know how long she’d been here now.

Days, surely, and she was sure it had been at least a week at the very least. The first few days were almost nonstop, she knew that had been the weekend. The men had almost taken shifts, using her body, raping her, or beating her.

When they weren’t all ganging up on her at the same time and abusing her, that is, which happened a lot. Even if it only started with one, forcing himself into her, while making her kneel on top of him, the others would soon follow.

They had no qualms about wrapping her head in plastic and duct tape. Completely ignoring how dangerous that was, and how difficult, if not impossible it nearly made her breathing.

They’d simply laugh and stuff her holes, all the while telling her what a nasty, horny, greedy little cunt she was. She wanted to tell them that she couldn’t help her body’s reaction, not that they’d care of course.

All they cared about was getting as many dicks into at once as they could.

The first day she’d woken up after a night of awful rape and abuse Jonathan had come in with something in his hand. He told her that while the others could wear masks, they were hot and uncomfortable, and he didn’t think that was fair to them.

He could, he said, just blind her, he figured, and when he said it such a matter of fact voice that Rachel shuddered and started mumbling and pleading incoherently behind her gag. He smiled and laughed for as he watched her for a while before slapping her thigh with the cane he had in his hand and told her to shut up.

He said he wasn’t going to do that because then he couldn’t appreciate the fear as much so he had a solution.

Over the next twenty minutes, with occasional beating on her tits with the cane to get her to cooperate, he put black contacts in her eyes.

“That way,” he said, “we can still see your fear, but you can’t see us.”

Of course, the added bonus was that with the contacts in, and no way to remove them due to her arms being so well bound, even if, somehow, a chance of escape presented itself, it would be very unlikely she’d be able to take advantage of it.

Rachel had no doubt this had been considered when the decision was made to force her to wear the contacts.


As her ordeal continued she learned very quickly that Jonathan had an unhealthy obsession with beating her ass. He was when he wasn’t otherwise abusing or raping her, always counted on to come down and lock her into a frame she’d learned to fear. When bound to it, she could be easily beaten on her poor ass with no chance to protect herself.

Johnathan took full advantage of this and most of all and enjoyed her agonizing screams as he beat her ass with strap, whip, and paddle.

These men, that she had eventually recognized from work, at least by voice, were not a sadistic, at least not in that way. But every single one of them had taken great delight in her helplessness as they fucked her and ass, cunt, and mouth multiple times, with no consideration of her well-being or consent.

They degraded her, they insulted her, they belittled everything about her, but they didn’t enjoy torturing her like Jonathan did.

In the back of her mind, the thought came to her that she was sure that her ass was going to scar, with the amount of punishment he had dished out to her poor cheeks. That was when a voice in the back of her head whispered, ‘if he lets you live.’

She shuddered when she heard that voice, and tried desperately to ignore it, instead of trying to gather some strength in the hope that she would get out of this.

Surely, they were going to make mistakes. Eventually, she was going to get away, and she was going to see every single one of the sons of bitches sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Then they’d be the ones getting raped.

It was that thought alone that allowed her to endure what she was suffering, the chance for eventual vengeance.

Sadly, that wasn’t to be.

What Rachel didn’t know, what she couldn’t possibly know, was that that friend of the owner that was Jonathan’s father, had a very secret life, a very covert source of income. He was a professional white slaver, and when Jonathan had come to him with the issue of the “bitch boss” his father had offered him a simple and elegant solution.

It hadn’t been hard to get some of the other guys at work to agree to the gang rape. These were men that were shady in the past, to begin with, and they didn’t like the bitchy attitude Rachel demonstrated any more than Jonathan himself and so they all agreed. A pact had been made, that after they were done with her, Jonathan would handle making sure that she could never ever go to the cops.

So, once their enjoyment had ended, poor Rachel’s nightmare was just beginning.

“Well”, a new voice said, causing Rachel to stir from the near catatonic state she was in at this point, “you boys weren’t nearly as rough on her as I thought you would be.”

She tried to see who was there, but, as always, the contacts prevented that. She settled for squealing and crying behind her gag, but she was simply ignored as Jonathan and this new person continued to talk about her like she wasn’t there.

“I knew what was going to eventually happen,” Jonathan’s voice said, “I tried to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Yet her ass is pretty well scrapped,” the voice said, chuckling. Jonathan said, in the defensive voice of his, “I know what I’m doing. You taught me well.”

“That’s true,” the voice said, then after a moment, “no one’s asking about her at work, then?”

“No,” Jonathan said, “she was supposed to go on vacation for a week, not supposed to be back to work until Monday.”

The man nodded. He’d already made a covert visit to her home, taking her packed luggage and other items she would have taken for her vacation. Her car and been left at the long-term airport parking. With Monday being a couple of days away he still had plenty of time to make sure she vanished completely.

That was, of course, dependent upon some loose ends.

“You’re sure that the others that were with you, aren’t going to break and spill the beans,” the voice asked, “do I need to arrange for that to be dealt with?”

“No,” Jonathan said quickly, “they’re all cool. I’ve been dropping hints all week that I’m going to give the little cunt here a chance to leave town and never come back because of the videos that I’ve been shooting.”

His laughter echoed in the basement as he continued, “edited right, they would make her look like a slut in heat and it would ruin her and her career. If she ever tried to go to the cops, the videos would make it very difficult for her to get a conviction. Especially since, thanks to the contacts, she doesn’t even know who they are. She can guess, but she can’t prove it. Not that any of that matters.”

Jonathan’s voice was earnest and the man knew why. Regardless of their relationship, Jonathan was the only one that knew what Rachel’s ultimate fate would be. If the cops came sniffing around the man would have no qualms about plugging the leak, and Jonathan, if that’s what it took to protect himself.

“All right,” the other voice said, “I guess you should get out of here, it’s time for me to get the work.”

Rachel heard Jonathan leave and she rolled over, intent on begging through her gag for this new person to help her, but before she could utter a single word, a hand locked around Rachel’s throat and squeezed hard enough that her body flooded with adrenaline, and she was instantly awake.

“I’m sure you think that you’ve gone through the worst thing you can possibly imagine,” the voice said, coldly, “that being raped over and over and over the past week is the worst thing you could endure. Let me assure you, that worst hasn’t even begun, yet.”

The hand released her throat after another warning squeeze and Rachel realized it was a warning to stay silent, “I might as well let you know what would happen.”

Rachel tried to follow the man’s voice as she looked out into the artificial blackness the contacts created. If she had been able to see, she would have noticed that the large man had slightly familiar features and a cold, hard, and dark look in the eye that would have made her want to run, “My son, Jonathan,” the man began, and she started at that information, “alerted me that you’re an ignorant arrogant fucking cunt and that you’re making his life difficult. He asked me what he should do with you and that’s what has led to your current situation.”

Rachel just stared in shock as the man continued, as if the conversation were completely normal, “once I saw photos of you, I made a decision,” he knelt next to her and ran his hands, knowingly, over her fear hardened nipples. When she tried to pull away his fingers tightened almost to the point of pain and she realized he would hurt her if she tried to fight so she resigned herself, once again, to letting someone molest her body.

“In my particular line of work,” he said, smiling at her surrender, “a woman like you can be worth quite a lot.”

The confusion on Rachel’s face was obvious, she understood the words he was saying, but she wasn’t comprehending his true meaning.

He seemed to instinctively understand this, knowing that the last week had played with her cognitive abilities quite a bit. She was exhausted, morally defeated, and hurt in ways that she had never imagined in her entire life. All that was making it very difficult for her to think.

The man, therefore, chose to spell it out clearly and said, “I am going to make you disappear, Rachel, I am going to train you, and turn you into a sex slave.”

Rachel jumped as he said that, and started to squirm against her bondage. The man just ignored her, and ignored the screaming coming from her gagged mouth, “that’s right, I’m going to break you. I am going to turn you into a slave. Everything that you know, everything that you are, everything that is important to you is going to be systematically stripped away and when I’m done with you all that’s going to be left is a biological pain unit to be used for entertainment or for sex and you will embrace that willingly,” this time he did squeeze her nipple painfully, as he leaned in even closer to her face, and his hot breath tickled her throat and caused goose bumps to rise on her skin, “at that point I will find a buyer for you and I will sell you to the most sadistic individual I can find and you will spend the rest of your miserable life on your knees in agonizing servitude.”

He released her nipple and stood, and then said, “So, let’s get you packaged up so I can get you back to my workshop, and we can begin.”

The scream that simple statement pulled from Rachel came from the very depths of her soul.


Over the next several months, the man proved to be true to his word.

He took great delight, in telling Rachel exactly what he was doing. Exactly how he was stripping away her humanity, her defenses, her self-respect, how he was breaking her spirit, her will, her very soul.

It didn’t matter. Even knowing what he was doing and how he was doing it, was no defense. Between the pain that he would inflict, the various forms of bondage, the whippings, electrical shocks she was forced to endure, and of course, the rape the seemed almost perpetual in its nature.

Everything he did was designed to humiliate, hurt, or defeat her.

Whipping her tits, became one of his favorite things early on. To his delight, he learned that they were extremely sensitive, and he took advantage of that by banding them whenever possible, applying tight rubber bands to the base of her nipples, squeezing them tightly, and, incredibly, making the traitorous buds even more sensitive as they jutted out from her chest, begging for attention, and abuse.

Her captor made sure to take full advantage of that, concentrating on her nipples whenever possible such that, after a few weeks of her training, she would literally beg for anything, anything, to prevent the whipping of her nipples.

Yes, it hurt when he whipped or punished her pussy, or cunt, as he made her call it, but her nipples were just somehow worse. So, she’d beg and she’d promise to do any and all sorts of depraved acts if he would just show her some mercy.

Unfortunately, for her, it didn’t work that way. He would do what he wanted to her anyway, usually stopping, when he became annoyed with her whining, crying, and begging, to subject her to something short, painful, and humiliating, and then he would go back to torturing or whipping her nipples anyway.

That happened a few times before she realized that was another lesson, all on its own.

It was a way of helping her to learn that she had nothing to negotiate with. There was nothing he couldn’t make her do. If he wanted her to stick her ass up in the air so he could slide his cock into it, all it took was the application of enough pain and she would do it.

Her first few days, were where she’d tried the muster some resistance against what was happening, had taught her this well.

They’d also taught her that resistance got her nothing. Only more pain. If he wanted to fuck her in her ass, he would fuck her in her ass. If he wanted her to blow him, she would blow him. The only question was how much pain she would endure beforehand and how much she would suffer after.

Even her orgasms were just another way of degrading, humiliating, and breaking her.

He would make her ride a Sybian, for hours. So close to orgasm, but never quite able to achieve it, she felt as if she was going mad.

Then, he would change it up, and leave her to orgasm again, and again, and again.

The results mean that her pussy was constantly raw, and constantly dripping with need. She would often catch herself, pumping the air, with her the need and desire. He always seemed to be there to witness that and laughed at how she had become just a wanton, desperately needy whore.

He often liked to combine the Sybian and her tit torture together. Mounting her on the wall like a perverse trophy, forcing her to ride the Sybian as he applied stroke after stroke of burning agony to her nipples with a whip. A tight rope around her neck attached to a pully and a heavy weight reduced her ability to move considerably. The result was that all she could do was scream, beg, suffer, and slowly lose her mind.

He always laughed at her and told her how well her training was progressing when he did this. She wanted to swear and scream at him when he said that. The problem was, she could tell he was right. Her mind was breaking, he was defeating her, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

She knew what was happening, she knew how it was happening, and she was still completely helpless and powerless to change the course of her life.


That lesson, her utter helplessness, and powerlessness to stop what was happening, was never more real than when the lesson centered around her very life.

On more than one occasion, her captor liked to play a game in which he made it very clear that that, her life, was his to command, totally.

He bound her into a position with her feet tied to her throat, a hook in her ass, tied to her head, and her hands, bound in front of her, the only way to take pressure off her throat and keep breathing.

Then the bastard had put a plastic bag over her head, and taped it into place.

She’d struggled and fought to breathe, eventually begging, pathetically, for mercy. Of course, he’d laughed and even as he tore an air hole in the bag he’d told her the price of air was sucking cock.

She’d done it, knowing there was no other option, opening her mouth wide and taking his cock into her mouth. Obediently sucking until it was hard and then continuing to work it with her mouth till it was hard. She knew she had only a short time to get it hard or he would torture her for her “failure”.

It always seemed there was some way for her to fail him, some way to make it necessary for him to punish her more.

She knew that was part of the training, he’d told her as much when they started. Still, she was completely demoralized as even knowing this was just a trick he was playing on her mind, she still couldn’t help but respond to it, and try to be better, for him.

As much as that disgusted her, she did remember that it was also a survival trait.

 This wasn’t the first time he’d bound her like this and she remembered the first time they’d played this “game” her refusal to suck had earned her tortures with both the cane and an electrical wand.

He had shocked her for what had seemed like hours. Telling her what a disappointment and a failure she was. What an ignorant and pathetic cunt she was to not even appreciate her master enough to suck his cock.

On and on it had gone, for what had felt like hours, shock after shock to her tits, her ass, her side, even occasional shocks to her asshole.

Then the cane, blow after blow on her feet. None of them especially hard, but the accumulation of impacts left her struggling and screaming in utter agony at the slightest impact.

As time passed she went from accepting and agreeing to suck his cock, to even asking for it, anything to stop the suffering.

Finally, the pain had reached a crescendo where she was screaming and begging at the top of her lungs for permission to suck his cock. He’d made her claim herself to be an unworthy, useless cock hole that was a failure when she wasn’t pleasing cock to the best of her worthless ability.

The shame had crawled across her mind and into her soul at that, even as she opened her mouth wide, and accepted the cock.

The humiliation became complete that day when, as she was sucking his cock and trying her literal best to please him, he spit in her face and told her she was barely adequate.

He asked her if she could think of a single reason he should bother to keep her around.

She’d closed her eyes in defeat and, rather than trying to answer him, knowing it would get her punished for stopping, she swallowed the tattered vestiges of her pride and started sucking harder on the cock in her mouth.

She didn’t see the smile that crossed his face but she did feel the hand as it gently caressed her head and said, “good hole.”

She didn’t think she could hate herself more at the pleasure that praise brought her.


At one point, just after the first time she’d referred to the man that held her as “Master” in her own mind, depression had mixed with the last vestiges of her resistance and she had decided, inexplicably, to kill herself.

Unfortunately, there was no way to just do it, so she had decided, rather insanely, that she was going to starve herself. It wouldn’t be quick, but it would be her decision.

She was ready, she convinced herself, to endure anything he dished out, but she would not eat. Even if he made her eat, occasionally, the overall effect would be her life ending. She would end her life on her terms and he would have no say in that.

No one could say this was a good plan, and if she were more rational she’d understand that, but the weeks and months she’d been held had played havoc on her rationality and she simply was not thinking clearly.

All she could think about was making it all end, the suffering, the pain, the degradation, the humiliation, the rape, and most of all the undeniable feeling that she was losing herself.

Better to die the woman she was and wanted to be than to live a life as the thing she knew he wanted her to be and, undeniably, could force her to become.

She was so naïve.

He’d realized what she was doing early and offered her some food, just to see what she’d do.

With as much defiance as she could muster, she refused and turned her head away.

He stood up and she expected he’d torture her in some vile way, perhaps even rape her, to force her to comply.

He did neither, and, to her utter surprise, simply chose to walk out.

Three hours later she realized why as she was strapped tightly into a device and a woman, whom she’d never seen, was there.

No words were said, no introductions made as the woman simply picked up a pair of shears, and incredibly, began to shave her head.

She tried to fight, of course, and cried the entire time, but she was ignored as the shears were eventually replaced with shaving cream and a razor.

Eventually, her head was completely hairless and the woman strapped a contrivance into her nose and forced her cheeks open, and effectively immobilized her head. The woman nodded once she was satisfied with the tension, saying something about it, being easier to see this way.

The woman also, once that was done, took great delight in, at her Captors insistence, played with her cunt until Rachel was screaming for release, and mercy all at the same time.

Once again none came and she was left a quivering, balling wreck when the woman walked away to the other side of the room. Her Captor simply stood there silently and watched.

She was still crying when the woman walked up in front of her with some equipment, and before Rachel could do anything, the woman began stuffing something up her nose.

She choked, sputtered, fought, and cried but was helpless to stop whatever it was sliding down the back of her throat and on down into her stomach. She was terrified as she had been able to feel it the entire way on its journey.

Eventually, the woman stopped and used some medical tape to attach whatever was running out of her nose, to the back of her head.

Rachel knew that, whatever this was, she wasn’t going to like it.

Then, her captor was there, with one of his dreaded helmets.

He looked at Rachel and said, “You’re not the first that’s tried to starve themselves, and you won’t be the last,” Rachel looked at him, fear was the main look on her face, but there was anger there too.

“That’s why I got Amanda here to help me,” he indicated the woman, “she’s a mean mistress and one of the very few women on this earth that I think doesn’t belong in a collar.”

He wasn’t looking at the woman, Amanda, but Rachel saw a look of loathing cross her features at that.

If the man saw the look on Rachel’s distorted face he didn’t say anything as he stepped closer, “But that’s not what’s important. What is important is that when Amanda isn’t breaking bitches of her own, she’s a part-time nurse.”

Rachel looked at the woman, somehow that information seemed not to fit, how could someone so cruel have a job that required compassion.

The man grabbed Rachel’s chin, “What she did was stick a feeding tube up your nose, and down into your stomach,” Rachel looked at him in horror.

“That means I can feed you and I don’t have to let you use your mouth. I shaved your head because I wanted this,” he held up the helmet, “To fit as tight as possible because I’m not taking it off for a long, long while.”

Rachel screamed and started begging at that point. Apologizing for her defiance, promising to eat right now if he would just let her. Both he and Amanda, or rather, Mistress Amanda had laughed.

She was balling as he removed the device Amanda had used to keep her head still and the mask went over her head after he’d inserted the earplugs. She was plunged into virtually complete silence, and utter darkness.

She didn’t know how long she’d been in the mask. Time completely lost all meaning. Her Master still tortured, her, raped her, punished her in unspeakable ways.

For her, it was an eternity as time had lost all meaning. Days became hours, hours became days, and days became weeks.

It was an eternity of suffering in total darkness.

Only occasionally was her mouth even exposed, let alone used, and she’d learned after the horrific beating she’d received, when she tried to beg for mercy the first time, not to try to speak.

She learned, in no uncertain terms, that when the lower part of the helmet was unzipped, her only purpose was to suck, swallow, and be silent.

Even in the helmet, her training continued, as he trained her as one would an animal, with pure tactile positive and negative reinforcement.

Over the course of the months he kept her hooded she learned to stand, kneel, walk, crawl, and position her body perfectly, all with little more than a touch of the hand, cane, or whip.

She moved without thinking and obeyed with no thought at all beyond pleasing and obeying the Master. That is what her mind had been reduced to.

When the mask finally came off, she had nearly three inches of hair and was completely and utterly destroyed.

The darkness and the suffering had truly broken her spirit, dominated her mind, crushed her will, and shattered her spirit.

When the helmet was removed anything that had been Rachel had simply collapsed into the broken slave that had stopped thinking, stopped fighting, stopped doing anything except obeying, instantaneously and without question.

The idea of escape had vanished from her mind entirely.

Everything she had been had been chipped away at and forgotten little by little, day by day, until, by the time the helmet and feeding tube had been removed, she had to fight hard to even remember what her name had been.

He continued to train her for an additional two months afterward, making sure that she was as broken as she could possibly be, but he needn’t have worried; the helmet had done its job.

She was a masterpiece.

A wanton, desperately needy sex slave, who he knew was going to bring him a fine, fine profit.

He allowed her hair to continue to grow. Pleased at its natural auburn color. Dye jobs might be worth money in Hollywood, but on the open market, they indicated a level of upkeep and maintenance that most simply were not interested in.

Her new owner, most likely, would have shaved her head anyway, so this simply saved the trouble and allowed her to have some amount of hair that could be styled just right to add to her price. Overall, he was quite pleased with the outcome and knew that he was in line for a very high profit.


Rachel’s sale was now far, far behind her. She couldn’t even tell you what year it was, or the date, so she certainly couldn’t tell you how long she had been a slave. She couldn’t even tell you what country she was in as things like that didn’t matter to an object.

In truth, it would have been very difficult for her to tell you anything at all given the fact that, due to her Master’s connections, he had arranged for a surgery that, once completed, resulted in her complete muteness.

While others might be appalled or cry at this, the slave that had been Rachel simply accepted it as what her Master wished, nothing more.

Her purpose was to serve and obey, and that was all.

Her new Master had paid nearly 6 figures for her but felt that she was worth every penny. She suffered beautifully and could be counted on to struggle just enough when the pain started, just enough to make it entertaining.

When he first purchased her, he happily used her in several of his parties, as a pain object.

This action served to destroy her mind even further, and continue to break any spirit that might be trying to recover. Any remnants of who she had been before her sale, were completely eradicated in those parties.

Now, she was his.

Bound into permanent bondage, she knelt obediently beside his couch, waiting for any order. No longer gagged, as, given her muteness, there was no reason. Besides, it was much easier for her to suck his cock when he wanted, without the need of removing a gag.

Of course, sometimes he still gagged her simply because he liked the look, but her ability to scream in pain and suffering had been severely curtailed, due to the surgery.

That didn’t matter to him, he knew the pain that he inflicted, and he knew the suffering that she endured when he did so. He did not need the validation of her screams to know how effective he was. Besides, in doing so, he left her mouth free to suck his cock whenever he ordered it, and she did so like the obedient pet that she was.

For now, it was feeding time, and he laid the dog bowl down in front of her so she could eat the paste that was her only form of sustenance beyond his cum and that of his guests when he used her for parties.

As she sat there, licking her bowl clean, he noted, absently, that he could never believe she was the arrogant, bitch executive that she had been advertised as.

You just couldn’t see it anymore.

He was quite sure, if there had been any of her mind left, that she would’ve been very sorry for the way she acted, and would’ve happily made amends if possible.

Sadly, for her, there were no amends to be made. She would spend the rest of her life as a used, abused, and violated sex toy.

However, deep, deep into her psyche, there was just a shred of Rachel left. It would never be seen, and would never have any influence or control again, but it would watch as its body and mind were further abused, and violated.

And as it did so, not a microsecond would go by, that it didn’t wish it could go back and make things right.

  • Sansa sighed as she stitched. “Poor Jon,” she said. “He gets jealous because he’s a bastard.”
  • Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. “A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.“She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf,” Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. 
  • “I hate riding,” Sansa said fervently. “All it does is get you soiled and dusty and sore.”
  • Joffrey reflected a moment. “We could go riding." "Oh, I love riding,” Sansa said.
  • Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher’s boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick.
  • Sansa lifted her head. “It will be a splendid event. You shan’t be wanted.”
  • “I’m sore all over,” Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg.“You must be a terrible dancer,“ Sansa said
  • "There was a black brother,”Sansa said, “begging men for the Wall, only he was kind of old and smelly.” She hadn’t liked that at all. 
  • “Go ahead, call me all the names you want,” Sansa said airily. “You won’t dare when I’m married to Joffrey. You’ll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace.”
  • The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. “I hate her!” she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night’s fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.
  • That night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.
  • “It’s not fair!“ Sansa pushed back from her table, knocked over her chair, and ran weeping from the solar.

-I love bratty sansa, truly, honestly

Young!Sirius Black x Reader: Novelist

AN: Two in one day, look at me go! I made Remus very uptight in this one and that makes me laugh.

Warnings: N/A

Requested by: Anonymous




“What, Sirius?!” Y/N called out, slamming her book down in exasperation.

He looked mock offended, flipping his hair over his shoulder and pouting his bottom lip. Y/N stared straight ahead, determined not to be drawn in by his fake attitude.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Why does Jerry smell so bad? Also, who's the 2nd smelliest monster in the underground? Honestly, I'm thinking Undyne. Just look at all the garbage in Waterfall.

Rude. Undyne takes good care of herself, she needs to be clean and healthy and… well, maybe she’s a bit smelly. Maybe she smells like sushi and sometimes like sweat and like pure, raw willpower. But she’s not so smelly.

Sans is definitely the second smelliest monster. I mean. He reeks of alcohol and mustard.

Fic: Of old and younger warlocks

When Catarina has to leave New York for a couple of days, Magnus and Alec take care of Madzie.

Magnus was just about to put the potatoes into the oven when they heard a key turning in the lock and a few seconds later, the sound of familiar steps on carpet, alongside a tired “Hello!” coming from the hallway. And from one second to another, cooking with Magnus seemed no longer interesting for Madzie.


Word count: 3,460 | Read on AO3

Being the High Warlock of Brooklyn came with certain responsibilities. A whole lot of them. Some of them Magnus enjoyed, others he hated passionately. However, there was one task that he held very close to his heart and would not dare to ignore: being there for other downworlders when they needed him. Especially not if it was one of his closest friends asking for help.

Apart from that, he had never been able to say no to Catarina Loss. So when she had called him just after Alec had left for the Institute, asking him if he would take care of Madzie while she was on a mundane nurse conference in San Francisco, he’d agreed instantly.

Catarina didn’t have to leave until the early afternoon, so Magnus had plenty of time to rearrange his apartment a bit and make it suitable for a five-year-old, aka removing his liquor cart from its usual place next to the couch and temporarily storing it away in his bedroom. The rest of the morning he spent scrolling through online stores, looking for cute toys for Madzie and conjuring up the one he liked the most. And if that selection included an unhealthy amount of plush animals, sue him. They were too cute not to borrow them from the kid’s store a few blocks from his apartment.

A couple hours later Magnus was just about done closing the buttons of the bright pink bedding he’d picked for Madzie when he felt the well-known electric energy of a portal drawing up. A few seconds later, Catarina and Madzie stepped into his living room. As soon as the little warlock caught eyes with Magnus, she let go of Catarina’s hand and ran over to him, leaving Magnus just enough time to bend down and catch her in a hug.

“Magnus!” Madzie’s voice was cheerful as always and Magnus couldn’t help but laugh at how comfortable she had become around him. She didn’t trust people easily, that much he’d learned when he met her. Besides Alec, whom she had adored since the day they’d met (Magnus couldn’t blame her), it always took her a while to warm up around new people. However, with him and Catarina being so close friends, they had seen each other a lot recently and had made great progress.

“Hey, sweet pea. How are you doing?”

Madzie beamed when she pulled away. “I’m staying with you and Alec!”

Magnus nodded. “And we are going to have lots of fun.” He pointed over to the couch, where he’d already prepped a bed for Madzie to sleep. “Why don’t you check out your bed for the next couple of day and see if it’s alright?”

Madzie nodded, skipping out of his arms and over to the couch. Magnus watched her jump onto the couch and into the mountain of pillows and plushed animals and then turned around to Catarina, wrapping her up in a hug as well. “Hey, Cat”

“Hey”, Catarina replied as they pulled apart. “Thank you for taking care of her while I’m gone. I thought about bringing her with me, but she’s still so tiny and there will be so many mundanes around. And say thanks to your shadowhunter as well.”

“As I already told you, it’s no problem at all. Alec adores her, I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

Catarina grinned. “Say that again after you’ve been through one of her temper tantrums.” She then turned towards Madzie, who was already fairly busy playing with a dollhouse Magnus had gotten her. “Alright, kiddo, I’m heading out. Can I get a kiss before I leave?”

Magnus chuckled as he watched Madzie drop the toys in her hands immediately and almost trip over her own feet when she ran over to Catarina. “Bye, auntie Cat. I’m gonna miss you”, she said and quickly pecked her on the cheek before darting off to her toys again.

Catarina just rolled her eyes as she watched the girl resuming playing with her toys, ignoring the two other warlocks completely. “Yeah, I see how much you’re gonna miss me.”
She turned over to Magnus, a scowl on her face. “Didn’t I tell you not to get her so much stuff again? You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

Magnus just shrugged and laughed. “I can’t help it. She’s had me wrapped around her finger ever since you met her, you know that. And I’ve always had a soft spot for kids.”

“True that”, Catarina scoffed and then leaned in to hug him once more before she opened a portal behind her. “Thanks again for doing this for me. I’ll see you in a few days.”


Magnus had cleared his schedule for the day in order to take care of Madzie. There were no clients to interfere with his plans, but as he had discovered last night, he was running low on a couple of supplies.

He supposed that Madzie wouldn’t mind heading out on a little supply run, and he was right. Actually more than that – she was having the time of her life. Always clinging tightly to Magnus’ hand, she chatted vividly to him as they maneuvered through the packed sidewalks of Manhattan. He found out that Madzie seemed to be able to charm the pants off pretty much anyone once she set her mind to it. As Magnus chatted to the old friend of his who owned the shop, the little girl strolled around the small shop, exploring the contents of the many shelves and cabinets, picking up jars and peering into boxes every once in a while, scrunching up her nose adorably when she came across something smelly or particularly nasty.  When Madzie came back, she tugged at the seams of Magnus’ jacket until he got the hint and picked her up so she could see eye to eye with the two adults. Leaning into Magnus’ chest, she listened attentively to what they talked about. Magnus watched with a subtle smirk as his old friend Wren practically melted away at the sight of the quiet girl with the soft, curious eyes and wasn’t even that surprised when he got a generous discount at the checkout.  

Once they were out of the store and walking back towards the quiet alley Magnus had initially portaled them to, she couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer.  


“Yes, sweet pea?”

“What are you gonna do with all of this stuff?”

Magnus smiled down at the little warlock, who was holding his hand tightly as they made their way in a group of busy mundanes rushing to their next appointments. “Potions, love. All kinds of them. There’s so many people who demand all kinds of things from me, I need to be prepared if someone orders something in particular.”

Madzie giggled. “You’re busy.”

The warlock sighed. “I am. Sometimes more than I want to be.”

Glancing around him one more time, just to be sure, he opened up a portal in front of them, then squeezed Madzie’s hand tighter and led her towards the next store on his list.


By the time they got back to the loft, the sun was already setting. They had grabbed something to eat in between portaling from one store to the next, but as Magnus quickly learned, Madzie was a hungry young lady.  Together they went through a couple of Magnus’ recipes, eventually deciding on some chicken alongside vegetables and roasted potatoes.

Magnus was just about to push the potatoes into the oven when they heard a key turning in the lock and a few seconds later, the sound of familiar steps on carpet, alongside with a tired “Hello!” coming from the hallway. And from one second to another, cooking with Magnus seemed no longer interesting for Madzie.  

Madzie’s head shot up from where she’d been concentrating on washing a few bell peppers and when she saw coming through the door, she dropped everything, jumped down from the stool Magnus had placed in front of the counter so she could actually reach something, and ran with short, but fast steps towards the hallway.


The shadowhunter laughed as he saw the tiny girl in her bright yellow dress running towards him and crouched down to catch her. He had just enough time to open his arms before she all but crashed into him. Alec hugged Madzie tightly and then pushed her away a bit so he could look at her.

“Hey, little one. What are you doing here?”

“Auntie Cat is away until next week. I’m staying with you and Magnus.”

Alec’s eyes were tired, but the smile that graced his features was as bright and genuine as always. “That’s great”, he said while picked Madzie up and made his way over to Magnus, “So, how are my two favorite warlocks in the world doing?”

Magnus rolled his eyes at him at the exaggeration, but smiled softly nonetheless. Before he had time to answer, Madzie already spoke up. “Great. We’re making dinner.”

“You are? Well if that’s not good news.” Alec set Madzie down and the two of them watched as the girl ran off to where she’d left her backpack full of toys near the couch. Alec then turned around and gently kissed Magnus hello, pulling him in for a much needed embrace afterwards.


“Hi. How was your day?” The second he’d gotten the question out, Magnus already halfway regretted asking it. He felt Alec sigh and drop his head against his shoulder. “Awful. Way too long. Jace is an asshole.”

The warlock chuckled. “Well, tell me something I don’t know.”

He let go of Alec, sliding his hands down his arms and taking one of his hands in his while he gently pulled him towards the kitchen, walking backwards and filling him in on how Madzie and him had spent the day.  “…so, before you start ranting about the Institute going down the drain for the millionth time in the past few months – how about dinner and a nice glass of wine to take the edge off, hm? I found an old Italian Red earlier today, you will love it. And I got some delicious grape juice for our guest.”

“Mhmm, you think of everything”, Alec hummed and closed the distance between the two of them again. Magnus tipped his head up just a tiny bit so he could meet him halfway for another kiss. He let himself be walked back by Alec until he felt the edge of the kitchen counter against his lower back. He leaned against it and wrapped his arms around Alec’s shoulders, pulling him closer and feeling his boyfriend relax more and more the longer he held him. They made out lazily for a while, both of them enjoying this short moment of peace in their busy lives, until they were interrupted by a high shriek and the sound of something crashing in the living room.

“First we get interrupted by my brother all the time, and now by a tiny little warlock. How is this happening all the time?”, Alec murmured inches away from Magnus’ face, then pecked his lips once more before he reached for Magnus’ hand and led them both towards the living room. “Come on, let’s see what happened.”

When they got into the living room, Madzie was standing in front of the cabinet Magnus kept prepared potions in, staring onto a pile of broken glass and a puddle of colorful liquids that were quickly soaking into the carpet.  

Magnus sighed and walked towards the cabinet to assess the damage while Alec took care of Madzie. Once he reached her, he quickly took her and led her away from the shards as Magnus set to work, pulling her into a reassuring hug once he had brought some distance between the little girl and the glass shards on the floor.  

“I was just practicing my magic. I didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry.” Madzie’s voice was shaking, and she was looking at Alec with big, scared eyes that were filling with tears.

Alec kneeled down on the floor and pulled Madzie into a reassuring hug. “Shhh, Madzie, it’s okay. We know you didn’t do it on purpose. Magnus is going to fix it, see?”

He turned the little girl towards where Magnus was already busy picking up the shards with his magic and turning them back into the jars and glasses they had once been. When the warlock realized he was being watched, he smiled softly and winked at Madzie.

“Sorry”, she mumbled again, still cuddled into Alec’s arms when Magnus approached them after he was done.

Magnus just stopped her with a wave of his hand. “No harm done, sweet pea. It’s all good, see? So, about that dinner we were making earlier – wanna help me finish it?”


Alec watched with a smile as Madzie darted towards the kitchen for a moment, then took the hand Magnus offered him and let himself be pulled back onto his feet. They watched in idle silence as Madzie got back to the sink, switching the water back on with her magic so she could continue washing the vegetables.

Alec watched Magnus, who was watching her with his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. His brows were furrowed together, his face thoughtful. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“How powerful she is. Almost too powerful for her age. She doesn’t really know what to do with her magic. Iris and Valentine may have taught her what she can do with it, but she doesn’t know how to not do anything with it. How she can control it.”

Alec frowned. “She said she was practicing her magic. Maybe you or Cat could teach her how to do that properly?”

Magnus nodded, his features relaxing. “I guess I could try. Cat has done a great job so far, but if Madzie wants to, I’ll teach her a thing or two. I’ll ask her tomorrow.  For now, we need to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or set my kitchen on fire.” He reached out and waited until Alec took his hand. “Come on, handsome. Let’s go get dinner ready.”


After dinner, Magnus volunteered to do the dishes – which Madzie smiled, but Alec just rolled his eyes upon, as he didn’t believe for a second that his boyfriend would actually wash the dirty dishes and not use any magic to get the job done. Meanwhile, Alec and Madzie headed into the bathroom so Madzie could get ready for bed. It wasn’t that late yet, just after 8pm, but Madzie was still just a five-year-old and it had been an exciting day for her. She could barely keep her eyes open while Alec loosened up her pigtails and helped her brush her teeth, and was practically half asleep once they were done and walked over to the couch.

Alec helped Madzie climb up into the mountain of pillows Magnus had gotten ready and then sat down beside her so he could tuck her in. He was just about to switch off the lights in the living room when she reached out and grabbed his wrist with her tiny hand. Her voice was already heavy with sleep when she spoke, but Alec understood her nonetheless.

“Alec? Bedtime story?”

He was just about to ask her what kind of story she wanted to hear – his repertoire was quite impressive for a shadowhunter, as he’d told countless of bedtime stories to Izzy and Max when the had been kids – but was interrupted by Magnus, who sat down beside him.

“But of course, sweet pea. I know just the story for you. It’s about a very handsome warlock who saved the young prince of an ancient kingdom with highly outdated views from making a truly terrible decision.”  Magnus looked up at Alec, his gaze full of mischief. “That is, if you don’t want to do the honors, Alexander? I believe you know that story quite well.”

Madzie giggled and Alec rolled his eyes, but did a very poor job on concealing a smirk. “No, no, you go ahead. Seems like one of those stories you don’t want to miss.”

The warlock smiled as he climbed onto the couch and got comfortable next to Madzie. “Excellent. Now scoot over, little girl, I need some space to tell my story. Alec, darling, will you dim the lights a bit? Makes it more dramatic.”

Alec sighed, but did as he was asked before he joined Magnus and Madzie on the makeshift bed and listened to Magnus’ story.

He didn’t know whether it was the many years of experience Magnus had or simply talent, but within a couple of minutes Magnus had their guest hanging on his every word. Magnus wove a colorful tale, exaggerating shamelessly and not refraining from changing facts or adding new details whenever he pleased. Underlining his words with vivid gestures and expressions, he made the different characters come to life. His necklaces and wristbands jingled whenever he moved and his voice changed whenever he switched to a different character. Alec had to admit, that even though he already knew the end of the story, he was mesmerized by how fascinating Magnus told it. Every now and then, Alec’s gaze shifted to Madzie, who seemed to become drowsier by the minute. By the time the prince and the warlock had gotten their happily ever after, Madzie was fast asleep, curled up in her pillows and cuddling a bright pink teddy bear to her chest.

When Alec drew his gaze away from her, he caught Magnus looking at him and couldn’t help but smile at his boyfriend, only to get a soft smile in return. Trying his best not to wake Madzie, Alec got up from the couch and pulled the covers over her shoulders while Magnus switched off the lights in the living room.

Trying their best not to make any noise, they sneaked out of the living room, not saying a word until Magnus had quietly closed the bedroom door behind them.

They didn’t say anything until they had the door closed behind them, but once they did, Alec couldn’t hold back a sarcastic comment as he walked over to the cabinet he kept some of his clothes in. “A prince and a warlock, huh? And I always deemed you subtler than that.”

Magnus just laughed as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh shut up. She’ll never know it’s a true story.”

Alec let out an amused chuckle as he pulled open the drawer he kept his pajamas in and pulled out a well-worn black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. “She might not know now, but I am pretty sure she’ll put two and two together once she’s old enough to catch up on the latest downworld gossip.”

Magnus just shrugged and dropped a kiss to Alec’s lips as he passed him, now changed into silky black pajama pants and his sapphire blue dressing gown. “I’m pretty sure that by the time she is old enough to do that, our story will not be the latest downworld gossip anymore.”

He then went into his adjoined bathroom to take his makeup off. When he came back, Alec was already relaxing on their bed, flipping through a tattered paperback. Magnus smirked when he realized it was his own old copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He’d been trying to introduce his boyfriend to at least some of the most important pop culture phenomenons, but had not been very lucky in doing so. Alec had hated Lord of the Rings and had been downright offended when they had watched The Hunger Games, even though he had liked that the heroine was an archer as well. Books worked better, since Alec loved reading anyways, and after a couple of failed attempts, Magnus had finally found something Alec enjoyed – or at least liked enough to not constantly complain about everything supernatural in it being way too unrealistic.

“Harry Potter, huh? Thought you might like it.”

Alec shrugged, but didn’t look up from the page he was focused on. “Yeah. I like the plot, it’s pretty cool. But tell you what”, he continued, closing the book and putting it onto his nightstand. “I like the story you came up with better.”

Magnus smirked as he sat down on the bed and then snuggled close to Alec, resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest.

“Mhmm”, Alec hummed. “And Magnus?”


“I’m so glad the prince didn’t go through with marrying the noble lady from the faraway country.”

Magnus smirked as he propped up on his elbow so he could lean in for a gentle kiss. “Me too, Alexander. You have no idea how much.”

Not Infected (The Walking Dead Group x teen! Reader)


Y/n - your name   Y/l/n - Your last name  Y/e/c - your eye color  Y/h/c - your hair color

Prompt - She burst from the tree line and the moment she saw the group, she put her hands up and shouted “Not Infected!”

Word Count : 1,569

Warnings : cursing, blood, gore, mentions of death, its the fucking walking dead what you expect? (Takes place in Season Four. Terminus)

Originally posted by raylangives

She put her head in her hands and sighed, tears streaming down her face as she realized her entire family was gone. Though it may have been a week since it happened she felt sick, when would they just end her suffering by killing her. Y/n knew they had lured more people in which meant her time would come soon, but that didn’t mean she’d go out without a fight. “Zip ties. They tied mom and dad up with zip ties” She exclaimed in a whisper, she had been taught how to free from a zip tie in case she was kidnapped so she needed to be careful. She looked down at the laces of her converse high tops and sighed, she needed the plastic part at the tip of the lace to do this and those were long gone. Impatiently tapping against the support beam in the corner she thought of a way to get out of her mess, flinching when something poked her finger. Looking down at her finger Y/n realized she had a splinter, the old wood could help her loop her laces through the zip tie and she could get free.
She crawled over to the beam and ripped a section of her hoodie’s sleeve off, it had worn out and torn anyway so she could find another use for the useless fabric. Y/n stuck the fabric, that had become stiff and rough with blood, in-between the pillar and a piece of wood that poked out before sawing. When she deemed it lengthy enough she yanked it off, being careful of hurting her finger any further and using the back of her nail to scrape it down a little. Y/n pulled her finger away when the splinter was thin enough but still looked somewhat sturdy, she took the end of one shoelace and stuck it through the fabric until it looked like a sewing needle with thread. She tucked that safely away into her shoe only minutes before the smoke bomb came in and she was dragged out by two men, slowly losing her consciousness. Y/n was the first to wake up, she was on her knees in front of a trough with her legs and arms tied behind her back with a dirty rag in her mouth.
She discreetly looked to either side of her body, on one side there was a young Asian man and the other was a slightly older man with longer hair. There were more men around her, all lined up in front of the same thing she was and all a significant amount of years older than her. Y/n shook her head a little to move some of her y/h/c hair from her y/e/c eyes, seeing the rest slowly wake up she decided she should most likely start working on breaking out. Feeling around her shoe she looked for the point, wincing slightly when it poked her hand but ignoring the pain so she could work on her plan. She stuck the wood through the small opening of the zip tie around her feet and used her other hand to pull it through, beginning her sawing through the plastic as the thump of baseball hitting head rang through the room. Y/n clenched her eyes shut trying to block out the noises and focus on the task at hand, gagging a little as she hears the man’s throat is sliced open and his blood spraying against the metal trough.

Wrinkling her nose and breathing through her mouth she began sawing faster, not catching the attention of the two men doing the acts but the older man with long hair to her left. Daryl had seen the young girl struggling and cringing beside him, looking at her without moving his head he saw she was sawing through the plastic that bound her feet. She ignored him after his eyes burned holes in her skull, internally screaming in triumph as the zip tie gave and broke when another guy walked in. Y/n blocked out that conversation as well, quickly shoving the stick in the zip tie and sawing quicker in a more creative way because this was much more difficult. Her breathing quickened when they moved onto the guy next to the Asian guy next to her, her flesh burned from the friction and her heart pounded in her chest. When Glenn noticed her moving he tried not to acknowledge her in case she could actually make it, images of Maggie flashing through his mind before their eyes met.
The look in his eyes only made her move faster and try harder, feeling the pressure relief from her wrist as the zip tie finally broke. Now all she needed was a chance to attack, she wasn’t going to be able to take the three men present in the room. All she needed was for one to leave, that was all she needed to save Asian man’s life and it was as if someone read her mind. A boom sounded and the earth shook around them, a series of gunshots later and the third man left the other two to continue the festivities. Just as baseball bat guy got ready to swing Y/n grabbed knife guy’s arm and brought her knee to his face, when he went to touch his face she took the knife from him and stabbed him as hard as she could in the stomach. And repeatedly. She pushed him to the floor and turned to the other guy who had a surprised look, he went to swing but she used her first instinct and kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine. He doubled over in pain and she shoved the knife in his neck, pulling it out and shaking the blood from her hand with a sigh.
She ripped the makeshift gag out, stuffing it in her pocket because in the apocalypse you never know when fabric will come in handy. Y/n walked over to the men, beginning to cut the two who hadn’t gotten free already free and ignoring the inquisitive looks “You’ve got to hurry, with that amount of noise all the biters within a mile’s radius will come running”. They ran to the weapons and the older man who was on her left dragged her along, she grabbed her parent’s weapons and hers along with everything they had with them. Once outside the men ran one way and Y/n ran the other, this place was going down in flames and there was plenty of stuff that she could take. She took all of their zip ties, even the ones on the now reanimating dead bodies that she gave mercy to and walked into another room to witness a woman shooting another. The woman attempted to call out to the y/h/c haired girl but she ran before the woman could, trying to wade through the biters and get away from people.
She may have been young but Y/n knew that people weren’t to be trusted, this was the reason she was so confused on why that man’s passion made her want to save him. She climbed the fence and hopped back down, trying not to cry out as she landed on her ankle wrong. The fence behind her collapsed and she groaned “Fucking awesome!”, limp running away from the many walkers behind her as she tried to navigate through the thicket. Her ankle screamed in protest and tears pricked her eyes, she pushed faster as other zombies in the woods noticed her. She had learned that the creatures mostly relied on their smell and hearing, if she hid in a smelly bush and threw one of her popping noisemakers in the other direction they’d be distracted enough for her to escape. Now all she needed to know is what bush to hide in, a grotesque sight told her what she’d be hiding in. A biter must’ve been blown up or something in front of a holly tree and it’s remains were splattered all over it, though absolutely revolting this was the only thing that’d save her. She pushed into it and calmed her breathing, watching the biters sniff around clueless made her believe she truly made it.
She picked a handful of the noise makers out and chucked them against the furthest tree she could reach, just as she had hoped the brainless idiots all groaned and searched in that area leaving her a chance to book it. Y/n pushed through the branches and bit her lip to yet again keep from hissing in pain as the leaves poked her, it was painful but not as bad as her ankle. She advanced to a road, hearing somewhat familiar voices of people she couldn’t name and just realizing any familiarity right now would be perfect. She burst from the tree line and the moment she saw the group, she put her hands up and shouted, “Not Infected!” so they all lowered their guns. “What’s your name?” One of the men from the lineup asked as he looked at the younger girl “Y/n Y/l/n sir”. “How many walkers you kill?” “Too many to count” “How many people you kill?” “Four” “Why?” “They were bitten and begged me”. “Well Y/n Y/l/n my name is Rick Grimes and welcome to my group” He said, sticking his hand out that you shook. Maybe you should scream not infected at strangers more often…