#sethwalkingdamned

summershavok likes this

seth-walking-damned said: - Man, I can totally see that happening. All the guilt, all the loneliness, all the drama. Its little wonder they ended up together. I wants to see. I wants to see more.

❤ - Any tumblr senpais - 

Oh man, I have so many I cant name them all! beaniesandmachetes and mxther are just two of the senpais i have on here. <3

⋆ - A ship I have with my character - 

As of right now I only have 2 ships in my head for Rita and thats with two canon characters, which are Rick and Daryl. I know, how common right? xD

✾ - Why I chose my character - 

((pls let me know if I missed anything.))

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-*sobs* I am not worthy

Before her legs could catch up with the stride of the men, she was sent sprawling to the hard ground of the makeshift cell, copping a face full of dirt and dust. She spluttered for a moment, coughing in an attempt to rid her throat and nostrils of the sudden stinging sensation. She could feel her heart in her throat as she took the moment to recover from the rough hauling of the men, a pang shooting through her body as the sound of the metal gate closing filled her skull. 

She'd let her guard down, she'd been so fucking foolish. Falling asleep in an abandoned building with little to no security? It was a rookie mistake in the game of survival, a mistake that had costed her not only her gear, but her own freedom. She could only guess who the men who had accosted her were, but saying Hunters wasn't hard of a thought. She'd been lucky that the extent of her injuries had been scuffed knees and a bleeding chin, she'd half thought at one point that there would be more; one of the men had stripped her of her jacket and thrown it carelessly to the floor. But he had been stopped by another, a figure that had quickly became apparent was the leader of the group. There was something more they had wanted from her, something they valued beyond the illicit thrills of a woman's body and her stash of arsenal. 

It didn't take her long to find out. She was yet again dragged, this time with a dirty brown bag over the top of her head, tied to a chair and told to wait. It felt like an eternity, though Fallon thought perhaps it were a mere five minutes in hindsight, before the bag was ripped from her head. Her eyes focused on a scar-riddled man who looked as though he'd attempted to shave his face blind. An overwhelming stench of sweat and blood seemed to evade all others, and every step he took away from her felt like a small mercy.

They had wanted information on Joel. She'd spat out that they'd parted ways, that he was the last thing on her mind and he was God know's where. She figured her performance was believable enough, whether it was the swear words and threats that streamed out of her or the fact that the mention of Joel brought tears to her eyes she wasn't sure. But moments later her head was encased in the same damp smelling bag and her bindings were loosened, replaced with ones that held her arms behind her back.

Fallon had thought perhaps she would find herself in the same room again, but the cold breeze of the outside world hit her bare skin. She'd been indoors, was this a detour? In that moment she could feel her heart quicken. Was this to be her execution? Knees in the dirt, blinded by old cloth, listening for the faithful pull of the trigger before a bullet ripped through her skull?

She was sobbing hysterically when they threw her in the pit, and the relief was so strong that she didn't quite feel the full impact of the fall. The bag caught on a root in the soil that domed under her, and she shook her head pulling backwards until she was freed, blinking to adjust her eyes to the light.