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aweina · 6 months

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ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

#.୨୧ ina writes #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #scorpion x reader #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #subzero x reader

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kalki-tarot · 6 months

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Channeled messages you need right now✨️ 🪷

Pick a picture by intuition ♡

This may not resonate with everyone, take what resonates and leave the rest ♡ always remember that you are the creator of your own destiny.

Picture 1

Move on from what's not meant for you, leave things behind for your own mental health. Remember you have a lot of other options too.

Wow! You are being blessed with Emotional fulfillment and wealth by the divine. Take that decision fast!

The decision may feel impulsive or rushed to you but this may turn out to be the best decision of your life.

A wish of yours is gonna get fulfilled, or you're gonna achieve fame in the near future.

I see a vision of you in a party or a wedding. And you may have a fight or competition there.

If you're thinking of starting a new venture or changing places, or even international travel, do it! It'll give you a sense of justification and satisfaction.

You or someone in your friend group may buy a new vehicle.

If you're growing tight on money, don't worry, this phase will go away on it's own.

Someone in your friend circle will show you their real face, they can be a masculine energy with earth signs. They may leave you heartbroken or betrayed but you need to be thankful that such people are getting out of your life and be neutral about this situation, don't let it affect you in any way.

Black and white color, white cats and clocks can be significant or a sign from universe for you if you asked for one. So pay attention to things around you.

I see mountains and a river with lots of greenery, maybe your mental health is finally recovering and you're getting in alignment or on track finally.

Let me - Zayn malik can be significant.

You may get emotional clarity by the next crescent moon. Your blocked emotions will release and you'll gain stability and clarity. You'll get a direction or a path to follow.

The emotional release can be about some childhood trauma or even heartbreak, deep emotional pain.

Zindagi do pal ki - KK can be significant, especially the last verse.

You may frequently ask god that why you were given so much pain and harships in life. But remember that each circumstance has a deeper meaning behind it. Everything serves a purpose in life, so take the bad times as a lesson. You're meant for something bigger.

I can see the presence of a male figure in your life, who's very wise and thoughtful. They'll teach you some things about life, which will help you.

Your angels/guides/universe, whatever you believe in, has their eye on you. They are protecting you behind the scenes. Their presence is always there to help you.

Your heart or throat chakra can be imbalanced. Please do some meditation or even try therapy for it. You need to work on these two chakras very much for your own good.

Lord Shiva is protecting you or they can be your guide.

Lord Ganesha is watching over you and protecting you too.

Picture 2

Don't fight or resist change. Be calm and let things happen on their own.

Divine wants to do some intervention but your attitude towards life is not helping it at all. A cycle is being closed.

If you are a feminine, a masculine energy will woo you in some social gathering or a party. I see people around you, so it can be a public place. Trust your intuition with this person. It's love at first sight.

Your fears are coming in between your success and divine union. Don't let your fears run your life. Trust the universe.

This state of indecisive is coming to an end. Don't let memories or past heartbreaks come in between.

You are undergoing a transformation. The new "you" will be very clear minded and creative.

Do some self introspection. Reanalyse your toxic cycles.

Your shadow self needs some more time to heal.

Pay attention to red butterflies, it's a sign.

June / July months of any year can be significant.

Bol do na zara - Arman Malik

444 or 44 is significant for you.

Any financial unstablity is coming to an end.

Don't be too materialistic, don't make your lust an obsession.

Leave behind past memories, don't dwell into nostalgia so much.

By doing so, you are blocking a new beginning in your life.

Don't be too afraid to speak up for yourself.

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gothhabiba · 7 months

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To drive through the West Bank is to pass through a nature-scape of browns, oranges and reds. It’s rolling hills scattered with wild olive tree groves and crop rows, and views of sprawling cities in the distance, slightly obscured by the blur of a faint haze. That backdrop changes suddenly when confronted with an Israeli settlement. Desert shades are swapped for emerald greens, and olive trees for pine. Swaths of farmland suddenly host swimming pools and soccer fields, and dry farmland dry becomes lush greenery.

This jarring polarity is a constant reminder of the Israeli occupation, says Fokha, whose village of Tubas is encircled by such settlements. “They have all these things, and we’ve been stripped of our way of life,” he says. “All I want is enough water to sustain my family and my land.”

It’s also the most effective way to permanently damage the Palestinian food system, say multiple experts.

Given the dry conditions, water access long been weaponized in the conflict. So much so, that the Oslo Accords sought to address it. It stipulated that for an interim period of five years, Israel would gain access to 80 percent of the water pumped from the West Bank and Palestinians would get the remaining 20 percent. It also limited the amount of water Palestine could drill from the shared mountain aquifer, while allowing Israel unlimited access, and required Israel sell a pre-determined amount of water to Palestinians annually. B’tselem calls what’s transpired since a “largely manmade” water shortage that allows Mekorot, the state-run Israeli water company, to control the entire grid, giving preferential access to settlers while while hundreds of thousands of Palestinians live without for weeks every year.

Palestinian farmers all over the West Bank can no longer survive as a result. Fokha, who has been working the same land since he was 18 years old, only gets enough access to water to grow for one season—August to March—which halves his yield. The soil’s suffered from the droughts, so it can no longer grow watermelon, potatoes, and certain types of cucumber, he says. Yosef Salmon has been a farmer in Beit Jala, an area outside of Bethlehem, for nearly 45 years. He says there used to be five water springs in the Makhrour Valley. Today, he can access only one, he says. His neighbor, Basem, who asked to keep his last name private, couldn’t irrigate half his crops last year, so he lost money and couldn’t live off the anticipated harvest. “Without water, we can have no progress. Without water we can’t do anything. It is life,” Basem says.

—Carly Graf, "Food Is the First Frontier of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict," 2019.

#food #Israel #Palestine #readings

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seneon · 3 months

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月光 ݁ ˖ MOONLIGHT ── CHAPTER THREE. A RUN UNDER THE SILVER MOON AND THE STARS WATCHING TWO SOULS.

CONTENTS. pure fluff in this chapter. ooc rayne insert, not canon rayne. mentions of war and blood. wc of eight hundred.

moonlight series masterlist ₊ 𓂃 previous ₊ 𓂃 next

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃, like a massive white bone china plate, hanging high up on night heavens. its silver glows illuminated on the skin of a figure slowly and elegantly moving her arms in the air, forming a magical aura all around her. her hair, whether it be long or short, it danced along the cold winds of the mountain.

you slowly moved, following the tunes that the mountain offered up to you as a gift for entertaining them with your dancing. to dance freely and to have no other soul tear your confidence away is such longing peace that you have been looking for this whole time.

when have you ever danced like this all alone without having to worry about anything at all? being a warrior has its limits, and dancing is definitely off-limits. in fact, dancing was never allowed for a warrior, or knight, or soldier, a servant to the kingdom. they are only ever supposed to wield weapons and stain themselves with blood, not fancy their interests with dancing.

the mountain god could feel the earth of his mountain moving in an odd manner. his fingers moved to touch the ground, to feel and understand the ground for such a weird and foreign movement. but the earth told him that a beauty is gracefully dancing for all of nature, gracing them with her elegance that they have never seen before.

rayne ames immediately understood who the beauty that the earth spoke of. he wanted to see what nature was talking about and what you have in stock for them. he felt ground again. from the other side of the mountain, he could feel subtle movements, soft and elegant. there is also the extremely faint sways of the roots that danced in joy at the performance you are giving them.

now it is rayne's turn to lay his eyes on your dancing figure. you slowly spun around, arms moving in the most graceful and beautiful manner rayne has ever seen. he doesn't know what to think or feel at that moment where he hides behind a tree to watch you twirl like a leaf which is being carried by the wind.

the mountain god watched in absolutely awe, unknowingly admiring such beauty that unfolds right before him from a distant. eyes usually resting and pupils never forming into a lovely circle of whatsoever, they widened just a little bit, giving rayne some emotions that perfectly portrayed on his features. his lips parted a little, letting the cold mountain air kiss his lips dry.

it there was a way to keep his lips moist, it would be to have his lips on yours.

wait—

huh...?

what was mountain god, rayne ames, thinking? to have his lips on yours? to keep his lips moist? to kiss you...? rayne ames blushed. his cheeks grew a field of red roses, freshly bloomed and ready to decorate the rest of his face deep red. he covered his cheeks so quickly that the sound of a slap emitted.

shit.

the sound has caught your attention. you have ceased dancing, now looking at the direction the odd sound came from. rayne completely hid himself behind the tree, hands still covering his mouth. a smile crept up your cheeks when you saw a familiar yellow and black that immediately strikes out from the greeneries.

there was an incredible silence for a long moment. before a shuffle was heard.

"let's run and dance around," you whispered, fingers gently wrapping themselves onto the hands of the flustered mountain god as you pull him along with you to lead him around the forest where you danced for nature.

the male simply let you do as you wished, not uttering a word of disagreement to your offer or even shaking his hands free from your grasp. you have him cornered and wrapped under your fingers. you made rayne ames, an all-knowing stoic swords master mountain god, all flustered and shy. what could be a greater achievement than that?

rayne ames does not interact with human beings that much, besides them coming to him to fix their broken sword. even so, he has his bunny servants to help him do so. regardless of business, y/n isn't business. she is a lost soul with nowhere else to turn to but a mountain with no one but talking nature and a lonely divinity.

so when you took rayne's arm and went for a run under the moonlight, he couldn't help but feel secure with a strong sense of comfort. love began to brew inside of him from the moment your smile influenced him to curve the corners of his lips upwards too.

NOTES. i have two sides. goth enthusiast and ancient fantasy enthusiast. i can't pick a choice. i want to write more ancient stories 😭

TAGS ݁ ˖ @kyoghurts @anqelically @caelivir @bbladie @ansbobcar @rjasmin2021 @lunareclipses-moments

#❨ MOONLIGHT ❩ ݁ ˖ ˚ ☽#rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #rayne x you #rayne x y/n #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #mashle x you #mashle imagines #mashle rayne #mashle fluff

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corpsebasil · 1 year

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Nikolai Lantsov and his crew had sailed and plotted for days now.

The island in the distance was gigantic—more than huge—and it was terrifying, if anything.

"Well, that's not foreboding." He chuckled, leaning his arm against the side of the ship.

It was the Sea Whip that they tracked—had tracked—for days. Days in which the daily meals of eggs and pickles were beginning to make him want to tear his own hair out. The prince stared out at the island with intense curiosity, eyeing the steep mountains covered in greenery and as is any sailor's biggest annoyance, cloaked in a thunderstorm.

"Look," Tolya, his close friend and crewmember said, pointing out into the distance. There, docked at the edge of the island, was a ship. A ship grander than anything Nikolai had ever seen, and its flag, red, white, and blue, bore a symbol he had never seen before in his entire life. "where do you suppose that's from? Is it wrecked?"

"No." Mal, the tracker boy that followed the Sun Summoner around like a puppy, argued. "It's docked. Sails are lowered and it looks to be in perfect condition."

"I'm not really in the fighting mood today." Nikolai mused, casting those brilliant blue eyes over to Alina. "But hey. If whoever these fools are have already gotten your beloved amplifier, it saves us a lot of trouble, don't you think?"

Alina grimaced, her dark eyes locked onto the ship in the distance. She gave Nikolai a weighted glance that could mean anything before whispering something indistinct into her tracker friend's ear. Mal nodded, dark eyes morose, before looking back to Nikolai.

"We're willing to fight for it, if that's what you're suggesting." Mal offered, shrugging one broad shoulder before letting it fall.

A grin pulled at Nikolai's gorgeous mouth, and he slapped the boy on the shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about." He said, looking back to the island. "Steal it, kill for it, it doesn't matter to me. But we're going to be the ones with the amplifier, not whoever these.... pirates are."

Alina snorted, eyeing the prince with an amused look on her face.

"Says you."

"I am a privateer, Miss Starkov. A privateer."

"Tomato, tomato." She beamed, and the mocking 'ah' in the second word made him roll his eyes.

After confirmation from Mal that it seemed safe enough to land, the prince instructed them to land upon the island, and they sailed closer to the beach. When his boots touched the shore, Nikolai stared up at the ship they had docked next to, admiring its smooth wooden sides and huge, white sails. It seemed to be abandoned, no sign of any occupants in sight. But Mal insisted he could sense the prescence of the amplifier and, with grim determination, they strode away, promising to commandeer the vessel once night fell.

"No use in sleeping outside." Nikolai said, eyeing Mal with distaste when he noticed the boy attempting to start gathering kindling for a fire. What was he, an idiot? "This isn't Wendy and the lost boys."

"Shouldn't we just...ask them for it?" Alina suggested, pointing at the ship. "Maybe they're nice."

"Or," Nikolai countered, smiling sweetly. "maybe they'll cut our heads off and sell you to the highest bidder." He rolled his eyes at her. "I'd like to keep my head, if you don't mind. It's a rather lovely one."

Alina grumbled something under her breath but the prince was already headed back to his ship, considering the dinner options for that evening. Pickles, eggs...and rum. A whole lot of rum.

***

When a loud peal of laughter echoed in through the open window of his cabin, Nikolai sat up from where he'd been resting in bed, reading a novel suggested to him by a girl he'd met weeks before. It involved a cowboy, a young maiden, and lots and lots of—

"STOP!" A voice came again, unmistakably Alina, and Nikolai shot out of his bed. He pulled a white shirt over his head quickly, his compass clacking against his chest, and headed out the door.

The sight on his deck made him almost lose his mind.

Alina and Mal, Tolya,Tamar, and two strangers he'd never seen before sat in a circle on the deck of his ship—his ship—drinking and laughing as the stranger on the right mimed along to some ridiculous story. His friends were drinking and storytelling and no one had bothered to come get him?

"Who in the hell are you?" He demanded, glaring hard at Alina, who's smile was so wide and lazy he was sure she had to have been on something.

"Sturm—" She let out a wheezing cough before passing the pipe—the pipe—in her hand across the circle to Tolya. "This is umm...Harry and..Wesley?"

"Winston." The man who had been telling the story corrected lightly, and all Nikolai could do was stare because...because... "The captain, are you? Lovely piece of wood, this is."

"I'm Harry." The other man said, smiling widely. Smiling drunkenly, and by his behavior, his appearance seemed not to be anything out of the ordinary for him.

He and Winston, both clad in finely tailored suits and coats, wore giant, white wigs, and the oddest makeup Nikolai had ever seen before in his life. White makeup, their faces painted so pale as to be almost clownish, spots of rouge on their cheeks, and a strangely bright lip color...they looked insane.

"You—" Nikolai exchanged a horrified glance with Mal, who seemed to be the only one not partaking in the revelry. He sat next to Winston but a bit back, as if scared the man was going to bite him. "What are you wearing? Where are you from?"

"England." Harry said, as if it was obvious.

"Glorious country." Winston added.

"God save the queen."

"England?" Nikolai's head was spinning with confusion. "Where is..."

"Oh, come on Sturmhond." Alina whined, picking up the bottle closest to her and extending it to him. He took a few careful steps forward and snatched it from her, taking a swig. Then he gagged.

"What is this?" He demanded, staring at the two men.

"Gin." Winston informed him.

"Very good with lemon." Harry added.

"And star anise."

"And what—" he pointed at the pipe Tamar inhaled from. The smoke that she exhaled was definitely not tobacco. "—is that?"

"Don't be a party pooper." Alina sighed, reaching out to tug childishly on his pant leg. Saints she was high as a cloud. "I thought you were the fun one?"

"I am the fun one, damn you."

He moved to turn away, likely to go brood in his room with the new bottle of gin he'd acquired and read his filthy novel, but the figure behind him made him freeze in place. His fingers almost sent the bottle crashing to the deck. He could only stare as the woman, clad in one of tightest, most scandalous dresses he'd ever viewed, reached out and took the gin from him.

"Thanks." She said, holding his stare when she took a long, unflinching sip from the bottle. Her eyes were green as emeralds and her face bore the same makeup as her companions, but on her...on her it seemed somehow dignified. "I'm Victoria. I see you've met my brothers."

Her accent. Her voice was...

"Hello?" She asked, snapping two fingers an inch from his nose. "Lights on up there? Too much opium, huh?"

"I'm uh—" he glanced behind him, making eye contact with an amused looking Tolya. "Sturmhond. Captain of this very fine ship."

"Weird name." She commented, taking another sip. "I like you. See you later." Those beautiful eyes held his for another beat before she pushed the gin back into his grip and sauntered to his crew.

He felt very, very weird, and couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly flustered by a woman.

Do to the severe lack of Nikolai content I've been forced to take matters into my own hands

Preview of my newest fanfiction on wattpad!! Go read Tea and Spices by miashcaluke

#wattpad #six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #pirates #british comedy #Nikolai lantsov x reader

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witchofthesouls · 4 months

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Okay I had an ask about a follow-up on the Truck dad and amnesiac bird son dimensional hoppers pair post, but I couldn't fit as more outright creepy/weird shit our boy do. A lot of hints, though.

Here's a piece on Jack's fondness for big animals and secrets.

Optimus should have known something was afoot with Jack, especially with his most recent line of questions and the new direction his drawings had taken on: a large, black canine in the desert, aerial views of the surrounding landscapes, anatomy of local creatures, and multi-eyed birds with strange trinkets in their beaks.

As much Jack was enamored with the animal companions in this universe’s version of the Ark and its Autobots, Sideswipe’s proletariat cat and Prowl’s turbohound were too busy to keep by the sparkling's side.

Despite the extreme species-swap and his regression to a child state, Jack had taken to his Cybertronian frame well. Enough that oddities could be rationally explained by the loss of creators.

(And if this version of the Autobots took it one way, then Optimus won't correct them, especially with Jack's mimicry with natural birdsong overlapping with newspark noises.)

Jack was generally obedient. He took heed of Optimus’ warnings to remain close to him and not to wander away in a certain distance.

However, Jack was good with words. Quick to find loopholes as well. He may not flick a wing-tip over the established boundaries to chase after whatever curious thing had caught his attention, but more than once Optimus found his charge scurrying out from potholes on the streets, broken entrances beneath buildings, and perched high up on the local greenery or infrastructure to peek at something, like a nest of local fauna.

Jack had said he didn’t leave the ship. And that was true. He hadn’t.

He simply coaxed the wildlife to him instead.

It was a hassle to smooth over the growing trend of murders and conspiracies of blackbirds hounding the nearby towns for cash for their “snackies” of seeds and McDonald's, then they uncovered his newest pet.

Not an abandoned dog, or a raccoon, or a house cat, or a hawk, or a toad, or anything Sparkplug reminiscenced over his son's mudpie days. Not something small, easily managed, and no threat to the human personnel.

Those strange grey-blue optics stared at Optimus so pleadily, arms wrapped carefully around the creature. The mountain lion, nearly full grown and quite docile in Jack’s arms, only grumbled, almost bored by the entire ordeal. It yawned wide, showing off teeth reminiscent of military-frame sets of sharp denta.

Animals, especially predatory and scavenger species, was something else Jack was good with, too. And Optimus had no idea what to make of that…

“Please, papa! I made her a bed and kept the wound clean!"

Oh, yes, Jack ran a neat, little clandestine operation in the back. Taking advantage that few mechs were willing to venture near the Dinobots’ living quarters and his own oddities whenever he sang to blackbirds outside the open entrance, he managed to squeeze himself into a nook between boulders that opened into a hidden cavern where he kept an injured mountain lion.

No one had any idea how Jack managed to keep the animal fed, let alone sneak it past the entrance. Too many eyes in the main halls to drag large carcasses, and living matter didn't do well with subspaces. Optimus could hear Red Alert's jaw cracking from pressure-related stress. No doubt combing through the security systems and finding nothing. Jazz and Prowl would be interested in the holes as well.

That was a large issue, and it needed to be addressed. Preferably away from the public.

“-and I'll love her and walk her and I change her water every day and I know how to feed her because Chickadee taught me how to how-"

"Jack,” Optimus interrupted the deluge of words, his tone gentle yet firm. He crouched down to meet those tearful optics, Jack's wingspan ticked up and down. The mountain lion's ears twitched but it remained at ease. “We can't keep her here. That's a wild animal. She's used to miles of free terrain to roam. Not being enclosed and hidden away on a ship.”

Jack inhaled sharply but said nothing in response. It wasn't childish defiance staring back at Optimus. More like guardian possessiveness: Mineminemine, Jack's entire frame projected, dropping away the usual behavior of staying hidden.

“You and I must return to our universe. We can't bring this one, especially into an environment she has no experience in. It would be cruel to do so. Even if we release her back at our base, everything she knew would be either too different or nonexistent. Remember your exploration of the places you once lived in?”

Jack hiccuped out a warbling noise at the reminder, and Optimus could feel a few mechs’ willpower crumbling away at that sound. He coiled his field around the boy, and Jack immediately latched onto him, anchoring deep as he leveled out the sharp notes and soothed away the hurts.

“We can find a suitable wildlife rehab or a sanctuary.”

"Can we visit her?”

“I’m sure we can find time.”

#transformers #crossover #transformers prime #tfp #transformers g1 #g1 #parental relationship #jack darby #optimus #optimus prime #humanformers #humans into Cybertronians #creature #magic #maccadam #My writing #look some of the g1 mechs would have folded like a wet napkin if birdboy turned his teary optics to them #tfp optimus is made of stronger metal #yep it's g1 version of nightstrike

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ranchracoon · 4 months

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Colors (Donna Beneviento x GN! Reader)

Black. The ink on parchment that's smeared, because you touched it before it fully dried. The aura of impending doom that compliments the walk from the village to the manor. Black is doubt, uncertainty, questioning why you're doing this. Her dress is black, as was her entire world; a gradient of blacks and grays until you stepped over the threshold. It is her disdain, her anger at how easily you adjust and ruin her routine but Mother sent you, and she is the darkest consumer of light. Her aura is black, she is a shadow along the walls, a flicker in the corner of your eye. She hovered near you, doubtful you knew but if you did you said nothing, only shrugged it off to continue working.

You smelled like violets, a fresh breath of spring amongst the stagnant air of dust and mold. Donna never admitted it, thinking herself clever when she would sneak into your room; she would steal a few droplets of your scented oil and inhale until her brain felt fuzzy. Every time you finished cleaning a room, you would decorate it with violets. Donna often wondered where you got them, it's far too cold in the mountains for them. So she decided to follow you.

The greenhouse of course. Before you were sent to the manor you had been rebuilding the greenhouse next to her former gardener's home. It was the first time you fully saw her. She stepped into an alien planet of greenery. Flowers, shrubs, trees, vegetables, even fruit. You could bloom a lily in a desert. It made Donna cry, and rather than probe her for why she was crying, you sat on the dirt floor with her. That was too good to be true, you were too good to be true.

The best part was there were none of those invasive, yellow flowers. They bloom along the pathway to her home, mocking her failure at helping people. That's all she wanted to do, instead she doomed them to a life of damnation by their own hand. The stingy, smoker's yellow even coated itself onto her walls. She remembers, you turned your hands raw from trying to scrub the walls only to scrub the wallpaper clean off. Donna wasn't mad. Instead, she helped you replace it with something more vibrant, something different.

Orange was the very first fight. Donna insisted you move into the manor, so that you stayed closer. You had never gotten angry with her before, but she didn't explain why she wanted you in the manor. So instead she locked you away, kept you trapped inside her doll house. Orange was the realization you were hurting, so when she let you go she hurdled herself into a frenzy of orange. She destroyed everything she touched, and when there was nothing left to destroy she cried. She cried until she felt the softest speckle of touch upon her shoulder, you had returned to her.

She couldn't take it any longer after that. A midnight love confession, banging desperately at your door and the searing hot kiss that followed when you opened. A promise. A promise you made to be with her forever, you always kept your promises, and Donna believed you. Full of passion, a moment of vulnerability when she gave herself to you and you greeted her with kindness, patience, and love. Love is red; but so is anger. Donna often got angry never at you but at herself, and each time she calmed down, you would be there. Until you weren't. You had been gone for such a long time, she trusted you because you always returned. Why didn't you come back? Red is panic, scurrying, the blood pumping through her veins as she invisioned your demise. What found instead, made her vision red. It was the other woman's lipstick; the one who you made laugh.

Donna did not see you brush away the woman's advancing hand, nor the uneasy shuffle of your feet. She did not see the desperation to leave on your face, or hear the countless excuses. No; red devoured her world like an open wound seeping into a bandage. Red is dragging, screaming, gnawing, gnashing, clawing, and slashing. It is what circles the drain of her tub, as droplets of it drip from her fingertips. It is the splatters amongst the tiles, and walls that will remind her no matter how hard she scrubs. The paleness of her skin is stained red.

Fully clothed in her black dress as the water washes away her sobs, her tears and water becoming one. She sits, clutching to her chest, a doll that looks like you. It has your hair, that goofy smile, but it will never truly compare to you though. In the end, as the light dims from your eyes, you will keep your promise: to be hers, forever.

#resident evil village #re8 #donna beneviento #donna benevento x reader #gender neutral reader #one shot #angst #possessive #jealousy

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georgieluz · 4 months

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HBOWAR OC MASTERLIST

OLIVER HARDWICK

intelligence officer, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: lewis nixon | tag: #oc: oliver hardwick

"you'll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke"

new yorker. former literature and latin student at university. mischievous. wealthy. playful. rakish, maybe even roguish, some might say, in a pretty boy kind of way. think: old money with a rebellious streak. massive ballrooms contrasted with secret parties in tiny apartments. flowing champagne. screaming drunkenly from the deck of a yacht. rage rage and more rage, so much rage. the subtle glare of disapproval from a calculating parent. a disdain for authority and taking orders. winter scarves in every colour, but especially red. kissing older men. dancing until you can't remember your family name. the simultaneous fascination and disappointment your friends and peers feel toward you. running away as a child and nobody even noticing you're gone. picking oranges in the mediterranean. freezing cold new york winters. spinning around in the rain. being too smart for your own good. self-sabotage. self-loathing. self-destruction.

playlist: tell me i'm an angel

TOMMY MONET

private first class, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: joseph liebgott | tag: #oc: tommy monet

"the silence that you're hearing is turning into a deafening, painful, shameful roar"

bostoner. from the wrong side of the tracks. barely got a high school diploma. former teenage nuisance. poet. fuelled by coffee and homeric similes. friends with every cat in the neighbourhood. talks to his cat badger more than other people. think: scrappy. argumentative. observant. smart but wishes he wasn't. hot black coffee running through his veins. flannel shirts. a backpack full of books. a hardshell exterior and deep, deep repression. running races down the railroad tracks until you're completely breathless. smoking because you don't know what else to do with your hands. irritable, but usually with a smile and a hefty dose of sarcasm. fuck the elite. no one can hurt me if they can't get near me. insecurities? what are those? who needs a father anyway.

playlist: let down and hanging around

CHARLIE SCOTT

private first class, how company (the pacific)

ship: bill "hoosier" smith | tag: #oc: charlie scott

"come ease my slumber, sink me into sleep"

mornings spent next to the river. cigarettes for breakfast. brushing the sand out of dark hair. journals filled to the brim. training as a car mechanic. hands coated with oil. overalls tied around your waist. a sarcasm-filled whisper in your ear. a hand gripping yours through the barrage of bombs every night. eyes searching for you as you cross every battlefield. dramatic readings of your stream of conscious poetry until something hits. adopting the dog that you found in the middle of battle. missing the diners you always claimed to hate. wanting nothing more than to run back to the mountains you hiked growing up. realising you never want to visit a beach again. longing for the quiet peacefulness of a lake.

playlist: i once warmed my hands

RHYS LLEWYD

corpsman, king company (the pacific)

ship: eddie jones | tag: #oc: rhys llewyd

"torn down, full of aching, somehow our youth will take the blame"

welsh born, new hampshire raised. gentle hands, sharp eyes. soft-spoken. welsh-lilted american accent. the messiest bedhead you'll ever see. enjoys watching people mispronounce his surname. touch-starved for something more than bleeding guts and bullet wounds. sage green and lavender. realising you never wanted to study medicine in the first place. cloudgazing. comic books shoved into pockets. an impeccable dancer who will never show it. can't handle his alcohol but drinks anyway. misses trees, and grass, and greenery. hands touching beneath the library table. a pile of books next to your bed. the scent of sugar and honey contrasted with the blood dripping from your hands.

playlist: fade me away

MAX JACOBS

platoon scout sniper, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: brad colbert | tag: #oc: max jacobs

"there's nothing wrong with me, this is how i'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me"

deadly aim, with a smile to match. skate parks and 7-11s. worn out chuck taylors. suburban fuckery. sneaking out of your bedroom window at 2am. driving out as far as you can because you've got nothing better to do. desperately wanting to escape your town at any cost. sony walkman cd player attached to your belt at all times. fuck the system (but you're in the system). laughing in the face of everything and anything. empty red bull cans littered across the room. kissing boys in empty car parks. getting your fists bloody when the homophobes arrive. taking on the world with nothing but bruised knees and a stick of gum.

playlist: and when we go, don't blame us

MATTHEW "MATTY" CARTER

corporal, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: ray person | tag: #oc: matty carter

"tracksuits and red wine, movies for two, we'll take off our phones, and we'll turn off our shoes. we'll play nintendo, though i always lose, 'cause you watch the tv, while i'm watching you. dumb conversation, we lose track of time, have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine. there's nothing like doing nothing with you"

missouri summers. friends who fall somewhere between platonic and something more. pizza nights. staying up until 4am playing uno. laughing so hard your ribs hurt. realising you're a little bit in love with your best friend. following him to the marine corps. losing far too much money playing pool. camping in the rain. smiles so wide. watching the lost boys so many times you can quote every line. sharing hoodies. the colour orange. instant messaging into the early hours. the sunrise laughing as you fall asleep. promises of running away together. fingers in soft wavy hair. ice cold lemonade. the ghost of a confession.

playlist: do you think of me?

CALEB DAWSON

architecture student, hacker, archer (band of brothers zombie au)

ship: ron speirs | tag: #oc: caleb dawson

"yes, it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in"

sketching buildings from the window of hotel rooms. mugs of cold coffee left on every surface. counting to ten before you open a door. endless recurve vs compound pettiness. the fucking audacity of life. talking with your hands. sarcasm as a first language. stubborn and unyielding, but fiercely protective. clinging to a pencil and paper as a lifeline. realising it's easier to push your buttons than you thought. jokes. lots of jokes. witty one liners. deep, deep inner conflict. bitterness coating your tongue with every word. being suspicious of newcomers but bound to your own sense of loyalties and vulnerabilities. trying desperately to hide every aspect of your gentleness, but feeling it leak through in every moment. being ashamed of your dreams and ambitions. feeling the cracks break open every day, but bottling it up all the same. waiting alone in hotel rooms wondering if your dad will come back for you this time. being taught to hack at twelve years old. finally escaping the only life you've ever really known only to find that a virus outbreak has mutated and changed the world forever. unravelling dreams.

playlist: one wink at a time

ARCHIE SULLIVAN

RAF pilot / lancaster bomber (masters of the air)

ship: bucky egan | tag: #oc: archie sullivan

"wild lovers never get the blues"

flying too close to the moon, "you look pretty in blue", piles of unopened letters thrown in a corner, easy laughs, easier smiles, falling asleep on the wing of your plane, cycling to the pub with your best friend in the pouring rain, turning annoyance into endearment, a pint and a ginger beer please, escaping to the beaches of east anglia on a weekend pass, puppy dog eyes the size of jupiter, pettiness, so so much pettiness, challenging just about everyone you've ever met, thinking you might just be the greatest darts player in all of england, a good ol' dose of the great british repression, yet accidentally flirting with almost everyone you meet, running so far away from home that you ended up in the clouds

playlist: to the top of the big night sky

if you want to read about the ocs from my hbo war f1 au please head over to this post. the ocs there are all platonic ocs, but have a lot of presence in the world and narrative, and if you'd like to see my ocs for top gun, then you can find them on my sideblog here

#yes i am massively fucking biased toward matty #he makes me all soft and melty inside #my hbo war ocs #i do have more ocs i need to add to this but it's 7am and i really really really need to go to sleep so have six to start #also this is mostly for my pinned post so ignoring is an option also #julian's masterlist #julian made a thing

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limerental · 5 months

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ficletvember 2023 - day 24

ciri & her messed up parents modern au ft. yenralt

For the first time in years and with great trepidation, Ciri returns home for a holiday family gathering.

aka I'm pushing my ciri as jenny from thebes agena

Ciri dropped the kickstand of her bike and worked her stiff fingers in and out of fists, regretting her smart-looking fingerless gloves after miles of chilled highway. The driveway and street out front of the little house was full, and somebody had slung lights up on the eaves and chucked a crooked wreath on the door.

Half the cars she didn't recognize, but then, she hadn't been back for years.

A little tabby hurried up the walk to meet her, tail raised high, and Ciri swung off her bike to drop to meet her. Scratching behind her ears, she tipped up an oversized tag on her collar to read– of course.

Roach nudged at the laces of her boots and purred.

For all the things that did, some things never changed.

When Mama had called to tell her they were doing family Yuletide dinner, Ciri had laughed out loud. Couldn't help it. She couldn't imagine her Mama home-cooking anything without some disaster happening. When she was little, Mama used to peel the label off store-bought jam to give as gifts to her teachers. They’d always gotten takeout on the important holidays. Eaten quiet together washed by the glow of the TV.

Those were the good holidays. The bad ones were loud.

Daddy home late from a shift he claimed he wouldn't take this year. Mama red-eyed and yelling. She looked like she could call down lightning sometimes when she was real mad, black hair frizzed out and wild, and Daddy usually got that stubborn gleam in his eye and put his foot in his mouth and then–

There were great holidays too, of course. Her years spent with Pops and her uncles in the mountains, bundled up like a marshmallow for hunting trips and coming in out of the cold to a feast laid out by the roaring fire. There'd been times with her cousins from the islands, learning to ice skate and rev a snowmobile.

And there'd been great times with her parents too. Just never together under the same roof. That's when it soured.

There'd been that year that she and her dad went camping in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. Just them and their bikes and the fog and shitty freeze-dried army rations cooked out of bags. That'd been nice.

And the year Mama took her to the city, bought tickets to a show and let her dress up fancy, a little slutty, and ate takeout in their opulent hotel room after, gossiping and giggling like little girls at a sleepover. That'd been a night she remembered so fondly it ached.

But there'd never been great times in this house. Mama had lived here in Vengerberg forever, and Daddy had lived here in a rotation of years on and off and Ciri had lived here when she wasn't off at school but always done her best to find other places to go.

The first chance she could, she was gone. That escape came with its own measure of fucked up nights and bad times, but that was another story. Ciri had clawed her way out of several dark places and had figured she'd keep doing that forever.

She'd never seen her Mama's place with Yule lights on the eaves. Couldn't quite remember why no one had ever decorated. Maybe just to be stubborn and miserable. Any time they'd tried, it became a fight. The same as anything.

Ciri made herself go up the front walk, climbing the stoop and just standing there looking at the crooked greenery on the door. She reached out and straightened it rather than knocking.

She wished she'd brought somebody with her. Someone to stand here with a hand at the small of her back and make the decision to go in for her. She'd been told on the phone she could bring a guest, her Mama's voice dipping in question like she wanted to ask who she was with now but had thought better of it.

Ciri didn't have anybody. Maybe never had anyone.

She knocked on the door and didn't wait for the answer, just pushed in. Roach leapt past her legs, and the gathering in the front room that rambled out into the dining room all exclaimed with joy when they saw her. Some of the people who clapped her on the back or called a greeting were unfamiliar, but maybe she'd just forgotten or they'd shaved their beard or dyed their hair.

The rooms were hung with garland around the doorways, and music swelled from somewhere. The light was warm, and the space was full.

After being released from the umpteenth bear hug, somebody told her that her parents were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. They laughed over the mock-scared face she pulled, but the way her heartbeat kicked up, it was barely a joke.

The kitchen was too small for much of anything. Daddy always said he'd take out that half wall and give it some breathing room, but there'd been hemming and hawing over details and then a bitterness that it never got done and then a grudge and a stubborn insistence it wasn't necessary anyway to expand a kitchen no one stepped foot in.

Now, every bit of counter space was swathed with foil covered dishes. Enough to feed an army. Ciri felt a little pang of guilt that maybe they'd been waiting for her.

Mama and Daddy were standing at the stove together. Daddy with his white hair tied back, wearing a kiss the cook apron, and Mama looking short as hell in her stocking feet stirring a pot of something on the stove.

They spoke quiet together, heads bent close. Daddy's hand rested at her waist and when she cut the burner and turned to him, he dropped a kiss into her hair. They swayed together, a vision of opposites. Rising up out of Ciri's muck-stained memories like a mirage.

Mama short and fat and happy. Daddy stooping a little to rest his chin against her cloud of dark hair.

It didn't seem wholly fair. That after everything, after all those ruined holidays, everything she fled from, her parents should claw their way to something as peaceful and real as this. Something that felt different.

Ciri hadn't believed it when Mama told her. That something was different this time. But she believed it now, as much as she could believe anything at all.

The tabby weaved between her legs and meowed after a piece of ham, and her parents looked up and turned her way, faces brimming with wet smiles, and when they opened their arms together, she fell into them and held tight to both, hoping someday she'd look back on this year as one of the great ones. Fighting back the bitterness like a cold and solid wave.

#my fic #ficletvember #yenralt #ciri #aw beans

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bakuliwrites · 5 months

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Day Four- Prince Sidon

500 Follower Event, 30 Day Writing Prompts Prompt: Blood, Vivid, Cardamom, Prince Sidon (LOZ) Pairing: Prince Sidon x Link Tags: Fluff, Pining, Kisses Word Count: 1,049

Sidon glides through the secluded pond, red fin cresting the surface, crystal water sliding with ease off his slick skin. A piece of him feels guilty for taking this time to himself, especially so soon after a crisis. But with the defeat of Vah Ruta and a return to balance for the Zora people, King Dorephan gave Sidon permission to rest. Actually, he commanded it, knowing full well that it would take more than a gentle suggestion to get the prince to take a day off.

“Link, already you’ve provided great aid to the Zora people. But if you will allow me, I have one final request,” Dorephan’s voice had boomed through the royal court just one day earlier. Hyrule’s greatest warrior, weary but resolute, stood at the ready for the Zora King’s next command.

“My son has been working tirelessly,” Dorephan went on, gaze flicking towards Sidon standing at attention beside him, “Please, if you will, make sure he takes a day of rest. He will not listen to me, but seeing as you are a dear friend to him, I think he will be more inclined to heed your suggestion.”

“Father-” Sidon had protested, mortified that the King would make such a personal demand of Link. But, as is his nature, Link made no complaints and eagerly awaited the prince the following morning. They met on the bridge, Sidon free of any royal accessories and Link dressed in a simple tunic and trousers. The sight of Hyrule’s greatest warrior in casualwear brought heat to Sidon’s cheeks. It felt almost intimate to see Link relaxed, in garb that would not betray the accolades or acclaim he has earned over the years. That paired with Link’s gentle beam of greeting was practically enough to stop the Zora prince’s heart then and there.

“Where are we going?” Sidon had questioned, trailing along behind the tiny Hylian.

“I know a place,” is all Link had uttered, bounding off towards the Ruto Mountains. After some climbing, Link came to a pause in front of a small opening in the cliffside. Wordlessly, he crouched and disappeared into the hole, leaving Sidon to wonder if he ought to follow (if he could even fit, that is). The prince minced about for a moment, debating what to do, before giving into curiosity and following Link’s path. The opening was narrow, but wide enough for the Zora prince to cautiously inch through. Whatever fear he had of getting stuck swiftly dissipated when Sidon emerged from the cavern and was met with perhaps the most beautiful swimming spot he’d ever laid eyes on. Lush greenery surrounded a pond with water clear as glass. Lotus flowers floated languidly on the surface and hot-footed frogs darted in and out of the pool. Sidon, in awe, caught a triumphant Link’s gaze.

“However did you find this place?” the Prince questioned, marveling at the sheer beauty of it all. Link merely shrugged, explaining he’d stumbled across it on his journeys, and that was that.

Now, Link perches on a nearby rock, dangling his feet in the water while Sidon gracefully drifts through the clear pond. Little is said between them for a while, each enjoying the solitude and tranquility after days of chaos and battle. Link looks haggard, dark circles under his eyes and an exhausted slump in his shoulders. But when Sidon meets his gaze, the vivid blue of the Hylian’s irises is as bright as ever. Link smiles softly, gesturing for the prince to come closer. Sidon gently paddles nearer, surfacing once he reaches the edge of the pond. From his pack, Link pulls out something wrapped in parchment paper. He unravels it to reveal a heavenly scented loaf of spiced bread. A burst of cardamom hits Sidon’s nose as Link slices into it, quietly offering up a piece to the prince. It almost melts on his tongue, fluffy, delicate, and deliciously moist.

Sidon lingers at the edge of the pond for a while, sharing cardamom bread with Link and chit-chatting about anything and everything. The prince had been impressed by the Hylian from the beginning, but is even more so when he hears about all the other foes he’s had to do battle with. As Link weaves tale after tale, Sidon finds himself wondering something he’s been wondering for a while: what it might be like to steal a kiss from the blonde warrior before him. He has resigned this thought to fantasy, however, knowing it could never be. So he simply absorbs Link’s words, listening with intent as the normally reticent Hylian opens up to him about the struggles he’s faced.

Sidon wonders if Link can see the wonderment in his eyes, the admiration. He wonders if Link can sense the way his heart flutters when their hands brush against one another or if he can hear the very blood rushing through his veins. Lost in this thought, he’s hardly aware of what Link says next, until he repeats it.

“You’ve got some crumbs here,” the Hylian says again, brushing his own lip with his thumb. Sidon, wrenched from his daydreaming, sputters a, “thank you,” before attempting to brush away the pieces of cake that have stuck themselves to his lower lip.

“Is it gone?” Sidon questions, staring expectantly up at Link, who gives him a patient smile in return.

“Here,” the Hylian offers, tenderly brushing his thumb over Sidon’s lower lip, sending the poor prince into a tizzy. The tension is palpable, the world around them suddenly silent. Sidon could swear his heart has halted in his chest. He holds his breath as Link’s thumb rests against the corner of his mouth. The Hylian’s cheeks are dusted pink. Maybe it’s the heat of the sun or the strenuous climb up the mountain that has him flushed. Surely, it must be that, Sidon thinks.

Until Link bends ever so slightly, his face mere centimeters from Sidon, whose breath hitches in his throat. Time seems to slow to a crawl, the Zora prince’s hand reaching up to cup Link’s cheek as Link passes his thumb once more over Sidon’s lip. Sidon wonders if he’s dreaming when the Hylian’s lips press against his own, soft and sweet, tasting of cardamom and sending elated shivers down the Zora prince’s spine.

A/N: I meant to keep these between 500 and 800 words, but I got a little carried away with this one... And I had to cut it down! I planned for even more, goodness gracious. Anyway, I haven't written a Sidlink fic before and I really enjoyed writing this little one! Maybe some more in the future? Possibly even Sidon x Link x OC? Thank you for reading! Up next is Xander from Fire Emblem: Fates!

#prince sidon #legend of zelda #loz #botw link #sidon x link #sidlink #loz fanfiction #sidon #my writing #dani writes #500 follower event #one-shot #fluff

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jawritter · 1 year

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If It’s Meant to Be

Part 6

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader

Warnings: 18 + ONLY!!! ANGST!!! Multiple View Points

Word Count: 2040

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

Beau’s POV:

Beau rested his head against the cold glass of the passenger side window he was sitting next to, his gaze unfocused on the greenery flying by ahead of him. Everything around him was nothing but a blur, a long, agonizing blur. He’d stopped drinking heavily when he moved to Montana, but tonight, if he survived this shift, he was going to give his past, ‘recovered’ self, a run for his money.

The day had been no short of hell itself, as he expected it to be. He was pretty sure that everyone in the Goddamn department knew that he’d not claimed Y/N.

He thought he’d been able to hide behind the mountain of paperwork he’d had to work through in his office all day, but of course, some fucking asshole had to do a hit and run in the description of the car that Beau and Jenny had been tracking for weeks, presumably, it was connected with some cartel that had moved its way into town from New York. So therefore, he had to respond in person, because he didn’t really trust Jenny to do something stupid if she decided to go alone. This was just fucking perfect. Icing on the cake of a total shit day. One that apparently didn’t seem to have an end in sight.

“You know, if you’re not up to this I can take you back to the station and just bring Pop with me,” Jenny offered again, taking her eyes off the road momentarily to stare at Beau with a concerned look on her face. She’d never heard him so quiet. It scared her. At first, she thought he was just angry at her, and he knew that is what she thought, but honestly, he was past angry, and just didn’t feel like talking about his feelings to anyone. Now he was pretty sure she was just fucking scared he’d gone into some sort of pining sickness. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t, but seeing as there was nothing he could do about, there was no point in worrying about it. It’s not like he could change things, make them better. He just had to live with it until that little piece of Alpha that thought he’d found hope in Y/N died, just like he did the night Carla left, and took his pup with him.

“Beau!” Jenny yelled this time, and he jumped, looking at her with wide, confused eyes and she set her lips in a hard, disapproving line as her eyes bore back into his. “You know, fuck it, I’m taking you back to the station, you’re not—”

“I’m fucking fine, we’re almost there anyway, just… let’s just get this over with.” Beau bit back, and she narrowed her eyes at him again before bringing her gaze back to the road ahead of her.

“Beau, your mind’s clearly not on this, that’s dangerous, something could happen to you when you’re not paying attention fully to what’s going on around you. You’re not even really in any shape to be at work today.”

“I said I'm fine,” Beau growled threateningly as he turned his gaze back towards the road ahead of him and leaned his head back against the window.

“I can tell you’re not fine Beau, but whatever, be stubborn. If you get hurt, then it’s on you. I offered you a way out. In more ways than one.”

“Excuse me?” Beau questioned, head shooting off of the window as if he’d been tased to glare at the blonde woman sitting next to him. “What do you mean, ‘in more ways than on’?”

“How do you think Y/N knew you were in rut? Or that you needed her? I went to Tonya’s Diner and I told her, if I had not, you’d be feral or dead right now.”

Beau saw red, he’d never been so angry. No amount of anger management, grief counseling, or fucking therapy could have calmed him down. He’d never had a woman on his punch list before, but he was pretty sure she’d just made it.

“You what?” he growled as Jenny pulled up to the scene of the accident and put the vehicle in park.

“You weren’t going to get any better,” Jenny said stubbornly. “So I went to Tonya’s restaurant, and I told her you were in rut, and that she’d triggered it. Ultimately it was her decision to go to you, but still, I think she had the right to know.”

Beau’s hands were shaking as he reached for the door handle, his nostrils flared heavily with each breath, and honestly, he probably looked a little insane.

“You know, you really need to learn how to mind your own Goddamn business. I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t ask you to send that girl to me. I didn’t ask for an Omega. Next time you decide to help, don’t.”

Before she could argue with him, Beau jerked the car door open, and stepped out onto the road, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, making a mental note to ride home with another deputy. Had she not butted in, he wouldn’t have to feel what he was feeling right now. He wouldn’t have had to make the decision’s he’d made.

Y/N’s POV:

“Jesus Donno, I’m so sorry,” Y/N apologized for what felt like the thousandth time just in one day.

“It’s okay Y/N,” Donno reassured her on the other end of the phone. “You had a lot coming at you when you left last, and this morning when you got here was no better. It was a simple mistake. I can correct it.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better though, I should have checked it this morning before I left. When I get back to work tomorrow, I’ll stay an hour later and help you set up the breakfast prep for the next day off the clock to make up for it.”

“No you will not,” he argued, an air of finality in his voice. “You work too much as it is, take a few days off on us, recover from what that so-called Alpha did, and in a few days, come back to work when you’re feeling up to it. Your job will be here, and I’m seriously not worried about the prep work, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t losing it, and that I really didn’t have it done and not just misplaced a pan of biscuits or something.”

“You’re sane as you always were Donno,” she chuckled on her breath at the thought of Donno in comparison to sanity. “It was my mistake.”

“Again, no worries, I’ll call back and check in a few days to see if you’re able to come into work. In the meantime, get some rest Y/N,” he insisted. “You work and stress too much.”

“Scouts honor,” she said before disconnecting the call, and laying the phone down on the table with an exhausted huff.

Truth be told, there would be no resting for her.

When she’d gotten home from the restaurant, she’d cried until she just had nothing left to cry, only making it from the front door to the couch. She was mourning. She was mourning the Alpha that had rejected her so cruelly after he’d used her for his rut. She was mourning the pup that would now never be. She was just gutted from the whole thing.

Then once she’d cried all she could cry, she picked herself up off of the couch, and forced herself into a shower in an attempt to get his scent off of her skin. She’d succeeded mostly. Still, if she breathed deep enough, she was sure she could smell him still. Like he was embedded into every fiber of her being.

She thought that if she could get his scent off of her skin, then the extreme heaviness in her chest would go away, and she wouldn’t feel as if her whole house were sitting in the center of her chest, making it difficult to even breathe sometimes. The Anxiety and the heaviness that was there though did not dissipate with his scent though, cause it seemed to be getting heavier, and she started to become more anxious the longer she sat alone on her couch, staring at the phone that she’d placed on her coffee table moments ago.

Even through the grieving, she’d been angry with Beau since she’d pulled away from his trailer with her shattered heart somewhere in her gut. She was angry that he’d used her. She was fucking furious that he’d had the audacity to bring her that pill. She was so, so mad, and so brokenly hurt. Still, as the minute hand clicked by on the clock hanging opposite her on the wall, the more she started to feel like something was very, VERY wrong. Like something really bad had happened.

If she had to describe it, it was as if someone in the corner of the room had whispered, and she’d heard it, but no matter how hard she listened, she couldn’t distinguish what they were saying, but she knew they were asking for help. Then, when she turned, no one was there. It was creepy, and it made her skin crawl.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, even for a moment, all she could see was those emerald eyes staring back at her the way they were when she’d left them there in his trailer.

So no, there would be no rest for the weary, not today, probably not tonight or tomorrow either.

She was just about to get up and go to try and make herself eat something, thinking it might help with the pit that she felt in her stomach, even though she wasn’t at all hungry, when the phone rang, making her jump off of the couch as if someone had yelled ‘clear!’ and hit her with a set of paddles.

Normally, if it was a number she didn’t recognize, she just ignored it, but since she was so on edge, she answered it on only the second ring, afraid that if she didn’t, then it would only driver her mad thinking that it was the one call that she should have answered, but didn’t, cause that’s just how anxiety works, and now she’d never know because she didn’t answer.

“Hello,” she half yelled breathily into the phone, her hand placed over her racing heart in an attempt to slow it.

“Hello? Ms. Y/L/N?” the female voice on the other line responded, and for a moment, she thought she was about to get another notice on the extended warranty on a car she didn’t even own, so she rolled her eyes dramatically at her own overreaction as she flopped back down on the couch, even more annoyed and upset with herself that she already was.

“Yes, this is she,” Y/N continued, committed by the fact that she’d already picked up the phone, might as well let it play out.

“This is Connie, from Helena General. Beau Arlen was shot today in the line of duty. Jenny told me that you were his Omega.”

Just like that, the floor felt as if it had fallen out from under her, and had she not been sitting, she would have fallen on her ass.

“Sh… He’s been shot?” she stuttered out finally. “Is he okay? Is he alive? How bad is it?”

“Calm down Ms. Y/L/N, he’s alive, but I can’t discuss the nature of his injuries on the phone, I need you to come to the hospital.”

For a split second, Y/N thought about just hanging up on her. Beau had abandoned her, rejected her so cruelly. Maybe he deserved the same fate. Maybe she should just walk away. Whatever happens to him, well, he deserved it. But then, there was this gut-wrenching feeling that just wouldn’t let her do it. It just wouldn’t let her abandon him the way he’d abandoned her.

“I’m on my way.”

Forever:

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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#it's meant to be #beau alren #beau arlen x reader #alpha beau arlen x omega reader #alpha beau arlen #omega reader #abo #abo dynamics #beau arlen series #jensen ackles #big sky #jawritter

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bittersundaycaro · 4 months

Text

Reverse Card AU bit!

(The bit I promised. Written in March 2022. Tommy POV)

Crimson sun was slowly descending behind the mountains. A smooth pale hand elegantly gripped a glass and brought a crimson liquid to his lips. A familiar bitter-sweet taste made his senses sing in excitement.

Red half-lidded eyes looked through the window on the courtyard below. Three shadows were moving through the greenery. Cautious, alert and oh so foolish. Like three naive sheep fed by sweet lies, sent to the slaughter.

They were moving in a kind of protective formation. One was in the front, making sure nobody will see them. He had long dyed pink hair tied into a braid and his hand was hovering over a sword by his side. It would be easy to assume that he was the leader. But the quick looks behind him, searching for assurance, betrayed him.

The true leader was the man behind him. He had shoulder-length blond hair and wore a funny looking bucket hat. His movements were calculated, swift but his stance was a bit weakened by some kind of old injury. A badly healed fracture or worn cartilage.

And behind them was trailing a man who was a polar opposite to whatever annoying energy the two gave out. He was tall, lanky, dark haired and jumpy at any odd sound. His mouth was moving frantically, hands shaking nervously, head turning around like looking for an invisible enemy. Two swans leading an ugly duckling.

The vampire snorted. “Oh, what a pity. He could have lived a nice life. Find some boring job, get a wife, have one of those ugly human offsprings. And instead the Guild sent him here to die.”

#dark sbi #sbi au #vampire au #sbi

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journeythroughjourneytothewest · 7 months

Text

Chapter 14 Recap: Mind monkey returns to the Right; the Six Robbers vanish from sight.

Though both Tripitaka and Boqin are driven to fear by the voice, the assembled houseboys state confidently that it “must be the old ape in that stone box beneath the mountain who is shouting.” Boqin agrees, and then explains to a perplexed Tang Sanzang that though the mountain is currently known as the “Mountain of Two Frontiers,” it was once known as the “Mountain of Five Phases.” Boqin states that he had further heard from his elders that the mountain had long ago “fell from Heaven with a divine monkey clamped beneath it,” and that this monkey had “lasted from that time until now, surviving both cold and hunger.” Boqin then suggests that they go see what the monkey is shouting about, and Tripitaka reluctantly agrees.

The two and the horse don’t have to travel long before they encounter a stone box that does indeed contain a sentient monkey currently covered in dirt and greenery. Said monkey greets Tang Sanzang as “master,” and states that he’ll protect the monk on the way to the Westward Heaven. He then asks Tripitaka if he is indeed the scripture pilgrim and, having that confirmed, reveals himself to be “the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven…who greatly disturbed the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago.” He also claims that he is now sworn to protect the scripture pilgrim, and that he is willing to become Tang Sanzang’s disciple.

Tripitaka is delighted at this turn of events, but isn’t sure how he can free the monkey from the stone box. The Great Sage tells Tang Sanzang that it’s an easy task, and that all he has to do is remove a tag with golden letters on the top of the mountain. Boqin and Tripitaka make their way up together, and upon seeing the seal Xuanzang prays to the Buddha to only let the monk remove the seal if the monkey’s speaking the truth. He then removes the tag easily, and it blows away, with the prison guard of the Great Sage also letting Tripitaka know that the seal is being returned to the Buddha.

After going back to Sun Wukong and letting the monkey know that his imprisonment is over, the delighted simian tells Tripitaka that he should “walk away from here so that I can come out.” The group of humans then retreat some five or six miles, but Sun Wukong yells at them to go further. Finally, after they had left the mountain entirely, “at once came a crash so loud that it was as if the mountain was cracking and the earth splitting wide open.” The next second a completely naked Great Sage is bowing in front of Tang Sanzang, thanking Boqin for “shaving the grass from my face,” and goes off to get the luggage in order. We’re also informed that Sun Wukong’s time as the BanHorsePlague gave him such authority over all equines that “the horses of this world inevitably would fear him when they saw him.” The monkey also informs the monk that he already has a religious name in “Sun Wukong,” and Tripitaka gives him the nickname “Pilgrim Sun.”

Boqin, now seeing Tang Sanzang is protected by “an excellent disciple,” makes his leave. The “stark naked” monkey and the monk continue on the journey west, Sun Wukong carrying the luggage, Tripitaka on his horse. They are soon menaced by a tiger which Pilgrim Sun takes on with delight, pulling out his as-you-will cudgel from his ear and giving big cat such a ferocious blow that he “caused its brain to burst out like ten thousand red petals of peach blossoms, and the teeth to fly out like so many pieces of white jade.” Tang Sanzang immediately falls off his horse in fear at this display of strength, noting that it had taken Boqin all day to defeat a tiger whereas Sun Wukong had reduced the tiger “to pulp with one blow of his rod.” An unperturbed Pilgrim Sun asks Tripitaka to sit down for awhile, and proceeds to make himself a loincloth from the tiger’s skin.

As they continue their travels, Tang Sanzang asks Sun Wukong a litany of questions about his cudgel and about his abilities, which the monkey is only too eager to boast of. Tripitaka is “more relieved than ever” upon hearing that his new disciple and his new guardian possesses “boundless ways of transformation” and ways to protect him, and the two continue travelling and chatting until sunset.

They find shelter for the night after some difficulty, with an elderly man who opened a door they knocked on being left “panic-stricken by the hideous appearance of Pilgrim,” but who is soon mollified upon seeing “the handsome features of Tripitaka.” Monk and disciple are soon invited in, and Sun Wukong relates how he had seen the old man when he was a child collecting vegetables and firewood. The old man, for his own part, recounts how his great-grandfather had told him about how when “this mountain dropped from the sky, it had a divine ape clamped underneath it.” Tripitaka and the old man also discover that they are from the same clan as they both have the secular family name “Chen.” Sun Wukong then asks “Old Chen” for some boiled water so that he and his new shifu can clean themselves; old monkey in particular hadn’t taken a bath “for five hundred years.” Pilgrim Sun further requests a needle and some thread from Old Chen after the bath, which he uses to properly stitch his tiger skin. Wearing that and one of Tripitaka’s shirts which the monk had left out specifically for the monkey, Sun Wukong “paraded in front of his master,” and Tang Sanzang compliments him, saying that his disciple now truly looks like a pilgrim.

Pilgrim Sun and Tripitaka are back on the road the next morning, continuing the journey west. Soon enough the seasons change, and early winter is upon them. It is then that master and disciple are suddenly accosted by six bandits, who demand that they leave their horse and bag behind. Tang Sanzang is terrified enough to fall from his horse. Sun Wukong, however, calls this robbery a trifling matter, and that the bandits are “just some people coming to give us clothes and a travel allowance.” The monkey then nonchalantly lets the bandits hack away at him about eighty times before deciding that “it’s about time for old Monkey to take out his needle for a little entertainment.” He then proceeds to “beat every one of them to death, stripped them of their clothes, and seized their valuables.” He brings these spoils back to Tang Sanzang, smiling broadly.

Tripitaka, for his own part, is horrified by his disciple’s actions and soundly reprimands him. Confused, Sun Wukong notes that if he hadn’t killed the bandits, “they would have killed you!” Tang Sanzang, however, is adamant that “As a priest, I would rather die than practice violence.” Pilgrim Sun then states that “when I, old Monkey, was king on the Flower-Fruit Mountain five hundred years ago, I killed I don’t know how many people. I would not have been a Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, if I had lived by what you are saying.” Tang Sanzang retorts that “It’s precisely because you had neither scruples nor self-control…that you had to undergo this ordeal of five hundred years,” and that because even after entering the fold of Buddhism the monkey insisted “on practicing violence and indulge in the taking of life as before, you are not worthy to be a monk, nor can you got to the Western Heaven. You’re wicked! You’re just too wicked!”

This monkey, so the story next informs us, “had never in all his life been able to tolerate scolding.” And so he flies off, leaving Tripitaka to “set off sadly to the West.” The lonesome monk doesn’t travel long before he meets an old woman holding “a silk garment and a cap with a floral design.” He tells her about his mission and about Sun Wukong’s spat at her questioning, and she gives him the garment and cap, claiming that they used to belong to her son who “had been a monk for only three days when unfortunately he died.” She also gives Tang Sanzang a spell called “True Words for Controlling the Mind, or the Tight-Fillet Spell.” She tells the monk that when Pilgrim Sun returns he must give the monkey the garment and the cap, and then recite the spell silently “if he again refuses to obey…He will not dare do violence or leave your again.” Tripitaka thanks the old woman, who transforms into a shaft of golden light and vanishes towards the east. It is then Tang Sanzang realizes that he was speaking with the Bohisattva Guanyin.”

Sun Wukong, for his own part, heads straight to the Water Crystal Palace of the Dragon King of the Eastern ocean. The two kings start chatting, with Pilgrim Sun telling the dragon about his refusal to listen to the monk and his desire to go back to his mountain, having only stopped by the palace “to come visit you and ask for a cup of tea.” While the Dragon King indulges the monkey, he soon tells him that if he is “unwilling to exercise diligence or to accept instruction, you will remain a bogus immortal after all.” Sun Wukong does soon agree to go back, even running into Bodhisattva Guanyin on his way. Once he reunites with Tang Sanzang, Pilgrim Sun moves to get his shifu food from a bag, and sees the silk shirt and flower cap. Tripitaka tells the monkey that he may wear the fine garments if they fit. An eager Sun Wukong tries them on, and no sooner had he put on the cap than Tang Sanzang started reciting the Tight-Fillet Spell.

The monk “went through the recitation several times without ceasing, and the pain was so intense that Pilgrim was rolling on the ground, his hands gripping the flower cap.” When he touches his head again, Sun Wukong finds that “it was tightly bound by a thin metal band; it could be neither pulled off nor ripped apart, for it had, as it were, taken root on his head.” It can’t even be removed with the as-you-will cudgel. And Tripitaka doesn’t give Pilgrim much time to try, and this time goes through the recitation of the spell until it was “so painful that [Sun Wukong] did cartwheels and somersaults. His face and even his ears turned red, his eyes bulged, and his body grew weak.” The monkey promises to obey the monk if only he stops the recitation. Yet right afterwards he tries to kill Tang Sanzang, and after he’s brough to heel a second time expresses a wish to beat the Bodhisattva Guanyin up. Yet soon after, “Pilgrim gave up all thoughts of disobedience or rebellion.” Whether he will keep with this new mentality is a question that will have to be left for the next chapter.

#jtjttw chapter recap #xiyouji #journey to the west #jttw #sun wukong #monkey king #tang sanzang #return of the king #and subsequent humbling of the kind

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