#malachi strand

[tortoisesshells]

have been rewatching Longmire and forgot that, in the middle of the"multiple people's dangerous obsessions/monomanias collide, with a not insignificant death toll" season, there's a scene with elementary school kids performing Moby-Dick. flawless. amazing. i'd be ashamed of myself for writing it in but kudos to the writers for having the balls to commit to the fucking bit.

[br0kenangel]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥.

The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows against the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of the blanket draped over your shoulders did nothing to chase away the cold that gripped your heart.

Malachy knelt in front of you, a gentle smile on his lips as he carefully scooped up a spoonful of soup from the bowl in his hand. He brought it to your lips, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were feeding a delicate bird.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his voice a soothing lullaby that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions raging inside you. “You need to eat something. It’ll make you feel better.”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as fresh tears welled up in your eyes. Everything felt wrong. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you—like you were something precious, something to be cherished. But you weren’t. Not anymore. Not after what he’d done.

Malachy’s free hand reached up to brush away a tear that slipped down your cheek, his thumb warm against your cool skin. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything, my sweet girl.”

You parted your lips, allowing him to feed you the spoonful of soup, the taste bland and unremarkable on your tongue. It slid down your throat, but the comfort it was supposed to bring never came. Instead, more tears spilled over, trailing down your cheeks in silent rivers.

“There you go,” Malachy crooned, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb before they could fall any further. “Such a good girl. My good girl.”

You wanted to pull away, to recoil from his touch, but your body refused to listen. You felt numb, your emotions a tangled mess that you couldn’t begin to unravel. All you could do was sit there and let him care for you, even though it only made the pain worse.

He set the bowl aside and moved closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a cruel contrast to your own frantic pulse. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers threading through the strands with practiced ease.

“You’re so beautiful when you cry,” he whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “So fragile, so perfect.”

His words were like poison, sweet and deadly, seeping into your mind and taking root. You hated how your body responded to him, how your tears seemed to fall faster with every gentle word he uttered.

“It’s okay to cry,” Malachy continued, his voice a soft hum. “You’ve been through so much. But I’m here now. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

But you were afraid. You were terrified. Not of him, but of yourself. Of how easy it was to fall into his arms, to let him hold you, to let him whisper those sweet nothings that made your heart ache and your tears flow.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, catching a tear with his lips. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself.”

The sob that tore from your throat was involuntary, your hands clutching at his shirt as you broke down completely. Malachy only held you tighter, his whispers of affection wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

“There, there, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don’t have to face anything alone.”

But the truth was, you felt more alone than ever.

And as you cried in his arms, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were drowning, slowly sinking into the depths of something dark and inescapable. But Malachy held you fast, anchoring you to him with a grip that felt more like a shackle than a lifeline.

And as much as you wanted to escape, a part of you knew you never would.

Part 1 ♡ Part 3

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[kurithedweeb]

Dear Sir Garroth,

Allow me to be plain with you, Sir. I'm angry at you. Pissed at you, really. Extraordinarily pissed, if you couldn't tell from the scorched edge of this letter you will likely never see. I'm not even sure why I'm still writing this seeing as I tried to burn it before I finished the first sentence. Perhaps only because it's something to do.

I was stabbed the day before the battle ended, do you remember? By a frost dagger. I would have appreciated the warning that the cold will run through your veins, perhaps from a man who used to wield one himself? You know how the cold afflicts me, you bastard. No matter, my blood is plenty warm with hurt now. Since you first bound it on the field, my stitches have been torn thrice. I collapsed the moment I stepped through the portal and had to be helped into town to see Donna.

Though she may be a wondrously talented medic, Donna is no healer or witch. There's only so much she could do and so she's ordered I remain on bedrest until I've healed to her liking. I'm loathe to bring that woman's wrath down on myself, hence why I am now writing pointless letters to men stranded in different realms. She has four children now, Donna; Yip, twin boys Lello and Rollo, and a girl named Luca. She's only a babe, Luca, still in her swaddling, but the twins must be nearly ten. I tell you this because it's been fifteen years. We've been gone fifteen years. You may still be gone years and years.

Levin is grown now. Lord, even. He resembles you very much, all keen blue eyes and wisps of blond curls falling in his face, but his mannerisms are alike his mothers'. He has a faint trace of your accent in his words, too. He did not recognize me. I'm told he was too young when we left to remember us properly, though Malachi supposedly does. He's a trader these days, out at sea with Logan when we arrived home. Levin didn't speak with me long, as busy all day as our lady is—was. He did tell me he'd been excited to meet us both, that his brother and Uncle Dante had told him stories of us as he'd grown, and he'd known that if we were anything at all like how they'd described then we were good men he'd rather get to know.

Dante's grown old. I last saw him hours ago, and now he is head guard rather than the slight boy fresh from the academy we knew him as. The dark circles under his eyes make me worry he hasn't had a proper rest in years, and he's thin in a way I wish I didn't recognize. Do you remember the night he snuck away to handle the O'khasian archers? You might not. I've found even so soon after to my eyes the days and nights blend together at times. I remember the great tears rolling down his face when you and I removed the arrow and picked the remains from his face. That night left a scar on either cheek, rough ones shaped like starbursts or comets. The shape far-off lights make in the night when you squint just right. He felt so small in the cradle of my arms then. He's of a height with me now, standing eye to eye.

We missed their entire lives in the Matron's realm. Gone in a blink. Our boys, our brother, our friends, they have all moved past us. Irony of irony, they've sent us off into the Matron's embrace already, Sir Garroth Ro'Meave. Buried us and moved on.

Because of your actions, we have missed the whole of their lives, the lives we could have shared with them. Should have. All for what? For a man you hadn't seen in at least a decade, one you no longer knew at all?

Everything has changed because of what you did, you ass. I should tell you I will never forgive this deed of yours. And yet I miss you already.

Sincerely yours,

Your second-in-command, Sir Laurance Zvahl of Phoenix Drop.

[bisexual-kane]

One particularly obnoxious strand of bad AEW discourse is that Tony Khan is some kind of tyrant booker who forces wrestlers into spots/storylines/promos that are dangerous/uncomfortable.

(Kenny taking bumps Wednesday and Ospreay's shot at Triple H come to mind.)

I may be wrong, but at one time, AEW didn't really function like WWE where Vince dictated everything. Instead, wrestlers pitched their own ideas and Tony gave them a thumbs up or thumbs down.

It's kind of why a lot of WWE refugees like Andrade El Idolo felt like they didn't do much. Without Triple H/Vince dictating a story, what were they to do? Malachi Black in particular totally has the vibes of a guy who has really, really cool ideas--but they are ideas and not stories, so despite House of Black being heavily featured, it feels like they never do anything.

Meanwhile, The Elite (and all of their friends/hangers-on/dick riders) have spent a lot of time developing their own characters and improv skills through New Japan, ROH, PWG, and (I cannot emphasize this enough) BTE. Jon Moxley in particular when he bailed on WWE talked up a lot about how he wanted the freedom to improv promos and that he didn't need a script because that ain't wrestling to him. You can also see people like Christian Cage and Adam Copeland (and even Chris Jericho), who left WWE by choice who are really excited to be in AEW because they get a chance to flex creative muscles they didn't get to in WWE and they are doing really interesting and cool things.

(I mean, I know we are all sour on Chris Jericho right now in 2024, but Inner Circle Jericho was a really great heel champion.)

Again, I am totally just an outside fan who has no inner knowledge. But at least at one point, AEW was trying to be a more collaborative environment. Tony Khan has final say about what goes on the show, but the talent themselves are doing a lot of pitching the ideas about what ends up on it.

Like, Tony is not making Will Ospreay go out there and take shots at Triple H against his will. Stop making up a villain in your head, people. jeeze.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Everything Has Changed--Ch. 29

Chapter 29

Nick

            I hadn’t spoken to Matt in almost a week. He called constantly the first day or two, then eventually stopped by day five. My voicemail had at least two dozen messages from him. I honestly couldn’t bring myself to listen to any of them. The truth was that I felt horrible for leaving him stranded in the parking lot at LAX. It had been a stupid and selfish thing to do, and I felt sick that I’d done it from the moment I hit the highway. But I was also so angry and hurt that I stuck by it.

            My parents, Malachi, DJ, all of them called. I didn’t answer. I knew that my siblings would try to get me to forget what happened. Dad would have tried to counsel me; told me I was my brother’s keeper and all that. Mom would have put the emotional screws on me to make me forgive him. Of course, I was sure that Matt had given them the story he wanted them to hear. He wouldn’t have told them about why I’d been so upset. How he’d basically picked Kenny Omega over me. Even knowing what he’d done to Shaye, Matt had chosen to basically break up the team we’d built for our entire lives. I hated him for it, and I hated myself for hating him.

            The only person who actually showed up at my apartment to try to drag some kind of conversation out of me was Sam. I don’t know why it surprised me when she appeared, banging on the door and screaming for me to open up. She’d completely filled my voicemail with one message after the other telling me how I was being stupid and selfish and generally a massive prick. The first few times I’d just let her knock and scream until she wore herself out. But then my neighbors complained. Then I just opened the door, told her to go away, and slammed it in her face.

            I’d basically locked myself away in my apartment and cut off contact with just about everyone I knew. Especially my family. It was just easier to avoid everyone because I didn’t want to have to explain or justify what I’d done against the convincingly smooth lies my brother would have told everyone around him. I hated thinking about Matt like that, but at the moment it seemed about right. It wasn’t like he was going out of his way to find out what really happened in Winnipeg.

            I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything, and even though my stomach was growling I had no desire for food. My head had been killing me for hours despite chugging water and eating ibuprofen like candy. I suppose going without food for so long wasn’t helping either.

            My fingers groped through the tangled sheets for my phone. I clicked it on to check the time: half past five. So, eight thirty on the East Coast. My finger lingered over the screen as I fought with myself. It wasn’t like I was exactly on the top of my game emotionally—as good an excuse as any to do the Jackson family version of drunk calling.

            I sucked in a breath and scrolled through to Shaye’s number, tapping on it before I could think twice. My nerves were so shot that I almost wished I was drunk as I listened to the line ringing over and over again. After the tenth ring, it was clear she wasn’t going to answer.

            Click. “You’ve reached Shaye Walker. Please leave a message at the tone.” Beep.

            My stomach dropped out. Of course she wouldn’t answer my call. She hadn’t done it for the last month, so there was no reason for her to change her mind now. I felt my jaw tighten as my breath caught in my chest.

            What’s the point, I thought. “I’m sorry,” I said almost too softly to hear my own words. “I shouldn’t have called.”

            I hung up and tossed the phone somewhere near the foot of the bed. My stomach grumbled and my head throbbed.

            What’s the point?

***

Shaye

            I tugged my bag tighter against my chest as I waited on the platform for the train to the Upper East Side. My head felt like it had been squeezed in a vice all day, and all I wanted to do was go home, crawl into my bed, and wait for Kenny to call. If he called. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. I never knew which one it was going to be, so I kept myself awake for as long as I could and dragged myself out of bed as early as possible. I didn’t want to miss his call no matter how much it ground me down day after day.

            The subway was hot and stuffy. I rubbed my fingers over my forehead and groaned as I checked my watch. The train was late. I just wanted to go home. Was that too much to ask? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this exhausted. Or the last time I’d existed on so much caffeine. A yawn worked its way out.

            I blinked and the train doors were just about to slam shut in my face. Before it could, I forced my way onto the car and found a place to sit. My body practically collapsed into the plastic seat as I dug in my pocket for my phone. Maybe Kenny would be available. Maybe I could speak to him for a bit and then be able to go to bed not long after I got home.

            The voicemail icon caught my attention. I tapped it without checking who called.

            It played once, but I could barely hear the words against the noise of the subway. The message was short, not even ten seconds. What was the point of leaving a message if it was so quiet that it could barely be heard and so short that it could barely contain any useful information?

            Frustrated, I connected my headphones, turned up the volume as loud as it would go, and then replayed the message.

            “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

            The line went dead, but I could still hear the words rolling around in my skull. It had been a long time since I’d heard that voice. Not since I’d practically told him to leave me alone. But I would never forget the sound.

            My heart skipped one beat after another. It nearly choked the breath from my lungs. That was the only explanation I had for what I did.

            I closed my eyes and tried to calm my heartbeat as I waited for the call to connect. The seconds between each ring seemed to stretch out further and further. Almost as if the universe was giving me a chance to rethink what I was doing. To stop the manic stupidity that I was exhibiting in that moment.

            My finger hovered over the screen, ready to disconnect the call.

            “H-hello?”

            My heart clawed up my throat. “Hey.”

            For a moment, I thought the call had dropped. It sounded like nothing but static and then a prolonged silence.

            “Are you there?” I asked softly. My fingers trembled with anxiety.

            “I… Yeah, I’m here,” came the reply. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he sounded drunk. “I… Are you okay?”

            A warm, gentle sensation settled into my chest. Almost as if something I’d lost had fallen back into place again. I took a deep breath. When was the last time I’d been able to breathe this easily?

            “Good. I’m good.” The words were out before I could stop them. The huge lie that they were. “What about you?”

            He cleared his throat. I heard a rustle that sounded like he was rolling around in blankets. I looked at my watch. Had I got the time wrong?

            “You didn’t have to call,” Nick said after what felt like forever. “I didn’t expect you to. Honestly, I didn’t even expect you to listen to the message. If you even got it. For all I knew, you’d blocked my number.”

            I felt those words like a blow to my chest. He hadn’t said it to be hurtful. I knew that much about Nick Jackson. But it had hurt nonetheless, and it reminded me of how I’d treated this guy who’d been more than kind to me when I needed it most.

            “I—Why d’you think I’d do that?”

            Nick groaned. I heard a thump and wondered if he’d knocked his head back against the headboard. A memory rushed into me unbidden of falling asleep in Nick’s bed after everything that happened in Winnipeg. Realization settled over me. California had really been the last time I’d felt remotely safe or normal.

            “Last time we talked, you basically told me to get lost. I guessed from there.”

            Tears prickled my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they came so fast that I couldn’t hold them back. So much had happened since the last time Nick and I had spoken. The weight of it all was suddenly the only thing I could think about. I couldn’t breathe through the tears.

            “I’m sorry, Nick,” I said, knowing the brokenness in my voice was evident. “I shouldn’t have called and dragged you back into my mess.”

            It sounded as if Nick let out a growl. “Am I going to get a say in anything that happens?” he spat angrily. “You and Matt… I’m a grown man. Let me act like it.”

            “I… Wait, what happened with Matt?”

            Nick huffed on the other end of the line. “We’re done. The Bucks are over. Matt still wants to wrestle in a trio with Kenny, even knowing everything that he did.”

            Bile burned the back of my throat. “Nick, please,” I whimpered, “don’t let what happened tear you guys apart. It isn’t worth it.”

            “It is to me. Because I don’t like it when people I love get hurt. Even if it’s other people I love who do it.”

_________________________________

Tag List

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@waywardstrong

@lilred91

@maelleoute

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@writtingrose

@unabashedwrestlefics

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@theawkwardadorable

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 22

Hey! I'm alive! I'm here! And I'm writing! Haha! Woof, my real life has been an interesting blur of work, sister time, friend time, caring for my polycule, husband time, ARCANE, and of course, writing. I have excellent news to report-- my goal for the month was to produce 30K words and GUESS WHAT. YA BOI HAS DONE IT. Even more than that, cuz of COURSE I'm gonna keep going. The writing group had a sprint night where many of us got together to do sprints, and I got so many little scenes done that I'm very excited about lol I got gators that jump like flying fish, I got the Seneca Beast being a fucking nightmare and nuisance, I got Dolcezza and Malachi finally kissing and admitting they like each other [Dolcezza says like, Malachi is so down bad it makes him look stupid lol poor guy he's such a romantic], I got all kinds of shit outta the sprints! My husband also helped me with a situation for the book I'm writing where Malachi and Dolcezza get stranded for a minute due to a car malfunction, and since Harrowben is a Car Gay, they were ready to help me, which resulted in me having a Husband Insert character lmao his name is Ben, he rides a motorcycle, he helps people fix their cars, he razzes Dolcezza for not having a work log for his truck, it's very fun.

I don't think I could have accomplished this much without having a group of people that inspire and encourage me, having a writing group fucking rules tbh. And we're doing a gas up call for me on Wednesday were I get to sit and listen to people bark about the fact that I keep writing emotionally charged stories and scenes that make them wanna scream cry throw up lol I'm SO excited. The gas up calls I've been a part of where I'm on the support side have been so fun and I think taking a break to tumble someone else's concept, to come up with ideas with them, to ask questions about their stories, it's a very good way to reinvigorate your own story/writing brain! Hmmm... I don't think I have anything else exciting to report. I'm just a very busy man lol, I make plans with everyone all the time, and I am not tired, or ungrateful for all the love and attention I receive, or how deeply I am valued in my communities, but man it sure is hard to journal when you're running full sprint and breaking the sound barrier to get all of your shit done lmao. But I'm back on it! Lovely to talk with you again. Today's excerpt is a pre-husband-insert moment between Malachi and Dolcezza while they're waiting for Ben to show up, watching a pair of tortoise-deer creatures battle each other and talking about philosophy. I made Dolcezza a Sagittarius because I can and it makes me laugh lol Taglist: @theskeletonprior @tragedycoded @badscientist @thelittlestspider If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please interact with this post

“Looks like your spark plug is busted…” Malachi says from within the car hood. 

“Ah, damn it all.” Dolcezza groans, sighing and tipping his head back before he goes around the truck to dig around in a large duffle bag Malachi only knows contains some first aid supplies and the flare gun. He produces that and continues digging, checking the canisters for the gun before selecting one with another belabored sigh. 

“Ben’s gonna have my ass.” He says to himself as he moves off the road and into the lush, mossy grass, putting several feet between himself, Malachi and the truck. He raises the gun and fires, the flare producing a comet of black smoke that is oddly ominous for an issue as trivial as spark plugs being shot. Though… Malachi thinks of all the cars abandoned in the wilderness, reclaimed by the land. Perhaps something like this is the sort of life or death situation that calls for a flare that blots the blue of the sky with pitch black. 

“We in some trouble?” Malachi asks cautiously, watching the black smoke disperse. Dolcezza follows his look and huffs a laugh. 

“Oh, no honey. I’m in trouble, but not you. Our travel mechanic just likes black, ah, goth I think they call the style. Town uses red for trouble, yellow for new folks found, blue for new resources. Benji just likes black is all. Shouldn’t be long, they ride a bike like a bat outta hell.” Dolcezza says, returning to the truck to put the flare gun back where it belongs. Malachi hums, coming around the truck to stand next to Dolcezza where he’s leaned his hip against it to light up a cigarette. 

“Is that why there’s so many cars with their hoods opened up?” He asks and Dolcezza hums around his smoke to affirm Malachi’s observation. 

“Makes it easy to tell which ones have been gone through for parts. Ben’s the sort of guy who would know by looking which one’s he’s touched, but they keep the hoods popped for the rest of us that might know what to do with our cars and want to go hunting for bits ourselves.” Malachi knows how to change spark plugs, it’s easy work, but as he looks around them all the cars in sight have been opened up and scavenged. Nothing to do but wait then. Dolcezza offers him his cigarette. Malachi takes it, breathes in the smoke, thinking about Dolcezza’s lips for just an indulgent moment before offering it back. There’s a comfortable silence between them, especially when a pair of tortoises have wandered from behind some of the cars, spotting each other at a distance. They are altered by the territory like anything else have, made strange in that they have long, jagged antlers protruding from their wrinkled heads and their shells are covered with fur the way a water turtle might get grown over with algae. The fur is raised like hackles as they stomp towards each other, making good time for tortoises. They meet and clash their antlers together with clacking that Malachi and Dolcezza can hear from where they stand, battling with slow and determined swings of their long necks. One of them catches the other in the shell and flinging its head back, some of that earthy brown fur goes flying. Malachi and Dolcezza wince in tandem, Malachi softly saying ‘oof’ while Dolcezza whistles. 

“It’s always like this, isn’t it?” Malachi asks, glancing Dolcezza’s way. 

“Sure. It’s always changing, but it’s always like this, yeah.” Dolcezza confirms, eyes still focused on the tortoises and their struggle. “Sometimes it’s worse than this, sometimes it’s better, just like anywhere else I suppose. People make a real fuss outside the territory, ‘specially with how odd the Tennessee Void is, but my heart goes out to people that way. It’s not so bad here… the changing is the worst part, of course. Ain’t nothing comparable to it in this world, I don’t think, not that we know as people.” Dolcezza sighs and looks Malachi’s way.

 “I’ve seen a lot of shit, helpin’ people out here, cartin’ around scientists and shit. Nature don’t got no qualms about killin’ and eatin’. With a lot of things, that’s the whole point of bein’ here. Fuckin’, fightin’, feastin’. Don’t know how we got to thinkin’ we’re different and separate, but it’s what makes us I think… we don’t kill and eat things we love, try not to, anyway, build the whole world round trying not to. But it’s natural.” Dolcezza laughs softly at the way Malachi is looking at him. His stupid fucking face is doing what it does always, admitting his fascination, revealing that he’s captive to Dolcezza’s handsome mouth and the words coming out.  

“Philosophical, I know it. I can go on an’ on, I’ll tell ya that. Some sweet girl I caught up a few months ago told me it’s cuz I’m a Sagittarius, whatever the hell that means. Somethin’ in the stars- she told me all about it but just now I can’t tell it to you again. Don’t know what the stars got to do with us… this, all this here? It’s got to do with us, to be sure.” He gestures around them. 

“Yeah… I get what you mean. We’re not in the stars, we’re here, in nature.” Malachi answers back, and Dolcezza smiles, beautiful, pleased to be understood. 

“‘Xactly.”

[billytough]

Open Arms - Sza

This story is about Uba Sully, the second-born daughter of Jake and Neytiri.

Uba , the daughter of Jake and Neytiri, feels immense pressure to live up to the legendary status of her parents and older brother. She's unsure of her own path, as the traditional expectations placed upon her are daunting. Following the events of Avatar: The Way of Water, Uba encounters an old childhood friend who quickly becomes Jake's worst nightmare.

Note: The images used are not mine and belong to their respective owners. James Cameron is the rightful owner of the Avatar franchise. [And if he ever needs another writer, I'm available! 👩🏽‍🦯] p.s I wrote this maybe a year or so ago, for my friends 🫡 I love them dearly

Oc list visuals [Found on Pinterest images belong to their respective owners]

Malachi Riot

RDA - Human - Avatar - Plant specialist

Espen

RDA - Human - Avatar - Malachi’s friend

Uba Sully

Omatikaya - Best weaver - Silent Hunter

Mawley

Omatikaya - Free spirit - Uba's best friend - Best with Tsko A'eoio (bow)

1st Lieutenant Cinder

RDA - Human - Na'vi  - Best shooter

Txana

Metkayina - Fastest swimmer - Twin sister of Ao'nung

I’m

Satari

Metkayina - Future tsahìk - Best singer - 1st daughter of Ronal and Tonowari eldest of three

+ one [getting updated]

[Story here pt 1]

They say that once you get a taste of something new, it's hard to let it go. It gives you butterflies every time you close your eyes; it makes you look out a window whenever things around you are noisy. It makes you yearn for it over and over again. When you're awake, it's your motivation; when you dream, it's your safe place. It's a connection so deep you yourself start to wonder, did you make it all up.

"Wakey wakey~"

Malachi opened his eyes, the light in the room slightly blinding him as he began to sit up in his bed while rubbing his eyes. "What time is it? He mumbled with a yawn.

"It's  1 o'clock, you slept in more than usual Malachi."

Malachi let out a deep sigh, his eyes now fully open, as he adjusted to the sun's rays in the sky that shone through his window. He focused his attention on the girl beside the bed as she peered out the window with a smile. The girl had brown hair that was tied up in a ponytail with a few strands that stuck to the sides of her face and her forehead, indicating that she had just come from a run. She had dark brown eyes and a long scar that was visible on the right side of her face.

"You stink," Malachi huffs while stretching his body. "Says you, when was the last time you washed your ass, huh?"

Malachi walked out of the room, taking a quick left turn down the corridor, as he heard Espen let out a large gasp while chasing after him. "You were!"

"Shut up!" Malachi shouted at her before reaching the boy's bathroom, quickly getting inside, and shutting the door. Malachi clenched his jaw feeling his body become tingly and his cheeks becoming tense. He took in a few breaths while turning on his heel and heading to the joint showers in the back. The white and silver textures of the bathroom kept him calm so his thoughts didn't start to wander to the back of his mind.

The RDA was a blessing and curse in Malachi's eyes. He was close to the scientist that researched another world other than Earth, he got to explore and roam the environment while on a scout mission when he was younger. His knowledge of plants helped him survive on earth. But over there. Being lost was an experience he could never get out of his head. It wasn't like getting lost in a store, it was something indescribable.

Malachi shook his head, entering the open curtain stall and closing the curtain behind him, he turned the faucet of the shower, the cold water hitting his skin as he leaned his head against the wall in front of him while he closed his eyes. He began to relax while the memories flooded back to him, the memories of the other world; the plants, the sounds, the sights, the animals, and finally, her.

Malachi smiled softly, recalling the Na'vi girl who had shown him the baskets she had woven. How welcoming of him she was. Even though there was a language barrier between them, they both tried the best they could. She was shy at first, only speaking when she thought she needed to.

With a sigh, Malachi felt the water start to warm up along his body. He opened his eyes slightly to observe the water drain beneath his feet. He recalled the Na'vi girl's soft nature; at the time, he thought she was cute. It was unusual, but heartfelt. They weren't even the same species; was he even allowed to find her captivating? She was an alien, and he was a human inhabiting an alien body. Was it even right?

The water was now hot with the steam filling in the showers. He was a kid then, now almost a young adult. It had been eight years since then, Malachi had to go through intense training with Espen, just to finally be able to go back once everything became cleared by one of the higher ups at the RDA. However, with new management came new priorities; his new task was to adapt Earth's plant life to Pandora's environment. But he could only do it from the station pods until he was cleared to return to Pandora with an Avatar.

Unfortunately, the Avatar program had been put on hold due to the death of a woman named Grace. Malachi knew she was the woman who founded the program; he respected her work and had so many questions for her, so many thoughts he hoped he could share with her. Nevertheless, she died. From what he'd heard, she was a traitor, according to some of the older scientists.

"Yo! What's with all the steam?Malachi is that you again?"

"Yeah, my bad," Malachi replied, turning the faucet down a bit.

"There ain't no plants in here boyo." An older man chuckled. Malachi heard other guys come in while deep into conversation while getting into the other showers around him.

"Wouldn't it be crazy if he had kids?" someone said.

"How the hell would he even do that?"

"Shit I couldn't even tell you, but like imagine though."

"It's disgusting that he betrayed his own flesh in blood for some alien cheeks. Talk about honoring your country."

Malachi cringed at the comment. All the warmth in his body became cold, he felt angry for some reason, he wasn't sure why. He quickly began to wash himself wanting to get out more than ever.

Malachi grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his lower half, he pushed the curtain aside and walked towards the exit of the showers and into the locker area.

"Sup prodigy," one of the guys said, giving Malachi a salute walking past him. Malachi smiled at the man in response, going past a few other guys who greeted him nearly the same way. Once he reached his locker, he took a glance around making sure he was out of view while he put in his combination and opened his locker.

Malachi smiled softly, his eyes landing on a bracelet with two beads on them. He quickly grabbed it and placed it on his wrist before grabbing his uniform shirt and put it on. Malachi got dressed quickly and headed towards the exit of the locker room and back into the corridor. He sighed looking at his reflection in the long glass window. Then shifted his gaze to the dirty blonde standing by the door with a grin on her face.

Malachi began to walk away as Espen followed him.

"How was it this time?" Espen asked. "Did you tell her how captivating she was?  Ooh or did you—"

Malachi groaned, "Will you leave it alone? My god you're like a damn dog."

Espen giggled at Malachi's frustration. "Hell no, come on tell me! What happened in your dream?"

"It's just a dream."

"Yeah, something that you slept in for. Oh come on Malachi just tell me! Did you kiss her or something?"

Malachi shot Espen a glare. "What? No. I was like 8 when I met her anyway."

"Damn it's been that long," Espen replied in slight disbelief. "And you're still hung up over her? Wow. She must've been one hell of a girl to keep you this obsessed for so long."

"I'm not obsessed with her, don't say it like that." Malachi cringed at Espen's comment. He didn't think he was obsessed. If anything he admired the Na'vi girl.

He liked her craftsmen ship at their young ages at the time and how kind and gentle she was. He never figured he was obsessed with the girl. How could he be obsessed? Malachi's mind wandered back to the conversation he overheard in the shower. His body became tense while recalling it.

He didn't want to be known for being obsessive of an alien. He was a prodigy. Not an alien lover...

How could he, a human, be attracted to an alien?

Then again.

It happened once.

Malachi turned his head towards the glass window beside him then shifted his gaze towards the floor beneath him, he glanced at the bracelet on his wrist. Maybe Espen was right? Maybe he was obsessed.

If he went back to that place, would she even remember him? Would she even accept him with open arms like she did before?

[zenixromeave]

aphtober day 20: parent and child

aphmau and levin try to reconnect over breakfast

Levin pulls on a stray curl, looking at the woman. The blonde strand bounces back to him. He knows his mama– Zoey– isn't blood related to him, but at least he looks like her. He feels like he was meant to be her child, even if she never even met his mother and father.

But Aphmau–

He can't see it.

Malachi calls her mom. He remembers her.

Zoey calls her his mom. She remembers her.

There are big, big eyebags under her warm eyes, and it makes him think twice about everything he's ever been. His mama told him stories, as he grew up without her, of what she was like, how selfless and wonderful she was. Is. Everyone who ever met her seemed to fall in love, and she returned their love in favor, no matter how much it took from her.

He wanted to be strong and beautiful like her, but even though she looks nothing like him, looking at her is like looking into a mirror.

She looks so tired.

He's heard she hasn't been sleeping well recently.

He's heard of the wonderful people she's lost.

He's heard of how she's never had the peace to mourn them.

The sizzling of eggs on an oiled, cast-iron pan quiets to only the popping of the oil as the heat dies, and the quick clatter of dishes and forks as Aphmau plates the two fried eggs alongside buttered and honeyed bread.

"Does Zoey still make her toast like this?" She asks, placing a decorated plate in his place on the small wooden table, and doing the same once again for herself before sitting across from him. "With the honey? She showed me to do it like this, back when we were first getting to know each other."

Levin brings the sweet bread to his mouth and takes a bite, gauging its similarity to what his mama would make for him. It seems to melt in his mouth, delicious, he nods with his mouth full. "Yeah, not as much anymore, but when we were younger she used to make me and Malachi bread like this for breakfast, too. I think she put extra sugar on it though, because she knew I liked it."

The warmest smile twitches onto Aphmau's face– a smile so genuine and loving he feels as if he's looking at something he's not supposed to: a smile for someone else. "Sweet tooth, huh? I think Zoey's always liked sweet things, too."

"I grew out of it, sort of." He takes another bite. "This is good though. Thank you, Aphmau."

He's a smart boy; he sees the wave of sadness wash over her, quick as it is, but he doesn't think that lying and calling her mom would feel quite right to either of them.

"Do you like to cook?" She hasn't taken a bite yet, more intent on conversation than hunger.

He thinks about it for a minute, trying to give her as much as he can. "Yeah, I like to give things to other people. I'm not that good at it yet, but I've been working on it, in my free time."

"I'm sure it's yummy," Aphmau smiles with a hint of a laugh. "What else do you like to do?"

He's in the middle of a bite of egg and toast, so he has a moment to think again. He likes helping people. He likes protecting people. "I don't know, um–" He chuckles awkwardly, "You're putting me on the spot. I just like to do whatever makes other people happy."

He sees it, and he knows she sees it too. The way the darkened circles under their eyes mirror each other, even if his are much lighter.

She tilts her head with a funny expression– one he isn't sure how to read. "You used to like to paint, when you were little. You'd get so messy, painting with your stubby little fingers. I kept everything you made, I hope Zoey still has it… do you still like painting?"

Levin knits his pale eyebrows together, "Ah, I don't know. I haven't done anything like that since I was a kid. We don't have many art supplies around, anyways."

With just a little bit of toast in her mouth, "Since you were a kid," she repeats with a lighthearted, mocking tone, poking at him with her fork– still skewering the white of an egg. "You're still a kid, Levin. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are." She sighs, pausing for a second. "I used to paint the back of my house, and the… old house, out in the woods. Somewhere where no one could see, so I knew I couldn't mess up, you know?" He nods, and se smiles again, "But I always showed you and Malachi. I knew you two wouldn't judge."

"I guess, but we still don't have any paints."

Aphmau lets out a humored laugh, "That's half the fun! That never stopped me, I got pretty good at making them myself." She leans forward, and Levin takes in the wonderous look in her eyes. "It's really nice; to have something all to yourself. It doesn't have to be painting, but if you want me to show you the ropes, I'd love to. It's… been a while for me, too."

"...That might be nice."

[ask-obt]

so, given that eggs are made with aura, how do genetics work? obviously, traits are passed down, but is there study as to how this works? are there ways to compare genetics between family members like a parentage test? how does that factor in when a Mystery Dungeon gets involved in the creation of a child? what genes does an environment pass down?

Malachi: Like with any sort of genetics a lot of it has to do with random chance, but the aura contains a sort of "imprint" for a pokemon that influences how the rest of the body will look. It's sort of like how a strand of hair still contains a lot of genetic information for a pokemon. Often, traits that get passed down depend on the biological synergy between the pokemon involved in the exchange process. So for example, Inigo's traits prioritized a pouch since it's something shared with the line even though only Nidoqueens develop pouches, not Nidorans or Nidorinas. Likewise, Eilwyn doesn't have the shape of a Lumineon, but instead has the glowing patches since it works out better for the shape of their body.

When two (or more) pokemon create an egg together, the aura is the first thing that's developed. It's just a tiny amount, but it's the basis for everything that follows. You might've heard that carrying an egg around is the best way to get it to hatch- but the reason for this is so it can passively absorb aura from its surroundings to help it grow. Usually the aura absorbed from the surrounding environment just mimics the aura already developing inside the egg as it gets incorporated, but sometimes it can end up influencing the egg, which is how you get regional variants! And if you take an egg into a mystery dungeon, it'll help the egg develop even faster due to all the ley lines in the dungeon.

There are a few different types of genetic tests that can be done. Some can be done with aura readers who look at the shape and wavelength of aura between pokemon, but it requires a lot of practice and precision to get definitive results. You could also take something like spit samples and break down some of the information from that... but I don't really... know how that one works, hehe.

[galactic-writes]

Character Introductions

---

Romance Options

Ash Saha - The Best Friend

Your best friend, classmate, and coworker. Neither of you can remember if you met at school or at the diner where you both work, but you’ve been inseparable ever since.

Name: Ashmit (male) / Ashmita (female) / Ash (nonbinary)

Appearance: Brown skin and deep brown downturned eyes. Thick black wavy hair. If male, hair is mid-back length and half up in a loose bun; if female, hair is shoulder-length and parted to the side; if nonbinary, hair is short and parted in the middle with curtain bangs. Wears casual sporty clothes and gold jewelry, including multiple ear piercings. 5'7.

Likes: hiking, bad ghost/monster hunting shows, chocolate ice cream

Dislikes: self-absorbed people, exams, grape-flavored things

Birthday: Dec 11

MBTI: ENFJ-T

Blake Blakesley - The Private Investigator

A young PI who frequents the diner and has a bit of a grudge against you. They’re investigating some local disappearances and are very serious about their job.

Name: Vincent (male) / V (nonbinary)

Appearance: Olive skin and deep-set amber eyes. Straight brown hair. If male, hair is in a short quiff haircut. If nonbinary, hair is in a short mullet with fade. Wears business casual or casual clothes. 5’10.

Likes: puzzles, running, Fall

Dislikes: crime dramas, perfume, spicy food

Birthday: Oct 4

MBTI: ISTJ-A

Jo Fabron - The Mysterious Student

Another student you met when you stumbled upon their study spot. They’re incredibly studious—though you have no clue what their major is–and very withdrawn.

Name: Joan

Appearance: Light, freckled skin and round gray eyes. Thick sandy blonde hair cut in a shoulder-length shag. Wears retro style ‘smart casual’ clothes. 6’0.

Likes: 90s alt-rock, summer, reading

Dislikes: social media, being alone, chalk

Birthday: Jan 24

MBTI: INTJ-A

Mac Hayward - The Childhood Friend

You haven’t spoken in years, but your families knew each other so you spent a lot of time together growing up. Last you heard, they were working at their family’s auto shop.

Name: Malachi (male) / Marcia (female)

Appearance: Light brown skin and black almond-shaped eyes. Tightly curled black hair. If male, hair is in short two-strand twists or a twist out. If female, hair is in shoulder-length flat twists or a twist out (worn in a low bun at work). Wears sturdy workwear clothing and baseball caps. 5’11.

Likes: movie nights, gardening, their family

Dislikes: sour candy, paperwork, change

Birthday: Jun 8

MBTI: ISFJ-T

Toks Keadee - The Tourist

An interesting customer who started coming into the diner. She travels a lot and wants to know more about the area and about you—maybe she’ll stick around for a while?

Name: Olatokunbo

Appearance: Dark brown skin and dark brown round eyes. Coily black hair, currently styled in medium-length goddess braids in black, dark blue, and dark red. Wears bright, colorful clothes with many beaded gemstone bracelets. 5’9.

Likes: meeting new people, fluffy animals, fireworks

Dislikes: coffee, secrets, being stuck in one place

Birthday: Feb 23

MBTI: ENFP-A

[lythelle-bennington]

The Basics ––– –

Name: Lythelle Bennington

Alias: None

Age: 45

Birthday: October 1st

Race: Kul Tiran

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Black

Eyes: Jeweled Ivy

Height: 5′7"

Build: Slim

Distinguishing Marks: Her eyes, an enchanting shade of ivy, held depths as mysterious as the Drustvar pines.They seemed to shimmer with an inner light, a verdant glow that contrasted strikingly with the inky blackness of her hair. This raven-hued cascade framed her face, each strand a polished obsidian thread, reflecting the world in a myriad of dark, shimmering reflections.

Tattoos: None.

Piercings: Ears.

Common Accessories: The necklace was a constant, a skeletal framework of ancient silver that clung to her collarbone like a shadow. Its allure lay not in the metal, however, but in the living jewels that adorned it. Each stone was a chameleon, shifting and changing with the whim of its wearer. With each change of dress, the void erupted into a dazzling display, mirroring the hues and textures of her ensemble.

Personal Information––– –

Profession: Investor

Hobbies: Reading, Traveling

Languages: Common

Residence: Stormwind

Birthplace: Drustvar

Religion: None

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Losing control

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Single / None.

Children: None.

Parents: Lord Malachi Bennington & Lady Leandra Bennington.

Siblings: Morwen Bennington (Older Brother, alive).

Other Relatives: None.

Pets: None.

Romance ––– -

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Love Language: Acts of Devotion

Relationship Tendencies: Prefers "pets", goveling, doting

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Ocassionally.

Drugs: Never.

Alcohol: Frequently.

RP Hooks ––– –

Heartsbane Coven:

Lythelle was more than just a beautiful face. There was an aura of mystery that clung to her like a shroud. Rumors whispered of her wealth, a fortune amassed with a speed and ease that defied explanation. Some said she was a pirate queen, others a smuggler, and still others a ruthless businesswoman. But none of these theories could fully explain the extent of her riches.

As her wealth grew, so too did the whispers. Darker tales began to circulate, painting Lythelle as something more sinister. It was said that she was a witch, a member of the infamous Heartsbane Coven. Tales of dark rituals and forbidden magic were whispered in hushed tones, and Lythelle’s emerald eyes took on a sinister glow in the minds of the superstitious.

Perhaps there was merit to their claims. Perhaps there wasn't.

[bkwormkate]

LONGMIRE: Resolved | A Longmire Fanfic

The sequel to Unresolved picks up right where things left off, in the aftermath of the showdown with Malachi Strand. This story follows Cady Longmire and Jacob Nighthorse as they attempt to move forward with their lives together. Will Sheriff Walt Longmire accept his daughter’s apparent betrayal? How will things be resolved when so much is at stake? 

The last two chapters of this ten chapter fanfic are up. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. ❤️

[thatsohkai]

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘ ✘  | an olive branch of epic proportions // @rising-angelx​

he pulled the fabric of his shirt down over his belt as he exited the elevator. it was weird heading to tidal’s section of their floor and not be heading there for dae or ren. truthfully malachi never actively sought angel. not on purpose or anything, but he felt like being in her presence was like tip-toeing around a mad parent who has to be in public. she wouldn’t blow up in front of everyone, but you can feel the rage radiating off your mother’s skin any time. even if angel didn’t care, even if she had forgiven he still felt it. it burrowed underneath his skin and tainted his veins, making him feel every ounce of hurt he’d left her with.

pushing his fingers through his dark strands kai found himself simply, standing, in front of her door. shuffling the notebooks in his hand from side to side as he suddenly felt like his art work on their covers were lack luster, inadequate for the woman that would answer.

‘yo, i’m outside your door, i don’t wanna knock since it’s late.’ he typed out on his phone, sending the text quickly before dropping it back into the pockets of his jeans.

[sovereignsecurity]

Narra quickly snaps her fingers, and the tiny child is transferred to another part of the map along with the blanket. Inside the room is a barren mattress that she ripped from the files.

"Easy there... Easy. Stay here for a bit while everything eases up..."

She gently pats her hand against his head, ruffling his pretty golden hair. She can't interfere with the main story line- She cant godmode the plot, even to save her friend, but she can lessen the damage...

"Do you need feeding, Kid...? If not, you can just go back to sleep... you shouldnt of had to see that."

Malachi was shaking, tears beading in his eyes as his nose ran.. He sniffled into the blanket, wiping his face on it as he curled up... There was some blood mixed into his hair, slicking back a few of the strands into a red, gooey spot.. His father's blood..

The poor thing was hungry, stressed, and still disoriented from being shoved off the bed in a hurry.. He couldn't bring the words to mind, taking after Raphael in that regard, a kid of very few words.. All Malachi could do was try to put on a brave looking face..

It didn't sell very well when he was trembling so hard and still sniffly...

[templardom]

God’s Whistleblower

The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. Proverbs 15:3 (ESV)

The hot sun rises and the grass withers; the little flower droops and falls, and its beauty fades away. In the same way, the rich will fade away with all of their achievements. James 1:11 (NLT) 

Then the fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was given power to scorch the people with fire. And the people were scorched by intense heat, and they cursed the name of God, who had authority over these plagues; yet they did not repent and give Him glory. Apocalypse 16:8-9 (BSB) 

Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to conduct yourselves in holiness and godliness as you anticipate and hasten the coming of the day of God, when the heavens will be destroyed by fire and the elements will melt in the heat. 2 Peter 3:11-12 (BSB)

For behold, the LORD will come with fire—His chariots are like a whirlwind—to execute His anger with fury and His rebuke with flames of fire. Isaiah 66:15 (BSB) 

“And now, you priests, this warning is for you. If you do not listen, and if you do not resolve to honor my name,” says the LORD Almighty, “I will send a curse on you, and I will curse your blessings. Yes, I have already cursed them, because you have not resolved to honor me." Malachi 2:1-2 (NIV) 

Does not disaster come to the unjust and calamity to the workers of iniquity? Job 31:3 (BSB) 

Calamity will surely destroy the wicked, and those who hate the righteous will be punished. Psalm 34:21 (NLT) 

[deviatory]

@devilmass cont.

Tears. The brush of slender fingers pulled down his cheek. A cool moisture smearing in glistening streaks he observed across his fingertips as he brought them down. It was a rarity for Malachi to cry. Sorrow was not owned solely by mortal men, but tears, they were only human. He didn’t need such raw emotion. It was not something that should have belonged on his face. Although he could not say why and when it had become so shameful to do. Was it pride? Or perhaps it was fear of being human. How many nights could be lost to foolish tears? He needed help.

His head hung low, eyes averted as he accepted the dampness on his cheeks in all the madness that brought it. Shame. He doesn’t find solace in the man’s face. He must be more than this. “Forgive me, Father. I am not usually so – I’m not - usually like - this.” His voice hesitates with his step, pawing at the threshold, seeking a brief humour in the way of a scoff at his situation. The toll of distress, however, reflected differently on well worn eyes.

“I have travelled – some way. I haven’t had much -- sleep. I don’t remember the last time.” His It wasn’t the first. Driving. Driving. Nowhere. He needed nowhere. He just needed to go. (Was he running? Why was he running?) No destination. Just oblivion. 

He had hoped for oblivion, however the ageing engine of the Silver Dawn had not taken kindly to the cross country trip. He was stranded, without a hope, or a soul in the world to rely on. Sarah was… gone. He was alone. She had been alone.

“I need to talk. Do you have time?”