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m1d-45 · 2 years ago

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dead leaves

summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. so… what went wrong?

word count: 1.2k

-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but it’s not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know it’s him but now that i’ve said that you know it’s him so-)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist > || next >

it wasn’t meant to happen like this.

it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?

the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not see—perhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.

you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and that’s where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatos’ statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.

mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.

so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.

you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.

the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.

leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didn’t know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as it’s archon wanted you dead.

mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?

you couldn’t die. literally, you couldn’t. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archon’s feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?

elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.

liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didn’t walk toward the city. you’d learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of course—the adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.

as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.

and it began anew.

teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didn’t, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.

how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.

the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.

you were everything.

every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didn’t have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didn’t have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.

…and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.

but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.

it’s alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.

anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you don’t bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.

eventually…

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grimmweepers · 11 days ago

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— ★ contents: dottore x gn!reader. DARK CONTENT AHEAD. DUBCON. degradation. humiliation. masturbation (dottore). boot licking. his shoe on your head. dom/sub dynamics. yandere themes. light choking. no sex. reader has no dialogue. just mean mean dottore. 0.8k. | MDNI. 18+ ONLY | masterlist

( inspired by this art )

Your mother always told you to be careful of the choices you made in life.

“The world is not as kind as you are,” she’d say, thumbing your cheek as though the action itself could shield you from everything cruel.

She would've never approved of leaving home to work for someone like Dottore. Stories of the Harbingers were infamous enough to bleed across their nation's borders and there was no doubt that beneath the surface lay tales far worse than what meets the eye.

Yet there was no stopping you. Not when he dangled promises in front of you like a forbidden fruit too sweet to resist. “Imagine what you could accomplish under me,” he’d said as if he wasn’t going to trample all your rights in the future.

And you, foolish and full of ambition, had leaped at the chance.

If your mother could see you now…

The thought lingered like a bitter aftertaste as you knelt on the cold, sterile floor of his laboratory. Your cheek pressed against the smooth leather of Dottore’s boot and the weight of it on your head sent a sliver of shame down your spine.

“You left everything behind to be here,” he mused as he adjusted the angle of his foot. “Tell me, was it worth it?”

You wanted to say no. To scream it, actually. But you felt like you were choking on the consequences of your own choices and worse yet, the humiliation didn’t feel as humiliating as it should’ve been. That part was worrying.

He tilted his head at you, “Not so talkative now, are we?” His gloved hand reached down, tracing along your jaw before sliding back to clutch his own arousal.

“Pathetic,” he sneered. The toe of his boot nudged your chin, forcing your head upward. “Look at me when I speak to you.”

The intensity of his crimson eyes burned into you, setting fire to whatever shreds of dignity you had left. You wondered what your mother would think if she saw you reduced to this.

“You’ve been testing my patience lately,” he continued, almost conversationally, as if he weren’t holding you down with his foot. “But I think you like being punished. Isn’t that right?”

“I—” you stammered, but his boot pressed down, silencing you. But even as shame curled in your stomach, you hated the spark of heat that flickered beneath it.

“Don’t speak,” he ordered. “I’m not interested in excuses.”

“You’ll write to your mother eventually, won’t you?” he mocked you with a grin. “What will you tell her? That you’ve found your purpose? That you’ve devoted yourself to something... meaningful?” A deep hum of pleasure escaped his lips as he palmed his growing bulge, relishing in the poor sight of you.

Within a second, he answered for you first. “Ah, no. That’s not quite right. You haven’t accomplished anything yet...” Dottore chuckled. “But you could. All it takes is for you to follow my lead which, frankly, you’ve been failing at.”

“W—” He cut off your protest before it could even form.

The pressure increased. “I said don’t speak,” he snapped. “If you want to prove yourself, use that tongue for something worthwhile.”

He lifted his boot slightly, the toe brushing against your lips. Hesitant, you let your tongue dart out, licking at the leather. A small string of saliva ran down your chin, but you didn’t stop. You lapped at the boot like your life depended on it, the bitterness of the polish staining your tongue.

Above you, Dottore hummed again as his hand slid to his belt, the sound of his unbuckling loud in the silence of the room. He began to stroke himself through the confines, where it was twitching terribly as if your tongue was on the real thing. “See…” He groaned softly, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock through the fabric. “Obediency suits you.”

A heavy knot coiled deep inside you, warring with something far more sinister that made the area between your legs clench and ache.

The boot slowly withdrew, leaving your lips tingling. As Dottore suddenly crouched down, his gloved hand gripped your chin to examine your flushed face. His touch was deceptively warm, a stark difference from the icy daggers in his glare.

“You’ll do more for me, won’t you?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. It felt familiar to your mother's touch, only this time the hand that held you came from everything she tried to protect you from.

Since the memory of his prior reprimands kept you silent, you remembered to nod your answer this time.

“Good,” he gave you a type of smile that made your gut churn. Your breath quickened as his hand slid lower, his fingers wrapping lightly around your throat. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Good,” he repeated. His grin widened as he saw the conflict in your eyes—the shame, the desire, the submission.

“Now strip,” he demanded, leaving no room for argument. “And get on the examination table.”

If your mother could see you now, she’d weep for the person you’d become. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could weep with her.

You had chosen this.

And now, you were his to be studied under his ever watchful eye, molded into something you shouldn’t admit you craved.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

I HOPE ITS OK TO TAG YOU IK IVE BEEN TEASING YOU ABOUT IT FOR SOME TIME @unriding >:)

#☾ grimmweepers #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #genshin smut #gi smut #il dottore x reader #il dottore x you #genshin x reader #tw humiliation #tw degradation #tw yandere #tw choking #tw manipulation #genshin impact smut #genshin x gender neutral reader

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metamatar · 2 years ago

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With a budget nearing $1 billion, Frontex is the EU’s best-funded government agency. [...] including by helping Libya’s EU-funded coast guard send hundreds of thousands of migrants back to be detained in Libya under conditions that amounted to torture and sexual slavery. In 2022, the agency’s director, Fabrice Leggeri, was forced out over a mountain of scandals, including covering up similar “pushback” deportations, which force migrants back across the border before they can apply for asylum.

[...] EU hopes to extend Frontex’s reach far beyond its territory, into sovereign African nations Europe once colonized, with no oversight mechanisms to safeguard against abuse. Initially, the EU even proposed granting immunity from prosecution to Frontex staff in West Africa. [...] 26 African countries have received taxpayer euros aimed at curbing migration through more than 400 discrete projects. Between 2015 and 2021, the EU invested $5.5 billion in such projects, with more than 80% of the funds coming from developmental and humanitarian aid coffers.

[...] Besides the surveillance tech the DNLT branches receive, migration data analysis systems have also been installed at each post, along with biometric fingerprinting and facial recognition systems. The stated aim is to create what eurocrats call an African IBM system: Integrated Border Management. [...] no European countries maintain databases with this level of biometric information.

[...] In Niger, for instance, the EU helped draft a law that criminalized virtually all movement in the north of the country, effectively making regional mobility illegal.

#migration #refugees #imperialism #europe #surveillance #borders

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collapsedsquid · 6 months ago

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The Darién Gap was thought for centuries to be all but impassable. Explorers and would-be colonizers who entered tended to die of hunger or thirst, be attacked by animals, drown in fast-rising rivers, or simply get lost and never emerge. Those dangers remain, but in recent years the jungle has become a superhighway for people hoping to reach the United States. According to the United Nations, more than 800,000 may cross the Darién Gap this year—a more than 50 percent increase over last year’s previously unimaginable number. Children under 5 are the fastest-growing group. The U.S. has spent years trying to discourage this migration, pressuring its Latin American neighbors to close off established routes and deny visas to foreigners trying to fly into countries close to the U.S. border. Instead of stopping migrants from coming, this approach has simply rerouted them through the jungle, and shifted the management of their passage onto criminal organizations, which have eagerly taken advantage. The Gulf Clan, which now calls itself Ejército Gaitanista de Colombia, effectively controls this part of northern Colombia. It has long moved drugs and weapons through the Darién Gap; now it moves people too. Everyone who works in the Darién Gap must be approved by the cartel and hand over a portion of their earnings. They have built stairs into hillsides and outfitted cliffs with ladders and camps with Wi‑Fi. They advertise it all on TikTok and YouTube, and anyone can book a journey online. There are many paths through. The most grueling route is the cheapest—right now, about $300 a person to cross the jungle on foot. Taking a boat up the coast can cost more than $1,000.

[...] Guides and porters follow the migrants in the jungle with their iPhones rolling, asking, “Do you feel good?” and “Have we treated you well?” They film incessantly during the first day of walking, when people are still able to conjure a smile. (Even I ended up in one of their videos.) They post the videos on social media, selling trips across the jungle as if they were joyful nature walks. The profit motives of the cartel have become yet another factor fueling migration. [...] The porters we had paid to continue on with us told us to stay close together because bandits were thought to be intimidated by large groups. Later, we learned that was false—they were in fact targeting large groups, perhaps because it was more efficient than robbing a handful of people at a time. Our anxiety grew when we passed a couple of abandoned backpacks. We pushed through thicker and thicker brush until I realized there was no longer any sign of a path. One porter accused another of leading us astray. They started arguing, until a third hissed, “No yelling!” We turned around, but a bottleneck formed in front of a fallen tree trunk. One of the porters shouted for us to hurry: “Grab the kids and go!” [...] Most of the migrants I met in the processing line told me they’d been robbed by bandits at a checkpoint within a day’s walk of the community. The women said they’d been groped; some said they’d been digitally penetrated under the guise of a search for hidden cash. Panamanian border officers standing nearby showed no interest in investigating. Indigenous leaders say they have asked the government for help addressing crime against migrants, but the situation seems to be getting worse. In February, Doctors Without Borders published a report on sexual violence against migrants in the Darién Gap, showing a frequency more typical of war zones. Soon after, the government kicked the organization out of the area.

#didn't even cover the worst bits

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the-trinket-witch · 3 months ago

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700 Follower Special AU Just for You All!

Co-authored by @squidwen (All borders provided by CafeKitsune)

Inspirations: The Rescuers/Rescuers Down Under, Great Mouse Detective, Lady and the Tramp, The Aristocats, Oliver & Company, Bolt, Princess and the Frog, etc.

CW: Exploitation, child endangerment. (NOTE: No NSFW elements will be referenced or alluded to, nor will this AU allow such elements to be included.)

The world is a dangerous place. Hazards occur naturally or otherwise on a daily basis, people fall through the cracks in society; it seems like the most that ‘kindness’ affords is the attention of those willing to take advantage of it.

And this attention seems to be currently directed…at Yuu.

Yuu is still young, likely no more than 12. In a world that seems to have it out for Yuu, the orphanage is maybe the last bastion of safety until The One comes walking through to officially make them a part of their family. But again, it’s been 12 years, so none can blame them if that hope is starting to wane.

Dire Crowley touts himself as a generous, benevolent caretaker; which is a funny way to say ‘Neglectful’ and ‘Exploitative’. Yuu doesn’t get a chance to find this out until after the whirlwind that was their adoption settles. The man seems to care more about appearances, and where his next hefty payout will come from. So then it falls on Yuu to keep the home looking presentable, Crowley looking generous, and the indentured servitude swept under the rug.

Not all attention is bad, though. Unseen by human society, the Animal Kingdom keeps its eyes trained to lend a claw out to the vulnerable. The National Rescue Conglomerate, or NRC, are a group of animals from all across Twisted Wonderland who answer the call for help wherever they hear it. The Seven Delegates may not agree on everything, but the one thing they can agree on is that someone will answer a call of distress.

Said Delegates are:

Riddle → Hedgehog with a prickly temper

Leona → Lion who only seems lazy until the going gets rough

Azul → Coconut Octopus that has quite the reach of influence

Kalim → Otter trying to do more for himself than just float along

Vil → Peacock who’s fanning out to teach a new generation of Rescuers

Idia → British Blue cat who rarely ‘paws’es his games for anything

Malleus → Komodo Dragon with a reputation as fearsome as his fantasy counterpart

Other Members of the NRC/characters include:

Queendom of Roses Representatives

Deuce → Rabbit with a penchant for perfectly timed traps

Ace → Flamingo who’s sleight-of-feather makes for a great distraction

Trey → Tortoise that always has something cookin’ under that shell

Cater → Butterfly so social, he’s heard everything

Sunset Savannah Squadron

Ruggie → Hyena willing to laugh in the face of danger

Jack → Wolf with an affinity for leading the pack

Coral Sea Set

Jade and Floyd → Moray Eels more than happy to put the squeeze on trouble

Scalding Sands Squad

Jamil → Cobra with words that have plenty of bite of their own

Pyroxene Posse

Epel → Cygnet learning how to navigate the world with grace

Rook → Seagull with a keen eye for detail

Lamentation Isle League

Ortho → Electronic Toy Mouse that knows when and when not to play around

Briar Valley Vanguard

Lilia → Vampire Bat with adopted kids and a lot of history under his wings

Silver → Squirrel that doesn’t find himself usually one for chatter

Sebek → Crocodile with enough heft to tip the scales in his favor

Shaftland Animal Sanctuary

Niege LeBlanc → A Human running an animal sanctuary with his Seven Adoptive Fathers

But even with their help, Yuu won’t be completely out of the woods. Crowley keeps a few ‘pets’ he’s willing to deploy to get them back:

Sam → Poison dart frog

Ashton → Stag

Crewel → Dalmatian

Trein → Owl

Who might be the ones to help rescue Yuu from their situation, and what might happen from there? Will it be smooth sailing once out from under Crowley or will there be others out looking to get Yuu in their clutches? Would they try to return to their orphanage? Maybe their story ends in the joining of a family that actually has their interests in heart? Do they forgo humanity altogether and just live among the animals that so cared for them up until this point?

This AU was built with the immense patience and help of Squidwen. We offer it out to you all as a sort of ‘Follower Milestone’ gift for everyone, since I recently reached 700 folks following me. What we are offering in this AU is:

A chance for you all to throw your OCs in to see how they handle trouble in the form of a real-world animal. Be it through art, writing, roleplay with your friends, This post and AU is more or less a sandbox for folks to play around in!

I’ll be occasionally posting pics depending on what I see/find time to doodle. For reference FOR those doodles, below both Squidwen and I have found where each of our own OCs fit into this general world:

DeVerre and Eugenio → Orphans from the same institution, ‘adopted’ by Crowley to be sold to the highest bidder.

(Squidwen’s OCs)

Verrick → White Persian Cat (Wears a tailcoat).

Seth → Giant Pacific Octopus (Needs a pipe that blows bubbles)!!

Tallis → Hummingbird (Wears a belt and aviator goggles).

Billy → Black Bear (Wears a snorkel parka hood).

Basil → Burmese Python (still has his purple pince-nez, and maybe a legwarmer around his throat)

(Trinket’s OCs)

Albert → Fox (wears a carf)

Tidus → Giant Mudskipper (Big ol’ glasses)

Lázaro → Xoloitzcuintle (skele birthmarks)

Levi → Rock Lobster (blue markings)

Galen → Stray Mutt (hat/poncho or bandana)

Of course, with Protagonists, there usually are antagonists (all of which for this AU are human):

Rebekya Balanaga (Squidwen)

The prim, pale owner of the modeling agency Pearls of Ophenheim. DeVerre especially catches her eye. The girl has unusual silver hair and very pale skin; something that’ll cause a fuss and stir attention in magazines, she hopes. Heels, camera angles, and a ton of make-up, and no one will be able to tell that a child is working for her.

→ She has a pet albino python called Princess.

Honest John and Gidel

Just two, hardworking fellas on the look out for their next employee or circus act. Children make excellent workers, especially those who don’t have much. Yuu is especially of interest to them, given how dextrous they seem. Would they make a good trapeze artist? Or contortionist - given the right training? Or, heck, maybe they’d be happy to just do all the menial tasks around Playful Land, right?

Aadesh Sona and Mr Rajesh Khan (Trinket)

These gentlemen are vital when it comes to producing anything. Animal-testing is the aim of the game for these two, but at times, testing on animals can prove slow, and even a waste of time. Why test chemicals on rabbits and mice when you can just skip to human trials? And since DeVerre and Yuu have been “adopted” by Crowley, no one will stop to ask where they are.

→ Aadesh and Mr Khan as well have their own pets. Basil the Burmese Python being Aadesh's, and a tiger named Shakti.

As for our own OCs, Eugenio and DeVerre do manage to escape from Crowley’s clutches; with the help of the orphanage cat: Verrick. He sensed something was off with Crowley the moment he stepped through the door. Fearing for the children’s safety, he calls a meeting with the NRC to discuss saving them.

Both of us hope you'll enjoy the premise and find a bit of fun coming up with little scenarios for your OCs to get into. I specifically want to say how grateful I am to have 700 of y'all following for TWST content or the like and I hope to offer more fun things in either interactions, chats, or lil doodles of our characters doing stuff. I esp. wanna thank Squidwen for the help in concocting this whole thing. It's been so much fun to RP with ya and look forward to writing even more UvU

TAGLIST:

@ceruleancattail @squidwen @thecosmicjackalope @vaporvipermedia @writing-heiress

@oya-oya-okay @k-looking-glass-house @thehollowwriter @rainesol @cyn-write

@heartscrypt @br3adtoasty @jackiecronefield @ruggiethethuggie

@hoboyherewego @achy-boo @oreoskys @oseathepebble @oathofoaks

@tunabesimpin @hamstergal @fumikomiyasaki @valse-a-mille-temps

@hallowed-delights @kimikitti @cyanide-latte @thetwstwildcard @atwstedstory

@comingyourlugubriousness @ice-cweam-sod4 @twst-the-night-away @nammanarin @scint1llat3

@tixdixl @prince-kallisto

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst au #twisted wonderland au #TWST Animal AU #animal au #follower milestone

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anarchy-and-piglins · 9 months ago

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After a mere half hour spent in the same room as these people, Philza has already been reminded of why he doesn't normally answer a summons.

The constant staring annoys him to no end. He supposes it's to be expected, what with his country's reputation for being a complete enigma. The Antarctic Empire is one of the lucky few nations that operates entirely self-sufficiently, producing all their own resources. They do not trade with other countries often. In fact, the mountain ranges that border the very south of their peninsula do not offer any convenient trading routes to begin with. And since that same treacherous terrain also cuts the empire off from the continent in such a way that passing through becomes a challenge in wilderness survival, they're mostly left to their devices. Some folks still believe Phil's nation is a myth, a story conjured up by fairytales.

So Phil coming all the way out here for Dante's attempt at diplomacy must be quite the sight. Most people will die without ever having seen the king of the Antarctic Empire, no wonder they have a hard time looking away.

That won't stop Phil from getting some satisfaction every time one of these pompous nobles cowers if he so much as flexes his wings and turns toward them. He's currently locked in a bit of a staring contest with a man across the room. Phil doesn't know if he's another royal or random noble, but he does know he can't stand the look on this fucking guy's face.

At one point the man smiles more broadly, as if pleased that Phil caught him staring. He bows his head a bit, with Phil half-heartedly returning the courtesy, tucking in his wings to keep them from flaring automatically with the gesture. However, this leaves Phil's elbow to bump into somebody trying to slide past him.

Phil didn't expect anybody to be there, the entire crowd had been giving him a pretty wide berth all evening. He's even more surprised when he sees it's a child, maybe ten or eleven years old. His fancy clothes and intricately braided pink hair with golden jewelry betray him as a prince.

"Sorry," Phil says. He reaches out to steady the boy, but the kid flinches and steps back at his attempted touch, pulling his sleeves up over his wrists. "I didn't see you there, are you okay?"

The boy looks up at him and instead of answering, his blue eyes widen a bit. "You're the emperor of the Antarctic Empire," he says. The statement is delivered in a deceptively neutral tone, especially for somebody of such a young age. Phil is used to more dramatic reactions.

"I am. Call me Phil. What's your name?" Phil smiles gently at the boy. He always had a soft spot for children.

Again, he doesn't receive an answer. Instead, the boy's gaze moves across him for a moment, pondering. He grins slightly, but it's a strange sort of expression. Almost private. As if nobody else is supposed to see. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be," the boy says. Before Phil can blink or respond, he's disappeared into the crowd.

Phil is very much left completely flabbergasted.

Curiosity ever the greatest motivator for him, Phil walks up to the man who was staring at him earlier. The guy pales three shades at seeing Phil approach him, maybe thinking his rude behavior is getting retribution after all. But Phil couldn't care less about this man anymore.

He wants to know who the boy is.

"The child I was just talking to, do you know who he is?" Phil asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Who- Oh, he's nobody, sir." The way the man blunders and becomes overly formal brings Phil little pleasure. "Prince Techno. From the Blade family."

"From the Blade family? What is he doing so far away from home?"

"He's King Dante's ward."

Phil glances over to where the man is looking, in the direction of Dante himself. Techno is standing next to the king, head bowed a bit and seeming pretty disgruntled to be there. But when Dante lays his hand almost delicately on the nape of Techno's neck, the boy flinches again and forces a neutral expression on his face.

"You know how the Blade family is," the man says grimly. "Ferocious beasts of war, all of them. It's a wonder Dante has managed to secure an allyship. They even got close enough bonds to leave their son in Dante's care."

Thinking about the summons, about how Dante was a nobody three years ago who since managed to overthrow several small countries by using superior weapons and strategies - those the likes of which only the Blade nation is known for - makes several things click into place. Allyship? It makes sense. A lot of sense.

Then what is the uncomfortable feeling that seems hooked into Phil's gut?

(Maybe it's because of the flinching. Or because of how Techno seems to move around like a ghost. Or because when he pulled up his sleeves, Phil was sure he saw the faded blue and purple of bruises on the boy's pale skin.

The Blade family runs their kingdom in a similar way to the Antarctic Empire. They don't make allies. Only enemies.)

"Are you staying for the peace conference, sir?" the man is brave enough to ask, now that Phil has broken the ice. It's probably a question for many of them. Despite Dante's ruthless way of overtaking other countries, Phil's empire isn't threatened by him. He's only here as a formality. He has no reason to stay, no stakes in this game.

Dante pulls his hand away and it's like Techno can finally breathe again. Phil's eyes meet his for a moment, then the boy looks away.

"I think I'll stick around to see how things unfold," Phil says pleasantly.

#Philza #Technoblade #shara writes #I have no name for the AU but I'll post the info later

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starpains · 28 days ago

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Very curious about Not Your Average Pet!

This one is been a WIP for way too long, I already have like 11k written for it, and that's like... half of the fic, I think.

I got a lovely prompt some time ago that just said "Werewolves", so you know, my brain went all buzzy with possibility. I immediately went back to my days in the Teen Wolf fandom and all the fave tropes that could be found there.

The fic has Obi-Wan, a very average dude, a psychiatrist living in Northern California, suddenly come across a wolf during a lil' hike in the Redwood National Park. The wolf follows him home for some reason, and Obi-Wan kinda... adopts it? Except it's not a wolf at all as it later turns out 😎. It's a werewolf, who has imprinted on Obi-Wan, though of course he doesn't know that.

Basically a werewolf soulmate AU. Obi-Wan's called Ben here as usual with my modern AUs.

Sharing a lil' snippet below:

---

There, seated right in front of the door, was the wolf. Massive, with earthy brown fur and piercing blue eyes, it was unmistakable. Ben let out a strangled gasp before he could stop himself. In an instant, the wolf lifted its head, locking its gaze onto him through the glass, their eyes meeting in eerie stillness.

He dropped the curtain as if it had burned him, taking quick steps backward—only to trip over a dining chair, sending both it and himself crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“Doctor Kenobi? Is everything alright?” Barriss’s voice drifted from the office, laced with worry.

Ben scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off as he tried to regain his composure. “E-Everything’s—fine, Barriss. I’ll—I’ll be right with you!”

Grabbing his phone, he fumbled to pull up a number, his fingers clumsily tapping as he searched for animal control. After a few tense moments, he dialed, holding the phone to his ear, each ring feeling like an eternity.

Finally, a bored voice answered. “Animal control.”

“There’s a wolf in my backyard,” he blurted, his voice edged with panic.

A pause. “Sir, there are no wolves in California.”

“There are! I saw this one in the Redwood National Park yesterday, and now it’s followed me home!” Desperation crept into his tone despite himself.

The voice on the other end remained unimpressed. “Sir, it must be an overgrown dog. We’ll send someone to pick it up.”

“Please do!” he implored, rattling off his address with a touch of desperation.

After hanging up, Ben took a steadying breath, then returned to Barriss, visibly ruffled. She gave him a raised eyebrow but resumed her session, though her eyes darted to him with more than a few curious glances.

Finally, not too long after Barriss left, a firm knock sounded at the door. Ben opened it to find two men standing on his front step, dressed in beige uniforms with patches reading “Humboldt County Animal Control.” Their expressions were blank, bordering on apathetic. Behind them, a white pickup truck was parked by the curb, the county logo clearly visible on the door.

“We’re here to answer the call about a stray dog,” one of them said, holding a clipboard in hand. “But there’s no dog in your backyard.”

“That’s because it’s a wolf, not a dog,” Ben replied, irritation threading into his voice.

The man on the left sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Sir, there is no animal in your backyard, dog or otherwise. Now, if you’ll sign here…”

Ben scowled, pushing the clipboard aside. “At least come with me to check. It was right there.”

Exchanging resigned glances, the two men followed him around to the backyard. But when they reached the spot, the wolf was gone. Instead, sitting neatly in the middle of the rounded indent in the lawn, was a small collection of clean, scattered bones.

Ben gestured toward the pile, frustration mounting. “Look! It left… bones. I don’t even know what these are from.”

The men barely looked, casting an unimpressed glance at each other. “We don’t pick up bones,” one of them said flatly, pushing the clipboard at Ben again.

With a reluctant sigh, Ben signed the form, watching as they turned and left without a word, climbing back into their truck and pulling away.

Once they were gone, Ben fetched a plastic bag and a pair of grill tongs from the kitchen. With a look of deep disgust, he crouched beside the pile of bones, holding the tongs at an awkward angle as he gingerly picked each one up. His face twisted as he dropped them blindly into the bag, every click of bone against bone making his skin crawl. By the time he was done, he muttered a curse under his breath, shuddering and holding the bag at arm’s length like it might bite him back.

#obikin #my wip #ask

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hedgiwithapen · 4 months ago

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suki has conversation with kyoshi via aang and they talk about leadership

(Guess who just read the Rise of Kyoshi novel? me! uh. expectational spoilers for a character death)

"Avatar, I come seeking speech with you." Aang is startled to hear Suki speaking so formally. None of his friends ever seemed to, excepting Toph at her most sarcastic, unless there was a large audience that required careful scripting. But they are alone.

"Sure, what's up?" he asks, before noting that she's also dressed formally. Suki's in full face paint and her silks, every button of her arm wraps polished to gleaming, every strand of hair woven neatly into her headdress. The white band, three fingers wide, tied around her upper arm stands out starkly.

"Not you, Aang," Suki says quietly. "Please?"

"Ah," Aang sits, settling his posture smoothly. It's a familiar position: spine straight, the lines of his blue arrow tattoos meeting seamlessly where his hands touch. "It may take some time." He can call his past lives up easily enough these days, but it's harder to channel them for others to see.

"That's ok," the Warrior says, sinking into her own stance. They breathe.

The light out the window has faded some when a hand reaches across and touches Suki's face. She opens her eyes, and sees the familiar face, one she has seen in effigy her entire life.

"Sworn sister," Kyoshi says, and waits.

"Avatar Kyoshi," Suki says, not moving. She should bow, but can't. Not with the hand under her chin. "I come before you seeking guidance."

Kyoshi meets her eyes, looking down from her height. "You have lost one of your sisters." It is not a question. Suki reaches for the armband, a subtle symbol of mourning.

"Yes," she says hoarsely. "It was my fault. I--The war is over. She should have been safe."

"Do you think that the Fire Nation's war is the spawn of all evil?" Kyoshi asks. "That there was none before?"

"No," Suki answers, knitting her brows. "Of course not. We all know of your efforts to root out corruption. How you saved our people from Chin the conqueror."

"Then you know that evil does not know the borders of nations. It does not know the boundaries of war and peace. There is no 'should have been.' It has always existed and always will."

Suki swallows. "I failed her."

"Do you wish me to strip you of your place as leader for this?" Kyoshi asks. "Or admonish you to die before it happens again? I can do neither. You are not the first to fail a friend. To hope that with an enemy beaten, no more pain might come."

"You would have been able to save her," Suki says.

"Perhaps." Kyoshi's perfectly impassive makeup cannot hide the shadow in her eyes. "I cannot stop the guilt you feel any more than I can stop the tides. Nor would I. Let it guide your actions, but do not let it drown you. Allow me to share in it. You have heard of me, but not every story. I will tell you of one. Keep it in your heart. It is a hard lesson to learn, that some things happen despite victory, despite strength."

"Avatar?" Suki asks.

"Call me Kyoshi, sister. Let me tell you of our brother, Lek."

#Dammit Hedgi Day #Dammit Hedgi Day 2024 #Avatar The Last Airbender #Avatar Kyoshi #Suki

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dumbtruk · 4 months ago

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The Banker’s Thirst

The sprawling estate of Pantalone, known far and wide as the Regrator of the Fatui, was a place of beauty and terror. Its cold, marble halls stretched endlessly, its opulence and luxury flaunting wealth and power beyond imagination. There, in the heart of Snezhnaya, it stood like a fortress, casting long, foreboding shadows over the snow-covered landscape, a symbol of untouchable dominance.

You had arrived at Pantalone's estate after weeks of correspondence. It had started innocently enough—formal letters exchanged between you, a representative of a foreign business, and the notorious banker. He had expressed interest in expanding his influence beyond the frozen borders of Snezhnaya, his ambition stretching out like an unseen force. You had been tasked with handling the negotiations on behalf of your nation, unaware of the dangerous game you were about to play.

From the moment you stepped foot onto the icy grounds of his estate, you could feel it—a sense of dread, lingering beneath the surface. The cold seemed sharper here, the air heavier with unspoken words and hidden intentions. And as you approached the grand entrance, the massive doors opened, revealing a figure that commanded attention.

Pantalone was waiting for you.

He was a man of refinement and elegance, his every move calculated and precise. His clothes were tailored to perfection, his demeanor one of quiet control. But it was his eyes that drew you in—sharp and dark, like the endless depths of the ocean. They seemed to see through you, reading every thought, every fear that flickered across your mind. His smile, polite and welcoming, held a dangerous edge, as though he were a predator preparing to devour his prey.

"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"

You nodded, though your heart raced in your chest. There was something unsettling about him, something that made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. But you pushed the feeling aside, reminding yourself that you were here on business.

"The journey was long, but manageable," you replied, doing your best to match his calm demeanor. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice, Lord Pantalone."

His smile widened slightly, though it never reached his eyes. "It is my pleasure," he said, stepping aside to let you enter. "I am always eager to meet those with... potential."

As you crossed the threshold into his home, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and penetrating. The estate was as grand as you had imagined, its walls lined with priceless art and artifacts, the very air humming with the wealth and power that Pantalone had accumulated. But there was something else here, something you couldn’t quite place. An undercurrent of darkness that seemed to seep into every corner, every shadow.

"I must commend your reputation," Pantalone continued, leading you through the labyrinthine halls. "It is not often that I find someone so... intriguing. Your letters were most informative."

There was a pause as he glanced at you, his smile still present, but colder now. "But I imagine you know that already."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the unease that twisted in your gut. "I’m here to discuss the details of our agreement," you said, hoping to steer the conversation back to the business at hand. "Your interest in expanding your operations is well-known, and I believe we can find mutual benefit in—"

"Mutual benefit," he interrupted, his voice a purr. "Yes, I’m sure you believe that." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But I must ask... do you truly understand what you are dealing with? Do you know the nature of what you have stepped into?"

There was a threat in his words, subtle but unmistakable. You met his gaze, trying not to show your fear. "I understand enough to know that this partnership could be lucrative for both sides."

Pantalone chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Lucrative, yes. But there are other... considerations." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Power, for instance. Influence. Control. These are things that cannot be measured in mere currency."

You found yourself backing up, instinctively retreating from his looming presence. But there was no escape from him. His eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze piercing, as though he could see the very essence of your being.

"You are here because I chose you," he said quietly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I have seen countless individuals come and go, each one thinking they could strike a bargain with me, that they could outwit me in some way. But none of them truly understood the nature of the game they were playing."

He reached out, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek in a gesture that was both intimate and terrifying. "You, however," he continued, his tone soft and almost tender, "are different. I can sense it in you. There is something... pure. Untapped. And I find myself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame."

You wanted to pull away, to run, but his gaze held you captive, his touch sending a strange warmth coursing through your veins. There was something about him, something otherworldly, that made it impossible to look away. His voice was like silk, wrapping around your mind, clouding your thoughts.

"I can give you what you desire," he murmured, his lips curling into a smile that was both seductive and sinister. "Wealth, power, influence—everything you could ever dream of. All you have to do is... trust me."

His words hung in the air like a dark promise, and for a moment, you considered it. The temptation was there, undeniable. To have everything you ever wanted, to rise above the constraints of your world, to be free from the limitations that had always held you back. It was an offer too good to refuse.

But there was a price.

You could see it in his eyes, the hunger that lurked beneath his calm facade. He wanted more than just a partnership, more than just an alliance. He wanted you. Your mind, your body, your soul—he wanted to possess you completely.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you whispered, though even you could hear the tremor in your voice.

Pantalone’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Oh, but you do," he said softly. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. And you know that there is no escaping it."

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze fully. "I am offering you immortality," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "A life free from the chains of time, from the decay of the mortal world. Together, we can transcend it all. You and I—eternal, unstoppable."

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to run, to escape before it was too late. But your body refused to move, held in place by the sheer force of his presence. There was no escape from him. No way to break free from the web he had woven around you.

"I... I can’t," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.

Pantalone’s smile faded, his expression darkening. "You can," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And you will."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because if you don’t... I will destroy you. And everything you hold dear."

The threat hung in the air like a blade, poised to strike. And you knew, in that moment, that you had no choice. You were trapped in his web, bound to him by forces you couldn’t understand. There was no escape from the Regrator’s grasp.

With a final, trembling breath, you nodded.

Pantalone’s smile returned, cold and triumphant. "Good," he murmured, his hand sliding down your arm in a possessive gesture. "You’ve made the right choice."

As he led you deeper into the shadows of his estate, you couldn’t help but wonder what you had just given up—and what dark fate awaited you now that you had fallen into the grasp of the Banker.

#genshin x reader #gi #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin harbingers #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact fatui #pantalone #pantalone genshin #genshin fanfic #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #dracula

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personastrologyhub · 3 months ago

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Career and Purpose Series - 9th Degree Sagittarius

When I think of the 9th degree, I think of the spark that drove Chris McCandless in Into the Wild. It’s the thrill of leaving, a map folded in the back pocket and a bag packed with nothing more than a few tattered books, a notebook thick with musings, and a passport heavy with the weight of a hundred foreign stamps.

It hums with the spirit of wanderlust and the quest for truth,—a promise of places untold, cultures to be immersed in, and revelations still to be uncovered. It's the energy of turning nothing into something.

This degree is the soul of the seeker. It’s the call of a mountain’s summit, whispering of heights yet to be reached and sights yet to be seen. It doesn’t settle, doesn’t bind itself to tradition or commitment but favors the freedom to move, to shift, and to grow. Like a breeze that changes direction, Sagittarius’ mutable nature ensures that this energy is always in motion, always curious, and never quite satisfied. It has an adventurous mindset, It’s the gaze that lingers just a second longer on a road sign, wondering, Where could this lead?

In its purest form, this energy favors teachers, guides, and spiritual wanderers—even life coaches. Those unafraid to cast their nets far and wide in the search for meaning, eager to share what they gather along the way.

Every barrier faced is met with the silent mantra, Teach me the way, with the understanding that each obstacle is simply a lesson in disguise. They are the ones who willingly step into new worlds, thriving in lands where language is different, the customs unfamiliar, and the faces tell stories of places yet unknown. For them, there’s beauty in the discomfort of newness, in the unspoken knowledge that growth requires stepping outside what’s known.

Careers

Preacher

Life Coach

Teachers

Spiritual Leaders

Entrepreneur in the Wellness Industry

Researcher or Anthropologist

Archeologist or Historian

Philosophical Writer or Spiritual Guide

Publisher / Publishing House

Marketing

Media Correspondent or Journalist

Law Enforcement Officer

Travel-Based Careers (e.g., Flight Attendant, Pilot)

Judge

University Professor

International Relations Specialist or Diplomat

Travel Blogger or Tour Guide

Multiple Professions.

Sag carries with it, BIG marketing energy.

People with Sag or 9H placements tend to be great people to utilize for marketing campaigns.

Career & Purpose of the 9th Degree:

Worldly Respect and Recognition There’s an innate magnetism in those influenced by the 9th degree—a quiet authority that draws admiration and respect. They become seekers, masters in the knowledge they pursue, often casting their influence far beyond their immediate circle. With time, their lives read like stories of expansive knowledge, ever-growing influence, and answers to questions that many dare not even ask. These individuals are often called to serve a greater purpose, to inspire, to uplift, and to lead by example.

Celebrity Energy with Humble Influence

If you’re gonna be internationally famous you HAVE to have a Sag, 9H, or strong Jupiter influence in the chart. These things represent energy that expands beyond the homeland, represents things that are “global”

The 9th degree radiates a quiet fame, the kind of recognition rooted not in performance, but in authenticity. There’s a natural relatability in their pursuits that inspires and uplifts those around them. They invite connection, share openly, and exude the type of wisdom that resonates deeply. Like Oprah’s Saturn at the 9th degree, they carry a grounding humility that amplifies their reach without losing the warmth that drew others to them in the first place.

Global or Cross-Cultural Impact At the heart of the 9th degree is the desire to bridge divides, to seek out and celebrate the wisdom of diverse perspectives, and to find commonality across borders. This degree is a natural fit for roles that traverse nations, languages, and traditions, pushing them to share, connect, and give back on a global scale. They often find themselves drawn to international work, humanitarian efforts, and social justice, where they can bring people together and spark change.

Leveraging the 9th Degree’s Influence:

Engage with diverse communities: Explore beyond your comfort zone and seek out cross-cultural exchanges. Your purpose often blossoms when challenged by new perspectives.

Stay true to your vision: Growth is gradual, and your impact grows with consistent dedication. Don’t let obstacles or doubt divert you from the path.

Embrace the journey of discovery: Challenges are a part of the adventure. Each one offers a new horizon, a fresh possibility, and the thrill of growth.

With planets at the 9th degree, your path isn’t a straight line but an unfolding adventure. Embrace each turn, for every step widens your world, connecting you to the wisdom of the ages, the thrill of new horizons, and the call to live expansively and freely. This is the 9th degree—fueled by wonder, lit by discovery, and bound to inspire.

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workersolidarity · 8 months ago

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[ 📹 Scenes from the moment when the Israeli occupation forces burned the buildings of the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahiya, in the northern Gaza Governate, which was one of the last remaining functional medical centers in the northern Gaza Strip, destroying large sections of the hospital and putting it out of service. 📈 The current death toll in the Zionist entity's war of extermination has risen to 37'296 Palestinians killed, while another 85'197 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

253 DAYS OF GENOCIDE: US TO DISMANTLE AND MOVE FLOATING PIER, BLAMES HIGH SEAS, ISRAELI OCCUPATION CONTINUES CLOSURE OF BORDER CROSSINGS AS CATASTROPHIC HUNGER RISES IN THE SOUTH, AL-QASSAM BRIGADES ANNOUNCE THE DEATHS OF TWO ISRAELI CAPTIVES, 625'000 PALESTINIAN CHILDREN DEPRIVED OF EDUCATION, GENOCIDE GOES ON ANOTHER DAY

On 253rd day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 30 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 95 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The United States has announced it will dismantle and move their floating pier to Ashdod temporarily due to high seas.

This comes just days after the pier became operable again following an incident where poor sea conditions caused part of the pier to dislodge from the rest of the dock and wash ashore near Ashdod, in Israeli-occupied Palestine.

The pier was built by the United States Military with the stated purpose of delivering humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip as the Israeli occupation continues its closure of the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings, south of Gaza.

While humanitarian aid obstensibly began arriving through the floating pier on May 17th, it was hampered by poor sea conditions before some observers, including the human rights organization Euro-Med Monitor, say the pier was used to assist the Israeli occupation forces in a major surprise military operation in Al-Nuserat last week, in central Gaza, to recover 4 Israeli hostages being held in the nearby refugee camp, an operation that resulted in the deaths of 274 Palestinians and wounded nearly 700.

The United Nations said on Friday that operations using the American-made pier to move humanitarian aid to UN warehouses in Gaza had still not yet resumed its functions before the latest US announcement was made.

In meantime, the Israeli occupation forces continued their closure of the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings, denying the entry of thousands of humanitarian aid trucks into Gaza, desperately needed as famine grips the enclave.

The Israeli occupation army took control over the border crossings in early May, and have since blocked the entry of humanitarian aid convoys and prevented thousands of severely sick and wounded Palestinians from seeking medical treatment abroad.

At the same time, the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP) has warned today, Saturday, June 15th, that the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of genocide in Gaza has made it nearly impossible to deliver humanitarian aid to UN warehouses.

The WFP emphasized its fear that southern Gaza will soon reach the catastrophic levels of famine and hunger that were previously experienced in the north of the Strip, further noting that the escalating fighting in the south and central Gaza Strip have resulted in devestating civilian losses.

The Programme stressed the need for major improvements in, and the expansion of, humanitarian aid deliveries to the northern Gaza Strip, ensuring the arrival of food and medical supplies, along with potable water and fuel for hospitals and bakeries.

In more news, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) confirmed today its continued support for Palestinian children with activities that help them with learning.

In a statement, the refugee organization said that “625,000 children throughout Gaza have been deprived of education since the start of the war, as schools were forced to remain closed,” further stressing that supporting Palestinians with activities that help them return to learning is not enough.

In other news, the Al-Qassam Brigades, the military wing of the Hamas resistance movement, published a video statement on Friday, June 14th, that announced the deaths of two Israeli hostages being held by the resistance group in the Gaza Strip, a result of the Israeli entity's bombing of Rafah, south of Gaza.

The Al-Qassam Brigades statement begins by warning the Israeli population that "your army continues to deceive you."

"Your government does not want your captives returned, except in coffins," Al-Qassam's message continues, adding that "your army killed two of your captives in the air strike on the city of Rafah a few days ago."

"Time is running out," the resistance group concluded.

Meanwhile, for the 253rd day, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued bombing and shelling residential neighborhoods and civilian infrastructure across various axis of the Gaza Strip, killing and wounding dozens of Palestinians over the previous day.

Local medical sources in Gaza reported that no less than 19 civilians were killed, and more than 50 others wounded, in Israeli raids on three homes in the Al-Shujaiya and Al-Tuffah neighborhoods of Gaza City since dawn this morning.

Local reporting states that occupation air forces bombed the eastern neighborhoods of Gaza City, including the targeting of the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of the city, in addition to the Al-Shamaa area of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of the city.

According to reports, paramedic and civil defense personnel managed to recover the bodies of 5 martyrs and several wounded following the assault of Zionist warplanes that bombed two residential homes, one belonging to the Al-Jamasi family, and the other the Al-Ramlawi family, in the Al-Shaaf area of the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City. The dead and wounded were quickly transported to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Similarly, another 5 Palestinians were killed, and a number of others wounded, after Israeli fighter jets bombed a residential house belonging to the Hathat family, in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, also east of Gaza City.

Zionist Merkava tanks were also witnessed shelling the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, while occupation artillery detatchments shelled Al-Sika Street, east of Al-Zaytoun, and simultaneously shelled in the vicinity of the school complex on Al-Mansoura Street in the center of the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of the city.

South of Gaza, IOF artillery forces shelled the central, eastern, and western neighborhoods of the city of Rafah, with a concentration of firepower focused on the Al-Shaboura Camp, the Saudi neighborhood, Lafat Badr, and the Abu Al-Saeed areas.

According to local civil defense and medical personnel, the bodies of 9 Palestinians were recovered from various areas of the Rafah, a result of the bombing of the Israeli occupation army.

In another war crime, the Israeli occupation forces also bombed a school belonging to the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine in central Rafah.

At least one civilian was killed as a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing bombing of the Shaboura Refugee Camp, in central Rafah, in Gaza's south.

Israeli Merkava tanks additionally shelled neighborhoods east of the city of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, while also detonating residential buildings in the town of Al-Mughraqa, north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

At the same time, Israeli gunships fired heavy machine guns towards fishing boats off the coast of Khan Yunis, killing two Palestinian fisherman.

The Zionist army further penetrated the eastern neighborhoods of Rafah, south of Gaza, opening gunfire on civilians in the town of Al-Shouka, resulting in the deaths of two residents and wounding several others, while Israeli helicopters fired machine guns at the western neighborhoods of the city.

In another attack, occupation fighter jets bombed a civilian residence in the city of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, killing one Palestinian and wounding several others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 37'296 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 85'197 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 15th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

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venactricisfics · 28 days ago

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Bucking Tradition: A Yellowstone Fanfic

Chapter Five

yellowstone ryan x OC

The barn smelled of hay and leather—familiar, comforting, and grounding—even as I tightened the straps on my saddle with a determination that bordered on defiance. The invitation to the National Rodeo Championship had arrived a week ago, but the weight of it felt like it had settled on my shoulders for much longer.

“Steady, Denim,” I murmured, stroking his neck. Denim snorted in response, tossing his head as if to say, Let’s get on with it. He was ready.

My father’s words echoed in my ears, sharp and unwavering. “You’re not going, Alex. That’s final.”

But I’d stopped listening to “final” a long time ago.

Dad thought I should stick to working on the ranch. To him, rodeo was a hobby, not a career. He wanted me to go to vet school, even going so far as to apply on my behalf. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it—I was smart enough, capable enough. It just wasn’t my dream.

I climbed into the saddle, then stood on Denim’s back as he trotted into the corral. We raced around the makeshift arena, moving seamlessly through my routine. The level four tricks I’d incorporated now felt second nature, like they were part of me. As we reached the final stretch, I flipped from Denim’s back and landed on my feet, striking a pose, my arms raised in anticipation of applause.

There was none, of course. This was just practice. But Ryan’s voice rang out from the fence line, hooting and hollering like I’d just won the championship.

“Thanks!” I called, giving him a playful bow.

He leaned against the fence, watching me with a mixture of pride and concern. Ryan hadn’t said much since I’d told him I was going to Vegas. He didn’t need to. His face said it all—he was proud of me, but the thought of being apart weighed on him as much as it did on me.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I led Denim toward the barn, brushing a hand along his flank to keep him calm. “Tricks I’ve got, but I haven’t done barrels since I was twelve. I have to be ready for everything.”

“You’ll be ready,” Ryan said, climbing over the fence to join me. “You already are.”

“Then why does it feel like everything’s working against me?” I asked, the frustration creeping into my voice.

“Because it is,” he said with a small, reassuring smile. “But you’ve never let that stop you before.”

I brushed down Denim, letting him cool off after the run. His coat glistened with sweat, but his eyes were bright, eager, as if he knew what lay ahead for us. I smiled and filled his trough with his favorite hay and alfalfa mix, giving him a grateful pat before stepping out of the stall.

The barn’s warm light spilled over me as I stepped into Ryan’s waiting arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Thank you for believing in me,” I whispered, my voice soft but steady.

Ryan smiled down at me, his eyes filled with a warmth that made my chest ache. “You’re easy to believe in,” he said, his arms tightening around my waist. Then his lips met mine, and I melted into the kiss, deep and lingering, savoring the moment.

I’d miss this so much in the week I’d be gone. My heart squeezed at the thought. If I won, it wouldn’t just be a week. It could mean months on the road, touring across the country.

Pulling back just enough to catch my breath, I rested my forehead against his. “I wish I could take you with me,” I murmured. “But I know your job is here.”

Ryan sighed, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. “I’d go if I could,” he admitted, his voice low. “But even if I can’t be there, you know I’m always in your corner, right?”

I nodded, a quiet affirmation of everything he’d said. I believed him. And I wasn’t about to let the time slip away without savoring every moment we had left together. I pulled him toward the storage room, where the cot still stood—a far cry from the romance of a moonlit night, but with Ryan beside me, it became something else entirely.

My hands fumbled to tug his shirt loose from his pants, pulling it quickly over his head, and then I followed suit, peeling off my own clothes. The urgency between us was undeniable, but in those fleeting seconds, I wished time would slow down, giving us more to hold on to.

But I knew we didn’t have that luxury. The tension built in my chest, pushing me forward as I kicked my pants off and straddled his hips. A soft groan escaped me as I sank down onto him, feeling the rush of warmth and connection flood over me.

Ryan’s fingers dug into my hips, his grip both grounding and possessive as I moved against him, matching the rhythm of the moment.

The pressure inside me built, every nerve buzzing on the edge of release. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the cries threatening to escape me, as the sensation grew overwhelming. Then, with a final burst, everything snapped. My muscles clenched around him, releasing in waves, each one deeper than the last.

A warm glow spread through me, flooding my senses as I held my breath, savoring the ache that lingered. It coaxed his own release, the deep connection between us intensifying, filling the space with a quiet, shared satisfaction.

I collapsed in a heap on his chest, my breath still coming in shallow gasps as I rested against him. His fingers threaded through my hair, the gentle motion calming me, helping our breathing slow and steady.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I hadn’t said it before. I’d been scared to, afraid of saying it at the wrong time, worried it would sound cliché, like some romantic afterthought. But it felt right in this moment, in his arms.

Ryan’s fingers stilled for a second before he smirked, his voice light yet warm. “I know.” He chuckled softly. “What’s not to love?”

The quiet between us lingered for a moment, the weight of my confession settling in the air. But time didn’t stop for feelings, and the reality of what was ahead crept in. I could already hear the sounds of Denim’s hooves tapping against the barn floor, the shift in the atmosphere around us as the world began to move again.

I pushed myself up from Ryan’s chest, reluctant to break the peace but knowing there was work to be done. “We should get the horses ready,” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

Ryan’s gaze softened as he watched me, then he gave me a small nod. “Yeah, we don’t want to miss the road.”

I stood and stretched, taking a deep breath, grounding myself in the moment. The truck needed loading, the horses needed to be prepped, and soon we’d be on the road—my last trip before the National Championship.

I grabbed Denim’s halter and led him out of the stall, the rhythm of the barn taking over as we slipped into the routine. The saddles, the tack, the last-minute checks. My thoughts kept drifting to the ride ahead, but for now, I focused on the practical, the physical. Getting everything in place before I left it all behind.

Ryan was right there, helping with the final touches, his hands quick and efficient. But there was an undercurrent of tension, the unspoken knowledge that this would be different. This time, it wasn’t just a rodeo; it was everything I’d been working for.

—---------

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the ranch as the cool morning air wrapped around me like a reminder of everything I was about to leave behind. Denim stood in his stall, waiting, calm and patient, as I pulled on my gloves and headed toward the barn. It felt surreal—this was happening. This was the moment I’d been working toward, and yet, it felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind.

Ryan was at the truck, checking the hitch on the trailer, his movements sharp, efficient. He glanced up when he saw me approach, but his eyes softened when they met mine, a silent understanding between us.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

I paused for a moment, my fingers wrapped around Denim’s halter. “I have to be,” I said, even though the uncertainty was gnawing at me. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I know,” he replied quietly. “Just... be careful out there, alright?”

I gave him a small smile. “I will.” But it wasn’t just the road I was worried about. It was everything—the distance, the time apart, the unknown. But we didn’t need to say all of that. The silence between us was filled with everything we couldn’t express in words.

We finished loading the horses into the trailer in a quiet routine, the familiar motions of saddling up and securing everything for the road. I moved with purpose, but there was a weight on my chest, a heaviness that wouldn’t leave.

Once Denim was settled, I grabbed my bags and stowed them in the truck. Ryan was still standing there, leaning against the side of the trailer, watching me. He didn’t come closer, didn’t make any move to hold me back. He just stood there, his eyes following every step.

I climbed into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life beneath me. I looked at Ryan one last time before pulling away, his silhouette growing smaller in the rearview mirror. The road stretched ahead of me, endless and unknown, but for the first time, I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders.

I’d hoped Dad would have seen me off, but I knew better than to expect it. His refusal to support me was as firm as ever, and I could almost feel the tension in the air, the space between us left wide open by his absence. He wasn’t going to back me on this, not when he thought I was chasing a dream that didn’t fit his vision. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I pressed my hand over my heart, the same place where Kayce’s scar marked him, a constant reminder of the cost of living in this family. I hadn’t been punished the way he had when he left, but the sting of disapproval still lingered. It always did.

I looked out at the ranch one last time, the place I had always known, and felt a pang in my chest. I would miss having my family in the stands, cheering me on. But I was doing this for me, and they had their own lives to live. The ranch needed tending, and that was something none of us could ever escape. But I had my own path now, and it would take me far from here, at least for a while.

—--

The thousand-mile journey had been long and grueling, but I kept telling myself it would be worth it. Each passing mile felt like it added a little more weight to my shoulders, and by the time I pulled into the equestrian center, the exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. I could feel the fatigue in my eyes, my muscles sore from hours of sitting in the truck, but there was still one thing I had to do before I could rest.

The horses.

I parked the truck and trailer, glancing at Denim and the others in the rearview mirror. They'd been cooped up for far too long, and I could see the impatience in their eyes. I was their caretaker, their rider, and I had to make sure they were settled before I even thought about closing my own eyes for the night.

I climbed out of the truck and made my way to the security guard booth. He gave me a nod as I approached, and I returned a half-smile, too tired to do more. "Over there," he gestured toward the far side of the lot where the other competitors were parking. "You can let 'em out there."

"Thanks," I murmured, already heading in that direction.

I parked the truck and unhitched the trailer, letting the cool evening air wash over me. Denim nickered from inside the trailer, eager to stretch his legs, and I couldn’t blame him. The horses had been troopers through the long journey, but even they needed a break.

With each step toward the trailer, I could feel the tension in my chest ease. The horses would be alright for the night. Tomorrow, I’d tackle the championship, but for now, I could give them the attention they needed, and maybe, just maybe, find a moment to breathe.

I walked into the room, and Luxe didn’t even begin to cover it. The bed was a plush oasis, and the pillows looked like clouds begging me to sink into them. The temptation to collapse onto the bed and forget everything was almost overwhelming, but something caught my eye before I could give in.

A gift basket sat on the bar, neatly arranged with an assortment of snacks, toiletries, and a bottle of something strong. The card was simple, written in familiar handwriting: “Good Luck, Bitsy. From: Jamie.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My brother. He never said much, especially not in front of our father, but this—this was his way of showing he cared. He’d never openly defy Dad, but I knew better than anyone that he wanted me to succeed, even if he couldn’t say it aloud.

It was too late to call him, too late to thank him for the gesture, but that small act of kindness was enough to settle my nerves a bit. No matter how much distance there was between us, no matter how much our lives had changed, some things stayed the same. Jamie cared. Even if he couldn’t show it the way I needed him to.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the card in my hand grounding me. Tomorrow was another step forward, and I was ready for it, despite everything else.

I changed into my pajamas, the soft fabric a welcome change after the long day of travel. The bed seemed to swallow me whole, the plush mattress a tempting escape. I sank into it with a deep sigh, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. Just as I was starting to relax, my phone buzzed in my hand, and I smiled when I saw his name on the screen.

“Hey, baby,” Ryan’s voice came through clearly, warm and familiar. “I wanted to catch you before you went to sleep and say good night.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, his voice washing over me like a gentle wave. It was a reminder of home, of what I was working toward. The championship was right in front of me, but in that moment, all I could think about was the man waiting back at the ranch. The distance between us seemed to close with each word he spoke, the sound of his voice grounding me.

“I miss you,” I whispered, letting myself feel the ache in my chest.

“I miss you too, more than you know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “But you’re gonna do great. I believe in you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining him there beside me, offering comfort and strength in the way only Ryan could. I didn’t need anything else to remind me of why I was here, but hearing his voice made everything feel just a little more manageable.

“I’ve got a surprise headed your way in the morning,” Ryan’s voice was laced with a playful smile, even over the phone.

“Surprise?” I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. “What is it?”

“That wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you,” he teased.

I laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through me at his lighthearted tone. “I can’t hardly wait,” I yawned, the exhaustion finally catching up with me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Alex. Get some sleep. If I don’t talk to you again before the big day, just know I’m thinking about you.”

His words settled over me like a comforting blanket, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting them sink in. Despite the nerves and everything ahead, I knew I wasn’t alone.

Sleep came quickly, the weight of the day finally letting me rest. Morning arrived with the first rays of light filtering through the curtains. A sharp knock at the door pulled me awake, and I rubbed my eyes before swinging it open.

Standing there in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light, was a familiar cowboy.

Travis Wheatley.

He’d sold me my first barrel racing horse—or, more accurately, sold it to my father, and I’d gone on to buy every horse from him since. Travis was brash, no-nonsense, and always had a way of making his presence felt. Of course, he also ran the rodeo circuit, which meant he knew his way around the sport as well as anyone.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “So... are you my surprise?”

“I’ve surprised many women,” Travis said, his gaze running over me as I stood there in my oversized sleep shirt. “But I was expecting something a little... different.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t expecting company this early,” I shot back. “But I think there’s coffee or something around here. I can make some if you’re interested.”

Travis smirked, clearly amused by my lack of concern for his early arrival. “Coffee sounds good.”

I fumbled with the coffee maker, popping the K-cup into place before quickly heading to the bathroom to get dressed and brush my teeth. A splash of makeup, just enough to feel a little more awake, and I was back in the room.

Travis looked up as I entered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wow the judges more in that little T-shirt you had on last night,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. He handed me a card, the edges slightly frayed, with my number for the event and the order of events printed neatly. Barrel racing, roping, and finally trick riding.

“Can you actually eat before you spin your little horses in circles for the judges?” I teased, a smirk playing on my lips. “Or does it just make you sick?”

“Very funny,” he grinned, unbothered. “Come on, let’s get some food.”

“I promise I won’t stand too close to you,” I said as we walked down the hall, rode the elevator, and headed into the lobby restaurant. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your next new ex-wife. Though,” I added, eyeing him as we were seated, “they might think I’m your daughter.”

“So how’d you get John to agree to let you come?” Travis asked after the waitress took our order.

“I didn’t,” I said, fumbling with the napkin in my lap. “Dad forbade me to come. Well… I didn’t exactly listen.”

“I always knew you were a rebel,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

I tried to focus on my food, but the nerves kept me from enjoying it. Not that I’d ordered much in the first place. Between the nerves and the long ride, I knew I shouldn’t eat too much.

I reached for the check, but Travis grabbed it first. “I’ll consider this an investment.”

“An investment? If I knew you were paying, I would’ve ordered more than fruit and oatmeal,” I teased, letting him be the gentleman. Even though I knew that wasn’t exactly in his nature.

The arena was already booming when I arrived. The air vibrated with excitement, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my nerves. I couldn’t be any more ready than I was. Years of riding and practicing had led me here. This was the big leagues.

I led my barrel horse, Belle, into the waiting area. Denim had grace; Belle had speed. I ran my hands down her chestnut flanks, checking the straps and making sure everything was perfect. I was riding 6th, midway down the list, but my heart pounded like it had nowhere else to go.

Climbing onto Belle, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. We shot through the gates with speed and precision, rounding the barrels close and fast. My heart still thumped loudly as they called my time—16.74 seconds. The fastest so far, but there were still fifteen girls behind me.

The quiet hum of the bar felt a world away from the roar of the arena. I took another sip from my bottle, the cool water a stark contrast to the heat of the competition. On the TV screen above, two girls had beaten my time. One knocked over a barrel, though, earning a penalty, and I barely squeezed into second place. My nerves had gotten the best of me on the roping course too.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. I wondered if the boys in the bunkhouse were watching me on their TV, cheering me on. Or if my father had caught my run. Would he even acknowledge it? Would he ever see me as more than just a girl who defied his wishes to chase a dream he didn’t approve of?

The cool air of the arena felt electric as I approached the final round. Changing into my flashy pink form-fitting trick-riding costume, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of all my preparation behind me. The costume wasn’t just for show—it was a part of my armor. The glittery ‘Y’ painted on Denim’s rear wasn’t just for flair, though. It was my tribute to Yellowstone, a symbol of where I came from, and the very thing that pushed me to this moment.

Denim stood tall, his muscles rippling beneath the glittery design. I patted him gently, calming the both of us, my heart syncing with the rhythm of his breathing. I slid into the saddle and tightened my grip, ready for the performance of a lifetime.

Travis’s nod was all I needed. He swung open the gate, and the world outside seemed to shrink as I rode into the arena. The booming crowd fell silent in my mind, replaced by the thumping beat of McBride and the Ride’s "Trick Rider" playing through the speakers. It was my soundtrack.

youtube

I was in the zone now. I flipped, swung, and held my balance effortlessly, each trick smooth and precise. The routine felt like a blur of practiced perfection—each move instinctive and natural. I lost myself in the rhythm, the adrenaline coursing through me. The seconds felt like hours, but then, just as quickly, the four minutes were over, and I dismounted with a flourish.

The crowd erupted. The cheers rang in my ears, and the flood of emotion came crashing down like a wave. I had done it. I had outperformed everyone in level 4 tricks, and I’d won. After all the sweat, tears, and sacrifices I’d made, this was my moment. And it felt sweeter than anything I had ever imagined.

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