dear companion

The loneliness of the inhabitants of other—daemon-less— worlds is rendered intensely poignant. The existential solitude, which is the normal human condition, has never looked as pitiful to those who live with it as it does to these people, who are never alone, accompanied as they are at all times by their dear companions, their kindred spirits, their other halves.
—  Lucy Hughes-Hallett, in her Introduction to His Dark Materials
Revali x Reader: Common Ground

A/N: Don’t tell me your favourite characters, I will use them against you. Both @mercer-safehouse​ and @blueevileye​ made this mistake, however, as I was feeling merciful, I wrote fluff versus angst. Have at it.


“I swear to Hylia if you don’t keep breathing down my neck, I’ll pluck off all your feathers while you sleep.”

The target is across the river, a camp of Bokoblins and Moblins turning in for the night. The path between the Dueling Peaks isn’t especially dangerous but reaching Fort Hateno before the end of the week is paramount. Large numbers of enemies are marching upon it, and between Zelda’s quest to awaken her power, these kinds of distractions are not needed. Urbosa has already taken Zelda south through Faron, while Daruk and Link plan on crossing over Mable Ridge. In all this, you are saddled with Revali, as the two of you are nearly equals in aerial combat and his ability to create updrafts makes your archery skills even more of a boon. However, of all the regal birds in Hyrule, Revali is something of a parrot singing his own praises, disparaging others with his rapid fire tongue.

“You may be quick with threats, but I’ve yet to see you actually go through with them.” Revali sneers, the tips of his feathers tickling your arms. “It’s an easy shot, what’s got you so concerned?”

“Nothing. Now, quit bothering me and scout ahead, birdbrain.”

“Rude little Hylian.”

Revali takes a step back and you hear the wind whistle around him, carrying him high into the night sky and out of sight. The moonlight provides ample light, you pull back your arm and aim for the heads of the Bokoblins, they’ll go down the easiest. The first shot hits its mark, a burst of purple and black miasma singles the death of the vermin along with a high-pitch whine. The following three shots sink into skulls, but the fourth glides over a Moblin and strikes the rock of the mountain. At least you weren’t using Bomb Arrows, but close combat has never been a strong suit; the Moblins stir the rest of their allies and a trio of Lizalfos slither out from behind a line of crates. You clumsily notch an arrow as they take to the water, running backwards onto the path. The arrows spears one through the chest, but it clamours on after you, flicking out its tongue and knocking the bow from your hands.

You yank the broadsword from your belt, reaching awkwardly for your shield before the tongue wraps around your legs. Instinct forces your sword up, blocking the Lizal Boomerangs as they crash down over you. A Moblin arrow meant for you instead takes out one of your attackers, setting a Lizalfos on fire and driving it towards the river. It doesn’t make, exploding in a puff of empurpling darkness. It’s enough of a distraction, you throw yourself up and knock a Lizalfos back, slashing once – twice – three times before it falls over. A Fire Arrows burns over your shoulder, eating through your tunic with a hiss. The last Lizalfos jumps from side to side, you finally grab your shield and meets its awkward gaze. Its mouth opens, you dodge the flick of its tongue and drive it back, jamming the broadsword deep into its abdomen, using it as a shield. The Fire Arrow sears its flesh, its claws scotch your arms like tempered blades; you fight the wave of nausea that rolls over you long enough to pull out and duck behind the other mountain. You can’t go back for the Falcon Bow, not with the threat of Fire Arrows – the Lizal Bow will have to do. You’ve still got a bundle of Bomb Arrows from Beedle, hopefully the Moblins go down fast and you can regroup with Revali. Speaking of which –

“Having trouble, Hylian?”

You don’t even see the arrows fly, just the simultaneous thuds of the Moblins dropping onto the ground. Revali glides down with a self-satisfied grin.

“Shall I collect the materials or would you like the honour?”

You chuck a Lizalfos Tail at his head, growling when he dodges and chuckles.

“I suppose I’ll have to do it. The way towards the stable is clear, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Go suck an egg.”


Not many people have seen Rito apparently, so the staff crowd Revali as he perches on the bed fixing his precious bow. He’s regaling them with some tale of his amazing feats, drinking in the attention a preening like a songbird.  You’re sitting on the floor a few feet away against the mattress of your bed, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes as you apply aloe to your burns.

You should’ve gone with Daruk. Link has so much more patience with Revali, won’t give in to the Rito’s quips and infuriatingly engaging tone. Revali has the voice of someone begging for backtalk, he seemingly always has something to say and it’s always the final word. At least Daruk would keep second guessing your abilities, the playful rivalry is fine but the nagging

“Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet over there.”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“You’re sure? I was just about to tell them how we took down that Lynel in the North Tabantha Snowfield –”

We didn’t. You did. Don’t feign modesty on my account.”

The stable goes silent, a mattress creaks and then Revali pushes through the assembly of eager listeners, leaning over to look at you.

“You’re injured? Sorry, dears, but my companion needs me.” Revali raises an eyebrow as the listeners look awkwardly between them. “Go on, shoo.”

“I don’t need you.” You protest as everyone turns away, flinching when Revali lifts your leg up and examines a burn curled around your ankle.

“You do realize a Lizalfos’s tongue is coated in a highly active acid, right?”

“…have at it, clearly you know best.” You slid the canister of burn gel over and fold your arms over your chest, refusing to meet his emerald gaze. He pulls up your pant leg with a soft sigh, dipping his feathers into the gel and gently applying it against your skin. You hiss at the initial contact, chewing your bottom lip as the burn stings. Revali pulls a roll of bandages from his pack and takes his time wrapping your ankle, tying the first knot tightly.

“Not that I mind your vitriol,” Revali says. “It’s charming, in its own strange way, but you seem…off.”

“I’m fine.”

He ties the second knot tighter, leaning forward with a frown.

“Don’t lie to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m not, you’re just reading into things. Stop being so nosy, damnit.”

Revali stands up, wiping his feathers on a nearby blanket, and then digs into his pack for section of coiled rope. He grabs the cuff of your shift and hauls you onto your feet, tying the rope around your waist and proceeding to drag you outside.

“What are you doing? Quit pulling me, I’m not a dog.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Revali rolls his eyes. “Just frustratingly stubborn. Please don’t squirm, I’d rather avoid dropping you.” He ties the other end of the rope around his waist, creates and updraft, and suddenly you are far above the ground. The stable staff runs out to watch, cupping their hands around their eyes as if to see you better, but Revali keeps going higher and higher until the thin grey mist of clouds obscures you both. The moon, big and bright and far too close, seems to leer at you.

“What is your problem?!”

“I’ve been nothing but charitable.” Revali sniffs. “You’re the one being difficult.”

“Says the asshole whose flown hundreds of feet in the air with  only a flimsy length of rope to keep the flightless one from falling to their death.”

“This is Sheikah-brand rope. It won’t snap and you won’t fall.”

“Then what in Hylia’s name is this supposed to be?”

Revali looks down at you, the moonlight does weird things with his face, making it seem infinitely more handsome than usual. His navy-blue feather shimmer like dark sapphires while the white edges glow like pearls.

“This is getting your full attention.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m being serious, (Y/N). You’ve been distracted and I’d like to know why.”

You look down at the surroundings forests, smaller mountain ranges, as if hoping to see any of the others close by. Revali waits, the updraft swirling strongly, breezing between your clothes and skin.

“Can we continue this on the ground, it’s cold up here.”

“(Y/N).”

“I’m serious, I’m not dressed for this and I really don’t need them gawking at us.”

A fire’s been lit, the stable staff are carrying torches and walking around for a better look. Revali relents with another roll of his eyes, gliding away from the updraft and carefully bringing both of you back onto the ground. The two of you ignore the questioning gazes and return inside, reclaiming your belongings and choosing beds beside each other. Revali bends and returns your bow with a quiet nod, though before you can grab it, he pulls away and begins examining the wood. Frowning, you watch his feathers fall into the scratches and grooves, he clicks his tongue and pulls out a small container of lacquer.

“You talk.” He instructs, turning the bow over. “Honestly, this is a mess.”

“We can’t all be perfectionists, Revali.”

“It has nothing to do with being a perfectionist, but it has everything to do with being a professional. Stop deflecting.”

He shoots a glare your way before lacquering up your bow, switching his gaze between your face and his work.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Try the beginning.” He replies dryly.

“Well, my mother loved my father an awful lot, so one night they decided –”

“Too far back. Try again.” He sighs. “Cheeky brat.”

You lean against the wall, the pillow cushioning you from behind, and sigh. Part of the worry originates with Zelda. The kingdom whispers of the princess of failure, no matter how the King ensures his people that everything is being done to stop Calamity Ganon. She’s visited the Springs of Power and Courage with no results, and as her seventeenth birthday looms, the Spring of Wisdom will finally be open to her but…

Link has the Master Sword. He is the Hero of Legend whether he likes it or not. The Divine Beasts have been mastered by their respective Champions. The Guardians have been deployed and are controllable but…

“I have my doubts about this whole thing. If it’s worth it.”

“We all do.” Revali admits. “Some of us are better at hiding it.” He looks up, a strange sense of sincerely floods his expression.

“The great Rito warrior has doubts? Will wonders ever cease…”

“I’m not well-liked at home, I’ll have you know.”

“Really.”

Revali nods, adjusting his position so he’s more on the bed. The smell of lacquer fills your nostrils, but it’s different from what you’re used to. The Rito are master archers but wind will carry any scent, so the lacquer they produced to keep their bows strong is scentless, for the most part; you can’t help but think of freshly fallen snow.

“Though I am their best, I suppose my bravado is, at times –”

“Overbearing? Frustrating? Annoying?”

“Excuse me but I was talking.” Revali scolds, reaching out and ruffling your hair. “I am bit much, aren’t I? Their loss. Anyway, being the best and not appreciated does bother me. But what bothers me more is failure, that this whole ordeal will prove fruitless…that I will be nothing more than a memory.”

He scoffs, placing the bow on the ground with a yawn.

“Or worse yet, that my people will forget me entirely. Could you imagine? Nothing more than a name the elders would remember in passing.”

“I don’t think anyone could forget you, Revali.”

“I’m touched.” He moves one wing against his chest. “Now you.”

“Am I…good enough?”

Revali’s eyes widen, he opens his mouth for a retort or maybe a gentle barb, but can’t muster up the strength to speak. This would be opportunity enough for you to make jabs at him, call him out for all his bullshit bravado and ego. But you can’t.

“Link and the princess already represent the Hylian people, Princess Zelda has also great knowledge of the Sheikah technology so…is there even a point to my being here? You’re the master archer, I don’t… I shouldn’t.”

“You are absolutely worth it.”

You look up, not realizing your gaze had fallen to the ground, and Revali leans in earnestly.

“You absolutely have a purpose here. Who else can stomach Daruk’s cooking? I certainly can’t, and you have consistently talked him out of using rocks.”

“But –”

“Need I remind you that Mipha is an unabashedly adorable introvert? Beyond Link and the princess, you got her talking to the rest of us.”

“Well, I –”

“And another thing.” Revali says coyly. “You have sparred with Urbosa, a trained Gerudo warrior, and have not died.”

“She’s never going to want to kill me, you goof.”

“You never know.” Revali shrugs. “Furthermore, you’ve put up with me pretty well despite my…”

“Overwhelming ego? Annoying and frustrating sense of pride? Your unabashed need to critique everyone?”

“My, my. I’d say that bothered you some, songbird.” Revali freezes, you can practically hear the realization hit him square in the face. “Have I…contributed to your doubt?”

The flat look on your face serves as an ample enough answer.

“…you could have mentioned this sooner.” Revali mumbles.

“I thought I was being pretty damn obvious. I’m always in a bad mood after I talk to you.”

“I thought I’d tired you out.”

“You do.”

“Oh.” The Rito casts a look around the stable, anyone staring immediately turns away.

“Look. I’m not mad at you, not really. Our personalities clash, that’s fine, but if you could just tone it down a bit, you can continue teasing me. But nicely!”

Revali swings his head around with an unreadable expression, he folds his arms over his chest and sighs deeply through his nose. After a moment, he stands up and comes to sit on your bed, eyeing the bandage he tied around your ankle.

“I still need to apologize. If I’m going to be remembered at all, I want to be remembered well.”
“OK…?”

“So, I’m sorry.” He bows his head. “You hairless wrinkly monkey.”

“That’s it. I’m having roasted chicken tonight.”

(Y/N)!”

thegreatfallout  asked:

Companions react to a guy trying to grab SS butt and the companions get really jealous? LOVE YOUR FRICKING BLOG KEEP IT UP 😉❣️

Oh gosh, thank you so much! That honestly means so much to me. <3

Cait: A jealous Cait is a dangerous Cait. Well, any Cait is dangerous, but when she’s envious, whoever she’s envious of should probably steer clear of the Irishwoman. Cait strolled over to the man who was pestering Sole and gave him a hefty shove, grimacing at him. “Ya’ think ya’ can just touch ‘em like that?” She’d hiss, eyes narrowing at the individual. “Well guess what? Ya’ can’t.” Cait was absolutely looking to start a fight, but the man who had dared to touch Sole in such a way most certainly was not. Especially not with Cait.

Curie: The way he touched Sole made her more irritated than jealous. Actions such as those were completely off limits if they weren’t consensual, and it irked Curie that he would do grab Sole when it wasn’t something they wanted. “Excuse me, monsieur!” She would huff, delicate hands balling up into trembling fists. “Who are you to touch my dear companion in such a way?” The man stepped away from Sole, hands in the air, grinning. “Il est un fils de pute!” She muttered, trying to regain composure.

Danse: Oh boy, Danse was absolutely steaming. His brows were knitted into a bushy mess, his face red from both embarrassment and jealousy. He was envious that he had been able to touch Sole like that, and he was frustrated that Sole hadn’t stood up for themselves. Moreover, he was furious that a stranger had touched her like that. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Danse’s burly stature loomed over the man, his voice low. The BOS uniform clad man surely intimidated the other, as he left as quickly as his feet could carry him

Deacon: Deacon tried his best not to allow their flirting to get to him, but the second that creep laid a hand on Sole, Deacon lost his cool. “Hey there buddy!” He drawled, slipping in between the two. Deacon looked at the stranger with hellfire burning in his eyes. “You know that dude I totally beat the hell out of after he grabbed your ass?” He looked over to Sole with an exaggerated look. “Well, I heard that he’s not going to make it. I guess when I broke two of his ribs it made his insides a total mess.” To say the very least, that scared the pervert off.

Hancock: Hancock was a shameless flirt himself, so he felt as if he really couldn’t be jealous when Sole indulged in some harmless flirting of their own. He couldn’t help himself from feeling uneasy, though. Especially not after he groped Sole. That was a very big mistake. Hancock slid into a bar stool next to the stranger and wrapped a skinny arm around his shoulders. “What is up, my man?” Hancock growled, looking at the other man with a crooked smile. “You enjoy grabbing people like that, eh? Well, I have interests of my own, you feel?” Hancock rose from the creaky, upholstered seat and proceeded to slam the pervert’s face into the bar counter as hard as he possibly could.

MacCready: In truth, MacCready was jealous when pretty much anybody talked to Sole. It was something he concealed a good portion of the time, but watching someone grab Sole in such a manner set him off. He stood, calloused palms slamming flat on the table in front of him. “That’s it.” He groaned, wrinkling his nose. His heart raced, and his palms began to sweat. “Hey, chump!” He called out, his voice cracking. “What the hell was that for, huh? Touching them like that?” Sole avoided eye contact with either of them as their cheeks flushed a dark hue. The stranger laughed, shook his head and left.

Nick: Nick wasn’t particularly fond of many people in the Commonwealth, but people who just went around groping people really got his coolant flowing. He absolutely despised those who took every opportunity they could to prey on practically anybody they could. “Are you kidding me? You just go around touching everybody like that?” Nick approached the man, non-existent brows furrowed. “Are you really that much of an ass that you just ignore people’s signals or are you just that stupid?” The man was considerably larger than the synth, but Nick Valentine was not a man you wanted to cross. The man left with an irritated grunt, grimacing at Nick.

Piper: Sole and Piper flirted back and forth more often than Piper would like to admit, so seeing someone flirt with Sole clearly evoked feelings of envy from Piper. Seeing some creep get handsy with Sole made her just downright enraged. However, Piper wasn’t terribly skilled in combat so she had to use her wit and cunning to her advantage. The reporter made her way over to the pair, Sole clearly uncomfortable with the man. “Oh man, that was a big mistake buddy. You know Sole has an incurable disease from Vault 81, right? They’re sorta’ immune to it, but if anybody happens to come in contact with them, whichever body part touched my friend Sole over here rots off. Gross, right?” The stranger left as quickly as he had came, but Sole wasn’t too happy with her method of dealing with him. 

Preston: Preston tried his absolute best to keep jealousy to minimum. However, seeing someone grab Sole like that made it hard for Garvey to keep calm and collected. “Hey!” Preston shouted, looking to the guilty individual. “You keep your hands off them, you hear me?” Preston never laid a hand on the man, but his words were somehow enough to get him to leave. Preston didn’t enjoy dealing with people like that, and he most certainly didn’t enjoy having others see him take such actions. Especially not Sole. He outstretched a hand, resting it on Sole’s shoulder. “You okay there, General?”

Preview: “Enough of a Hero”

This is just the beginning part…and I think it might be three parts–but who can say?

Anyway, enjoy this little bit.

Summary: Lila Mellark always knew of her parents’ tragic childhood. However, when the past comes out in their hometown of District 12, will she lose all she holds dear?

The final companion to Good Enough and Strong Enough.

______

Yellow.

Filtering behind my closed eyelids…drifting in my in-between dreams…filling my nostrils with its soft, sweet scent…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You really think Sasuke held the similar degree of affection toward Naruto and Sakura during shippuden ? To me, it seems that Sasuke started to feel affection for Naruto first then for Sakura in the original series, and then in Shippuden, kept his bond with Naruto while his bond with Sakura wasn't clear from his side. He often thinks about Naruto, and not a lot about Sakura in this period. I think he only realizes and regains completely his affection for her in gaiden/late shippuden.

Sasuke’s bond with Sakura during Part 2 was very clear; she was a dear companion from a past in which he was desperately trying to dispose of. It was the exact same with Naruto. He didn’t regard Naruto any more affectionately during Part 2, and it’s not as if Sasuke kept his bond with Naruto, yet he discarded the one he had with Sakura, they were always grouped as Team 7.

He also didn’t often think about Naruto at all, he thought about Naruto when he was with Naruto, his thoughts were mostly occupied with Itachi In every other instance, when he was thinking about him, then more often than not, they were about killing him. He was not thinking about him in an affectionate manner. Every single time he thought about his former comrades in an affectionate manner, he thought about the both of them, not just Naruto.

Lastly, Sasuke regained his affection for everyone after being saved from the Curse of Hatred, not just Sakura. It wasn’t as though Sasuke was already thinking about Naruto in that manner prior to being freed from the curse.

     Just who is this grey mage galavanting around, turning people into animals?… And why?

     “What’s… going on???” Should he be worried? Is it contagious?… He hoped not.

”Don’t worry, my dear companion… we will be safe, I promise.”
never underestimate the friendship and trust between a man and his loyal-through-all-time horse ♥
a little experiment on lightning combined with rain :3
after studying tons and tons of horse references i feel  Epona turned out to be pretty good, drawing animals sure is a thing i gotta practice more hah!

Stones for Shadow Work

I just wanted to share a compilation of some stones I have personally used and found effective in aiding shadow work (with exception to iolite, which I have not yet acquired/used, though I understand it is wonderful for such purposes). 

Obsidian

An obsidian sphere or scrying mirror would be most useful for shadow work, but a raw or tumbled piece of obsidian will work just fine. For my own practice, I use a 60mm sphere; I like to gaze into it to get into a meditative state or sometimes I just hold it. 

Obsidian has the power to reveal that which is hidden. It is often referred to as the “stone of truth”. It connects mind with emotion and promotes easier access to the subconscious. It should be used with caution and respect, as it indiscriminately reflects our true selves, both positive and negative aspects, which can make it a very intense stone to work with as you may not be prepared to face what it reveals. Snowflake obsidian can be used in its place as a somewhat mellower version of this stone.

At the same time, obsidian possesses very protective qualities. It is in close association with guardian spirits and is also a great stone for grounding. These characteristics paired with its revealing aspects make it perfect for shadow work. In fact, I would consider this the go-to stone for this practice, but I also suggest partnering it with one or more of the following stones.

Clear Quartz

Clear quartz is highly versatile stone. It works well when paired with obsidian as it may help you to clarify and assimilate that which obsidian reveals. It also offers a calming and healing energy that is beneficial for shadow work. I regularly wear a net wrapped stone necklace I made which holds a piece of clear quartz– it is a very dear companion of mine. 

Kyanite (Blue) 

Kyanite is useful in evoking a sense of calm and relaxation that enables one to reach deep meditative states. It restores the flow of energy to the chakras and clears psychic pathways. Additionally, kyanite is said to alleviate feelings of depression, which sometimes accompany shadow work– especially during/after prolonged sessions. Overall, the state of tranquility it induces and the flow of energy it stimulates makes kyanite a great stone for any kind of spiritual work, especially having to do with the emotional body. I have a couple of small pieces I often use for such purposes. 

Unakite

Not only is unakite great for balancing emotions and promoting healing, it also helps break down mental/emotional barriers and opens psychic doorways. Additionally, it promotes peace, compassion and acceptance. This will allow you to become more in touch with your subconscious without passing judgement on yourself. It is an excellent stone for relieving stress, anxiety, confusion and depression as well. 

I have a nice piece of unakite I like to work with regularly as well as some unakite gauges I wear on occasion. I find this stone very appealing and helpful in many spiritual practices, especially those geared towards healing. 

Iolite

Iolite is a stone of exploration and illumination, which makes it yet another ideal stone for shadow work. It strengthens our resolve to take responsibility and follow through with our decisions while providing the strength and self-assurance to persevere even the most daunting circumstances. Iolite stimulates psychic awareness and reveals realms beyond ordinary consciousness, which makes it excellent for past life or memory regression. It aids in accessing the subconscious and so makes for a wonderful stone for emotional healing. Additionally, it promotes a calm and stable state of mind allowing for cultivation of solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems. 

Chrysoprase

Chrysoprase’s soothing properties will help soften the intense discomfort which sometimes accompanies working with obsidian. It promotes acceptance and healing, and so makes it an excellent companion stone for shadow work. It is also effective in alleviating depression and anxiety while encouraging hope. Additionally, it helps make conscious that which is unconscious and reveals divine truth. 

I have a triangular piece of chrysoprase that I have always been very fond of. I use it in many healing based rituals, not only because I find it exceptionally serene but also extremely aesthetically pleasing. 

Rose Quartz

Another great stone to soothe the effects of shadow work is rose quartz. A warm and gentle stone, this variation of quartz is particularly effective in emotional healing. It promotes acceptance and unconditional love, that which you would surely like to extend to your shadow self. It also enhances divine awareness. I typically like to wear my rose quartz gauges when I do shadow work. 

Merciless Death, A Widow’s Regret.

(Inspired by Burgerkill – Tiga Titik Hitam)

This served as a reading companion to “Dear Amelie” by trash-queen-reynarius.


The mission was a success by Talon standards, Widowmaker is more than pleased with the execution, no one knows Angela died that day. Her body lies rotten on the floor for days to come, she tried to hides what her heart told about it. She often found herself perching at the same exact point whenever she arrives at Angela’s condo. Her body is still there… soulless, exposed, and maggots began to resurface from her rotten internal organs, the shot in the head… produce a lot of fears and otherworldly imagination for Widowmaker for days to come, but she keeps ignoring it as if it were nothing…

It was nothing for her, but it was something for Angela.

Angela’s eyes still open, staring at the same window and Widowmaker’s position. It was and is haunting, but the mission carries on. Upon arriving the base, Widowmaker received her paycheck and went to her room immediately. Widowmaker shared the same window as Angela, and in all of the sudden, the vague memories began to swirl her mind and thoughts. The moment when she pulls the trigger when she holds her invisible tears when she… tries to say “I’m sorry…” it was all coming back to her immediately. A series of flashback began to play on her brain’s cassette tape, repeatedly, for five or so minutes. The laughter, the dancings, the memories…

The Angel… The Merciful.

She opened her window to get some fresh air as she pours the cognac into a small glass with three ice cubes and sit down on the frame. She didn’t wear anything but a black lingerie, with black, fishnet stockings, and silver diamond ring. In front of the window, there’s a small balcony with a small table and two porch chairs. She put down the glass on the table, Widowmaker’s hands were very reflective, then she re-enacts the tragedy in all of her sudden, without her knowledge. What?! What am I doing? Hands! No! She screamed internally. Her hands were shaky as she is meeting with God himself, the violet skin of hers began to pale and cold sweats dripping from her face.

Then the glass drops.

“Widowmaker?! Are you alright?!” Shaelynn screamed while thoroughly banging on the door. “If you’re not answering, I’ll barge inside immediately!” she continued while overriding Widowmaker’s chamber door.

“Shaelynn… No…” Widowmaker begged.

“No, Widowmaker! I should get in!” Shaelynn panicked, still overriding the door. “Come on, you unreliable piece of crap!” Shaelynn cursed to the old doors of Talon that never gets repaired. “Widowmaker! Hug me!” Shaelynn ran and giving Widowmaker a hug… at least she tried to.

Instead of replying Shaelynn’s hug, Widowmaker grabbed her rifle and shot her in the chest, instantly kill the girl who’s trying to save her, trying to sort her problems, trying to retrace Widowmaker’s purpose. Crying over her best friend, Widowmaker began to pack things up as the night’s getting late and her anxiety causes her insecurities. She grappled in between buildings and towers trying to escape the truth. The Talon sure heard the shot coming from Widowmaker’s chamber, and there Shaelynn lies. A single 7.62x54mm R bullet cartridge was found near the body of Shaelynn.

She was her best friend.

Unable to overcome her PTSD, Widowmaker insisted that whatever she does with the rifle haunts her more and more, and by putting it everywhere is just making it worse as she tries to find somewhere to stay and hide forever. She made it to a small shed right on the outskirts of the town, she gathered some firewood and start making a campfire inside the shed. It wasn’t big or small, but sure it sustains Widowmaker’s life, at least for a while. She uses three remaining bullets from her magazine as tinder for her campfire, and the emptied cartridge is thrown away to a lake behind the shed.

The lake shares the tranquility and the solitude towards her soul, every morning she could sit there for hours, reminding her a vague past of Angela, hazy memories with Shaelynn and all the fun times being in the ranks of Talon and raiding people’s businesses and destroying things together. She let out a sharp, desperate breath as she walks towards the lake, she put off her clothes and lingerie and began to cleanse herself in that lake. The water is crystal clear, and access to everywhere is hard, and even Talon couldn’t find her trail and the trail itself went cold afterward.

I tried to hide the conscience,

Continue denying and running,

I drowned myself in darkness.

When the truth is not meaningful anymore,

I leaned back and fell into silence,

Where will I take myself, now?

The farther I go, the more fragile I am.

Widowmaker’s thoughts were surrounded by the darkness as she tries to cleanse herself from the sins she committed, she’s no longer think straight… she’s no longer Widowmaker, now. No matter where she’d go, there’s always a shade of Angela and Shaelynn haunts her, there’s always her shadow of herself forced and dragged her back to where she once belong. She let out several breaths before she burned her rifle in the campfire. This will get rid of those bad memories. She thought to herself as her clouded minds began to take over the dead body of Widowmaker. Her wits told her to go back to Angela’s condo, it has been three months since her death and Overwatch already took care of Angela’s body and give her proper burial, Talon also gave Shaelynn a proper burial and began to hunt down Widowmaker to pay her crimes. Later that night, Widowmaker with her clouded mind began to enter Angela’s room, crying and desperate for forgiveness to her dead body, or at least to Angela’s bloodstain that spread through the wooden floor, she lied there, thinking that Angela’s dead body still there, freshly picked… freshly killed, from atop of an apartment.

Angela! Angela! I’m sorry, darling! I didn’t mean to do that, Angie! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Forgive me, Chérie! She screamed internally, with muffled sobbing. I couldn’t take it anymore, chérie… I should take a shot, to my stomach, then to my head. She shook her head and…

BANG.

Before she couldn’t even drink a pint, her brains already scattered on the floor.

The Sniper, the Maker of Widows…

Now finally deserved the most peaceful rest of her life.


Yo! @trash-queen-reynarius
Here you go, a quick one-shot of the aftermath. Hope Y'all liked it.

Words count: 1073
Finished in less than 40mins.

Baby - Bucky x Reader

Word: 1391
Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Request:  Hey, I like your blog and I wanted to you know if you could write a Bucky x reader where they are in a relationship with an age-gap between them and the reader gets pregnant. They are afraid to tell others. Bit of angst maybe? - anon

Warning: Arguing, Fluff
A/N: Sorry It took so long, this was just something I mixed together and I hope you like it:)

Keep reading

Why Plutonic Men "Don't put their fuzz in crazy"

So basically you have valid proof of carrying male genitalia and your chart happens to own up to a Pluto overdosage. Congrats! Unless you have some strong Saturn going on, I’m sorry to inform you upon this matter: you’re in denial.

I can already hear you plotting your revenge, I sound ridiculously ignorant because I’m deeply dissatisfied with my boring, clueless life, am I right? Hear me out though: you know people, their motives, their oh so shadow side and hell no you’ll never go for “crazy”. And other delusions. We see your waters getting restless.

You do not date crazy, but you date insightful, mysterious women who always turn out to be complete psychos? Boo boo, I got you. You’re running in circles. Because dear plutonic lad, I know you won’t admit to this and I hate to ruin your bad boy street cred: you ARE emotionally intelligent! The fact that you’re pro at mental gymastics is only caused by people’s inability to relate to your deepest conflicts with yourself. You see, Pluto loves deceiving your best intentions. It drags you into situations where you’re forced to reinvent yourself. It drags you alongside women who need to reinvent themselves. Plutonic people can only feel understood by getting in plutonic relationships. Blame it on the karma, you bad boy you! However, once you feel comfortable with your spot in this world, you’ll break this cycle. Your slate will be crystal clear and you’ll come to discover that true passion does not live in a cloud of sleepless troubled nights, jealousy and vice. You’ll learn that the apparent “boring relationship” is thousandfold more meaningful and constructive than your Lana del Rey song-like ride or die type.

You don’t put your fuzz in crazy, you breathe crazy. You are crazy. You’re a true artist. Don’t waste away. Use your struggles to create, without integrating them in your circles of self pity party companion.

Dear Plutonic guy,
We probably dated at some point. You still matter within everyone’s pagan eyes. Stop fucking shit up. Put your fuzz in crazily average.

Originally posted by awkwardbunnyau

Garak is the most likely out of everyone on DS9 to have a Tumblr.

It would start innocently. He would reblog fashion, books, and quotes, and make nice with people around the quadrant. Then he’d get into heated debates over literature with a user that’s “as dense as my dear lunch companion” and begin sourcing his opinions to prove that his understanding of literature is superior. Then he would start creating text post memes out of tired irritation. Then his blog would devolve into “rather flammable waste” as it grew into meme trash and other garbage and he would regret none of it.

All of this he does without revealing his face, his race, or his name. Whenever a “reblog if you were born before ___” meme comes up, he just reblogs it with a laughing gif.