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crehador · 1 month

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#crab watches #9th live #NOOOOOOOOOOOO TRAGEDY #TRAGEDY HAS #STRUCK

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wiirocku · 2 years

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Acts 12:7 (NKJV) - Now behold, an angel of the Lord stood by him, and a light shone in the prison; and he struck Peter on the side and raised him up, saying, “Arise quickly!” And his chains fell off his hands.

#Acts 12:7 #behold #angel #the Lord #stood #by him #light #shone #prison #struck #Peter #side #raised him #arise

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rabbitcruiser · 10 months

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Back on June 29, 1962, the “Old Faithful” was struck by a bolt of lightning at 2:05 p.m., a direct hit that caused substantial damage

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jamietukpahwriting · 1 year

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a bolt from the blue

I thought we just had fun together thought you were just easy to talk to

then you laughed like that looked at me with those eyes your face lit up by the sun and I realized

how I feel about you isn’t “just” anything

~~~~~

Struck by Jamie Tukpah

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Follow me to engage with more content like this! If you’d like to support me and my writing buy me a coffee!

#writeblr #poetryblr #poetry #poem #black poets society #struck #struck by jamie tukpah #jamietukpahpoetry #jamietukpahwriting

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decemberthe7th · 3 months

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youtube

Those tees I borrowed, you’ll never get ‘em back, goodbye

#neck deep #new #song #dumbstruck #dumbfuck #dumb #fuck #struck #nd #selftitled #self #titled #album #songs #music #video #band #pop punk #pop-punk #poppunk #record #records #2024 #ben barlow #Youtube

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alixcitement · 1 year

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Meet the Rainbowing crew in action! 🌈🌈🌈

Now with slight design tweaks

#rainbowings #dew #aroma #struck #aloe #solar #wave #reference sheet #art #alixcitement #ali art

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never-enough-whump · 7 months

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On Rumor of Treason

Whumptember Day 6: Behind Bars

Summary: News from the front reaches the village guard first. Or, the consequence of Rumple's actions.

Read on AO3

Footsteps crunch on the snow outside. Milah ceases her soft humming and looks up from her sewing. But no knocking or friendly voices follow the steps. Instead, a trio of guards burst through her door.

“Come with us,” the first guard orders. “Now.”

Milah presses back against the back of her chair. “Why?” she asks.

The guard yanks her roughly to her feet, her sewing dropping to the floor. He backhands her across the face, and she yelps and stumbles. “Because I say so,” he snaps and before she can reach for the tender spot, he’s twisting her arm painfully behind her back. The second guard smirks, as if amused by his companion’s cruelty, but the third scowls and spits into the hearth.

“Hurry it up,” he grumbles. “She’s not worth the time.” The second guard springs into action at that, grabbing her other arm and wrenching it behind her as well. Pinned on both sides by both guards, her struggling is useless and she stills. Satisfied by this compliance, the third guard dumps her water pail over the fire, plunging the house into darkness.

The guards march her outside without her cloak. Two torches wait for them, stuck into the snowbank by the door. The third guard picks up both and leads the way through the frosty night to the guards’ fort.

Milah isn’t dressed for this weather. The cold worms its way under her dress, making her shiver.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks again, with new desperation. She wants to go home. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“When you give me answers.”

There’s a shifting behind her and one of her arms is passed from one hand to another. She’s spun forcefully around to face the first guard.

“I should have known better than to expect respect from the likes of you,” he says, and slaps her again. The crack of his hand against her cheek is loud in the quiet night and so is her cry of pain. Milah looks to the ground, not wanting to know if anyone in the nearby houses has come to see the commotion. Her face burns with shame as well as pain. “You will be quiet,” the guard warns, “or we will beat you when we get there.”

Normally, Milah might have pushed the issue. She might have found knowing the reason for this mistreatment (and what the guard meant by “the likes of you”) worth the risk of a beating. But now she shudders to think what a beating would do to the baby inside her, the fragile life that can only withstand so much damage to her body, and she obeys.

In the dungeon of the fort, she is shoved into a cell. Not hard enough to fall, but nearly, and she stumbles to the back of the cell before catching herself with a hand on the wall. She turns to face the guards, looking back at them through the bars of her cage.

“Please,” she whispers, exhausted and drained of nearly all her dignity. “Let me go.”

The guards only laugh at her obvious terror.

“A coward, just like that bastard she took up with,” the third guard accuses, and spits again. The second guard clicks the lock shut. With the sound echoing the finality that she is trapped, the guards turn as one and leave her there.

Milah leans back against the wall, all but collapsing into it. The baby kicks and she rubs at the spot, trying to soothe them both. It’ll be all right, she thinks to the baby. We’ll be out of here soon. But she isn’t so sure. She doesn’t even know why this is happening. How can she predict how well and how soon it’ll end?

She eases herself to the floor of the cell, shifting futilely for a comfortable position that doesn’t exist before giving up and settling for the best she can do. She needs to focus on tonight, not worry about the distant future. She’s still shaking from fear and, more concerningly, cold. She tries to curl tighter around herself, to preserve the warmth she desperately needs for both her and her baby, but the very bump she’s trying to protect makes it difficult to tuck her knees in tightly enough. Tears rush to her eyes and though she doesn’t want to cry, she’s just as powerless to stop her sobs as she is to do anything else.

Shouting and rattling of the door wake her the next morning. She’s surprised, not having expected herself to fall asleep. She blinks, the dungeon only coming into bleary focus with one of her eyes swollen.

Two guards stand outside the cell, and Milah flinches when she recognizes the one who enters as the cruel guard from the night before. To her relief, he doesn’t hit her again, but he does hurt her, fingers probing for the spot on her arm that makes her wince the most and digging in before he pulls her from the ground. Stiff and sore from cold and uncomfortable sleep, she drags behind him for several paces before getting her balance.

The guards take her to a chamber where the duke and the captain of the guard are waiting. She’s shoved roughly to her knees in front of them and the guards take their own places, standing silently behind their seated superiors.

“You are Milah, yes?” the captain asks. “Wife of the spinner Rumplestiltskin?”

“Yes,” she nods, “that is correct.” Turning imploringly to the duke, she says, “my husband has answered your conscription. We’ve paid our tithes at harvest-tide and committed no crimes. Your Grace, if I may ask, what is this about?” It is a risk to speak so plainly to the duke, but she hopes that she might get out of this by reminding him of her innocence. Anger flashes in the duke’s eyes and Milah quickly ducks her head, seeing that the risk has not paid off.

“You most certainly may not!” the duke thunders. “Remember your place, peasant. It is only I who gets to decide if and how you have displeased me.”

She tenses, expecting pain in retribution for her mistake. When no blow lands, she relaxes slightly and gives a small nod that doesn’t raise her head. “I understand, Your Grace,” she says meekly. The duke owns this village, and it shows in the way he rules. He can decide to take more than his usual share in tithes, order harsh floggings and lengthy imprisonments for the smallest slights and pettiest crimes, even steal people away to be his personal servants. It isn’t cowardice or defeat to defer to him like this, merely sense. Everyone fears the duke.

“Your husband has been injured. Oddly enough, in the war camp just before his first battle.” Milah’s mind skips right past the implication in the captain’s words and focuses on the fact that Rumple is hurt.

“Oh gods,” Milah breathes, raising from her bowed posture. “Will he be all right? Is he well enough to travel? He should be here, so I can tend to him.” So he can tend to me, she adds silently, for having to endure this ordeal. As much as she wants out of this damned fort, she hates that she’ll return to an empty home without her husband there to hold her.

The captain ignores her concern and asks more directly, “Rumplestiltskin is known for being a coward, is he not?”

Milah shakes her head. “His father was,” she corrects. “But some people don’t give him the credit for being his own person.”

“Perhaps because no credit is due!” the duke cuts in impatiently. “I will say this in a way that your stupid peasant brain can comprehend. If your husband maimed himself that is not only cowardice but the very worst sort of it – treason against me!”

Treason.

The word settles heavily into Milah’s blood. It seems she’s finally been given her explanation, but instead of relief she feels only dread.

“I - ” she starts, voice cracking under the weight of her scattered thoughts.

“If you attempt to obscure the truth, that would be aiding in treason and your punishment would be nearly as severe as a traitor’s,” the captain reminds her. “I’d consider carefully what you are about to say.”

“I don’t need to consider.” Her voice is assertive and confident, though she feels anything but. She does need time to consider – not over whether Rumple is guilty, but to process the enormity of it all. But there could never be enough time for that. Treason. They could kill Rumple if she says the wrong thing. “My husband has lived his entire life under the shadow of his father’s cowardice. He’s never wanted anything more than for people to see him for more, to see him for him. He wanted to go to war, to finally have a chance to prove he wasn’t that man. He hated the label of coward so much, why would he run to it now?”

The duke makes an unimpressed hmph sound. But the captain gives her a terse smile. It’s not warm or encouraging by any means except that it isn’t a look of outright anger. That’s enough for her to take it as a good sign, though she tries to tamp down her small glimmer of hope. It’s the duke that needs to be convinced, and he clearly doesn’t want to be.

“I grow sick of this,” the duke says, proving her thoughts.

“Of course, Your Grace.” The captain nods in his direction. “We have heard what we need. Guards, she may leave.”

Milah staggers to her feet, wincing as her knees unbend. Luckily, the guards don’t grab and drag her this time, nor do they follow her out the front door of the fort. They spare her the indignity of being seen as a prisoner, but they needn’t have, for rumors have already reached the village, leaving everyone to see her as something much worse – a traitor’s wife.

#whumptember2023 #whumptember2023 day 6 #day six: behind bars #whump #lady whump #fear #capture #punishment #struck #once upon a time #milah #fanfic #my writing

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slut4poets · 1 year

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I’ve got to breathe before I explode

A bomb before the storm

My life kept inside

That can’t go right

These feelings left at night

Half empty or half full? they ask

How should I know? I am blind

- struck

#storm #storm poem #bomb ticking #right in the feels #poem #feelings #stuck #struck #late night thoughts #numb #breathe #let me breathe #blind

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ruthneckzilla · 1 year

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Just had an interview with the tribal health authority and like. Holy shitttt, I want this job so much. It’s my dream. Fast-paced, all healthcare is absolutely free, patients never have to pay a DIME, it’s incredibly well-paying, it’s closer to me than my last job or gig, they don’t even withhold therapy while obtaining a PA for Godssakes. A ton of opportunities for growth and branching out. Not! A! Corporate! Healthcare! Job! Not even a “not-for-profit” bullshit healthcare job!!!! THEYRE A SOVEREIGN NATION, THEY DONT EVEN ANSWER TO THE PQAC!!

#I’m like #struck #please employment gods #send me this one

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 2 years

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The Sheep Will Be Scattered

Awake, O sword, against My Shepherd, Against the Man who is My Companion,” Says the Lord of hosts. “Strike the Shepherd, And the sheep will be scattered; Then I will turn My hand against the little ones. — Zechariah 13:7 | New King James Version (NKJV) The Holy Bible; New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved. Cross References: Matthew 26:31; Mark 14:27; John 16:32; Psalm 2:2; Isaiah 1:25; Isaiah 40:11; Isaiah 53:4

#Shepherd #struck #sheep #scattered #Zechariah 13:7 #Book of Zechariah #Old Testament #NKJV #New King James Version Bible #Thomas Nelson

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picsfortheday · 2 years

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#funny #love #cute #memes #dogs #puppies #chair #struck #bark

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steampunkii147 · 1 year

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Eye of the Storm

Gore warning, description of a lightning wound

The rain hitting the sand dragons scales heavier than anything before, torrential rain hammering down on her bare back like hail, thunder shaking the sky above them. The war of the sandwing sisters following them was like a never ending nightmare, siding with Queen Burn as to protect her younger brother, Addax. He was half her size and had beautiful dusty scales and shiny black eyes, he was too young to have armour welded for him yet. Where as Antelope had chosen to abandon hers as the lightning begun, vulnerable but she wouldn't get struck down by the storm.

“I can’t fly for much longer!” Addax cried over the howling winds

Antelope glanced over her shoulder to see her little brother desperately fighting the rain to stay in the sky, the moons only knew how much longer he could keep it up, Antelope hissed “the sky isn’t safe, we need to find shelter!”

The colossal mountains of the sky kingdom reached high into the storm, vast and strong ranges that stretched for miles on end, there had to be a cave somewhere to take shelter. There's no way they would make it back from Scarlet's palace to the stronghold in this weather, Antelope angled her head down to scan the mountains below them for the mouth of a cave. A faint glow began to peek through the dark mist, Possibility coming into sight.

“Addax!” she cried “I can see a town, we can take shelter there!” overjoyed at the thought of staying in a comfortable inn to wait out the storm

Antelope brought her wings in tight as she dove for the town like a predatory bird, landing hard on a stone courtyard where a few dragons were still running around for shelter or hauling dragons into their inns or taverns.

“Hey!” a voice called, a shiny orange skywing holding the doors of a tavern open “what are you doing? Get in here!” he roared.

Antelope grinned as she thanked the moons “Is there room for two?”

A seawing with dull purple scales poked his head out “There won’t be if you don’t get your tail moving!”

Antelope followed suit and galloped towards the open doors, the seawing pulling her in, dragons scrambling out of the way of her barb. Rushing to her feet, expecting to see Addax right behind her. Instead seeing him still out in the rain digging up a fallen stall to free an injured icewing, Antelope felt her blood freeze instantaneously. Shoving herself into the doorway between the seawing and skywing. Her blood curdling as she screamed for his attention “ADDAX”

The little sandwing briefly turned his head as the icewing wiggled free, knocking him aside as they ran for cover elsewhere. Addax hit the stone of the courtyard as the rain grew heavier, Antelope launching from the shelter of the tavern to grab her sibling, Addax lifting his head as he pulled himself to his feet.

Antelope was blinded by a flash of light soon followed by a crash loud enough to shatter her skull, or at least that's what it felt like, she stumbled as her vision was blurry and unclear as though she was looking through a kaleidoscope. Bodies soon supported her as she lost her balance, her ears ringing loud enough to drown out every other noise. Muffled voices screaming around her as she soon stabilised herself, a voice becoming clearer.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” the seawing from before now holding her up

“Uh.. Wh-” was all Antelope could vocalise before the migraines set in

“That's good enough for me” he huffed as he began to steer her towards the tavern

Antelope's vision cleared enough for her to see blood covering the courtyard in front of her, reality coming back at mach 5. Dragons scrambling around the source of the blood, her brother.

“ADDAX” she shrieked, as if she were being skinned alive

The seawing recoiled as she seemingly burst his eardrums, fighting against him as he forced her back to the tavern. As Addax was being rushed in, she caught a glimpse of his body, limp and bloody. Antelope and the seawing following close behind as the doors slammed shut behind them, Addax lain on a table as horror rose in the tavern. Antelope shoved through dragons to get to her brother, getting a proper look at his body. He was set on his stomach with his back exposed, his mane was burnt off of his back with wet strands only remaining on his head and tail tip. Scales blasted off his back haphazardly with a few sticking to him like glass shards, black veins tattooing his wings from burst blood vessels. While only being a dragonet, he gained his first scar, if you could even call it that. A large wound of exposed skin already cauterised and burnt black along with the surrounding scales. A lightning strike, lightning struck her brother, he's dead, cooked like a family dinner.

Antelope felt her legs fall limp, as she fell to her knees, her heart pounding loud enough that it hurt, a talon catching her head seconds before she lost consciousness.

To be continued lmao

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knightmarelair · 2 years

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Struck

5.5.22 I am struck with a love for a woman. Tender and affectionate, A softness of touch, Of lips, Of hands grasped in Twilight hours. Perfumed with pines and ferns – A wild woman, With which she has escaped Into the forests and stars, Thieving my bleeding heart. I am struck with a love for a woman. Dance until feet give out; Kiss until our lungs cry mercy; Whisper sweat-soaked…