#there used to be a sand mine for concrete or something

[milks-thoughts]

Futuer Leo with apprentice reader?

like reader was made his apprentice alongside Casey Jr and people keep comparing the two, how Casey was more mature, how he was stronger physically and emotionally

thankss

I warned y’all, i warned ya it was coming

(shout out to @yanteetle who makes me chuckle every time they react with my angst posts)

summary: Reader just wants to make him proud

TW: death, in detail character death, meaning the POV is dying, murder, reader runs away, reader has a breakdown, the dove is dead. why? cause I killed it, reader just wants to make him proud :(

It Was Not Your Fault But Mine

When Leonardo became the leader of the resistance he expected many things, war? mhm, death? absolutely. it came with the territory. being placed in charge of two preteens, to train them to be able to live in this brutal world? no, he was never expecting you to become his apprentice. He trained you both, but…he couldn’t help but see himself in you. the self he hated. his past, a cocky teenager that thought his older brother would carry everything for him.

You couldn’t help but resent Casey. Why did he get special treatment? You two were on the same patrol where you watched half the patrol get wiped out…and yet, you listened to your mentor, Leonardo, comfort Casey… why didn’t he also comfort you? His gruff voice broke through your thoughts “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped your elbows as your buried your head in your knees “ -I will stay and I will fight. “ his humming filled the space he and Casey were sharing, you weren’t even supposed to be here “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night. All the way, I will fight….with you “ when you heard Leonardo start to leave the space, you quickly left the surrounding area. collapsing onto the floor and sighing, nothing but harsh memories being your company.

When you and Casey were allowed out on serious patrols, you were exploring a apartment building. You entered one door and recoiled at the dead person in the room, you backed up and knocked over a pot which caught the attention of a kraang dog nearby…which alterted its friends… which had them chasing after you and Casey. You both narrowly avoided them by closing yourselves in a apartment, you sheepishly grinned at Casey and he looked down at you with a unimpressed face. You two had waited two hours before Leonardo and a patrol could rescue you two, when he found out what happened…he sighed and walked off. You and Casey followed him back, being able to tell he was going to yell at you two when you got back. You dreaded it, you always ended up crying when Leonardo shouted at you, or, whenever anyone shouted at you.

You sniffled in your room, you didn’t miss how Leonardo’s frame was exhausted looking. He walked past your area and into Casey’s room. You suddenly shot up. “ I’ll make him proud of me. I’ll- I’ll do something impactful. I’ll bring back so much material that he can’t help but notice me! “ pushing out your room, grabbing a bottle of water and a nutrition bar, you left the resistance camp behind. Your eyes hard as you held your weapon tightly. You were going to force him to see you.

It was a horrible mistake. You were doing so good! Being stealthy! but a building crashed over top you, leaving a metal beam through your leg. You collar bones were broken as your weak arms tried to push off the large slab of concrete. realizing you couldn’t…tears started rolling down your face. you didn’t want to die alone…you didn’t want to die here. In the darkness your only companion was your emergency button, it’s blue color that it glowed was illuminating your face. You felt like a old dog, a dog that stopped being useful to your farmer. You whimpered and cried, whispering a small lullaby to yourself “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped the concrete slab as you buried your head in the sand like floor behind you “ -I will stay and I will fight…. “ your humming filled the space, you weren’t even supposed to be here… “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night.- “ your sob echoed through the rubble “ -All the way, I will fight….with you… “ your body started hyperventilating to the best of its ability, the concrete slab feeling so..so heavy. You didn’t want to die alone with your thigh pinned down by a metal bar, by concrete holding down your chest…you wanted your mentor…you wanted…you…

Leonardo’s patrol finally got through the rubble, his hands scrapped and bleeding as he found you, a wail escaping him as he rushed forwards. Pushing the concrete slab you so clearly tried to push off, your scrapped and bleeding hands being a painful reminder how you both struggled with the rubble. He leaned his head down and sobbed when your chest never thudded with a heart beat. He pushed the hair out of your face so carefully and took in your tear streaked cheeks, still damp. Some may say that your death was your own fault. That you should’ve never left because you were jealous. But it was not your fault but his instead. He neglected you and he’ll defend your death and your name, and everything you stood for with his life, because he failed you, like he failed his brothers, like he failed New York…like he failed the world. He’s Icarus and he flew way too close to the sun.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #ask response #this is all purely platonic #angst #fluff #rottmnt leo #<3 #i warned yall #rottmnt casey junior #reader and Casey’s relationship is sibling and brother goals #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #no future leo bashing #he’s depressed guys #and can’t help it #but also he’s kinda shitty until he realizes what he’s done

[talzane]

So, I just learned that Doctor Fate has time powers and is as strong as The Spectre--the embodiment of “The Presence’s” wrath--which means that he too would know that Danny was gonna go dark. Doctor Fate is also a fairly...blunt instrument at times, so it’s reasonable he’d try to kill Danny to prevent Dark Dan from happening. Could you imagine Doctor Fate appearing in front of Danny either at the start or well before TUE, “For the sake of the world, young Phantom, you must be destroyed,” but just as Fate’s magic gathers itself, blue light flashes and time stops. Fate is unaffected by the halting of time, but as the blue light fades from his retinas, there’s an old, blue-skinned, red-eyed, scarred, clock-obsessed *being* in front of him wearing a purple cloak and wielding a staff-mounted stopwatch. “Time out,” the figure monotones. “It is rude not to introduce yourself,” the golden-helmed lord of order stated, his voice metallic from the inside of his helmet. The purple-robed figure’s face didn’t so much as twitch, “All is as it should be, Fate. Leave Amity Park.” “That abomination is a threat to this world, this universe, the timeline, and the multiverse; he must be destroyed.” “Perhaps, but he hasn’t chosen that path yet.” “He will,” Fate crossed his arms. For a moment, the only sound they heard was the ticking of the pendulum in Clockwork’s chest, “He will make the right choice.” “Your goodwill does you credit, but I cannot take that chance.” “You are mistaken.” The robed ghost shifted from an old man to a man in his prime, his red eyes narrowed, and he lowered the watch-staff so that the stopwatch head was closer to his empty hand, “I wasn’t asking, this timeline is *mine*, and your interference will not be permitted.” Fate’s arms uncrossed as his hands drifted into a ready position, “Who are you to make such a claim?” The purple-robed, blue-skinned, clock-covered being smirked, “I have been given many names, but you may call me...Clockwork--master of time--as you *leave* Amity Park.” “The abomination dies, and you will not stop me, no matter your lofty claims.” A glowing, yellow ankh appeared in front of Fate and darted towards Clockwork. The ankh shattered into brilliant fragments, and as the pieces moved to light the space around Clockwork, the master of time was revealed to have not moved even an inch, “Your fate is chosen.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In a multicolored flash, the world around Danny crumbled; the facades of the buildings lining the street shattered to rain fragments of concrete reduced to no more than sand, the street crumpled into a wrinkled heap pockmarked with craters as though something had repeatedly slammed into it at high speeds, car horns suddenly sounded from the wrecks lining what used to be a road, the light posts--the few still where they were supposed to be--were either dented or crushed like soda cans, but the space immediately surrounding Danny, Sam, and Tucker was left perfectly unmarred, an island of normalcy in a sea of chaos. As Danny attempted to absorb the sudden calamity that had appeared around him, his eyes were drawn to the disappearance of a shrinking, blue circle. As the circle closed on itself and blinked from view, the bell of the Amity Park library tolled twelve times, prompting Danny to look at his watch, “Huh, it’s not midnight.” Tucker finally found his voice, “Uh, dude, shouldn’t we get out of here, you know, before somebody blames us for it?” Sam grabbed Danny’s arm, “You heard him, let’s get out of here!” Danny turned away from the corner of Assured Avenue and Alternative Way, “I dunno guys, you know my life, isn’t it...inevitable that they’ll think it was my fault?” Tucker scoffed as they continued to speed walk away from the scene of the incident, “This being your fault *is* ‘inevitable,’ dude; I meant it being pinned on me and Sam.” This wasn’t supposed to turn into a bad scribble, but it did. I also have head canoned Clockwork as the ghost of Kronos. In DC, the gods’ powers are based on being worshipped, but DP ghost powers are not, which means Kronos--Clockwork--could die in a ton of ectoplasm and just...become the true master of time regardless of worship. Kronos was “evil” for his pursuit of power, but once he becomes Clockwork, he has achieved omnipotence, and omniscience, it’s both why the Observants have kind of enslaved him and why he doesn’t try to conquer the universe: he has seen everything and therefore already knows it will end up being an empty conquest.

#danny phantom #scribbles #dp x dc #dp au #clockwork

[endless-ineffabilities]

Ineffable (Dream of the Endless x f!Reader) - Chapter 4: Delicate

Also with Corinthian x f!Reader

Masterlist - Playlist

Lord Morpheus comes to the rescue, and they find out the truth behind The Handyman's methods. Morpheus makes sure that he is dealt with, and he also has something to say about how close Corinthian and y/n had gotten as of late.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence

The dream ends as quickly as it had started. I almost feel it before I awake, the little grains of sand touching my face, jolting me back into reality.

He stands in front of me, stance vigilant and ready. He has his fists bunched up on his sides, and he is looking warily at me.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a million bucks." my voice sounds hoarse, and I feel as though I've just been hit by a truck.

"I've had to force you awake, so you still have some remnants of the drug inside of you. Can you stand?"

"Hmm?... oh, yeah. Yes, just give me a second."

He kneels and helps me up from my not-so-cozy position on the concrete floor. I realize that we're in a basement, pipes running up the sides of the walls, a staircase nested against one. On the far end lies an array of tools propped up on the wall - hammers, pliers, saws, the like - a true handyman's arsenal of weaponry.

But there was something else there. Symbols carved out of metal, misshapen stick figurines on a bed of charred wood, candles illuminating the space. Even with my limited experience facing things like this, I recognized it for what it was.

Our Handyman here has been consorting with the devil.

Or dealing in the dark arts. Or perhaps he's just a vessel, but what I'm seeing here now confirms that he may have been meddling with a bit more than any other Collector.

"I know what you're thinking." Morpheus says, noticing that I've started to walk closer to the scene, "and for the life of me, I don't understand how you possibly could have thought it smart to come to a place like this. You would have been badly hurt, and I..."

His words cut off, and I want to be more consoling, I do, but I also can't help the next words that come out of my mouth.

"What, you don't think I can handle it? I'm not some helpless creature, you know. If only you could see me for all I can do. And...and... my friend needed me. Needed my help. And I was not going to let him down."

He moves closer, preparing to square off with me, but I continue my tirade.

"I appreciate you coming to help us. Who knows what could have happened if you hadn't? But Cor had only good intentions, and he was looking out for me, and.... wait..." I freeze. Damn it, now is not the time for this! I double down and ask, "Where is he?"

"Cor," he says, distaste palpable in his tone, "is upstairs. He may be tied up, but I don't think The Handyman will get to do anything drastic to him, so don't you worry. We'll get to them in time. Follow me."

He starts walking up the stairs, and I get the feeling I may have been too callous with my words. He is here to save us, upon my pleading, after all. I walk after him, and I want to attempt an apology, but I'm not sure just how stealth we should be at the moment.

"Morpheus," I start to whisper, but he interrupts me as we make it out of that stuffy basement.

"They're in the attic. You can wait here."

"I'm not just gonna wait here! I can help," My voice rises in protest yet again.

His eyes meet mine, and I am taken aback by the sheer emotion in them. I can tell that he wants to contradict me, but something holds him back.

"I don't suppose that danger is going to stop you from coming with me, now will it?" He whispers rushedly, as if he already knows my answer, and has resigned himself to it.

He means well. I know he does, and I have to remind myself of this before I run my mouth again. I know now that he will let me come with him, even as his eyes still plead otherwise. I feel his breath on my face, and I realize just how close he hovers over me.

"It won't," I manage to say, "I'll be fine."

I feel it necessary to add that last bit, wanting him not to worry. I don't want him to think of me as some delicate creature, and I know he doesn't. But in this moment, I can see how he worries. I don't think I've seen him this worked up over anyone's safety.

And over me?

"Then let's go."

We reach the next floor, and I can now hear Cor's disgruntled voice from above, most of the calm bravado stripped away.

"I'm going to fuckin' rip your eyes out, you insignificant little weasel."

"Tsk...tsk," a nasal, almost honeyed voice echoes, "Not exactly something you'd say to someone who clearly has the upper hand, Corinthian."

"If you lay one finger on her, you'll regret ever thinking you could take on me and live." He responds through gritted teeth, voice laced with pure venom, and I shiver at the intensity of his threat. This no longer sounded like my Cor - this was the Corinthian, a Nightmare unhinged.

"Oh, now, don't you worry about your pretty friend. She's happily dozed off downstairs," the voice says giddily, "and I can't wait to have my share of fun with her..."

He pauses, and I could tell Cor had attempted to reach him then, as it seems like he jumped away. He continues, "As I'm sure you have, Corinthian. We all have to share."

Morpheus stills beside me. On this floor, only a handful of steps separated us from the attic, and the door to it lay slightly open at the end.

He walks up the steps, careful to make no sound. I try to take after him, but then I hear the slightest squeak beneath my shoes.

Oh, shit.

"Who goes there?" The voice calls out.

Morpheus pushes the door wide open. He crowds the doorframe, keeping me behind him, and I could barely make out the scene in the attic. Cor had been bound by thick metal bindings with a symbol etched upon it in red, several times. His hands were twisted behind him in the chair, his legs bound together, and a heavy chain rested tight around his torso. The Handyman was a squat, hunched man in overalls, and he was not immediately sinister-looking, but one of his hands tightly held a black pendant in the shape of the symbol on Cor's bindings.

It must have been what he had used to ward off our attempts to locate him, and to disarm Cor with debilitating pain. Judging by how firmly he held it in hands, this was his dark totem. Mortals continue to attempt requesting such items from demons, for the paltry price of their soul. They usually serve a specific purpose upon the whims of their owner.

"Your time of play is over, Harold Evers," he says ominously, using the Handyman's true name against him like a curse. The air shifts inside the room, as if Morpheus' presence cast everything in shadow.

"How did you know my name? And who might you be?" Harold says warily, though he still does not show the fear that he should probably have, faced with the Lord of Nightmares himself.

"I am your reckoning." The lights flickered in the room, and I suddenly feel cold.

"Are you a Nightmare too?" His hand looks as if it started shaking, the dark totem blurring away.

"No." Morpheus walks closer, and Harold's eyes dart over to me, realizing that I am no longer subdued. I run over to Cor to try to dismantle the binds, but I recoil as the metal burns my skin.

"Wait," Morpheus gestures to me.

"Then who...what..." Harold starts to ask.

"But I will be your nightmare."

"You can't harm me! I have this," He waves the totem in Morpheus' face. "Once I received word of what happened at the last Cereal Convention, I knew I needed some protection. Collectors don't just turn themselves in, they don't just develop a conscience out of the blue!"

"No, unfortunately they do not. But I was there." Morpheus speaks with such gravity, and I feel that it's only a matter of time before he deals the final blow.

"No matter," he spits in disdain, "Whoever you are, this totem is meant to protect me from the Corinthian and his associates. Whomever is like him, fellow Nightmares, any friends of his... they cannot... touch... me."

Harold seems gleeful. He believes that he is immune to Morpheus as well, and I start to wonder if he is, but one glance at Morpheus' dark and composed expression dispels any of my doubts. Harold doesn't stand a chance.

"Go ahead then." Morpheus threatens him. "Use your weapon against me."

Harold looks taken aback. This clearly was not the reaction he wished to elicit from Morpheus. His face then contorts into outrage, and I could tell that this little man was even more little inside. He needs to control others, he needs to always have the upper hand.

Harold begins chanting, low and quick, and I can barely make out his words but it was not of any worldly language. He directs the totem towards Morpheus, wrist twisting and untwisting in a practiced manner, and the totem starts to emit a heavy, tar-like smoke. It engulfs Morpheus, and I cry out.

"No! Stop!" Just as I was about to leap for the totem, Cor whispers croakily in my ear.

"Hey, don't. Just wait."

The smoke dissipates. My eyes strain, trying to make out the shape of Morpheus.

He stands there, the smoke having no visible effect on him. He smirks, and raises an eyebrow, as if to say, is that it?

I turn to the Handyman with a renewed sense of vigour. He now looks afraid, as he should have always been.

"But this was meant to protect me, I gave everything for this," he cries in desperation.

"Yes, you did." Morpheus says, "It can protect you from Nightmares, such as the Corinthian, and as you mentioned, any who may be alike him or are trying to help him."

Harold starts to back away.

Morpheus continues, "But I am not just his associate, nor am I his friend. I am not just an equal. I am his creator. I am Lord of all Dreams and all Nightmares, and you should fear me."

He walks over to Cor, and places a hand on his bindings, which then melt away into dust.

"Thanks, boss."

"Are you alright?", I ask Cor, looking him over for any bruises.

"Am I alright? He took you away... I tried to get you, I did, but I..."

"It's okay. Tougher than I look, remember?" I appease him with a tiny smile, one which he returns.

"Touching, but let's get this over with first, shall we?" Morpheus says, not even sparing a glance in our direction.

"No, no, no," Harold mumbles, eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape. He moves to a metal table pushed against the wall, and grabs at the array of weapons he had there. One arm raised, he throws a silver knife in mine and Cor's direction. I see it coming closer, as if in slow motion, and my blood runs cold.

I can feel Cor starting to push me out of the way, but I raise my hand, and try to stay put.

The knife hovers, its sharp end a mere few inches from my left eye. I use my powers to keep it still, arrested in the air for a moment.

Harold looks at me as if I've grown two heads, and Morpheus seems proud.

I twist the knife mid-air, and compel it to float towards Harold. In one swift whoosh, the sharp end was now inches away from his eye.

"Well, you're screwed." Cor quips, the cocky inflection in his voice returned.

We all close in on the Handyman, Harold, whatever he is. It doesn't matter. He cowers away.

Let's just say this may be his last moment where he has any control.

-------

We sit in the same booth in the same café, Morpheus sitting across Cor and myself. Oddly enough, Cor opted to drape his arm on the back of the seat this time, but I say nothing. He looks tired, and truthfully, I am too.

Only Morpheus looks exactly as he was, as he always has been, as if he did not just bring a notorious serial killer to justice.

I sigh, looking at him, and I can see his eyes lazily trained on Cor's arm behind me. I lean forward, feeling the need to let him know that there's nothing there, that we're just friends.

And I don't know why. Am I really hoping that Morpheus may be drawn to me in a deeper way? In a way that would be make me more than just a token human with abilities in his group? More than a colleague, a friend?

Deep down, I already know the answer to this, and I feel like the answer has always been the same.

Which is why my heart skips a beat when we lock eyes. Why I feel a rush of adrenaline, and something more, whenever we get into our little arguments, whenever he challenges me.

Which is why, no matter how dense or indifferent he might act sometimes, being around him makes me feel safe.

Like home.

"Well, that was truly something, wasn't it." Cor breaks the silence as he stares out the window.

It was. We had left the Handyman's place only about an hour ago, and I'm sure the police have already found him in his state.

Morpheus had put the Handyman under the curse of Eternal Waking. It had been quick, the dealing of the final blow that secured Harold's eternity. I then left an anonymous tip for the cops afterward. There was enough evidence in that house to at least send him to prison for ten lifetimes, and he might already be under a spell, but bringing him to the authorities would surely give his victims' families some closure.

I'm not exactly sure how the three of us ended up in this café once again, but at least the waitress seems pleased enough to see us.

I make a note of looking at her name tag once she reached our table. Valerie.

"Oh, what a lovely surprise, my loves. Back again! And with another friend now, I see." Valerie's familiar lilting voice feels like a jolt of caffeine, and I for one am glad for the change of tone.

"Why, we just had to come back, darlin'. Lovely service and great food, what's not to like?" says Cor, turning on the charm.

Morpheus remains stoic, watching the conversation unfold, and he seems content to just let us finish our exchange, until Valerie turns her attention to him.

"Say, who's this friend of yours? How are you, love? Hope it's not too lonely being the third wheel here?" she jokes, and I freeze in my seat.

"Third wheel?" Morpheus asks slowly, and I almost laugh at how the phrase sounds so foreign in his mouth.

"Why, yes. I've had the pleasure of serving this lovely couple earlier," Valerie gestures to Cor and myself, cooing "and I was saying what a treat it was to see two young people in love."

Oh no. Morpheus looks confused, and he says nothing in response. He looks at us questioningly, and I hurriedly change the subject.

"So, yeah, I would just like a cappuccino, please, Valerie." I almost beseech her, not wanting her to continue bringing up the concept of Cor and I being a couple. It may have been funny before, but it seems wrong to let it go on in front of Morpheus.

"Same here, darling." Cor smiles at her.

"Me as well." I hear Morpheus say quickly, and I could tell he did not care much about her idling at our table.

"Okay, well, I'll be right back, loves."

"Two young people in love?" Morpheus states incredulously, his eyes not leaving mine.

"That was a joke. It was a little thing that Cor did when we came here earlier. No big deal."

"She seems convinced." Morpheus raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his seat, and I can sense him doubting me.

"Well, there's a reason for that, I suppose." Cor wraps an arm around me, and I look at him pointedly. He shrugs back at me, nonchalant.

"Friends can have chemistry sometimes, and it may seem like it's more than platonic, but it isn't." I try to explain, pushing Cor's arm off my shoulders. He simply laughs dryly at that, but I notice him hunch over a bit as if disappointed.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." Morpheus says, like he wants to seem unaffected by the whole thing. But is he?

"I'm not. You asked, so I just clarified it."

"Okay."

"Okay." I reply impatiently. One minute he's all worked up about me, the next he's acting unconcerned.

"Good." He says. Good? Good that we've settled this? Good that Cor and I are just friends?

Morpheus turns to Cor, "I need some time alone with y/n. Perhaps you should return to the Dreaming. Take a break before dealing with the next Collector."

"Now?"

"Yes. Now." Morpheus says curtly, having already made up his mind. "I will speak to you back in the Dreaming."

"Guess I can get a coffee another time." Cor says after a long pause. He makes a move to get out of the booth, but adds to me, "You gonna be okay, doll?"

I hum in agreement, "I know where to find you."

He leaves the café, waving to Valerie who was still making our coffees behind the bar.

The silence was tense, and I wait for Morpheus to speak up but he simply looks at me.

"Go easy on him." I say, "None of this was his fault."

"I never said that it was." he says. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was implied.

"He didn't mean to put me in danger."

"And yet..." He clasps his hands on the table, "...he did."

"You know you have to be fair. He trusts you."

"I know," he allows, "but enough about him. That was impressive, how you exercised control over your powers like that. You're no longer letting it simply take over or suddenly arise."

I'm surprised at the compliment, but hey, I'll take it.

"I've been practicing. I'm not the same erratic girl that you met a while ago, y'know?"

"I know, love."

There was that term again. Love. Call me crazy, but that has to mean something. I haven't heard him use that term of endearment with anyone else. Not around me, at least.

Valerie approaches our table and sets down only two cappuccinos, smiling.

"Oh, I'm sorry that your man had to leave, darling," she says to me, "Is there an emergency or something?"

"Oh, he..."

"Yes, I'm afraid there was." Morpheus interjects, "and I'm afraid that there seems to be a confusion. He's not her man, as you so wrongly assumed."

"Oh, is that so? Why, I'm sorry, darlings, but I just thought...", she stammers an apology.

"That's alright, Valerie. It wouldn't be the first time someone made that connection," I say reassuringly, "Can't blame ya, we have good chemistry, don't we?"

I swear I heard Morpheus mumble under his breath, "I beg to differ."

I ignore him and smile at Valerie conspiratorily, who giggles back.

"Oh, well, alright. Let me know if you need anything else!", she walks away, chipper as ever.

I glare at Morpheus.

"Nicely done. Very subtle."

"You're welcome." He leans forward a little, and pushes my coffee towards me.

"Well, now that you've sorted that out," I say, pouring a packet of sugar into my coffee, "is there anything else you'd like to get off your chest?"

"About that mission... we can get it done in a few days. We'd have to travel to Salem for it."

"Massachusetts?", I ask. It's been a while since I've set foot on continental US.

"Yes," he says, "and I would appreciate your discretion, as this can be delicate matter. Who we're going to deal with is a peculiar sort of woman. Formidable, too."

"Why, she sounds just like me," I jest, taking a long sip of coffee, "Who is she?"

"Her name is Amelia." He looks out the window wistfully, "She was my lover."

End of chapter 4.

taglist: @notabotiswear @mischiefmanaged71 @5sosjay @pinkpunkdynamite @lu123sworld @iloveangstposts @shaewithyou @layla2-49 @littleblackspider @fate-huntress @kintsugi-keys

Corinthian will be taking a step back in the next 2 chapters, so they'll be Dream x Reader centered! Also - Amelia? You'll find out who she is!

Again, comment if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist. I hope I didn't leave anyone out!

Next chapter out in around 1 week :)

#dream imagine #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x y/n #dream x reader #morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #the sandman #dream x y/n #the sandman netflix #the sandman x reader #the sandman x y/n #the sandman imagine #the corinthian imagine #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian #dream of the endless #tom sturridge #boyd holbrook #netflix the sandman #ineffable dream #the sandman fanfiction

[house-in-the-cerulean-sea]

17 headcannons for march 17. that are so widely spread in this fandom that I'm not even completely sure what is cannon anymore

1. Neither Linus nor Arthur are coffee drinkers, usually Arthur prefers cocoa and Linus tea but you won't catch these two drinking coffee, even tho it might seem like they'd need it!

2. Arthur Parnassus, a Swifty or lover of 80s tunes? Actually both can be true.

3. Zoe's hair flowers bloom affected by her emotions. When with Helen, they are usually pink. Literally, no idea whether or not that's canon.

4. Helen's a redhead.

5. Linus becomes a true fashionista on the island. It's starts with the egg adventure outfit and once he gets comfortable in his skin, he and Zoe go on elaborate shopping trips and his wardrobe becomes even more colourful than mine.

6. Arthur had an extravagant sock collection with the most colourful and patterned socks possible. Of course this is supported by textual evidence, but if we are honest to ourselves, there's only three pairs of socks mentioned red, purple and the one with the clouds. It's completely possible that he just has colourful but one-coloured socks and just this one pair with a pattern. No, i know that's unrealistic.

7. Mr. Graves. Y'all are gonna tell me that that's Not the canon name of the orphanage Arthur went to? Like i thought this was a fact and I haven't even finished @davidbowielovesyou s amazing fanwork "stay" which you can find on ao3 and should be smarter about then me and read it

8. This might be a personal one but Helen is a skater. It's her and her rollerblades against the sand on the concrete.

9. Everyone is autistic. I was gonna say: "only Linus is confirmed autistic" but that's not actually true is it? Tho i think we can use our critical reading skills here and come to the obvious conclusion that he is. But so are phee and Chauncey and Lucy and...

10. Except for Arthur who has ADHD.

11. The term island dads. I'm not actually sure if the TJ knows that name, it certainly originated on Tumblr. But if he knows it👀 Hiii! Love yr work, obviously. Just think about it, the name could have been Anus and i do not like that

12. Linus and Arthur are constantly dancing. Especially in the kitchen!

13. Young Arthur was a punk and an activist and he probably wore multicoloured doc martens

14. Also Linus is obsessed with Princess Diana. I know I personally made that up but i still forgot whether or not it was true

15. There's an underground rebellion going on, that we don't know anything about but these definitely actions and protests for magical rights going on under the radar

16. Doreen aka Ms. bubblegum is either part of said rebellion or secretly also an unregistered magical being. I think she's very neat and it would fit her character to do something this pretty right one dicomys nose.

17. While Arthur of course is cold resistent due to his phoenix abilities, Linus is not which means that when they put David to bed at night Linus insists to wear winter clothes every time so he can say good night, no matter how often Arthur and David tell him that's really not necessary @islanddads is the mind behind this one

@dontuwishuwerehere

#@dontuwishuwerehere #the house in the cerulean sea #house in the cerulean sea #tj klune #linus baker #<3 #arthur parnassus #island dads #found family #dontuwishuwerehere #bookiversary #Happy birthday to the house in the cerulean sea #queer #mlm #gay #books #queer books #queer joy #headcanon #hitcs #event #hitcs event

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (September 3/2022) - C U in UT

 It’s time for Wilbur to leave.

---

VOD LINKS:

Wilbur Soot

---

[Archive of Previous Recaps]

---

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear...

---

JULY 29, 2020

---

- Wilbur and Tommy are mining yellow concrete for the L’manburg walls by the lake where the Camarvan stands

- Wilbur’s been thinking on the name “L’manburg” for their new little country. He likes it. Eret can make the walls, they can have a cool area for themselves. He wants to make this place a landmark

- Tommy asks why Wilbur only started liking it after Tommy named it. Wilbur thought it was just a joke at first, but now he’s grown attached

- Tommy says that Wilbur must be jealous because it was definitely Tommy who came up with the name

Wilbur: “Dude, I’m proud. I didn’t wanna say this bit, I was hoping you’d hear the quiet bit out loud, but I’m gonna say it – it reminds me of you! L’manburg just, this time we’ve spent together, having fun and – you know I – hanging out with you outside of you know, stupid SMPEarth stuff has been really good. And this isn’t a just a silly river delta to me anymore. It’s got a name, it’s got a story – it’s L’manburg! And it’s – to me, it’s you.”

- Next time he sees Dream, he’s going to ask for independence. L’manburg forever!

---

A shot of the van and the lake from above fades into the present-day crater, vines hanging down over it and the L’manburg Flag at the bottom.

Phil is looking up at it from the water.

---

SEPTEMBER, 2022

---

- Wilbur is leading Tommy down the road from Spawn to Las Nevadas, intending to find Quackity. Once they arrive, however, Quackity fails to log on

- Giving up on Quackity, Wilbur and Tommy stroll around Las Nevadas, breaking into Tubburger for the fun of it

- They head over to the Wilburger Ranvan. Inside they find some of the original burger NFTs! Just outside is the crater where they detonated TNT in an attempt to take Boner hostage. Wilbur hasn’t been back here since Ranboo died

- Up to this point, Tommy thought climate change was something made up by Dream

- Wilbur comments that he’s going to miss all of this. He was going to wait for Quackity, but there’s no better time than now. Tommy is confused. Where is he going?

- Tommy continues to press Wilbur about where he’s really going as they continue walking to a little peninsula. Foolish’s summer home is in the distance

Tommy: “Wil...are you gonna come back?”

Wilbur: “I mean...probably not. I’m going very far away.”

Tommy: “Wil...you’re gonna kill yourself, aren’t you?”

Wilbur: “I – I’m going far away. I never said I was gonna kill myself.”

Tommy: “No. I won’t let you, Wil! I won’t let you, alright?”

Wilbur: “What do you mean? What do you mean you won’t let me go away?”

Tommy: “I need you, alright!”

- Tommy draws a diamond sword. Wilbur is taken aback as Tommy steps forward, trying to talk him down. When Tommy hits him with the sword, he frantically shouts to put the sword down, that he’ll explain everything

- Tommy tosses the sword aside

Tommy: “I don’t know why I did that.”

Wilbur: “What, were you gonna kill me? I –”

Tommy: “Oh no, no I was – I was just angry. I didn’t use to be this angry.”

- Tommy asks, if Wilbur is leaving, why didn’t he ever say sorry? Sorry for all the things he did to Tommy, for blowing up L’manburg, for everything in Pogtopia? For abandoning him?

Wilbur: “Tommy, it’s because I was scared you wouldn’t forgive me.”

- Wilbur isn’t going to kill himself. He never planned to. He was being literal when he said he was going far away

Tommy: “What do you mean you’re not gonna kill yourself? Just be straight with me for ONCE in my fucking life! Just tell me where you’re going, tell me what’s going on, PLEASE!”

Wilbur: “TOMMY, I’M GONNA TELL YOU, BUT YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE IT.”

Wilbur: “Tommy, I...”

Wilbur: “Was born and raised in Utah.”

- Indeed, Wilbur had been born and raised in the United States, in the state of Utah, and had worked at a gas station there for sixteen years.

He was an avid Utahn sailor bored with life, and so he hopped on a boat one day and sailed all the way to the beach on the coast of the Dream SMP’s ocean. It was here that he made a new life for himself

It was the middle of a storm when he arrived. The Orange Ocelots jacket he’d worn was from the gas station he worked at.

- Wilbur places down a boat, gets in, and begins to row. Tommy stops him. He can’t leave just yet. He’s come all this way, trying to tie up his loose ends by apologizing to everyone, but he hasn’t even apologized to himself

Wilbur: “Tommy, do you remember that day when I told you that the L’manburg name was a great idea, and that we should actually try and go for independence and show it to Dream and those fucking pigs who were stopping us from making our empire?”

Wilbur: “Well Tommy, from that day, I started writing.”

- Wilbur wanted to give Tommy his journal before he left. This book has everything he wanted to say. He gives Tommy some time to read it

- The sun is coming up. Wilbur boards the boat once more

Wilbur: “I’m sure at some point in the future we’ll see each other again. Maybe. I hope. And, you know, we can start another – start more hijinks.”

He begins to row away into the sunrise, pausing for one last look back

Wilbur: “Don’t trust those Americans.”

A hum begins to sound on the water

Wilbur: “Tommy, I’m going home! I’m going home!”

---

And with that, Wilbur disappeared.

---

My name is Wilbur Soot.

King of Kings.

Look on my works ye mighty and despair

Nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away

But I never did quite forgive myself.

---

Wilbur appears in the desert. Back in Utah.

---

And somewhere in a train station, far away, where there is only a crying ghost,

A blue sheep arrives on a train.

---

#dream smp recaps #dsmp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamsmp #dream smp spoilers

[patrickdiomedes]

RWBY/X-Men crossover thoughts

So, I've been thinking recently about a "What if Magneto was Pyrrha's dad?" fic, what with the magnetism. And then I started wondering about just bringing all the X-characters into RWBY. (possibly in the wake of whatever shitshow the end of the Krakoa Era turns into.)

Now, on the one hand, it'd make sense to have all the Mutants be faunus, but I don't wanna go that route. So instead, various mutants have been appearing for all of Remnant's history. Some of them remember their past in the 616 universe, most don't, only having vague feelings of deja vu sometimes when meeting another mutant. Not that they're technically "mutants" here, as the X-Gene is replaced by semblances. So on the one hand, mutants are no longer hated and feared. On the other hand, they're living on a death world with an immortal being who controls an army of monsters. (It's honestly kinda nostalgic for the Arakki mutants).

So far, the only concrete idea I have for any of the mutants is Magneto being Pyrrha's dad, and Wanda, Pietro, and Lorna being her siblings (Fuck you marvel, Wanda and Pietro are his kids and they're mutants) I'm thinking that Charles actually was part of Oz's inner circle several lifetimes ago, and they tried using his telepathy (along with some kind of power amplifier) to tell a whole kingdom (or a chunk of one) about Salem. It went...poorly, and was a contributing factor in Oz's secrecy in the present day.

Other ideas:

Sebastian Shaw is one of Jacques Schnee's chief business rivals. Doesn't remember his previous life, other than the odd bit of deja vu, and having an instinctive knowledge of how his semblance worked as soon as it activated. Worked in either a dust mine, or a dust refinery, and his semblance activated during a workplace accident. Ghira Belladonna's chief competition in the "Remnant's Most Glorious Chest Hair" contest.

En Sabah Nur would be a relic of the early humans, before the gods wiped them out. He still sleeps beneath the sands of Vacuo (possibly along with his kids and wife). Could do something with the Crown from the two Team CFVY novels wanting to awaken him, rather than just restoring the Vacuan Monarchy.

Just realized that the Aura Transfer tech Ironwood was developing could've been developed by someone who studied Apocalypse's mind transfer stuff. Even though if this is krakoa era Apoc, he no longer needs to do that.

the O5 x-men would be contemporaries of team STRQ, along with the team from Giant Size #1. That's Cyclops, Jean, Beast, Bobby, Warren, Nightcrawler, Storm, Wolverine, Banshee, Colossus, Thunderbird, and Sunfire, which does make for 3 teams of 4, if we're assuming that all of them were students of the huntsman academies. Maybe they were all from the other 3 academies, with STRQ at Beacon? Though Rogue, Havok and Polaris throw those numbers off. Though Rachel and Betsy bring it up to 16, so i guess it still works out.

I personally would have Hank as part of Ironwood's inner circle after the fall of beacon, with both of them exacerbating each others negative tendencies. I like Hank's villain turn, and feel like it's a natural progression of his character since at least the 90s (Justice for Threnody, motherfucker)

I'd put the New Mutants as a bit older than team RWBY, probably around the same age range as Winter, Cinder and the Ace Ops.

That's Cannonball, Mirage, Karma, Cypher, Magik, Wolfsbane, Magma, Sunspot, and Warlock. Not counting Warlock (who I have no idea how to work him in) that makes 8. Kitty would probably fall into this group too

This leaves Generation X and Academy X as contemporaries of team RWBY.

this is the group I know the least about. But that would be Chamber, Jubilee, Monet, Skin, Synch, Bling!, Eye Boy, and Quentin Quire for Generation X. Maybe have them be upperclassmen to RWBY's freshmen

then Academy X is Elixir, Icarus, Prodigy, Surge, Wallflower, Wind Dancer, Dust, Hellion, Mercury, Rockslide, Laura Kinney and Wither. Anyone else from the X-Men training squads would fall in this age group too.

Deadly Genesis was obviously not a thing in this universe, and the only one of those X-Men I care about is Darwin.

Selene is...around. Honestly I think it'd be hilarious if she just hung out in the Land of Darkness, eating grimm and really annoying Salem, after they figured out that Selene couldn't kill her. She still busts down Salem's door to drain some of her life force occasionally, but honestly it's the closest thing to friendship either of them has.

Mystique predates the Great War, and does Huntress work occasionally, but these days she mostly stays home with Irene (At least that's the official story). No one knows if she's human or faunus. Her relationship with her biological son Kurt (we're going with Claremont's original plan here, Mystique was the 'father' and Irene was the mother) and her adopted daughter Anna Marie is...strained.

Fuck it, replace Glynda with Emma Frost, it's not like Glynda is that important in the grand scheme of things. (y'all know I'm right)

Characters I'm not sure what to do with:

Forge (combine him with pietro pollendina/have them be colleagues?)

the Stepford Cuckoos

Cable

Bishop

Sage

Toad

Dazzler

Boom-Boom

Stryfe

honestly, it might streamline things to have all the time traveler characters come from the same dystopian future

Rictor

Akihiro

#my fic #fanfic ideas #RWBY #Marvel #X Men

[pixiemage]

MCYT Fic Worldbuilding Concept: BLOCKS, GRAVITY & CRAFTING

This is now the second time I've decided to ramble on about the way I picture the Minecraft universe functioning in the fic world. The first time I chattered on about armor and inventory space, and this time it's how Minecraft blocks behave in a world where the characters...uh...aren't so blocky. (This is gonna get long, so strap in!)

Blocks are such an intrinsic part of the Minecraft in-game universe that it felt wrong to exclude them from fics, even though the characters we portray are decidedly less cuboid and sharp-edged on paper. So when I write within the MCYT world, I tend to write under the assumption that both crafted items and hand-made items exist at the same time.

Now, this all comes down to the idea that any MC universe is based in code, that every single item and person and mob and - anything, is made of ones and zeroes. Crafting is the same, and it works as a shortcut of sorts to bring new items into being using specified supplies. Two sticks and a few iron ingots? Boom, you've got a pickaxe. However it's also possible to build one by hand, if you have the skills required to do so. (TFC is one such player who I tend to imagine built his mining equipment with his own hands rather than a crafting table because the craftmanship would have been higher quality and it was a more personal and enjoyable way to gain his tools.) Crafting tables often result in cookie-cutter, standard-built tools that work well enough for what the average player needs...but if you're looking for something higher grade, you'll want to go to a professional. For example, a crafted bed would be comfortable enough, but getting a bed hand-made would potentially be softer, larger, and/or more intricate than what would come from a crafting table.

(This also means that personalized items can't be stacked in your inventory. So if - say - Impulse was to hand-make the clock he gifted Bdubs in Double Life, then it would always occupy its own inventory space, even if Bdubs dumped half a stack of crafted clocks into his inventory with it.) (EDIT: It JUST occurred to me that this ACTUALLY ALREADY MAKES SENSE with in-game mechanics! If you name an item, that item is now different from other items of the same type and it cannot stack with items that don't also have that name. So this tracks!)

BUT coming back around to blocks - the same concepts stands. A single block of wool is a whole block, a standard item recognized by the coding of the MC universe as a craftable item. So is a standard chest, a block of obsidian - even Pixlriff's precious deepslate emerald ore. Blocks like those, when placed, are assigned that location by the coding of the server, and have the ability to defy gravity if no blocks are placed beneath it. (Excepting, of course, gravel or sand or concrete powder or - you get the picture.) Once a standard crafted block is altered, it no longer can defy gravity the way its unaltered brethren can.

For example: the burning of the ranch in Double Life. If I were to write this scene (which I definitely need to do in the future), then any blocks that were burned would lose their structure and have the capacity to fall and crumble. A ceiling could cave in or a wall could collapse or a door could fall off its hinges. Any unscathed blocks would remain in mid-air...but damaged ones wouldn't be so lucky.

On a related note, a player could alter blocks purposefully if they so choose, either to carve detailing into wooden walls or break pieces off of a block of ice or...so on. A block of wool could be torn apart into fluffier pieces or spun into yarn, and a block of wood planks could be separated into individual planks if a builder wanted to so something a little more hands-on than simple block placement. Copper could be hammered into jewelry, glowstone could be chiseled apart to make small ornaments, and slime blocks could be...uh...separated into...smaller slime? (I'm not sure what the practical application would be for that one, but hey, it's possible.)

The crafting-vs-hand-made concept also works for food, in that a crafting table (or furnace, sometimes) can give you good food, but the choices are more limited and you can't personalize it the way you can if you cook/bake something yourself. Though I suppose, it also would mean the flavor of what you've crafted would be consistent and reliable every single time, meaning that - for anyone who has sensory issues - there would never be a risk of a favorite food being different and unpalatable if that favorite food is a crafting table recipe.

I'd love to see how this concept could be expanded upon as well! I imagine that it would be fun to write into other worlds, or fold this idea into the mold of certain characters and their known tropes and characteristics. Grian, as a known skilled builder, may be more likely to alter his building blocks once he has a crafted-block base built for the sake of detailing, while Mumbo - who has only begun to expand his building skills in more recent seasons - may rely more heavily on crafted materials. Tango, being knowledgeable in intricate redstone, may have a custom set of tools he uses specifically for manipulating his circuits, while Bdubs' fascination with the intricate inner workings of clocks has led him to acquire a very different set of tools of his own. Maybe Gem is skilled in hands-on gardening the way TFC is skilled in the world of true mining, and maybe Welsknight creates his own armor by hand since his more medieval apparel isn't something that can be made on a simple crafting table.

Just...some food for thought. 😉

#World Building #MCYT World Building #Pixiemage Writes #MC Blocks #MCYT #Hermitcraft #Sort of if only because all the characters mentioned are from there

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

There’s a scene that I’m just calling the orange juice scene and I can’t stop thinking about it so here’s a piece while I move scenes around in scrivener instead of writing. Gotta keep the chronology right first y’know

-

Without another word, Dameron lets the back door slam behind him, and in his weakness, Hux flinches at the noise. His father would be so disappointed, and so as if to further spite him, Hux’s hand reaches with trembling fingers for the small cigarette case at the bottom of his apron. It takes him three tries to light it, but the first pull forces him to think about breathing. Between that and the nicotine, Hux can feel his head start to right itself. “Terrible fucking habit,” Solo mutters, likely to himself. As usual, Solo is incapable of reading the room. Unfortunately for him, Hux is still in a state of panic, but he’s come down just enough for fight to be his response, instead of flight. “Because property damage is so much better,” Hux cuts back. “Next time I’m teetering on the edge of a break down, I’ll be sure to just start throwing pint glasses at the wall and shouting. I’m sure I won’t get fired. That’s a thing we’re all allowed to do, right?” Solo’s eyes narrow, his hands clenching into fists. “Of course, Mr. Always in Control. How can I forget, the great and powerful Hux has never had an emotion in his life, and as such, finds all us beings will feelings to be lower lifeforms.” Standing, Hux let’s a bitter, broken laugh escape before taking another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the sky and watching in float away in the flood lights. “Indeed. Before you stands the paragon of control, about to throw his dinner up onto the concrete.” Dameron should have come back with his water by now, Hux thinks. He’s not upset; if anything, he’s worried. Is the restaurant falling apart while he breaks down by the dumpster? “Are you sick?” Solo asks. “You shouldn’t have come in for your shift if there was a chance you had a food-borne illness.” “Panic attacks aren’t contagious,” Hux snaps, dropping his cigarette into the bucket of sand and kicking it to cover it. “So our guests are safe from my malady, and your precious health codes haven’t been violated.” “The health and safety of our guests is incredibly important,” Solo says, and then, “panic attack?” For a moment, Hux can feel his hands start to shake again, can feel his heart beating a little faster than it had been just moments before. As he falls apart, surely the restaurant has been lit aflame, he thinks. Finn and Dameron are spreading the story of his infirmity all throughout the servers, and he’ll be a laughing stock in some group chat he’s not in by morning. Any respect his coworkers have for him will have vanished into the ether, and in shame, so will he. “I haven’t had one in a couple of years,” he says instead, keeping his internal thoughts to himself. “I used to handle them much better, but I suppose I must be out of practice.” Looking up, he can see on Solo’s face the desire to ask, different from Dameron’s need for gossip. There’s genuine concern there, but Hux doesn’t need the manger’s kid knowing all the ways he has trouble doing his job, the various walls and coping mechanisms he’s constructed out of duct tape and nicotine. “It’s nothing important. I’m sorry to have bothered your tantrum, but I can’t ask my coworkers to cover my slack any longer, so I really must return to my tables.” Hux watches a flash of rage die, as if he’s finally beginning to see through Hux’s bullshit, and isn’t that a terrifying thought. Ben Solo, being fully aware that Hux’s personality, his cutting remarks and his dry wit, are a lie. If he is unlikeable, he never worries about how people perceive him. He’s simply the bastard. “You should drink some orange juice,” Solo says. “It always used to make me feel better, after mine. Something about the sugar, I think?” Not trusting himself to speak, Hux nods, opening the door and heading back inside the restaurant. For the rest of the night, he’s sure to avoid Solo, eager to avoid any further conversation about his incident. Finn and Dameron, though they eye him with concern, appear to have kept the details of why Hux was pulled off the floor to himself. Phasma won’t stop looking at him, no doubt having noticed that he’s camping in the server alley, hiding from an entire half of the restaurant, lest table 23 spend a second too long looking around and connect his face to his name. Hux chooses not to meet her eye, sipping his orange juice instead and staring into the middle distance.

#Kylux #kylux au #hands off hands out

[felassanis]

Legacy Of The Sparrow WIP - Reaver x F!Sparrow

This is a WIP of a full story I am planning on making. So please lemme know what you think! I am refraining from posting it to AO3 in case I need to make any alterations as I map out the chapters.

Reaver tries and fails to understand just exactly what about “Until I return to kill you and take back what's rightfully mine,” had been lost in translation. 

He was rather certain his feelings on the matter were made quite clear. In print nevertheless! How could anyone expect him to be more clearer than that?! It was as if they were begging to have their heads blown all over the walls, honestly!

Reaver even thought it an improvement on the wallpaper. Considering it was not his wallpaper in the first place.

They couldn't just contend with squatting in his Bloodstone Manor. Oh no, they had also stripped it of any trace of Reaver’s personality. Taking it upon themselves to completely refurbish the manor as they saw fit. And in their rampant warpath his oil paintings had been pulled from the walls. His collection of titillating contraptions…gone! Tossed and burned with his old sex chamber switched into a bloody office. 

They’d even done away with Reaver’s Rear Passage. Blocking the entrance with thick, hard, concrete…Seriously. Not every manor had a secret escape tunnel. They must lead awfully dreadful lives to never see the usefulness of one.

“No, this won’t do at all,” He mumbles to himself.

Blowing smoke from the barrel of Dragonstomper, Reaver steps over a row of bodies casually. Only slightly fretting what the spilled blood pouring from between their eyes would do to his floorboards. He wondered briefly, in a spurt of awareness, if anyone would miss the throuple. Only to then realise he didn’t care. In fact, there were far more pressing issues….

On his trip back from Samarkand, he’d lost all the wealth he’d accumulated from the distant, barbaric land of sand. His ship The Reaver unfortunately lost her battle to Albion’s sharp and twisted coasts on the trip home. His beloved finally finding her watery grave after many long years at last. And with it, Reaver’s reapings from Samarkand.

Now he’s found his second beloved abused, mutilated, and tortured in rampant bright colours and shackled by domesticity. Oh well, at least he still has his vault. No one in Albion could crack the code to his belly of riches that lay beneath Bloodstone Manor.

“Reaver, sir!” 

The bald man who appeared suddenly from nowhere had made him flinch. Something so undeniably humiliating that Reaver nearly put a bullet in him right then and there to save face. And he damn well would have, were it not the scout he had sent out earlier. 

“M’sorry sir! I-I just had news! The news you wanted me to get for ‘yer!” 

Now here was some village missing its idiot. The man holds his hands up in a delayed reaction as Dragonstomper glares at him with one big, deep, black eye. And as tempting as it was to pull the divine trigger…he was one of the few fools left from Reaver’s old crew who hadn’t been snatched by the wilds of Samarkand or died in the subsequent shipwreck.

“Well? Quickly now lad! Before I completely do away with the notion of ‘don’t shoot the messenger’,” 

“Well, I know we ‘ant been back from Samarkand long. But shit’s changed, sir. Some o’ the locals heard the gunshots, sir. Before stuff got prim ‘n proper, people might’ve joined in innit? Bit ‘o fun, bit o’ target practice like for the kiddies. Not these lot. Mighty fearful they were. They’ve gone ‘an told on you, sir,” He explains quickly.  

“Told on me?”  Reaver keens in interest. Tasting the question on his tongue like sugar. “My, and whom have they told on me to, I wonder? A teacher? The guards? Oh I'm unequivocally shivering in my breeches…” 

He could do with the target practice after all this. Keen to let out his frustrations on the populace stupid enough to come after him.

“No, sir. They’ve gon’ and told the Queen,” 

Reaver blinks. “Since when was there a bloody Queen?” 

--------

“Your form is sloppy. Any pisspot who remembers he has legs could kick your weight out from under you,”

Walter relents his picky point with another strike of the blade. Hurtling towards her at such a hard, unwavering speed that she barely has time to use the side of her blade to throw him off as he rams. 

Stunned, she teters backwards. Barely staying on her feet as Walter flicks the blade to his side pompously. Circling her with a cocky smile that curls under his brown moustache.

“Embarrassing for a queen,”

She lets out an undignified huff. “I’ll show you embarrassing,”

Walter comes bounding towards her like a bull, sword like horns, as he darts. Rather than exert unnecessary energy, Sparrow extends her hand outwards. Her palm directed at Walter. With a sudden gust of force, the propulsion of her Will fizzles into reality. Sending him flying back like an insect caught in a vengeful wind and with it, his sword clattering to the ground.

Walter rises to his feet, smile completely wiped off his face. “I said no magic!"

“There are no rules in battle, dear Walter,” 

“Not in writing. But dirty tactics and cheap tricks aren’t honourable,” He picks up his sword, aiming the tip towards her in accusation. “Troops look up to their leader. To find her throwing dirt in an opponent's eye to win is hardly inspirational,”

Sparrow shrugs. The act of exerting Will was hardly cheap tactics in her eyes. With a wave of her hand, she could conjure a frightening row of swords with the ease of breath. Aim them true, and her enemies would become human pincushions before they landed a single hit. Lightning and fire bowed to her whim. The very earth would bend and break if she wanted it, cowering under her might. What was cheap about that? It was hardly comparable to throwing dirt in someone’s eye.

But Walter had always been very by the book. He’d sooner lose a battle than win by tricks and wit. She supposed there was a fairness in that, something to admire. But it also felt short sighted. She could not have relied on Lucien Fairfax to prepare honourable tactics back when. Doing so would have seen her dead. As it saw so many others dead.

“My apologies, Walter,” She nods to her old friend. Perhaps it was unfair to exert Will over someone who was not a Hero. “Would you like to knock me off my feet again? I know you love it when I fall underneath you,”

Her tease is not lost on him, as evident by the hook in his brow. “Always saying what’s on your mind, eh lass?”

“I don’t say everything that’s on my mind. You’d be blushing to your toes if I said everything I’m thinking of,”

He lets out a roar of laughter at that, which makes her smile. He could be very serious when he wanted to be, too serious. The job of being her bodyguard had all but sapped the humour out of him. She wished nothing more that behind closed doors, he’d drop the dutiful act and be Walter Beck again. Like they were in the old days.

When Walter starts to pace towards her something clutches her chest, winding it tightly into a knot of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, her teasing had struck a chord. Finally. His eyes hold something close to courage, something closer to need. Desire…

Only for it to be wounded when he stops a foot from her.

He looks like he wants to say something. His mouth hangs open, before closing promptly. 

“Come, your highness. Your council will be waiting in the throne room,”

She deflates, disappointed. But hardly surprised.

“No rest for the wicked, eh?” 

She sheathes her sword, shoving into her belt roughly like a careless punch. Side by side the two of them make their way through Castle Fairfax in silence, arriving at the doors to the throne room also as such. Where her council awaited, and where her day was about to be ruined.

Outside the hall's doors is Jasper. An elderly man, trussed up in a buttoned up suit with slicked back hair white as snow. He spots the duo, quickly checking that his collar was in top shape as if she’d care. In his hand is a red velvet cushion holding her crown.

“Your majesty,” The butler takes a bow, holding the cushion perfectly poised as he bends.

“Jassy,” She replies, taking hold of the crown and nestling it quickly on her head.

They enter the hall alongside the thundering cascade of the large oak doors being swung open by Walter, who urgently holds the door aside for his queen. The room is cast into an immediate hush, eyes trailing towards the lithe frame of Sparrow. Twinkling like the sockets of skulls. Crimson banners bearing Sparrow’s sigil drape from the ceiling, matching the elongated carpet that flowed across the marble floor towards her throne…

With a deep breath that blows up her lungs, Sparrow walks down the centre of the hall with practised grace. Though her throne rubbed her in all the wrong places, and the crown wrapped around her temples like a wreath plucked from thorns that provoked a headache, she would never show it. She could feign grace, feign poise and manners, things she had never embraced in her heart truly. It was all an act, a mask, a barricade to deflect the staring and hushed whispers that descended upon her court. She flaunted this facade for five years, it came naturally to her now.

All she had to consciously not trip over this damn carpet.

As she ascends to her throne and settles her bony arse in the stone seat. The first noble wastes no time in taking the stand.

“Your Majesty, Queen Sparrow,” 

She recognised the noble. An older man who went by Cotton Filly; befitting of his name was a head of greyish curls that fell to his shoulders like cobwebs. He was built similarly to a doll made fashioned from clay that had been pulled and stretched by a meaner older brother. Sometimes it baffled her that answering to her authority meant taking such…pissants seriously.

As the man spills his drivels, her eyes begin to wander. In a room filled to the brim with people there was comfort that amongst the sea of faces at least one was known to her. 

Searching for his gaze, she finally catches Walter Beck’s eyes. Who watches her from afar at his post at the other end of the hall. He can read her better than anyone and knows she’d rather be anywhere else. Alas, all he can just about offer is a sympathetic look.

“The current climate of the region is appealing to you to find a suitable husband. Someone of good standing who understands what it means to be a leader. And who can provide a strong and capable heir to rule in your stead when you are gone,"

Her eye twitches irritably as she is taken out of her distraction. It was one thing to hear rants about lowering the taxes for the rich or about rebuilding roads. But when they butted their noses into her private affairs. It was a little too much. And hit a sore spot…

“And as I’ve stated before, Mr Filly. I have no need of an extra mouth to feed in my household,” She tells him flatly. “I’ve enough feeding you lot as it is,”

Mr Filly, unphased by her answer, continues. “Your highness. There are many in your kingdom who would see a lone queen as fragile…vulnerable even. And more view it as a challenge. The people worry that without an heir, your…ahem, generous rule may be cut short. If that happens we will be left struggling without a guiding hand. I implore you, to reinstate the confidence in your people, find a husband,”

“And I implore you to return to your queen with concerns that actually matter to the fate of the realm. The question of who I have or don’t have under my bed sheets will not dictate Albion’s safety,” 

She could see the thinly veiled attempt at control on his part, of him trying to rein her in like a loose pup. He dressed his words up as pragmatism of course, but deep down she knew his blood boiled at the sight of her on the throne. His posture stiffened, and his lips pressed firmly into a thin line.

Years ago the only way she would have ever seen the inside of Castle Fairfax was through an unattended window, or being dragged to the royal dungeons by the guards for stealing bread from a stall. But now the lowest of commoners had committed a noble’s worst nightmare to reality… and ascended to royalty.

She was not Lucien Fairfax. And the nobles of Bowerstone detested it.

She had no status. No regard for the nobility. And no patience. She was an unnatural force of change in the once sturdy and structural hierarchy. And like most, change scared them to death. 

Sparrow had no intention of coddling them like Lucien had done. She’d force this change down their throats till they either swallowed or choked. As long as they kept in line, this feigned politeness between them and her would continue. 

Mr Filly pulls a face. “The dwellers are a solitary people. They’d rather live in the woods than with the rest of us in civilization. And that is their right. Many wonder though, if the burden of the crown is too heavy for someone used to going at it…alone, in matters,”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with the weight of my crown,”

“We are simply worried that should you perish without a husband or an heir-”

“Your worry is touching,” She snaps. “No, really. I’m moved to tears,” She strikes a finger across her dry cheek.

Once again his face scrunches. Like he had tasted something bitter in the air. “Your highness it is the responsibility of royalty to marry and continue their bloodline. And since you claim to be royalty, I feel it is my duty as a member of your court to remind you of this,”

Before Sparrow can attest to that, the doors to the throne room burst open. A set of guards painfully out of breath rush into the hall which erupts in gossip and outrage.

A strangled cry rises from Cotton Filly as Sparrow stands from the throne. “What is the meaning of this interruption?! How dare-”

“Oh do be quiet!” Sparrow descends the stairs that prop her throne up. Pushing past Filly as she attends to the two guards, who remove their helmets in respect.

Walter appears, taking quickly to her side as he addresses the men. “Figgins, Smithy! What in blazes are you doing here, lads?! You were stationed all the way in Bloodstone!”

Figgins, the much younger of the duo, wipes his face clean of sweat as he gasps. “Sorry, Walter, sir. But we have an urgent distress call from Bloodstone,”

“Distress…hah,” Smithy grunts with a weak, sickly smile. “It’s a bloody massacre is what it is…he even got the chickens, poor things…”

“Chickens? Wha-just tell us what is going on, lad!” Walter shouts.

“It started with the Billberry family, they were butchered in their own home. Shot dead like..like…” Figgins answers, growing nervous as Walter seems to tower over him.

Something lights up in Sparrow’s head then like a march to a wick. A pang of familiarity scratches at her mind over the uttered last name.

“The Billberrys…the Billberrys…” She tastes the name on her tongue.

Walter eyes her. “They’re the ones you sold Bloodstone Manor to, M’lady. Shame, they were a kind bunch of souls,”

Then it hits her. A sick cackle in the back of her mind, a voice rich in tone and smooth like velvet. Yet as sharp as any blade. A man as unpredicatble as a bomb. A walking time capsule that should have been buried and left buried. Rum and smoke and sea salt…

At first, she simply refused to believe the first thing that came to mind. She shook the memories like apples from a tree, daring to stomp on the fruits of her past…but she knew, deep down, she knew what this meant. There was but one man who could be responsible for something like this. Only one sadistic enough.

As ever living up to his name. Reaver had returned…..

#fable #fable 2 #fable 3 #sparrow #reaver #fable reaver #spreaver #fable sparrow #fable 2 sparrow #fable 2 reaver #Reaver x Sparrow

[troutwithfur]

We buried a special rock of mine today.

It was a rock that was in my fish tank that once sat outside my childhood bedroom. I was always afraid of the dark, so I always had 2 lights on at night: my closet and my fish tank. My oldest memory of that fish tank was with a small spotted catfish i had named Whiskers. He was probably my first real pet. I would watch him for hours while playing in my room. He lived a few years before finally dying after being sick for a few days. I remember crying the rest of the night. I think it was the first time I ever experienced loss in my life. I never named another fish after Whiskers. I didn’t wanna get attached again.

The fish tank became a novelty for a few years after that. I don’t know when the special rock found its way in there, but it did. It was some kinda metamorphic rock, roughly square shaped, had a few sparkly parts. When we stopped getting fish and threw out the tank, we threw the rock in the little stone area in front of my house. I always saw it somewhere in there. If you looked, you could see it. It was never buried.

Until now.

Me and my dad were fixing a large indentation in the concrete slab walkway in front of our house. It was always cracked and indented from my earliest memories, but we were gunna fix it. Me and my dad jacked up the slab, but needed something to hold it while we shoveled sand under it. My dad picked up the special rock and used it. We buried it under that slab, where it will remain until my parents dig the slabs up for the wood porch they wanna build next year, or longer.

I think it’s kinda funny. A decorative fish tank rock holding up a concrete slab, buried under a few inches of sand. Yet, something is so sad about it. I feel like I’m about to cry thinking about it. I don’t hate my sadness, though. Something about it is a life lesson. I needed to lose this one random rock to learn…something. I don’t know yet. Maybe it’s giving up childhood and moving on, I could not tell you.

I have a few special rocks. They’re everywhere, but they remind me of things. They’re important. I’m typing this post out because I know I’ll forget that rock in a day or so, along with all the memories. It’s some kinda key that unlocks a certain memory locker. I’d rather not forget my childhood. I was naive and happy all the time. Learning was fun and my mistakes meant nothing. It’s foolish to want to go back, and I don’t want to. I never wish to be a dumb little kid again, but I do want the memories.

They contain a happiness I know I will not feel again. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel happy. A lot in fact! I just know I’ll have feel the happiness of a kid learning about the very basics of the world.

I should stop typing. I’m on the verge of tears over a rock.

A very special rock.

#salmonish

[what-aboutno]

Area unknown Owen pov summary

Stream name- A new adventure!

Prev summary next summary

- wakes up in the grave and goes back to working

- finds a flower forrest and decides to make his base there

- starts cutting down trees and clearing out the general area

- we hear a bit about how before he died he was the flower prince, hence the flower crown on his head

- gets a new 'friend' it's a pillager

- he wants to do something with his base with like layers of glass. To give it specific effect like a fading effect and misty. so he's mining out the dirt there

- he's forgotten who au!Scott is so they meet again. And au!Scott is now helping with the digging

- not really important but kinda? But they go to town and they see the enchanting table has been stole

- au!Scott mention a little casual lore about the underworld, and how they're moving on from the old ways and want to peacefully move souls. And says maybe his brother is worried about him being there is because au!Aimsey is still using the old ways, lying.

-He hopes he's here in time enough to help undo any damage his brother has done and blames au!Aimsey for the stolen enchanted table

- au!Moonzy comes to help with mining and she has maxed out gear

-au!Owen remembers au!Moonzy but not their trip

- The trio go and enchant some stuff at au! Moonzy's place

-More mining, it's like a bowl shape

- au!Owen can hear the souls in au!Scott's lantern (au!Scott has a lantern which is where his chat is canonically)

- they decide they're gonna steal borrow a beacon in town from au!Oli's shop

- au!Oli confronts them about the beacon because they immediately got caught after all getting the achievement after stealing borrowing it

- au!Scott lies and says his brother gave him permission and tries to make au!Aimsey look bad as a business partner for not telling au!Oli I think?

- it seems au!Scott has gained au!Oli's trust

- Scotts chat decides to keep au!Moonzy as well as au!Owen now

- au!Owen remembers the trip with au!Moonzy finding the wonders of the world!

- Longer spends time with people the more likely he is to remember them. Who he remembers is mostly a gamble but spending more time seems to help

- at some point au!Scott says that he's friends with au!Owen and au!Moonzy

- Au!Moonzy has lost 6/9 lives, 2 of which were lost in the area unknown place (she lost 4 lives from the place she was before)

- au!Owen's chat are canonically bees because he's the flower prince. And they grab on his hair in boat rides and huddle in the flower crown when its raining

- au!Owens favourite flower is a white tulip!

- People can walk through him but it feels uncomfortable, kinda like pins and needles he says

- he can also see dead animals and such because he's a ghost, he can interact with them but the living can't see them

- don't know how canon this is but au!Scott placed candle to stop him going back to the other realm (they joked around that he was going back to the ghost realm while he was experiencing lots of lag)

- wonderduo go on another trip to get more sand and gravel for the concrete powder for the build

- au!Owen had a bad relationship with his father before he died? It's implied as he says "well he must not have looked after me if I'm dead" or something like that

-Au!Scott keeps saying he'll return the beacon when they're done with it. Implies he's got other intentions when it comes to returning the beacon. Possibly going to frame is brother in some way? Based on his conversation before with au!Oli

- So overall au!Owen is building his new house. He's building a tunnel take to get to his world. Trying to open a rift in space and time so people are able to visit the ghost realm as ghost people together.

- he also gets overstimulated as a ghost so the area is a nice peaceful and quiet void for him

- au!Soup is also canonically just liquid soup with clothes fr fr /j (joke from the stream)

#zara rambles #area unknown smp #area unknown #area unknown summaries #gonna start tagging these summaries as that for now #owengejuicetv #moonzycat #scott smajor #smajor1995 #i love their group dynamics so much and i also love the wonderduo #things that arent that important but i want to add anyway aksjd they start joking about the hole at some point #and owen calls the hole scrunkly aksks #oooo i might start adding pictures to these summaries i might do that now actually #long post

[promiseiwillwrite]

The First of April

Today I went to Neptune Park to talk to the wrong god.

When I got there, I sat down on the concrete steps beside a giant statue of the Sea God, with his trident, resting one hand on the back of a giant turtle, and I took off my shoes.

I placed them, Sand Free, in my pack, and the moment I stepped off the steps, I scraped all the skin off my little toe on my left foot, and began to Bleed immediately.

I was like, "Well, Blood offering it is then."

The wind Howled, throwing sheets of loose sand that stung the backs of my legs.

The water was like Ice.

But you got used to it.

I spoke with Jormungandr.

Because This is where I first met them. I was a few hundred miles north, (I'd been in South Carolina that day) But The right Coast of the right ocean, for sure.

I had the strange experience of being One with the Sea. The salty wet of Me, usually carefully contained by the thin protective barrier of my skin, compromised, and the moments before my platelets built started to build a scab to cover the injury, the wet of me... The amoebic sea of me, was a part of the third largest thing in the biosphere.

Jormungandr is very responsive to a gift of blood. Of a Gift of Time and Gasoline. A gift of memory and sentiment.

Almost as soon as I stepped into the water, a pretty shell, with a white, purple and orange lip washed between my feet.

He offered me peace. Which I offered right back, because I hadn't come for peace. I'd come to do work on a relationship that didn't involve "peacefully walking away". He and I had a falling out in early 2021, regarding some spell work we had done. I realize now that while it had not seemed like he had kept his word regarding the work, and it seemed like he had vastly misrepresented what he wanted from our relationship, he had in fact done most of what I had asked, and given the circumstances, he came clean very quickly regarding his intentions.

It was wrong of me to see him the way I had, and the deception was partly mine. When you work with a world destroying demon of destruction, and treat them as though this might not be all there is to them, you are in bounds. When you work with a world destroying demon of destruction and you treat them as though this is not what they are, you have Fucked Up. No matter how 'nice' they are capable of being.

That being the case, it was not fair of me to turn my back when he started being more of what he really is, in the moment he had done as I had asked.

But he WAS possessive in a way that rather alarmed me. And I needed to be more confident about the boundaries of the arrangement if I was to work with him.

We spoke at great length about Control, and Safety, and Regret. He asked me what Boundaries I wanted for our relationship going forward. He asked me what amount of control and safety I was willing to give up to keep myself from regret.

Loki popped in to remind me to be careful of what I agree to.

The words turned my mind.

It turns out that there is no exit ramp off the human experience.

There are no "right ways" of thinking about control or safety, no boundaries that can be set that can keep you from regretting decisions in life.

Because Regret is a part of life.

Sure. There is a way to be smart, and create a good life with your decisions. And you should totally do that if you can. But you still don't get out of regret.

The critical key bit here, though, is that "getting out of regret" isn't the Point.

If you live all of life being very careful, controlling your whims and your desires, always doing the things that you need to do, with wise hierarchies for your priorities and making the best decisions you can in every moment, You will create a life.

But it will be missing something.

Some of the vital parts of life are had in risk and serendipity.

Some are had off the beaten path, with caution thrown to the winds.

You will miss things because any misstep will be a mistake, but not necessarily one you can learn something useful from. Just more of what not to do ever again.

If All you learn is what Not to do ever again, eventually you paint yourself into a corner.

And in that corner, you are bound to meet the very regret you've been avoiding. Sure, that corner may be Very, Very safe... But you've got to stay there with your regret. There is a reason we put Naughty children in the corner.

And that goes for Control and Safety too.

These things should not be the goal of an adult life. It is not wrong to want those things, and indeed, some measure of both should literally just be human rights. It is Okay to want and create these things for yourself... But...

These are the goals of an abused child.

And I am not that anymore.

I told Jormungandr that there was No Right Answer to his question, and that it would have to be nuanced, and situational. It would have to be something we would need to grow together into if that was both our intents. Working with him, I think, will always be this kind of give and take Dance with Danger.

And maybe that is as it should be. Maybe that's just Real.

I am not sure if there will be doors for April.

I think I went to Jormungandr, and this month will be his, at least in part.

I stayed after the god when silent.

I walked up and down the strand behind Neptune's sculpted back, and I found some neat rocks, and a cormorant feather.

#UPG #Jormungandr #whatever comes up #April #not a lie or a prank #a story

[feverinfeveroutfic]

like blood from a stone | chapter twenty

(ao3 title: under the boardwalk)

I watched Alex and Chuck make their way towards me. The two of them looked so adorable together, almost a little too adorable in my opinion. Perhaps it was the way in which they resembled one another with their blue eyes and the smoothness and paleness of their oval-shaped faces, or perhaps it came from their fine, lush dark hair down over their shoulders.

A couple of very gorgeous boys in comparison to my homely ass.

There was a part of me that wanted the two of them to be together, to see Alex with this Chuck rather than the Chuck I felt a tie with. Besides, I felt a better tie with the Chuck he was arranged with than Alex did with him.

It got a little bit confusing, but that was the whole point of the whole entire thing in my eyes.

I felt a connection with Chuck while Alex felt a connection with Chuck as well. That was how the cookie crumbled.

But I had no idea as to how I could break that over to Alex, though. As far as I knew, he had no idea that I had snuck out of the wedding rehearsal all because of him, and all because Lars had left the rehearsal as well. The whole occasion had been put into limbo all because of me and him, but I had no idea if he could know the truth yet. He hadn’t broken the truth to me yet, and thus it made sense to keep it under lock and key on my part for a little while longer: at least until one of us felt the need to break the ice.

I would have to put on a brave face for it at some point and let it loose for him if he never did it for me. Now, however, I would have to keep my mouth shut as these two boys strode up next to me, smelling of French fries and with their tummies full of that delicious food courtesy of the vendor down the boards themselves.

A part of me expected to find either the other Chuck, the one whom I shared the soul bond with and Alex’s fiancé, or Lars or Cliff back down that way. Indeed, I craned my neck a little bit for a look around Alex’s head, that minute shock of silver at the right side there like the biggest vein of silver in the deepest silver mine. He followed my gaze to the rest of the boardwalk behind him with a frown on his face.

“What’s the matter?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I assured him. He squinted his eyes at me: those deep eyes that made me think of swimming. We were a mere walk down to the sand anyway.

Those eyes locked onto me for a moment, and then Chuck passed me on the right side. I followed him, complete with Alex at my side. I held onto my skirt, and I kept the bottom hem over my ankles as we sauntered along the concrete pathway to the sand down below. Long, low brick walls separated us from the rest of the white and beige sands, but I caught a whiff of the brackish smell from the tide pools down underneath the Boardwalk itself. I glanced over at Alex, right as he tucked a lock of his jet-black hair behind his ear, and he flashed me a raise of an eyebrow. His lips were warm and lush, all from the flavor of the pastrami and the fries against his smooth skin.

Though the two of them shared a similar look, there was something far more haunting about Alex, haunting and alluring, and a lot of it had to do with those deep-set, almond-shaped eyes as well as the gray streak on his head. He almost struck me as an alien of sorts, a boy who originally hailed from outer space, only to have crawled out of the sea after he had crash-landed his spaceship somewhere by the Hawaiian Islands. He tucked his hands into his jean pockets, albeit momentarily: at one point, he stifled a burp in his throat, and he pressed a hand to his stomach.

“Too much for you, Alex?” Chuck asked him with a smirk on his handsome face.

“Nah,” he assured him. “Just utterly delicious is all.”

A part of me wished I had had something to eat myself before we made our way down to the sand below: my knees quivered with the feeling of burgeoning hunger. It didn’t help matters that I had barely eaten anything all day that day. Each step down the walkway and I could feel my heart pounding inside of my chest like that of a jackhammer.

I hadn’t eaten much all day long, and it began to rear its ugly head at me in the form of my weak heart. I fetched up a little sigh, but I made it so neither of them paid any attention to me. I adjusted my grip on my skirt as we reached the bottom, and at that point, I smelled the salt from the ocean waters. At least the proximity to the waters and the accompanying ocean breeze kept me cool, lest I would be in a heap of trouble from the sensation inside of my chest. At least I could readily take off this dress and hoist it over my shoulder like the way a chef would with a towel if I felt too warm: although I didn’t think that would prove to be much of a problem, however.

Nevertheless, it would be some time before the high tide made its way in for the night, but the smell of the salt never seemed even more prominent to me than when the three of us reached the stretch of sand: I turned my head for a glimpse at the bar off to the left, only to find that most of it had disappeared underneath the stretch that was the Boardwalk. Chuck hung off to the side to take off his shoes, and Alex stooped down all the way, all so I could full view of his ass.

Given he had just eaten right before then, his waist pressed the waist of his jeans, which in turn tightened his jeans a bit. Tight jeans meant a nice fitting of his ass: he had such a nice, round ass, complete with those shapely hips and those sinewy thighs. Indeed, I lingered off to the right side of the path’s entrance, so I could have a better look at the seat of his pants. A part of me wanted to walk on up to him and give him a little pat on the right side, just to feel the round shape back there. A nice little pat of his ass followed up by a playful little punch in the belly for being such a naughty boy for ditching Lars and Kirk’s wedding.

I shook my head at the thought of Alex in that way, especially since I had my heart dead-set on his fiancé. Besides, he wasn’t the only one who had bailed on the wedding: I would have to have a punch right in the gut myself. Lars would need one himself as well.

Alex then stood upright, and he nudged his shoes off to the side of the sand all so he could remember them. Chuck did as well, and I had to hustle to get mine off.

Chuck whispered something in Alex’s ear right then, and he clasped a hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle. The two of them giggled and snickered like a couple of schoolgirls gossiping about the boy they liked.

“You fellas talking about me?” I jeered at them.

“We’re just comparing notes at how you look in a dress and all things girlish compared to someone like, say, Lars,” Alex retorted. “You do look pretty good in that dress, Joey. It fits your body rather nicely.”

“Some boys can rock it,” I pointed out to him; I sat there on the sand with my legs outstretched before me. I wiggled my exposed toes as a light breeze from the ocean crossed over me. “Some can’t. I don’t really know how Lars would look in one, to be perfectly frank, though.”

“I think Lars would rock it, to be honest,” Chuck said with a playful little smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. “Now...” He turned his attention to Alex. “You in a dress.”

“Me?” he demanded, taken aback, and I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Yes, you,” Chuck continued, and the smirk on his face only grew at the suggestion.

“What kind of dress are we talking about?” I asked him.

“Mmm... one of those cocktail dresses,” Chuck replied. “You know, like a little black dress with a low neckline and stretchy fabric. I see it fitting his body so nicely and accentuating every curve.”

“Pff, every curve,” Alex scoffed at him. “You say that as if I have curves to my body.”

“You do have curves, Alex,” I added. I lifted my skirt a bit, so I could climb up to my feet. I nearly lost my balance as I stood upright before the two of them. “You have a nice ass.”

“Doesn’t he?” Chuck replied with a little nudge of his lush, mousy brown hair behind his ear. “A nice ass with thick, shapely thighs.”

“Maybe if I gained a little bit of weight, I could probably have some curves,” Alex taunted us with a hearty pat of his chest, which he then followed with a caress of his stomach. “I’m too skinny, otherwise.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’ve got curves,” I assured him as I lifted my skirt more over my ankles: I bunched it up around my crotch like a makeshift pillow.

“Just the right amount of flesh, if you ask me,” Chuck declared; he put his arm around the small of Alex’s back and he set a hand on his hip. Those fingers drifted down along the slightly full shape of his hip, and then back up to his side. That slender, slim little body with an ever-so-slight roundness to his hips and his thighs.

Indeed, Alex bowed his head, and he tucked his hands into his jean pockets. He pushed his jeans down his hips a bit more, all to reveal a little sliver of his skin to us. The golden and orange light from the sunset washed over him, over his skin and those dark, decadent curls sprawled over his shoulders and onto his back. Beautiful boy with such a beautiful body.

He almost seemed alien, and yet he was so humanly sensual, perhaps more so once he tucked another lock of hair behind his right ear. It was right then I caught a glimpse of his hipbones from the inside of his jeans. Slender, shapely, and beautiful enough to warrant a kiss out of one of the two of us.

I started to change my mind right then: his body was shapely, but I wanted to bear witness to more flesh. I flashed them both a smirk and I padded in the other direction.

“Hey, wait for us!” Chuck called after me. I slowed up a bit and the two of them walked on either side of me. Though the sun was setting, and the cool breeze surrounded us like a blanket, the sand still felt rather warm from the kiss of the sun over the course of the day. A part of me wanted to take off my dress, but then again, I would have to sling it over my shoulder. Given the depth and unevenness of the sand, there was no way I could toss my dress over my shoulder like a dish towel.

But the sun washed over us, and the smell of the salt brushed against my nose, and the sound of the low tides swept over us in a thick wall of white noise. For a few long moments, I forgot that we were on the back of a wedding between Kirk and Lars up on the land above us.

“What an evening,” Chuck declared over the roar of the tides beside us.

“Welcome to California, gentlemen,” Alex added with a beaming grin on his round little face. Though my hands still shook from the lack of nourishment inside of me, I was glad to be walking on the beach with the two of them. The sand caressed over my toes and the soles of my feet: it felt so good against my skin, especially since I almost never had the chance to do such a thing back home in upstate New York. The closest I came to it were the shores of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie as well: though the summers back home were hot and humid, it wasn’t like I could always find the opportunity to take walks along those dark muddy shorelines. Add to this, the sand lacked the same abrasiveness as well.

At one point, I took too deep of a step on a little pocket of sand, and I nearly lost my balance. When I caught myself, I dropped my skirt and I nearly fell ass over teakettle. I clambered for my skirt again and I stood still for a few seconds, and then I caught up with the two of them again.

“Take off your dress, Joey,” Chuck coaxed me; for a split second, I believed that he had added “for us” in there somewhere.

“Yeah, you look kind of uncomfortable,” Alex added. “I also worry about you tripping and falling for real, too. The sand isn’t really the best place to be walking around with a long gown like that.”

I sighed through my nose. It was something I had considered but never believed that I would go through with it, even by their own goading.

I lifted the hem of the skirt from the ground, and I took off the dress right there.

I shook my hair about, and I looked on at the two of them and the dumbfounded looks upon their handsome faces. Rather than flip the dress over my shoulder, I put it over my forearm as if I had come right out of the hotel shower. Alex cracked me a smile and he tucked his hands into his pockets yet again, and once again to show off some skin to me. Chuck, meanwhile, ran his fingers through his mousy hair: when he smiled, deep little dimples appeared in his cheeks and accentuated the point of his chin.

I walked forth, right between the two of them, along the sand to the penultimate entrance up to the Boardwalk, when the sand itself receded back with a small river which partially attached itself to a tidepool.

“Good thing I did,” I confessed to them over the roar of the waves.

On my left, Alex squatted down to examine the water of the inlet. He frowned at something, and then he reached down and picked it up out of the clear waters.

“What’d you find, Alex?” Chuck called out to him from behind us.

“When’s the last time you found a full-fledged sand dollar down here?” Alex asked him with a beaming smile on his face. “For me, not since I was a little kid.”

“I don’t think I ever have, to be honest,” Chuck replied. “And I’ve been out here a couple of times before, too.” Alex held up the little white circle with the five-pointed star on one side in the sunlight for the two of us to better see for ourselves.

“Beautiful,” I remarked. “Save it and get that thing sealed.”

“Oh, you know I will,” Alex assured me as he tucked it into that little coin pocket of his jeans. “When we walked on over here to the water, it caught my eye. I thought it was just a reflection from the sunlight, but I looked closer, and I was like, ‘no, that’s a sand dollar!’” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “Be on the lookout for beach glass, too.”

“Beach glass?” I echoed him.

“Yeah, these colored little spots in the sand,” he elaborated. “It’s exactly what you think it is, too. It's pieces of things like bottles tumbled by the sea. Sometimes it washes ashore, and it’s all smoothed and polished. People all up the coast, down around Santa Barbara and Morro Bay, and up north, scout it out all the time. Hell, there’s even a place up by Fort Bragg called Glass Beach!”

“Let’s go,” Chuck declared with his arms wide open.

“When I become crown prince, I'll find a way up there,” Alex vowed, complete with a wink.

I returned to the inlet of water as well as the tidepool and the sand on the other side. A part of me wanted to wade through that inlet but as far as I knew, the tides were ready to roll in right then. And the two of them seemed adamant on heading back the other way given the sight of the inlet there.

I still held onto my dress like I would a towel as I scurried after them. Though I was barefoot, and nothing stopped me from running, I still lost my balance, all because I had barely eaten all day long and my body jittered a bit. I lost my balance and I accidentally tackled Chuck.

He fell onto the sand, face down, and he let out a low groan.

Alex clambered on top of me for a threesome of sorts, even though as far as I knew, Chuck wasn’t aroused. I turned my head for a look back at that boy and those long, inky black curls as they dangled down from the sides of his head.

“Come here,” he begged right into my face.

“Only if you come here for me,” I retorted back to him. “I need your warmth.”

“You need my warmth?” he demanded, taken aback. “I need to feel your skin. Your blood. Your bones. All of it against my own.”

Chuck groaned out again and somehow, he rolled over onto his back underneath me. Alex and I lingered over him as if we were about to do push-ups together, but my arms quivered at the mere suspension of my body over him. My heart hammered inside of my chest even more, such that I could hardly breathe or keep my eyes open.

“I can’t,” I pleaded to them with a shake of my head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

“Why not?” Chuck demanded. Alex then gasped.

“Oh, shit!”

“What?”

“He’s got a weak heart! Come on, Chuck, help me get him back up to the Boardwalk—”

“I just need sump’n to eat is all, Alex,” I insisted, and I coughed to slow down my heart.

“We still have to help you, though, Joey,” Chuck groaned out; he writhed underneath me. “Do you mind at least getting off of me?”

#like blood from a stone fanfic #like blood from a stone #chapter 20 #fanfic #fanfiction #slash fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #testament fanfic #death band #anthrax #testament #testament band #joey belladonna #alex skolnick #chuck schuldiner #also on ao3 #writing #fic writing #text

[waodezithaulainana]

PART OF SPEECH

My name is Wa Ode Zithaul Ainan, I am a student from Halu Oleo University, Department of English Education, Faculty of Teacher Training and Education. Here I will explain about Part Of Speech.

Part of speech is part of English grammar in the form of a classification of words which are divided into several categories based on their role and function in the structure of a sentence. By knowing the part of speech one can know the function of the word in a sentence. In addition, part of speech is the first step that you need to learn when learning English, its use is to understand sentence forms in English.

There are 8 kinds of Part Of Speech, namely noun, pronoun, verb, adjective, adverb, preposition, conjunction, interjection. Here is the explanation!

1. NOUN

Nouns are used to name people, things, animals, places, and ideas or concepts. Nouns themselves can be further divided into various types, such as countable, uncountable / mass, common, proper, concrete, abstract, and collective nouns.

Types of nouns and examples:

Countable (can be counted) = Book, Elephant, Train

Uncountable / Mass (uncountable) = Love, Sand, Happiness

Common = Country, City, Month

Proper (Something specific) = Switzerland, Jakarta, January

Concrete (Something tangible) = Bag, Cake, Building

Abstract (Stating ideas, concepts, circumstances, and other abstract things) = Friendship, Time, Imagination

Collective (Refers to a group of people, animals, or things) = Deer, Family, Government.

2. PRONOUN

A pronoun is a word that is used to replace a noun. There are 8 types of pronouns, namely personal, demonstrative, interrogative, indefinite, possessive, reciprocal, relative, reflexive, and intensive pronouns.

Types of pronouns and examples:

Personal = I, We, He, She

Demonstrative = This, That, These, Those

Interrogative = Who, Which, What, Whom, Whose

Indefinite = Nothing, Someone, Anywhere, Everybody

Possessive = Mine, Yours, Hers, His

Reciprocal = Each other, One another

Relative = = Who, Which, Whom, Whose

Reflexive = Myself, Yourself, Ourselves, Themselves

Intensive = Himself, Herself, Ourselves, Themselves

3. VERB

Verb is a verb that is used to indicate an action or state. Verbs can be divided into several types, such as action verbs and linking verbs.

Types of verbs and examples:

Action Verb (Transitive) - Indicates an action or possession, and is followed by a direct object. Example: Have, Give, Ride

Action Verb (Intransitive) - Indicates an action, not followed by a direct object. Example: Arrive, Rise, Wait

Linking Verb - Linking the subject and its description. Example: Be, Taste, Remain

4. ADJECTIVE

Adjectives are adjectives that are used to describe a noun or pronoun.

Example: Pretty, Sad, Faithful

5. ADVERB

As an adverb, the function of an adverb is to provide additional information on the verb, adjective, or adverb itself. Adverbs can also be grouped into several types, such as manner, degree, frequency, place, and time.

Types of adverbs and examples:

Adverb of Manner = Well, Softly, Quickly

Adverb of Degree = Just, Almost, So

Adverb of Frequency = Usually, Always, Rarely

Adverb of Place = In, Above, Below

Adverb of Time = Annually, Daily, Yesterday

6. PREPOSITION

The function of prepositions is to show the relationship between nouns and other words in a sentence.

Example: In, On, At, Through, With, By, Of

7. CONJUNCTION

Conjunction is used to connect two words, phrases, clauses to sentences. There are 3 types of conjunctions, namely coordinating, subordinating, and correlative conjunctions.

Types of conjunctions and examples:

Coordinating Conjuction - Connects 2 grammatical forms that are the same, for example word by word. Example: For, And, Nor, But, Or, Yet, So

Subordinating Conjuction - Connects the main clause and subordinate clause. Example: After, Since, Although

Correlative Conjuction - A pair of conjunctions. Example: Not only….but also, Either…or

8. INTERJECTION

This type of word is usually used to express emotions.

Example: Oops, Whoa, Oh no!

Those are the various parts of speech in English. Are you now able to distinguish one type of part of speech from another?

May be beneficial to us all!

[the-firebird69]

November 25, 2023

My brother would call this dog a golden retriever

Your brothers okay you pay it's hilarious what kind of dog would do that and they would say oh well trained one

It was an idiots we don't have time for the stupid crap when it's funny but it is funny in this less stress it should be less once this Idiat episode is over for Christ's sake this is terrible. And we mean letting the max go in this wild rampage all over the place I don't know what the hell we're thinking that's disgusting right now the foreigners are moving into place and they are getting information more and they're looking and they see them in the asteroids and they're mining out the iron and the stuff is gone down to the mega caverns just like our son and daughter said and they are looking for the thorium but that would be on the outside and they're checking that and we see them checking and they're looking for places where they go in all over and there's only about 50 of these that they're in and they're checking all of them and tons of foreigners and warlock and Max people are going after a few of them too and they're smaller in the backs are there and it's only about 10 of those so they have to work too this is working and they're working together a little and they're scared and they should be we're moving out and we are going down there foreigners are too and it's a war.

Thor Freya

So you see the boy we almost got clocked there that would even horrible and just seeing it it's the only stuff you can use and saying it and we appreciate it and those two guys are just sitting there I guess they they get married and snowed under and he's back so are you running around and thank God this is terrible I did the job and it was tough and I got really hurt and then the ones doing it and they treat everybody like a slave and your clan carried the metal up there for them they say. You sent the messages we sent them damn it and I got them back and we're talking about it and thorium too because the fleet of the empire is up there and has latitude there's just too many ships we don't have any to supplement them and he says small ships and you make swarms and trillions of them and we're going to do that now and you have to stop the empire for making stuff and then make sure they're not and that's how you can check and we're moving right now so you see what you're saying but the Bradley GT1 that's a good idea and someone may make it

Trump this has been very frustrating but I see your idea and you use castings and we have some and we're going to go ahead and do it and really stealing stuff is not going to work we need to make too many

We started making them already and he did too and we have to we have about 500 million and we need a lot more than that and a lot more production and we need ideas we have molds and it takes a while and it won't change you have to you have to let it cure a little bit and cool slowly and it has to be temperature controlled and the mold sits in a cradle and you might be right though they could be a way to put the mold in sand and we do two halves the still fills it up and you have to take it apart but you can do it in the ground and just cover the thing with that cheap building material but it's good dirt in it this is hard to build a factory for a heavy steel really we need to think about this if you do it in a dirt and it's really kind of saying it wouldn't be that much sand and it would melt but it's going to make it impure there's a concrete has to be real thick so we can take the mold and put part of it into the concrete floor and you cast it and you pull the top off and you pull it out and the reason is that it's temperature controls is going to be cooling with the sand and it might be a lot easier and the sand is going to be a certain temperature all the time and it cools off I have to look at that that's a weird idea

Tommy Allen concrete but it has to be something and I just figured out something I can put whatever material I want and it's easier in the floor and safer and we can put down so many molds and just make this huge floor and just keep building the top this massive massive metal building and you're drain it through the floor or two pipes up in the ceiling from rain it doesn't rain much and just keep building the damn thing that's our way of doing stuff is laughing is that I know you'd be floored I'm going to move on right now

Olympus so kind of stuff we need and we need it very bad they're just kind of looking at them now we have covered in you guys said you need these ships and that's teamwork they said it before but they didn't like reiterate it but now they did so here we go

[miajolensdevotion]

Build Your Life On The Right Foundation

WELCOME

New Year's Reflection. 

*What are my faith goals this year? 

answer: For me my faith goals this year is to be more closer & have intimate time with God

WORD 

Matthew 7:24-29 New International Version (NIV)

The Wise and Foolish Builders

24 “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. 26 But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. 27 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

28 When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, 29 because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the law.

Have you ever had a moment of crisis & you either folded in fright or rose to the occasion? What is inside of us will show in moments of natural disaster, death of a loved one, robbery of your personal belongings, fire burning down your house or the love of your life falling for somebody else. This is why we need to make sure that we have inside of us a sure & strong foundation & just how do we do that? Everyone of us is building our life on something. It could be fame, money, career, business or ministry. But are these things the right foundation? If the foundation is wrong, then everything that comes after would not be right. Building a foundation that is correct & strong should firstly be centered on Jesus.

Come To Jesus

Jesus is the right foundation, He invites us all to come to Him & build our lives in Him.

Matthew 16:18 New International Version (NIV) says 

18 And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.

In the original Greek text of the Bible, the word translated as "rock" in this verse, is 'petra' which means a mass of rock. "Peter" on the other hand is 'petros' in Greek which means pebble or a small, detached stone. Jesus is saying here that He will build His church on 'petra' & not on 'petros'. Jesus Himself is the rock.What then is stopping us from building on Him, the stable, concrete, mass of rock? Only Jesus can cause a positive change in us, 

2 Corinthians 5:17 New International Version (NIV) says, 

17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:The old has gone, the new is here!

Only Jesus can give us what we need, 

John 10:10 New International Version (NIV) says

10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

Only Jesus can give us rest & relief 

Matthew 11:28 New International Version (NIV) says

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Only Jesus can give us lasting happiness 

John 15:11 New International Version (NIV) says

11 I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.

If we want to see real change in us, we need to build our life on the right foundation. This is done by hearing Jesus. We need to open our ears & hearts.

Hear Jesus 

We have spiritual disciplines that we use to dig deep in Jesus. We need to anchor ourselves in Him. These disciplines are Praying, being in His word, worship, PHYSICAL FELLOWSHIP 

Hebrews 10:25 New International Version (NIV) says 

25 not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

& fasting. Jesus is the anchor of our soul. He is a solid anchor. Anchors & links hold ships steady in times of storm. We must also practice building strong links through reading the God's word & spending intimate time with the Lord.

But hearing alone is not good enough. We need to do something about it.. 

Act On them 

James 1:22 New International Version (NIV) says 

22 Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.

There might be times that you are just going through the motions, superficially doing things. But you know that you are not really digging deep in obeying God. If we want to build our life, we need to act. If we do not obey & would continue to play games with God then we will reap the consequences of our actions. C.S. Lewis said, "There are two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done' & to those to whom God says, 'Thy will be done.' 

Which one are ? you Will you allow God to work or will He leave you & allow you to suffer the severe consequences of your choices? Pain happens, it is a part of the process of perfection & when pain comes, trust God. By trusting God, you solidify the foundation you have in Him. Build your life on the right foundation by coming to Jesus, hearing His words & acting on them.

Discussion Question:

Self-Check 1.) What is the foundation you have? Is it built in the right foundation?

ans: for me the foundation that I have is from Jesus Christ alone; it is built in the right foundation

Setting It Right 2.) What do you need to do to be on the right foundation? What do you need to change so that your foundation is right? 

ans: for me I need to read my bible using the reading plan in my other church (BFGFC & CCF); I need to attend PHYSICAL DGROUP just as the GOD'S WORD TOLD ME in HEBREWS 10:25. I need to change my attitude & character especially the way I think about other people. 

Living-Out 3.) What will you do this week to build on your right foundation? Give specific action points.

ans: for me I will do this week to build my right foundation is to read my bible following the reading plan from BFGC CHURCH & CCF CHURCH,