#Battle for A Tonne of Gold

[bliz-lol]

Mr. Galfons: I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND OF FLYING!

Buka: It's too late, young man!

and this is from "Hotbed of War" (non-canon version)

[kievlyane]

lewis following max’s journey from his palace in another part of galaxy and slowly falling in love with him. at the same time max is travelling with fremens and trying to escape his fate. while he knows that lewis is crown prince, he simply doesn’t care about him. there was more important things to worry about. max is struggling with acceptance that he must start the war at some point.

after long months of planning, battles and mind games, max is finally challenging emperor. lewis, as heir also fled at the arrakis. he witnesses max’s and feyd-rautha’s fight at harkonnnen’s hall. after his hard win, max is forcing emperor to bow to him. lewis is so fascinated by audacity this boy, so when max makes a marriage proposal, he is surprised.

they have beautiful wedding and coronation. white elegant suit for lewis, black and gold camisole for max. prince himself crowned his husband by new massive crown. long live emperor and his husband.

lewis wasn’t expecting love from first sight or some miracle that will force young emperor to like him, but after looking into his husband’s eyes he saw not even anger, just contempt. later he discovered that max promised marriage to someone else. lewis is hurt but his ego won’t allow someone to see it. secretly prince is happy that his husband’s love interest left him.

after one of lots arguments, when lewis accusing max of not paying attention on his advices and him at all, emperor answering him that “you just another thing that i need to do for galaxy and crown, and i am not interested in being your lovely husband”. lewis absolutely not happy, knowing that he is “just another thing to do”. so he’s thinking how to get revenge on max. he knows that he’s pretty. since he was young boy, prince received tonnes of attention, comments and compliments on his beauty. every time it bothers him because, he’s not just pretty face, but now it might play in his favour.

lewis starting wearing very questionable for emperor’s husband clothes and even having some lovers from his guard. it needs some time for rumours reaching to his dear husband. and the end prince got what he wanted. emperor honoured lewis by his attention.

max threatened lewis’ guards to cut their eyes of their head if they ever touched or looked at his husband in inappropriate way. that leads to another round arguments between ruling couple. now lewis lost his every access to intimacy because nobody wants to lose their life even if the prize is a tasty prince. after one of those arguments lewis ended up on the table under heated husband’s body. he was left alone to pick up the pieces of himself after what was his best sex ever.

for months it’s just rough make outs in dark corners of palace or table in council’s room, if lewis angers max enough at the session. but slowly things between them becoming less and less tense. once they are joking at the dinners, and then they don’t want to leave each other for their separate rooms at night. slowly they stopped jumping on each other every time they have a conflict and just talking it through, by listening each other opinions on situation. things in bed were changing too, from rough, sometimes painful, sex, to kind and gentle. of course spicy thing never left, because kind, doesn’t mean slow and monotonously. lewis still wearing interesting clothing, because he found his passion in weird looking outfits, and just because he’s loving watching max’s reactions on him.

they both slowly realise that love is here. it’s not something you can force another person to do, lewis felt this on himself pretty hard. but in the end they both madly in love with each other. and nothing matters anymore.

[the-anime-idiot]

qsmp as songs (synesthesia things)

((with some commentary?)) (((it might get long soooo keep reading below!)))

when the QSMP is wholesome/getting love from the community: golden hour - Cello Version

This song popped into my head about half an hour ago when watching one of Forever's new videos on his clips channel. The love you can just *feel* radiating from all the creators when they talk about how much the QSMP has united people from different walks of life. I get this very warm, gold (like the album cover of this song!) and pink vibe from even just thinking about how amazing the QSMP is.

Guapoduo/Spiderbit - The Reason (Acoustic version here)

Yeah, this is the song q!Cellbit and q!Roier sang together at their wedding, but listening to it fully, it's the PERFECT love letter to each other. Apologising for past mistakes, and stating that they are each other's reason to be in love and happy. I especially relate it to Cellbit, with the whole Abueloier situation.

Sidenote: We just found the acoustic version while making this, started playing it, then Cellbit (/sys) and I started crying because it's so Soft.

Cellbit - Tudo que eu sempre sonhei

I don't know much Portuguese, but I did a tonne of digging into the lyrics after loving the style of the song. It basically tells a story of growing up with older people telling you what will happen, what to do, and influencing the speaker. It's a battle between who someone is and what is expected of them in any capacity. It just feels kinda right.

Roier - Sunflower

I hear you: "Spider-Man is basically his brand!" yeahyeahyeahyeah. Hear me out. Roier is like modern rap, defying rules, and flipping people off while sticking his tongue out and having his middle finger pull down on one of his lower eyelids. He doesn't dress it like most, but he is punk. Plus, a little goofy and loving and sappy on the side.

Wilbur - Remember Me (Lullaby)

A travelling musician with a daughter at home, left to be cared for by someone else? Need I say more? cc Wilbur has mentioned how q!Wilbur canonically wrote more letters to Lulah, and we know q!Wilbur loves Lulah unconditionally, and very deeply cares for her. He (q!Wil) would be back if it weren't for all he (cc Wil) goddamn shows.

Baghera - Le long du large

It's Canadian French but I was obsessed with Cœur de pirate in middle school, and learned the lyrics to many of the songs in her self-titled album. Baghs just radiated Cœur de pirate energy, y'know? Love and compassion and fierceness wrapped into a bundle of green leaves and tied with twine.

I wish I had more to write about, but those are the songs I know of at the moment. Nothing has stuck out to me for Forever or Quackity (both of whom I have an idea of what kind of song they sound like) or anyone else. If anyone has good song suggestions, please share.

[pinkiexneomorph277]

Story in Making , Crossover

Tf2 x Pokemon Legends Arceus

Title: Fallen Runner

Information: The story follows a BLU Team Scout makes Razz though for the first chapter he is mainly called Scout as america go by class names than their birth names .

Razz has had a tough life being second eldest of five siblings , the oldest sibling ditched them after they got old enough and enough money leaving Razz to help his Ma care for 3 sisters, though being in a bad neighbour hood didn’t help much especially as his Ma had to work two day jobs and a night job to help support them all.

So at age 13-14 Razz was always fighting to defend his family from any gangs wanting to use his family for whatever gains they wanted honing a special skill which was he had a mean curve throw , he can flick or curve his wrist at JUSTthw right way to make about any blade (or rare instance objects) curve through the air hit a target and come back like a boomerang.

This got him some curious gazes and he got the street name -Razor- as he used mainly small razor blades (anything sharp he could find) etc , cane to a point a manager for Builder League United offered him a job to make big bucks when he was legal age.

Though at this time Razz’s family was real desperate for money so he begged to get the job then and their , took some convincing but he was let in with forged documents since he was tall for a 13-14 year old , when he told his Ma she cried both at him leaving and him wanting to help telling her how much he would make (a shit tonne ) never got into the details and not only that the manager guy will have someone guard his family till they can afford a safer home.

For the next 2 -3 years Razz fought on BLU Team in a war were deaths SUPPOSEDLY never happen , supposedly cause the poor boy unfortunately experiences what the company call Respawn Failures , at the end of his first year Razz’s leg got blown off and never rehealed when he Respawned leaving him freaking out and the battle being postponed (right when he was getting use to dying too )

Now BLU Team is a mixed bag , one half are all logistics, try hards, hard heads or impassive dumbasses, Medic being focused on logistics saw poor Razz freaking on the ground with Enginnee trying to calm him and said .

-How unfortunate , a scout with no leg is useless on the team , we could just put him down and out his misery-

Which set Engineer in a rage who grew quite close to the boy seeing him as a sorta son even if Medic was kidding about ETHUINISING a human , Soldier was no help ethier as he agreed the yelled.

-SUCK IT UP MAGGOT BE A MAN !-

Heavy just silently watched with putty while Demoman was trying to figure out if this was a drunk hallucination.

Spy stayed hidden having no idea what to do as Pyro and Sniper were consoling the boy tillfinally he calmed and Engineer offered making the runner a new leg , a robot one which the others thought was satisfactory and left that half of the group to discuss shit.

Which left BLU Teamin two divided groups , those who realised they is a chance a Respawn failure happens again and they COULD die PERMANTLY then the other half who treats this as a game and ignores reality in favour of having sick fun and money for life.

Since then Razz and his group have always had that small nagging feeling in their heads as they battle and try not to die as much as possible , around the second year is when Razz got a foreboding feeling and his worst fears happen, a complete Respawn failure, he didn’t survive not matter how hard he tried in the end he fell , wishing not to go just yet , something answered his wish and he was pulled somewhere, to a void with a bright light of white and gold apparently he was chosen by some weird God from another universe ?

Being a chosen champion of God he got a small run down of what he has to do then dropped him into the world confusing the fuck out of therecwny reborn teen covered in bruises and cuts as he stares completely dumbfounded at the little creatures looking at him holding a strange ass looking phone with a Quest Icon.

Seek all Pokemon.

Will add link to story soon:

[msclaritea]

"The war in Sudan 🇸🇩 is currently one of the worst war in the world in terms of destruction, number of displacements and casualties with famine looming and several rape cases, and yet very few are talking about it in mainstream and social media.

Since April 2023, Sudan's army and the Rapid Support Forces who are sponsored by United Arab Emirates 🇦🇪 who want to indirect control the region have been engaged in intense battle for control of the country. At least 10.7 million people are internally displaced – many repeatedly."

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐲 #𝐔𝐀𝐄’𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐙 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 @AbiyAhmedAli’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫: Ethiopia holds significant gold reserves, especially near Sudan. Gold constituted over 95% of the $428 million mineral exports in 2023-24. However, official exports dropped from 12 tonnes in 2011-12 to 4.2 tonnes in 2023-24 due to illicit activities.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: Gold from Ethiopia flows through Sudan, Eritrea, and Kenya to the UAE. In Sudan, profits fuel the war efforts of the Sudanese Armed Forces and Rapid Support Forces.

𝐔𝐀𝐄’𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞: The UAE is the top destination for smuggled gold. Between 2012-2022, 2,569 metric tonnes of undeclared gold from Africa, worth $115 billion, were smuggled there. UAE’s lax import laws and incentives for "scrap" gold make it ideal for smugglers."

[oaresearchpaper]

Agrochemical Inhibition of Phytophthora cinnamomi in Pineapples

Abstract

Some agrochemicals have been tested and found effective in plant disease control to improve food security. Growth inhibitory efficacy of four agrochemicals against Phytophthora cinnamomi isolated from heart-rot disease of pineapple (Ananas comosus) in naturally infested farm at Site I of Delta State University, Abraka was evaluated using poisoned food technique. The fungicides (fungu-force, mancozeb, maneb and mackecknie gold) at the concentrations of 25 -5000 ppm were evaluated ­in-vitro for their effect on the colony diameter of P. cinnamomi in pre-amended PDA medium. The fungicides showed response in inhibiting the growth with a dose dependent effect except for the fungu-force which totally inhibited the fungus at all concentrations tested. Complete inhibition was recorded for Fungu-force at 25ppm, Mancozeb at 1000ppm, Mackecknie gold at 4000ppm and Maneb at 5000ppm. The result of this study can be utilised to develop suitable application regime of these fungicides for trials on farmer’s field in the control of heart-rot disease of pineapple and other crop diseases incited by this pathogen thereby improving food security.

Introduction

The attempt by man to improve crop yield in order to produce enough food for consumption by the increasing population is a decision in right direction. The most important problems encountered in this attempt are how to drastically reduce or wholly prevent plant disease which is a continual battle. Chemical application is a highly effective technique to manage plant disease in agriculture (Adeniyi and Olufolayi, 2014). Some agrochemicals have been tested and found effective in plant disease control (Nene and Thapliyal, 1993). Certain protective fungicides although hazardous to the environment are still used for the control of fungal disease (Patel et al., 2005; Ilondu, 2013).

Pineapple (Ananas comosus L. (Merr), is an important tropical field crop in regions such as Latin America, Asia and Africa on commercial basis (Kaneshiro et al., 2008) and a herbaceous, perennial crop in the family of Bromeliaceae. It is the third most important tropical fruit in the world production after banana and Citrus (Bartholomew et al., 2003). Nigeria is sixth on the list of world pineapple producers with about 800,000 tonnes per annum. A. comosus fruit is a rich source of vitamin A, B1, B6 and C, copper, manganese and dietary fibre (Office of the Gene Technology Regulator, (OGTR) (2008).

High concentration of Bromelain found in the ripe pineapple fruit is useful in confectionery and pharmaceutical industries as well as in diagnostic laboratories (Amao et al., 2011). The pineapple leaves are a good source of fibre used in the production of Pina cloth (Kochhar, 1986).

Phytophthora cinnamomi is a soil-borne organism causing diseases of many crops including pineapple. Heart rot affects the basal leaf tissues and may cause rot of the fruit as well. The symptoms include rot of the basal tissues of the youngest leaves at the heart of the apical meristem. Such infected leaves may easily pull from the plant with a slight touch and as it advances may lead to total crop failure and subsequent yield reduction (Green and Scot, 2015). In this study, the efficacy of some agrochemicals against pineapple heart-rot pathogen was assessed.

Source : Agrochemical Inhibition of Phytophthora cinnamomi in Pineapples | InformativeBD

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil looks to start-ups in battle to reforest the Amazon

Standing in front of a vast stretch of Amazonian grassland, the forest visible only on the horizon, Renato Crouzeilles and his team attract curious looks from a trickle of passers-by, unaccustomed to seeing strangers in such a remote corner of Brazil.

As director of science at Mombak, a two-year-old reforestation start-up, Crouzeilles is planting 3mn trees across almost 3,000 hectares in the country’s Pará state, in one of the largest such projects aimed at restoring forest in the Amazon biome.

“The biggest challenge in the region is to change the culture. It is not a forest culture, they don’t think about reforestation. What they did in the past was to deforest and then put cows here,” he said.

The Amazonian rainforest absorbs vast amounts of carbon and is a crucial buffer against climate change. But the region has been ravaged by deforestation linked to illegal cattle ranching, gold mining and timber exports. Last year, forested land equivalent in size to 3,000 football pitches was razed every day, according to non-profit environmental group Imazon, with the then-government led by rightwing populist Jair Bolsonaro accused of turning a blind eye.

But with the election in October of President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who has pledged to end illegal deforestation, environmental protection is again centre stage.

While government efforts have so far focused on bolstering enforcement to prevent the destruction, a series of private companies are working on reforestation. They purchase or lease land, plant trees and generate revenue by selling carbon credits, which buyers use to compensate for pollution produced by their activities. Each offset represents a tonne of emissions avoided or removed from the atmosphere.

Continue reading.

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

#KhazadWeek Day 7

Day 7: Stonefoots, Diversity and Folklore & Myths

I haven't been able to do the other prompts this week because of time constraints, but ended up doing all the prompts for the last day in one go!

--

It wasn’t typical for Ajin to stay out of the limelight when a party was in full swing, but here he was, trying his best to blend into the corner. He felt his heart beat faster inside his ribcage and he tried to hold his breath, letting it out slowly after a few moments to quell his rising anxiety.

So many people were here, and he’d seen so many new things on his journey from Harabza, the Stonefoot halls, to Minas Tirith. Gondor was a place as foreign to him as the other side of the world, but at least dwarven travellers to Ered Luin or even those that took the shorter roadway north-west to Erebor had their own kind to mingle with and a sense of familiarity once they reached the Longbeards. Here in the kingdom of Men, there was no such solace. He remembered when he had arrived a few days ago with the dwarven wagon train, and the curious eyes that gazed from every street corner and building. Some were friendly, old men remembering, perhaps, the times when as boys they had welcomed dwarves into the city, or children laughing and screaming as they ran alongside the wagons, waving up at him raucously. Others less so.

Go back to your own kind, Southron, someone had hissed at him, though he had been conversing with another dwarf and had only half-heard the muttered curse. As soon as he had turned his head, the person who had spoken had melted away into a crowd of Men, where they all looked the same. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. Southron, Easterling. To the Men of Gondor, those from the East were all the same, and he had both terms thrown at him by drunken warriors who lounged, broken from battle, outside taverns, or younger veterans who had lost blood-brothers in the war. To them, with his braided and shaved black hair that fell to his elbows, dark brown skin etched with striking red-ink tattoos, and the glimmering array of gold rings set in his lips and nose, an Eastern dwarf was no better than those who had served Sauron. Ajin spoke little Westron, but he understood enough to know he wasn’t welcome. At least those of the zulmâ-khazâd were treated with the respect that artisans, craftsdwarves, engineers and masons deserved.

For the most part, he ignored the comments directed towards him and the few Eastern dwarves who had journeyed at Gimli’s behest to help restore Minas Tirith to its former glory. Gimli he knew — his mother was a family friend, her sister marrying one of his uncles over a hundred years ago, and Gimli had visited Harabza where he had been instructed on some of the finer techniques of preparing vorn, the granite-hard, obsidian substance only native to some of the mountains and hills in the far south of the kingdom. It was for this reason that Gimli had chosen Ajin. Guarded by a garrison of Stonefoot mercenaries and weighing several tonnes, a king’s ransom of the precious eastern metal had been procured by King Elessar to build into the gates of the city and construct several major fortifications. Ajin’s eyes watered when he thought about the price.

At least his hosts had been gracious enough. The King had shown customary dwarven respect and could get by in khuzdul, and the house-keepers for the lodgings they had been provided hadn’t commented on Ajin’s appearance, even if they kept their thoughts to themselves. “Ignore them, Aji. Our way of life and theirs — we cannot compare them. Dwarves and Men are as different as rats and salamanders,” remarked Kurin one evening, a slow-voiced, tall Ironfist dwarf, who, with his rich ebony colouring and wild beard, had got his own share of frightened looks. He was the youngest foregemaster in Nazbukhrin, and had been part of the elite team to craft His Majesty the King of Nazbukhrin’s new axe. To Men, just another Easterner.

Ajin reminded himself this as he watched the Men in the guest-hall dancing, laughing and talking together. A few of them he’d made polite conversation with, but Kurin’s words kept coming back to him. As different as rats and salamanders. Don’t expect them to comprehend you. That was easily done though, as Ajin could only nod politely, and stutter a few words of Westron here and there. Mostly though, he kept himself to the other dwarves and to his drink.

“A fine evening, master dwarf.” Ajin looked around at the speaker, sighing through his nose and steeling himself for another conversation. “Yes. A good evening—” His voice trailed off as he looked upwards. And upwards. Something tall and thin was leaning against a marble column in front of him, a glass of wine in one hand, and smiling down at him. He blinked, trying to remove the apparition from his vision, and his fingers made the sign of the hammer inside of his pocket. He knew what the creature was, but not how it had appeared in Minas Tirith. After a few moments, the being frowned and pushed itself off from the wall. Ajin backed away. “Come no closer, inuk,” Ajin said, holding up the amulet he had worn around his neck since he left Harabza. It had the three-fingered hand on it, reaching outwards to ward against spirits. The inuk — for in Stonefoot legend, that is what this apparition could only be — looked confused and sipped at its drink. Do the inuk drink? At festivals he left red-coloured beverages at the Temple and at the windows of his house in offerings to appease them, but he’d never seen one in person. They preferred to inhabit the dream-land, the world between life and death. “I am no inuk, master dwarf, though I do not know of what it is that you speak,” the creature bowed low from the waist, and then placed its drink to one side on a ledge. “I am called Galdir, of the Woodland Realm, now Eryn Lasgalen in our tongue.” Ajin looked blankly up at Galdir. As far as he could remember, the inuk were not named. “An elf,” Galdir continued, raising its eyebrows slightly. “I am not sure if you have been acquainted to my kind before?” “Alves?” asked Ajin, once his head had gotten around the fact that Galdir was not, in fact, a spirit from the other side. “Elves,” corrected Galdir. “We are those that were created first by Illuvatar, who walked the world first before Men and Dwarves awoke.” “Oh!” exclaimed Ajin, recognising the story at once. “But… elves do not look… like you.” He was having a hard time explaining himself and felt his cheeks flush. In Stonefoot tales, the firstborn children of the One God were forest-dwelling giants, with dark blue and green-hued skin. Their hair was mossy, their teeth like chunks of stone, and limbs as strong and as knotted as great oak-trunks. Galdir was sprightly and slight, and his skin no more green than Ajin’s. Common sense and politeness, however, made Ajin think that to mention this wasn’t the best use of his limited words. “And what do we look like, to the dwarves far to the East?” Galdir asked, smiling brightly. “It does not matter. Seems our tales are… mixed up,” Ajin confessed. He bowed in return and stepped forwards. “Ajin, son of Ibural. At your service.” For good measure, however, his fingers still rested lightly upon the amulet around his neck. He wasn’t taking any chances.

[bliz-lol]

cute boys :)

[mcyt-head-canons]

Little!Tommy head-canons:

Age ranges 5-8 generally, more of a kid than a toddler, but on a bad day when he gets quiet, it can go to around 3.

So, so loud otherwise. Everything he does he narrates, anyone within 10 miles can hear what he’s found or what he’s doing at that moment

Primary and bright colours. This kiddo won’t eat/use/wear it if it isn’t painful to look at.

All the unhealthy food, think waffles, fries, ice cream, candy, the works

Raccoon. Will take things and hoarde/hide them. Lil collector.

T-shirt and shorts, with a general red and blue theme, adding some yellow in there too

Stuffed cow plush called Henry (a common head-canon, I know)

Addicted to animal crossing, if C!Tommy he tries to build the places irl (with a tonne of adult supervision)

You know he’d adore Lego as CC!Tommy, and constantly show off his work to anyone who will listen. Even if they don’t, he’ll explain the functions of his new red Lego-spaceship anyway. (It shoots lasers)

Tugs on people’s clothing for attention when yelling doesn’t work

If he falls over he’ll probably swear rather than cry, but later on he’ll whine about it

The swearing doesn’t stop even when small, but to any caregiver or adult watching, it’s a lot more slurred which makes it amusing and removes its intended power

Smiley potato waffles

Dino nuggets

Shaped food basically

Has one of those keep out signs in block letters on his door

Has headphones on nearly all the time, usually playing animal crossing music. He calls them his theme songs.

This kiddo lives off CapriSuns and sweets

Gold star stickers. Rather than waiting to be awarded them, he steals them until he’s wearing 30 with pride

Battles trees with a wooden sword

His skin is covered in band-aids where he’s fallen from being clumsy or reckless

Sometimes he puts them on just because he likes that they make him look tough

Eats starbursts with the wrapper still on

Somehow always seems to return missing a shoe or a sock

Claims to be able to drink out a cup normally (when smaller, 5 and under)

He spills it all over himself and sheepishly gets a sippy

Always covered in some form of dirt and mud and grass stains

Soft spot for animals

Blows bubbles and violently chases and pops them

(Might get sad after - but no one has to know that)

[sparkypantaloons]

Bird Call

"If you need me, call for me. I'll always come."

Or;

Five times Superman saved Robin, and one time Robin saved Superman.

~~

Dick

Robin is running. Running as fast as he can, but he’s not sure he's going to be fast enough. His small frame darts between chimney stacks and air vents, cape billowing behind him. The Gotham air is cool and sharp tonight, and the full moon above shines down on him like a spotlight.

“Come here little birdy.” Says a voice from somewhere in the shadows. “It’s time for you to meet the worms.”

Robin’s on the roof of the old Park Row department store, Kilmer & Sons, long since abandoned now that the neighbourhood is known as Crime Alley. These days it’s an empty husk, used by Maroni’s gangs for all kinds of nefarious purposes, and haunted by dusty mannequins. Batman and Robin had been investigating the upper levels, there had been a fire a few days back - an explosion in the drug lab. Maroni’s men had moved down from homeware on six to women’s clothing on three. The lab was meant to be empty, burnt out as it was. Instead, the two of them had walked straight into a trap, ten massive henchmen waiting in the still smouldering ruins.

Robin tries to practice what Batman has taught him, tries to visualise his path. To know where his next five steps will fall instead of just the next one. But despite the store taking up an entire block, the roof feels like it’s getting smaller with every step. If he doesn’t get out of this, him and Batman are both mincemeat.

Except he doesn’t even know where Batman is. Robin had managed to take out two of the henchmen whilst Batman battled the rest, but then this one, the biggest one, had thrown him out a window! He’d only just managed to grapple to the roof in time, his stomach flipping with the sudden change in direction. But the thug has followed him up here and Robin needs to get back to his partner, needs to that make sure that Batman is okay.

The goon is scarily big. Bigger than any man Robin has ever seen. Huger even than Louis, the Quebecois strongman who’d been at Haly’s since before Robin had been born (and Louis was enormous). For every five strides Robin sprints, the giant only needs to walk one. He’s not even running. Maybe he’s too big to run, part of Robin’s brain thinks distantly, strangely calm despite the danger they’re in. Or maybe if he did run, the old roof would shake and collapse under them. A man that big must weigh an actual tonne.

The thought gives Robin an idea, twinkling into existence even as panic threatens to set in. The department store had had an old fashioned winter garden, a huge space from ground floor to roof, with an enormous glass canopy. If Robin can get the giant to that part of the roof, maybe he can escape him on the glass. There’s no way it’d be able to hold a man that huge.

Robin darts under an old rusted pipe, then vaults onto one of the vents. He spots the glass canopy, glowing orange with light from below and grime from years amidst the smog of Gotham’s skyline. Then he leaps back down to the roof and starts sprinting again.

He can hear the giant goon grumbling behind him, working his way through the narrow gaps of the various structures on the roof. He reaches the glass with a smug grin of satisfaction, this part of the roof definitely won’t be able to hold such an enormous thug. He’s just about to come out with some taunting quip when his brain falters, and he turns to look again through the smudged, aged glass.

“No!” The word escapes before Robin can stop it. Below, Batman is unconscious. His cape is gone and he’s being dragged before Maroni himself by two other goons. There’s a horrible trail of blood behind him. Robin's stomach twists. He needs to get help, is just about to call Agent A for back up when—

“Now I’ve got you tweety pie.” A giant hand grabs Robin by the scruff of the his cape, dangles him over the glass. Up close the goon is hideous, gnarled and mean, with two gold teeth and white gums. Robin kicks and struggles in the man’s grip, but it doesn’t make a difference. He may as well be a kitten given the size difference.

The goon bangs on the glass roof and the people below look up. Then he smashes the window with his boot and a twisted grin and calls “Incoming!” He drops Robin through the empty frame.

Robin gasps, arms and legs flailing wildly as he plummets. Images of his parents flash before him, still and unmoving on the floor beneath. They lie still, dead-eyed, either side of Batman, the three of them waiting for Robin to join them. But Robin doesn’t— he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t— he has to save Batman, he has to save himself because he couldn’t save his parents, if only he could— fly!

“Superman!” He screams the name as loud as he can, even as the fall has taken most of his breath. For a split second he thinks he’s too late, that the alien won’t hear him and that Robin will go the same way as the Flying Grayson’s before him, the ground is getting closer so fast, too fast, and then—

A blue and red blur smashes through the canopy and strong, solid arms wrap around Robin’s small frame.

Superman gently places Robin on the floor, the goons starting to scatter far too late to escape the Kryptonian. It doesn’t take long until they’re all unconscious.

Then he turns his attention to Batman. Robin wraps a hand in the red cape, too scared to ask.

“He’s okay Robin.” Superman says gently, a hand coming to rest on the nine year old's head. “He’ll be a bit grumpy tomorrow and he’ll have one hell of a headache. But he’ll be fine.”

Relief hits Robin like a freight train and suddenly he feels his throat getting tight. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Superman.

“You okay kiddo?” Superman asks. He crouches down in front of Robin, puts a warm hand on the small boy's shoulder.

Robin ducks his head, embarrassed, tears welling behind his domino. “I thought… I thought I might…” His voice is so quiet he can hardly hear it himself. “Like my parents.”

Superman gives him a sad smile. “Hey, as long as I’m around, you never need to worry about that.” He says it gently, but the word never is said so serious that Robin doesn’t doubt him for second. “You can always call for me, I’ll always come.”

Robin nods, gives him a small smile.

“Right.” Superman says. “What do you say we get you two home?”

And he swings Robin onto his shoulders, scoops The Batman into his arms, and rises into the Gotham night.

(Jason)

[realhist]

Samuel Bellamy was an English pirate who operated during the so-called Golden Age of Piracy in the early 18th Century.

As a teen, Bellamy served in the Royal Navy and is believed to have participated in several battles. For reasons not entirely clear, he left the navy in 1715 and moved to Cape Cod in Massachusetts. He then took up with an expedition commanded by Benjamin Hornigold and Edward Teach ( later to be known as Blackbeard).

After a mutiny ousted Hornigold and Teach, Bellamy was installed as captain of one of the ships.

Bellamy captured several ships soon after before he took the vessel that would become his flagship, the Whydah Gally, a state-of-the-art slave ship. Bellamy upgraded the ship to carry 28 cannons and began preying on shipping up and down the length of what is now the US east coast.

In April 1717, the Whydah Gally was caught in a storm off the coast of Massachusetts and sank. Just two of her crew survived. Bellamy was lost with his ship.

Bellamy had been active as a pirate for just over a year, but had nonetheless managed to capture a remarkable 53 ships in that time.

He was flamboyant figure, with a love of fine clothes, especially black velvet coats and silk stockings. He also refused to wear a powdered white wig, instead leaving his long black locks tied with a ribbon. This earned him the nickname Black Sam.

As a captain, Bellamy was beloved by his crew and he also earned a reputation for generosity towards his victims, often leaving them unharmed (sans cargo of course).

In 1982, a wreck was discovered off the coast of Massachusetts. The ship’s bell was recovered and it was engraved with the vessel’s name: Whydah Gally. Bellamy’s ship had been found and in the hold was almost 5 tonnes of treasure, including gold, indigo, ivory and no less than 20,000-30,000 pounds sterling. This hoard would have made Bellamy easily the richest of all his contemporaries in the Golden Age of Piracy.

Bellamy’s flag, the Death’s Head and Bones, eventually became the stereotypical pirate flag in popular culture.

[nalufever]

do you have any more nalu fic recs?

Sorry, not sorry - you’ve unleashed more than you could’ve guessed. ^^ Always happy to Recommend a List of Fics ~ And thank you for asking! Admittedly there’s a few Recs that aren’t Nalu - I got excited to share my favs. ;)

A Girl Worth Fighting For: Natsu navigates unspeakable horrors to win Lucy’s love or Natsu goes shopping, looking for the perfect white day gift. 

A Lesson: Natsu and Lucy can’t keep themselves from expressing their passions - and the results are bed breaking. Short but smutty - smexy in fact. ;P 

A Solidly Constructed Kiss: Erza strong-arms Lucy and Natsu into working the Kissing Booth to raise funds for a school trip. Lucy’s never been kissed and Natsu acts like he’s never entertained even the idea of kissing another person. Things naturally come to a head when Lucy and Natsu are given the task to build the actual booth; will they fight over construction or build themselves some kind of relationship? 

Fairy Tail Week: A collection of drabbles from tumblr prompts to celebrate Fairy Tail. Fairy, Ladies, Lads, Magic, Guild, Ultimate Team, Stronger, Mashima, Tail. Only rated teen to err on the side of caution, family friendly content featuring most of the Fairy Tail Guild! 

Feathers and Scales: Angel/Demon AU. Devils are more than they seem and Angels no less. Pitted against each other in a never-ending battle for souls, a single Angel and Devil trade mercies and fall in love. Warning: major character death(s). 

Full Moon Secret: Natsu had wanted to tell Lucy his secrets, to share his family history with the fey…it had just never been the right time. Tonight the truth was going to be revealed, one way or another. 

Okay, I could just keep hyping all of my own fics individually - but I won’t - other than to just put in a link to ALL OF THEM. ;) Fair warning, I have a few other fandoms works in all the Fairy Tail stories - from Brooklyn 99 to The Flash, Snow White with the Red Hair, RWBY, Blue Exorcist, Teen Titans and some Hakuouki. Yes, I’m a shameless self-promoter. Speaking of that - one more I need to rec!  Natsu’s Stars in Lucy’s Sky. I swear Imma finish this. 

I also have more than a few favourite authors who write for Fairy Tail (and other fandoms) ~ some have not contributed lately to Fairy Tail or chosen to concentrate on other fandoms - but I like them and their excellent writing. 

ObsessedwithNalu: One of my first fandom friends and pretty much any of her FT stories is gold. @obsessedwithnalu  

Christmas Treats: Admittedly a gift to me and very cherished for that fact - and - it’s frigging awesome. Lucy does a little holiday baking at home before Fairy Tail’s Christmas party. Natsu, as always, is there. One thing leads to another… 

Thanks, Krov: When Krov decided to relax at his favorite bar after work, he never imagined that he’d be seeing some of his old guild members, especially since he thought they had died long ago. Nalu fluff. 

Edo-Nalu love fest: Submissions for the Nalu love fest week of 2014. But instead of regular Nalu, these ones feature Edo-Nalu. Smut-tastic and delightfully mature. 

ImpracticalDemon: Another early fandom friend who’s still writing this, that and the other thing - and she’s just GREAT. Again, a link to all her works and a few that are special to me follow. XOXOX @impracticaldemon  

May the Best Man Survive: “Gray would never have in a million years thought he’d host Natsu’s bachelor party (Nalu pairing). Why is it his job to herd the bunch of rowdy mages from bar to bar, ending up at the guild where the real surprise party is? Oh yeah, the idiot had asked him to be the best man at his wedding. Hijinks, chaos and hilarity ensue.” ^^ A prompt supplied by me and I’m smirking so wide because the fic Imp came up with delivered more awesomeness than I could have hoped for! 

A Star At His Side: “Accidentally Fall Asleep Together” for Endragoneel on tumblr. Natsu and Lucy spend the day together at a festival in Magnolia. Natsu ends up watching more than just the stars when the festival is over… 

Christmas Gifts: When Erza walks Wendy home from the Guild’s Christmas Party, Wendy realizes how alone her friend and mentor is feeling. She sets out to recruit Lucy, Natsu and the rest to break Jellal out of prison for just one night, as a Christmas gift for Erza. Meanwhile, Natsu has accidentally burned some of Lucy’s writing. Will she forgive him? 

Dark Shining Light: One of the best and most welcoming writers I have ever interacted with! I’m still gobsmacked she’s a friend! She’s a legend and I don’t know what else I could add to any discourse about her writing - but the classics are classic for a reason, yeah? Here’s a few of my personal favourites of her works and just know there’s too many to list them all! AKA @ff-darkshininglight 

Mischievous Cat: Let’s just say there have been a few incidents where Happy has come in at a bad time. 

What Belongs to a Demon: Everyone knew she belonged to the great demon lord and she would prove that she deserved to stand by his side. 

The Truth Revealing Cards: Lucy should have known if there was a card that would reveal her secrets, Natsu would want it. 

Eliz1369: Got introduced to her for her Hakuoki fics but she’d dipped her toes into FT as well ~ and this is a great fic. ^^ @eliz1369 

The Light of Fairy Tail: The members of Fairy Tail may be their own brand of crazy, but their hearts are always in the right place. 

rougescribe: Shame on me for not reading more of this author’s works! @rougescribe  

Fire Sprite No 5: For him, Heaven wasn’t a place or a single moment in time. It was a feeling built on memories upon memories, past and present and a hope for future ones all tied down together. All sharing one common denominator: Her. Nalu. Tumblr Valentine’s Event. 

Fallen Ark Angel: Admittedly I only have interacted from afar with this writer. I mainly read Nalu fics but I love her take on Mira and Laxus and her next gen offspring characters. She’s got a lot to offer and it’s all superb. @fallen029

Loving Satan: Loving Satan is never easy. But when she loves you back, its twice as bad. 

Madartiste: Another one-sided love affair with someone else’s writing. And her stories are all wonderful and prolly appear on hundreds of Fic Rec Lists - but here’s one of my Favs! @madartiste  

Hoarding: Getting interrupted gets old fast. 

UranoMetria: I added her to my stable of fav authors 05-03-2014. Wow. Eons ago and even if I’m not sure she’s still active in the fandom, I salute her. Kudos. 

The Goddess Gate: With six years of partnership, Natsu and Lucy are torn apart by a mysterious visit from a secret magic council. Lucy is kidnapped and her memories suppressed. She fights her way back home to regain her life - with a startling secret revealed as she begins to remember. The lives of all Earthland hang in the balance. **Okay, this is a wicked old fic - but amazingly written and fuelled my own desires for writing. Last updated in 2018 but who knows? Some current attention may slay any demons on her back in regards to writing - and even if not - the hours of enjoyment reading this is worth giving a comment just to say, ‘thank you for writing.‘ 

Wild Rhov: Do I even need to say anything about this author? Famous, famous, famous. Excellent. Writes a lot of pairings and fleshes every relationship into something REAL. I Can’t Even. @wildrhov  

Beastly Possession: Something is murdering people in Magnolia. When Lucy is attacked, Natsu goes on a rampage to find the culprit, and everyone in Fairy Tail wants revenge. But could this bloodthirsty attacker be someone they know? Warning: High octane nightmare fuel! Do not read while eating, and beware of red eyes in the dark! 

Shell1331: Introduced via Imp. This writer is in a few fandoms and is worth reading. @shell-senji  

Juicy: Impulsivity and poorly chosen words get Natsu into more trouble than he’d expected, which is saying something for him. 

AbsentAngel: Everyone should know this writer. Been stalking her since 2014 so that says something. Tho, it’s prolly just that I’m creepy. ;) My suggested fic here is being re-written/has been? into something original and worth being purchased when it becomes available and re-read over and over. No, I am not being paid to shill but I am open to having senpai notice me. @absent-angel  

To the Flame: She stares, transfixed, as the blood runs down his fingers and begins to pool in his palm. He holds his hand up to her lips in offering, and she tears her eyes away from the blood to study his face. He is smiling softly. “Go on Luce, I didn’t cut them for nothing.” [Vamp AU] 

HawkofNavarre: Loved for awesome and delightful Gruvia content. Looks like there’s a tumblr but I can’t manage to link it. :(

You Stole the Rain: He just wanted to be friends; fine, she just needed to change his mind. Gray x Juvia 

Ricardian Scholar Clark-Weasley: Not sure I spelled that right even after checking three times! I usually short hand that to RS-CW in my head. And she’s prolific - has a tonne of fandoms and is a tower of talent. Is anyone reading all my fangirl gushing? 'Cause she follows one of my fics and comments (sorry I haven’t updated that fic in a while) and it’s a source of happiness that someone who writes so well happens to enjoy some of my content. Okay, bragging over - back to the Recs! 

Tales of Fairies: A collection of oneshots exploring different friendships, ideas, sad themes, comical scenarios, and lots and lots of pairings…but mainly Nalu. 

snogfairy: Another giant in the FT fandom. Impressive talent. @lineffability  

naughty nalus: smutty nalu oneshots B) ***Mature content!*** 

Rivendell101: Another giant in FT and other fandoms. This author would be considered required reading if I ran a fandom course in a University setting. Just sayin’ @rivendell101  

Crave: /krāv/ Verb. To feel a powerful desire for (something). They crave each other. And satiation doesn’t come easily. He growls against her again. “Beg for it,” he demands, lips ghosting against her. 

Lakerae aka @hidetheremote : Did you think I’d forgotten you? Ha! Gotcha good! You’re an inspiration to me because you’re working so hard to publish your children’s books. Kudos to you li'l sis! You’re busy but still make it a point to talk to me and I love you for that and everything.

The Gift of the Magi: A Gajevy Twist: A retelling of the classic Christmas story “The Gift of the Magi,” with your favorite Fairy Tail couple Gajeel and Levy! It’s Christmas time and Gajeel and Levy exchange gifts. They both are surprised what they receive and learn a lesson of the true meaning of Christmas. 

I could add more and more as I search my saved favs on FF.net ~ and I’m sorry to not include all of them - but this is crazy long as it is. If you read and like any of the recommended fics, please be sure to let the author know. To the authors of these and all fanfics, Thanks for everything.

[jeeperso]

My Fated Academia

An MHA/FSN crossover fic experiment (experiment 1 of ???)

This is it, no going back. Not even dad can stop me now.

Ours is a superhuman society, where over 80% of the population has some sort of uncanny ability, or quirk. Because of this, things like streets looks like scenes from comic books. In this era of chaos and confusion, a new profession dominated our collective consciousness. It is a age of heroes.

And today, I start my journey to join their ranks.

It wasn't easy. Ever since I knew this was what I wanted, Dad's been dead set against it. But, since Big Sis is always proving it's better to ask forgiveness than seeking permission with him, I decided to try things her way for once. I applied in secret to UA, the single most prestigious Hero Academy here in Japan, and probably the world, and while dad thinks I'm helping Big Sis at her place for the day, I've snuck here to UA and already taken the written portion of the entrance exam. I'm pretty sure I did all right, unlike that green haired boy a row back. After the exam proctor, Present Mic (wait, like the radio DJ? Questions for later) told us what to expect on the practical, all he could do was quietly mumble to himself.

But then, A lot of us were like that. I don't think anybody expected to be fighting killer robots in a free for all. Poor guy probably has a quirk better suited to rescue work, like detecting body heat or telepathy.

"Hey, I know you" someone says, snapping me from thinking about that, and I look in her direction, and into big black and gold eyes, skin pink as bubblegum and a smile probably bright enough to guide ships in storms.

"No you don't," I retort, trying to back up, but we're all on a bus to our assigned test area, two to a seat, and so I just back up on the window.

"Yeah I do," she beams, "You work at the café I go to. Seriously, those crepes are the best, girl. and you totally rocked the maid cosplay last month."

"that was Big Sis's idea," I say quickly out of how embarrassing that stunt was, "well, she's more like my aunt, but don't say that around her."

"Oh I like you. come to think of it, I've only seen you at the café."

"Home-schooled," I tell her, and mercifully, the bus stops to let us out.

"Good luck out there," she says.

"You too," I respond, "and sorry about that."

She waves it off, but its the truth. However bubbly she is, She's here for the same reason I am, to be a hero, and she deserves respect and honor for her decision. All of us to as we finally assemble outside a gate marked Battle Center A. I barely have time to register the giant doors ahead of us, and the dismissive grunt of it by a blonde boy ahead of us, when they crack open, and Present Mic shouts that the exam's begun...

"DIE!"

And the blonde's battle cry almost drowns out the explosion that launches him into the mock city well ahead of the rest of us. Most of us are running in a second later, while those whose Quirks grant movement find their own ways. I'd like to count myself among the latter, but I couldn't exactly train my Quirk without tipping off Dad.

But limited to my own two feet, I make good time, leading from the front, what I have trained for so instinctive that I don't even register its activity until I've cut my second robot in half, all thanks to Big Sis' Kendo lessons. the pink girl from earlier gives me a cheer as she literally skates by on a glistening trail, and I return her salute when she throws what must be a stream of acid at one of her targets. In the distance, we hear more explosions. DIE!-Boy's streak is so good, some of us may be failing anyway with so few foes left for us. A fact that's clear once an explosion of ball lightning erupts from within a cluster of them. they collapse to reveal another blonde boy who flashes a double thumbs up of almost idiotic confidence

And that's when the earth shakes.

Even in a world of quirks and the superheroes that use them, the sight is almost impossible to comprehend as the final robot appears, so bulky that it seems as if one of the largest buildings about us has decided to take a walk, casually pushing its fellow towers aside like merely heavy curtains instead of countless tonnes of concrete.

Present Mic had warned us of this colossus, that for all its power and menace, its worth is zero points. A mere obstacle and waste of time, even if any of us had the power to fight it. Even Die-Boy must know this, for his explosions don't go off in its direction, and so many of us run.

But I don't. A hero does not abandon the field while the enemy is before them. If the others flee, then it is my duty to cover their retreat. I take a step forward, and a niggling thought pops in. not a memory, not even a dream, just a momentary sense that this is familiar, as if I'd faced a foe like this before, and I take both comfort and confidence.

Another step, and I see that even without that thought, I would do this anyway. the electric boy's smile is not mere confidence, but one of pure idiocy, still smiling, still flashing a double thumbs up, while his eyes are wide in hapless terror, just enough mind left to know he's in the monster's path.

I want to call out, tell Pinky to grab our brother-in-arms, but she's already halfway there, and still not enough time, even as it seems to grind to a halt on my third step. Like I said, I've not trained my quirk much, but I know what it can do, that it as if I could grab hold of the wind itself and use it as a weapon, and with some effort, even hurl blasts of it like in those old animes dad likes so much. but now, in this moment, in the space of time between eyeblinks, that explanation falls short, as I feel a weight in my hands so familiar and right, the faintly blue-white air between my grasping hands becoming shining gold, and I feel a wholeness I never knew I was lacking until now.

and the moment passes, the eye finishes blinking, and there is no golden light. I see Pinky grab the boy, register the gaping hole through the now collapsing robot, and Present Mic, now definitely the guy on the radio, shouting that we're out of time.

We've done it. we saved the day in the nick of time. Pass or fail, in this moment, I take comfort that I finally know what it means to be a hero.

Seiba Emiya. Hero. Has a nice ring to it, I think to myself as I feel my strength abandon me. as my body topples over I pass into welcoming darkness, at least until the familiar nightmare...

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt8

Part 7 - Masterlist

Part 9

This is somehow only 3800 words long, possibly because I killed three pages of flashback and squished it into a handful of paragraphs. BUT there’s no in game script this time (hooray!) so hopefully will be a bit more of a fun read.

Gentle reminder that the only reason I’m still writing this discarded one shot is because @memekingofwwiii and @artisticpoet replied to the original post three months ago. Any feedback always goes a long way, and if you wish this project had died back at the beginning, you have them to blame #sorrynotsorry

***

“Miss LN, if you do not quit your incessant pacing, I will tie you to the mill stone in Rhodes and rent you out as a donkey!”

Your apology is empty and Miss Grimshaw’s scowl tells you she knows it. Hosea folds down the paper, pressing precisely over the creases before setting it aside. “They won’t be long now, I’m sure of it.”

O’Driscoll’s had intercepted Mr Pearson on his way to Rhodes with the message that Colm was proposing a truce. They claimed it was better to rally together as a dying species than to let the Pinkertons pick off smaller groups fighting amongst themselves.

That wasn't your primary concern. The thought of the O’Driscoll’s so close to camp rattled you, and shook Kieran like an oversized jelly. There was a chance they wouldn’t see through your altered appearance and you could slip past them, but for Kieran who rode with them for two months... To be shot on sight would be a mercy, and both of you knew that that wasn’t the O’Driscoll way.

Dutch announced that as doubtful as the proposition was, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to put the past behind him. Assigning Micah as his number two and Arthur as back up, the trio rode out of camp despite the shaking heads and words of disapproval.

“We’ve been in worse situations before and got out of it,” continues Hosea, his bright eyes tired. “Arthur’s the best shot in camp. He’ll take care of any trouble before it starts.”

You hum in acknowledgement before dismissing yourself. You haven’t told anyone about the vibrantly vivid dreams you’ve been having. Abigail has told you in the past that she had them a lot whilst expecting Jack, something to do with the raging hormones, but you can’t shake the dread that’s become sediment in the bottom of your heart. There is something about the way Dream Micah is relentless in his beatings... the way he sneers at every missed punch from Dream Arthur… the shine of moonlight on the infamous double action revolver with its custom black and red grip, and the flicker of fire highlighting the etching Vengeance is hereby mine. To know Arthur is out there with Micah’s only cheerleader is unsettling to say the least. What if it’s not the chaos of change? What if these dreams are a premonition?

You shake the thought of Dutch’s polished boots crushing Arthur’s outstretched fingers from your mind. A dream, you tell yourself firmly. A dream and nothing more.

Stripping to your undergarments, you wade out into the lake in search of a distraction. There’s an island not too far from shore. You could be alone with your thoughts there if you took the boat out, or even if one of the horses wanted to take a swim, but the nagging in your stomach has tied a knot to the centre of the camp. You can’t wander far for fear of the Dream Arthur’s beaten corpse welcoming you back.

“Miss Thomas, I-” Kieran squawks loudly from the shoreline, staring up awkwardly into the evening sky. You sigh and retreat enough to stay underwater whilst remaining within earshot. “I-I’m sorry, M-Miss, I didn’t think you was- that you were-!”

“It’s fine, Kieran. Pass me the towel on that rock?” He obliges, eyes still scouring the heavens like a lost monk until you’ve tied it around your waist and shrugged on one of Arthur’s old shirts. “You heard something?”

“Should I have? Oh, about Arthur and Dutch. They ain’t back yet. I was- I was just wanting to, erm, to check how you was feelin’ with the whole… Colm... thing.”

You consider lying. It would be an appetising distraction to feed him a cool indifferent nature and watch him squirm in paranoia, however you’re not sure how much longer you can fight the burn of madness at the edge of your mind. 

“Scared shitless,” you admit eventually, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards despite your best efforts. “Not even for Arthur being gone, but… if they know. If they know the truth, or if they find out about…” Your fingers touch the soft curve of your stomach. “About Arthur and... I don’t know what I’ll do. What we can do.”

Kieran nods quietly, clearing his throat as his eyes dart over the shore, like a rabbit catching the scent of coyotes on the wind. “Colm burns through men like cigars, but Lord knows what them O’Driscoll boys’ll do if they get their hands on us.”

“We’ll be dead if we’re lucky,” you mumble, turning a smooth pebble in your hands before skimming it over the water. “The lucky ones… they go quick.”

You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your skull, but you try to keep your posture indifferent. You know what he’s going to ask before he even inhales.

“What happened with Peader? Was it quick or…?”

“Quick.” You skim another stone as your heart battles its way into your throat. You don’t have the energy to feign ignorance this time. “I made sure of that.”

“What- what he do?”

Shadows move around the camp, indifferent to your whereabouts. Taking a deep breath, you begin to tell the story honestly, hoping that perhaps if you acknowledge and repent your sin out loud, whatever God there is out there will return Arthur to you.

You tell him about meeting Peader in a quiet saloon on the outskirts of Blackwater - a place where even the cobwebs had moved on in anticipation for the new place opening on the main road. How Peader swooped in, landing on a chair opposite you, his grin brighter than a beacon from his day drinking.

“Yull never guess the shit I just got us. A boat with a shit tonne o’ gold is docking here end o’ this week. Minimum security, no guards, easy pickings. Can you believe it?”

“No,” you scoff, stifling a yawn. “Ain’t no such thing.”

“Tha’s what I said, but this feller I was talkin’ to was from the bank. He was sayin’ that it'd be the steal of the century if anyone pulled it off. They’d tried hiring security, but no one was taking ‘em up on it. Said it was travelling too far, was too high risk of being hit, so they decided to play it all poker like and just send the ferry anyways.”

“And you trust this feller?”

“Sure, as much as anyone else I meet on the street.”

“How’d you know he isn’t setting us up? Or that he really works for the bank?”

“Bastard was dressed up all fancy. Had the same chain on his waistcoat you see ‘em all wearing and the stupid twirly moustache. Ain’t many jobs that afford a man a belly like his. He reeked of paper and safe codes, trust me.”

You tell Kieran how the saloon was empty apart from the bartender and a man catching a nap in a booth across the room, neglecting to mention the way his white hat sat low over his eyes and the thick blond handlebar moustache twitching in sleep. You do tell him the details of the job - that Peader reckoned you’d need at least five men to carry the gold, plus a couple more for shooting. You even tell him when the ferry docked - a date black on your tongue - and how your panic was exacerbated with rising frustration when Peader began to bite back at your doubt, accusing you of doubting him, of stealing the credit for past jobs he’d arranged.

“Obviously some other outlaws got wind of the same tip you did. It’s not the first time we’ve crossed paths with folk like us - and with the law tightening up the way it is, of course we’re gonna start stepping on each other’s toes-”

“Look, I get you have your day trips or mini vacations and the like. I get you’re a good shot an’ all, but you’ve gotta stop lyin’ to me! Knocking me out and keeping the take for yourself-”

“There was no take, Peter, because I was hauling your heavy ass out of their way! Them Van der Linde’s are a better shot than either of us, an’ between a few dollars and a can of vegetables or an extra gun at my side, I’ll choose the latter every time.”

You take a deep breath to slow your quaking heart and keep your emotions from getting the better of you. Your voice cracks as you recall following your friend outside for him to tell you Colm had come by camp earlier that week asking for you. His black eyes fiery, the stubble on his face uneven from his last shave... The proper use of his given name was lost on the wind whistling over the plains, because Colm had personally promoted you. You, who had no prior experience with weaponry before Peader took the time to show you. 

Your vision fades to black. The panic, the total contrast to your good friend, everything accumulates to cast darkness over your sight. You know this can only end one way, and it’s too painful to consider. The pearl grip in your hand is cool at first touch, but quickly grows hot as your ears ring with bullets fired.

The stallion rears and bolts west of town.

Kieran must realise he’s openly gawping as he quickly clears his throat. “W-was that the same ferry these fellers hit?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Guess the idiot that told Peter didn’t keep his trap shut.”

“I heard he was working with them Pinkertons?”

You shrug sadly. “I might have… twisted the truth a little when Colm asked about him. Made it sound like he was a snitch… with hindsight he would have got us all killed, but he knew too much about me. Suddenly, with Colm asking after me, he had motive to dig deeper and find out the truth. I couldn’t risk it.”

You catch Kieran’s hand hesitating in the corner of your eye, before he decides the comfort would be improper and instead puts it back into his own lap. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss. Sometimes we gotta make choices an’... an’ we just have to live with what comes afterward.”

You hum in agreement. Kieran takes a deep breath, clearly about to say something else, when you hear a horse whinny in the distance. Apologising hastily, you jump to your feet, relief flooding you as you hurry back up onto the grass in time to see the Count and Baylock trotting in with their owner’s sat tall astride them.

“So?” calls Hosea from the front of the crowd gathered by the hitching posts.

Dutch shakes his head once, sighing. “We ain’t got shot at least.”

Your ears strain for further movement, your stomach dropping every passing second as the chill of your recurring nightmare creeps down your spine. “Where’s Arthur?” 

“Calm down, Guinevere, he’s probably off doin’ somethin’ or other.” Micah smiles all smarmy. “Probably watchin’ our backs, being the little hero that he is. He’ll be back before long.”

Hosea mirrors your frown of concern. “You ain’t seen him?”

“He’ll be fine, Hosea,” Dutch sighs, waving his hand dismissively as he strolls back to the large white tent on the shore. “He always is.”

You shiver violently. Arthur never lets the group disperse after a job until everyone is accounted for. One night after a few too many bottles of whisky, Karen had told you how Arthur had to be all but dragged from Blackwater during their hasty retreat into Ambarino. Eventually Dutch had ordered him to scout ahead for somewhere to camp so that they didn’t need to worry about losing their sharpest shooter to any law catching up to them.

You pull yourself away and head back to the waters, trying to hear any gunshots or further movement beneath Hosea’s continued dispute.

“I see Micah and Dutch are back?” You shrug at Kieran’s hesitant observation. “I’m sure he’s fine. You seen him with a gun?”

You drop the towel and sink your head under the water as soon as you’re able to, effectively ending the conversation. When your head next breaks the surface, Kieran is gone and your towel is folded neatly in his place.

You don’t sleep that night. You can’t sleep. Despite the luxury of space for your expanding body and the warm Lemoyne air acting as a blanket in its own right, you’re still unable to rest without his body heat, without the weight of his arm around you, pressing against your back, the itch of facial hair on your exposed skin.

Every little movement has you sat up expectantly. There is no need for privacy without Arthur’s preference for hidden intimacies, so you’ve rolled up every wall of your tent to keep lookout. The fires in camp are dying down to ash as Micah caresses his knife with sandpaper nearby.

“Yes, Miss LN?” Micah smirks. “Can I help you?”

“What have you done?” Your voice is barely a whisper. Micah’s breathy laugh matches your volume - the most manners he has shown you since you met.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Where is Arthur?” You’re stood behind him, your fists shaking at your side as you try to contain the terror of the unknown. “You must know something.”

“Guinevere, I’m sure your white knight will make an appearance eventually.” Shaking his head, he chuckles and turns back to the wisps of burning ash. “I mean, unless another princess has taken his attention. What’s her name? Maggie? Molly?” He throws you another look over his shoulder. “Or was it the queen that took off with someone else? I ain’t ever really had the patience for fairy stories myself.”

“He wouldn’t just disappear!” you argue, setting aside your confusion at his jibes. “This is Arthur. What did he say after you left Colm?”

“He told me he needed a little less mollycoddling from his baby carrier.” He scoffs, his pale grey eyes meeting yours in the last of the light. “How do I know? It ain’t no secret we ain’t the closest of buddies. Maybe he’s done a John and got cold feet, hmm? Now leave me alone!”

When the sun eventually rises, you pull your blouse and skirts over your underclothes without bothering to wash. With a fist full of pins to fix your hair out of your face, you hurry over to where Miss Molly is applying a faceful of powders.

“Jesus wept!” she gasps, stepping back as though your dishevelment was contagious. “What happened to you?”

Looking up at the interruption, Dutch marks his page and sits up. “Something the matter, Miss?”

“Arthur’s still not back.”

He rolls his eyes, body relaxing and book already reopened with his finger finding where he left off. “When you’ve known Arthur as long as I have-”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t disappear for days, I just want to know what happened after you saw Colm.”

“Why? Has your escape plan backfired?” The thick moustache twitches in fake humour. “Maybe your O’Driscoll charm has paid off and Arthur’s switched sides, taking your place as Colm’s number two.”

“Arthur would never betray you like that,” you argue, but the flash in the leader’s eyes makes you question the degree of betrayal felt when you were brought into camp. “You all rode off together. You must have seen him leave to cover for you? What happened when you met back up?”

“He’d already left, Y/N. It was clearly far too underwhelming for him. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a little quiet. Some of us still have to earn our keep, you know.”

Not wanting to waste energy on a force as strong as Dutch, you busy yourself with chores. You feed the chickens, you feed the horses, you darn socks, all whilst watching the treeline. Even Miss Grimshaw’s fury cannot stir you away from the outskirts, and so by midday, with confidence in your position as most detested in camp, your decision proves easy.

“Kieran, do you have a spare saddle?”

The jittery head snapped up, gaping at you. “Going out, Miss?”

“To look for Arthur. I’ll be back, I promise.”

“You can’t go alone, Miss, especially not- not in your condition.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, no small feat with your lack of sleep. “I looked after myself before, and I can look after myself again.”

“Mr Morgan will kill me if anything were to happen to you.” He licks his lips, his hands wringing the corner of his jacket. “Lemme grab somebody to go with you-”

“Kieran I said I’m fine!”

“I- I- I can come. Jus’ gimme a minute to saddle up Branwen.” He’s itching with anxiety. “Shit, I don’t wanna think what Mr Van der Linde will do if we go off together.”

“Something wrong?” Charles watches you both closely as he pauses his stroll back from guard duty.

"Arthur’s not back yet. I’m going to look for him.”

His gaze slides over to Kieran, then shakes his head. “I’ll come with you. It’s best you stay here, Kieran - one missing O’Driscoll is less concerning than two.”

“A-Are you sure, Mr Smith?” The relief is palpable. “Then Y/N take Branwen. She’ll do you right.”

You try to keep your tics of impatience internalized whilst the men fix the horses. Hosea seems to be watching you in the distance. You almost believe he gives you a nod before acting as a distraction to Dutch, allowing you to lead Branwen out of camp behind Charles and Taima.

“Do you know where they met with them?”

You shake your head clear, digging your heels in to ride up alongside your companion. “The Heartlands, I think, but I don’t know the exact location. Can’t be further than Valentine.”

“I think you’re right about Valentine - there’s no real vantage point past Emerald Ranch. Dutch talked like Arthur was a surprise, so he would probably need a good hiding spot with a clear view.”

“Must be further out than Dewberry Creek… they wouldn’t have taken so long to get back.”

Charles hums in agreement. “Let’s head that way anyway and get up on a ridge. There’s a whisky tree with quite the view, might help us narrow our search.”

A long silence stretches between you. It would have been comfortable if it weren’t for the intrusive thoughts, the ghost of imaginary gunpowder tainting your nostrils, the burning images of Dutch’s boot crushing his outstretched fingers…

Just a dream.

You arrive at the summit and draw your binoculars, scouting the horizon, desperately trying to pick between each grain of dirt.

“I reckon we should take each of these points.” Charles gestures to each summit on the horizon. “If we take them one by one, we’re sure to overlap their meeting point, and maybe find some clues.”

You mumble in agreement, chewing on your lip as he focuses his strong brown gaze on you.

“Did Arthur say something about this to you?” he asks finally.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been on edge pretty much since they mounted up… Is everything alright between you?”

You laugh, albeit shakily, at the prospect of something coming between you. “We’re fine. I just keep having some real bad dreams and... “ You exhale loudly. “I’d feel better if I knew where he was.”

Charles nods and doesn’t press for details. He’s like Arthur that way - unwilling to speak unless necessary. You let the silence coddle you again as you descend and re-ascend another peak.

“Y/N!”

You hurry to him at the first syllable of your name, cursing the ache of your muscles slowing you down. Charles is crouched by the rocky edge, examining the ground closely.

“Reckon this could be our man?” he asks, gesturing at the disturbed dirt. Yes, you realise, it very well could be. The length of the disturbance was almost Arthur’s height - especially if he had rested on his elbows to watch over. You try to picture his broad shoulders and envisage the same broad distance.

Could there have been a scuffle? There’s not enough disturbance for him to have leaned back onto his knees and stood up - one of the arms is smudged, like he had rolled over. The inconsistencies in the outline… had he stood up and walked all over where he had been lying, or was someone else here?

Charles seems to share your doubts as he points out the multiple horse tracks. “Either this spot is popular with the locals, or there’s been a group here in the past couple of days.”

“Dutch and Micah split off earlier down the track - Arthur came up here alone.”

Charles hums again, fanning the panic in your gut. “Did they meet up again afterwards?”

“Did they hell!” you scowl. “Neither of them would tell me what happened after they parted ways.”

Charles sighs, mounting Taima gracefully. “The tracks seem to double down this way.”

You follow, enveloped again in the silence bar your thudding heart. At the bottom, you find an old camp. Charles decides it’s about a day old. You don’t really say much before spotting the blood not much further away. Alarm bells are ringing and you’re feeling faint.

I guess I saw you an’ the mess I might leave you in one day.

“Y/N?” Charles’ round face surfaces before your eyes, his forehead furrowing. “Are you alright? Here, I have some water…”

“They got him, didn’t they?” You can feel your stomach turning, but you haven’t eaten since they left the day before. “The blood - it’s Arthur’s, isn’t it?”

“Could be animal’s blood,” counters Charles calmly. “They might have set up camp nearby to save carrying the carcass.”

You try to stand, determined to keep searching, but Charles holds you down by your shoulder. “Rest. Kieran was right - Arthur won’t be happy if he finds you in this state.”

“Provided he comes back!” you argue, but you can feel the world spinning around you. As if already aware about your lack of sustenance, Charles pushes a bread roll into your hand, and you begin to eat wordlessly.

“Are you strong enough to ride?” he asks eventually.

You nod, brushing crumbs from your clothes as you look out towards the setting sun. “How far do you reckon they’ve got?”

“We’re going back to camp.” You whisk around ready to protest, but Charles steadies you easily. “Falling off your horse is one thing, but it’s completely different when you're carrying a child. I’ll come back for him, but for now let’s get you safe and pick up some reinforcements.”

You reluctantly agree, even if it’s just for the way your mind rattles as he helps you mount up. Charles rides close beside you, ready to grab you when you sway too precariously. The ride back is much slower than the ride out.

Hold on, Arthur. They’re coming.

[sabrinasgrimoire]

God Studies: Manannán mac Lir

Manannán mac Lir is the Celtic God of the Ocean and Guardian of the Afterlife. His name comes from his father, the God Lir, and from the Isle of Man, which is located between Great Britain and Ireland. He was known to be a God of the Ocean and a great magician and healer, living in his realm called Emhain in the Land of Promise. In Celtic mythology, this realm was located off the coast of Ireland out towards the Atlantic Ocean. In addition to these duties, Mannan mac Lir was also the guardian of the afterlife. In this way, he was a sort of combination between the Greek Gods Poseidon and Hades. His consort is the Goddess Fand, a deity renowned for her beauty. It is said that Fand once fell in love with the hero Cuchulainn, and in order to keep them apart, Mannán draped a cloak of invisibility between the two so they could never find each other again. Mannan mac Lir has several children both mortal and divine, the most famous being the trickster mortal Mongan. Depictions of Manannan mac Lir show him as a handsome warrior, driving a chariot over the breaking waves of the sea. It was also said that he owned a ship that sailed itself, which also appears in depictions of the God. His famous invisibility cloak is also a common item in depictions. Not only did he use it to make sure his wife was faithful to him, he also used it to defend the Isle of Man. When invading forces stepped foot on the island, Manannan would use it to shield the land in the form of mists. In this way, Manannan mac Lir was also seen as a trickster God. Despite being a very prevalent God in the Celtic pantheon, Manannan mac Lir is only mentioned in most Celtic myths. In the stories he does appear in, it is mostly to give someone a magickal item. A few of these mythical items included a horse named Enbarr of the Flowing Mane, a horse who could walk on land and on sea, the Ocean Sweeper, a boat that could steer itself, a sword named the Answerer, which was strong enough to cut through plate armor, a spear called Ctann Buide, and a magickal breastplate that could withstand any assailment. It is said that Manannan gifted his foster son, the Celtic God Lugh, his magickal items while bringing him up on the Isle of Man. Despite being a very formidable deity, Manannan mac Lir was slain in Celtic mythology by Uillenn Faebarderg during the epic battle of Magh Cuilenn. His body is supposedly buried somewhere in the Tonn Banks, an area by the coast of Donegall. Though the God is dead, it is said his spirit lives on and rules his resting place. The coast of Donegall is the home of many shipwrecks said to be brought about by the angry deity. The spirit of Manannan mac Lir rides the waves of ocean storms, wreaking havoc on the coastal region.

Correspondence Chart

Solar System: Neptune Element: Water Color: Blue Tarot: the Chariot Trees: Alder, Apple, Hazel Plants: Blackberry/Bramble, Reed Stones: Azurite, Conch Shell, Turquoise Metals: Gold, Silver Magickal Creatures: Mermaids Animals: Crane, Swan, Boar, Cow, Dog, Horse, Pig, Dolphin, Sea Horse, Whale Issues & Intentions: Astral Realm, Community, Enchantment, Fertility, Healing, Leadership, General Magick, Animal Magick, the Otherworld, Peace, Prophecy, Protection from Fairies, Protection at Sea, Rebirth & Renewal, Release, Shape Shifting, Skills, Stimulation, Weather Magick, Wisdom, Wishes, Youth