#Lanier Middle

[noveldivergence]

Apostate - Chapter One - 4251w

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apostate is a Lovecraftian crime horror with themes some might find objectionable in later chapters. While nothing more than a description of a dead body is shown in chapter one, please be mindful of triggers listed in my pinned post.

TAG LIST: @lord-fallen @coffeexafterxmidnight @philosophika (please send an ask or dm to be added)

Chapter One

Bell Baylor hated the heat and its miserable twin, humidity. Sweat clung, caul-like, on his forehead as he stood in the field beneath a haint-blue sky. He hated the feeling of the sunscreen he’d smeared on his face as a half-measure, streaking deep into the lines of his face. The sun melted the crust of sunscreen and made it drip down his temples, a mixture of sweat and chemicals colored a bone-bleached white. 

He hated the sound of the cicadas too, screaming their lusty songs from the trees, haunting him since he’d gotten here. He hated the empty creek bed in front of him, all dried up and dead. It had been full of life once. 

So had the man laying in it. Now both man and creek lay empty, dry as a bone in the hot Georgia sun. 

Red clay clung to bone as rust did to iron, and cave-hollow skull sockets stared up at him. Doctors Cargill and Lal had brushed carefully against the ribs as if they’d found a pharaoh’s tomb, but nothing could quite mute the vivid orange tone to the lower half of the body that had sunk into the creekbed. The prickled brush of a heat-dead tree-line a hundred yards away did little to shield them from vivid sky-fire beating down, but flame hadn’t faded traces of mud from bone quite yet. 

‘Found him when the crick dried up,’ the property owner had proudly told the local police. ‘Was making some rounds when a cow got loose and found his hand reaching up out of it. Scared the shit outta me, I’ll tell you that.’

The creek had been deeper once, Bell knew, full of life and death in all its forms--deep enough to cover the body of a fully grown male and get him stuck deep down in the mud and rock and red clay in this part of Georgia. 

But it didn’t make too much sense for the suspected homicide victim to end up in Slaughter County, regardless of what the name of the place may have implied. It was out in the middle of nowhere, at least until the chemical plant had moved in and made it somewhere at last. Bell could imagine the locals kicking and screaming about that the whole time too, from what he’d seen so far. Still, the plastic ID card near the body had read the name plain as day, even through mud streaks and sun-bleaching.

Brandon Severin, 24, male, white, recent fifth-year senior graduate of Georgia State University, disappeared from Atlanta nearly two years prior. Known for party-heavy behavior which delayed his graduation and lost him part of his left pinkie finger in a dazzling display of stupidity at a kegger. 

So much could have stolen the finger on the corpse after death, Bell reminded the over-eager deputy who’d briefed him: fish, frogs, the rush of current. It didn’t have to be Severin’s body, even with the identification card. It might not be. They’d have to wait for dental records, he insisted, even as he eyed the file that listed Severin had veneers.

The smile of them was unnerving even to Bell. They were as bleached-white as the rest of him, with a wrongness none of them would speak aloud. Still, he was sure all of them felt it, even Luther, and Luther wasn’t type to be easily unnerved. 

Supposedly, Severin had gotten a job interview in Savannah that didn’t actually exist. State police couldn’t find proof of it at least. Friends had claimed he’d been depressed, and police theorized he’d gone off to end it with a convenient lie to delay the search for a body or a suicide note. When his car had been found near Lake Lanier, that theory had solidified. While the case was still officially open, the police in Atlanta hadn't seen it as pressing–at least not if the files Bell read on the way over were any indicator. They hadn’t drained that cursed lake before for more urgent cases, more pressing closures. They weren’t ready to drain Lake Lanier for a party boy with a death wish, even if his rich parents were hollering to the news about it.

The creek before Bell didn’t connect to Lake Lanier. Instead, it connected to Lake Troxler, another large man-made lake dug out and filled when the plant moved nearby into Besant. While it lay in roughly equal distance between Atlanta and Savannah, the town was a convenient through point for neither. 

Dr. Lal’s head appeared from behind the shoddy barrier around the creek.

“Agent Baylor? The ribs are the same as New Orleans.”

Bell shared a glance with Luther Tanner, his partner agent in this mess sent with him to the furnace of hell that was Georgia in high summer. He’d hadn’t known the man for too long. In many ways, he was still as much a mystery as Severin and his disappearance and Bonds down in New Orleans. They’d had the case file dropped on their desks four months ago up in Quantico. If it weren’t for the New Orleans case and the nightmares it brought them both, the box of loosely interconnected files probably wouldn’t even exist. Bell wouldn’t have even met the man beside him as more than a passerby in the halls. Just another box shape with steel gray hair, sharp eyes, and ill-fitted suit.

Not that he wasn’t getting there, he reminded himself, save the box-shape that at least implied he was at least fit at one point. 

“We’ll see if we can connect Severin to Bonds.” Luther sighed, and Bell watched as the man’s fingers twitched for a cigarette as he spoke.

How many years had it been since he’d quit smoking, if he quit? Bell had seen the bottom of a nicotine patch on Luther’s arm earlier, the outline still whispering beneath the thinner fabric of a summer shirt. His own father had quit cigarettes when Bell was twenty-four but wore the nicotine patches till he’d died two years ago. Never stopped drinking. No way to know with some people. Addiction was funny like that. It pursued people in funny little ways, all their lives, invisible to the gaze of others. 

Luther met his eyes looking at his twitching fingers and sighed, shaking his head, before stomping off through the field. It would have been a lot more dramatic, if the crunch of the grass wasn’t so quietly pathetic. With a quick glance back into the black, blank eyes-that-should-have-been of their victim, Bell followed through the tall, crackling stalks.

Luther had been on edge since they’d arrived in Besant, Georgia, with this new, familiar slaying; because of New Orleans, Bell had thought, surely.  Luther would want to touch base with him about that, of that he was certain. What had happened in New Orleans kept the wheels of his mind turning constantly since it had happened those months ago, grinding his life to a stop and throwing off sparks like a train with a pulled emergency brake.

Only it wasn’t New Orelans. It was Besant itself.

What had once been a near-ghost town had only gained more people recently with the arrival of the petrochemical plant. Havich Industries had claimed yet more space in the American landscape with its flagship plant deep in the heart of the American South. Bell had heard the Havich family lived out here too. They followed the money.

And a lot of people followed them.

Bell sure had thoughts on that. 

Bastards, the lot of them, like most with ungodly money. If it weren’t for the heat, he’d be breaking out in hives from the sheer obscenity of the building on the ridge pouring out smoke and tainting the beauty of the open sky.

But Luther wasn’t Bell, and obscenity wasn’t why Luther was on edge. 

“You said something about your son living round here?” Bell kept his voice low. He wasn’t sure if Cargill and Lal, the pathologists the Bureau had sent with them, knew much about Agent Tanner, but he was sure that was entirely purposeful on the older man’s part. Hell, he only knew a little. Enough to be dangerous. Luther’s jaw clenched. He talked less about his son than he did his wife, and Bell figured it had to be on purpose. Bell was sure if they weren’t here, weren’t where Calvin was, that he might not even know the young man’s name. 

Luther knew Bell’s sons' names, of course. He knew them before Bell had told him, and he knew Diane’s name too. Luther was that sort of agent.

“I take it that’s an issue.” Bell continued speaking through Luther’s brick-wall silence. He was used to it. If Luther thought he could gain advantage over his curiosity with the tricks of stubborn adolescence, he was wrong.

“It’s not an issue.”

“You sure?”

“It’s not an issue for this case, Baylor.”

Bell paused before nodding, glancing back at the taped off creekbed as he did so. Luther had only started using first names recently, despite all of their work together. He couldn’t find it in himself to be too surprised that he’d slide back to surnames at the first sign of irritation with Bell. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be irritated. His emotional capacity for the day had leaked out his sweat glands with what he was sure was the rest of his brain and insides. He didn’t have time for Luther’s personal problems.

“So.” Bell wiped an errant string of sweat-soaked black hair from his line of sight. “You think the director’s right about this being a serial? Hell of a coincidence if it isn’t, I think. With the way the bones look and all.”

Luther nodded, before cracking a small awkward smile. Bell had learned this was his equivalent of a slap on the arm, all masculine gesturing, all reassurances, all the little things he’d so rarely been included on in life, even at the FBI.

“You ever see the sun a day in your life, or did they bring you out of the basement for this one to fuck with you?”

A glass-breaking laugh cracked from Bell before he could stop it, but thankfully Luther had heard it enough in the last four months that he didn’t wince at the sound like many did. 

“They–,” Bell stammered through laughter, “they thought I needed enrichment outside of my enclosure.”

Luther’s laugh was barkish, bulldog that he was, and his head tossed back with it. A pair of local deputies sent off glances between them and the scene of discovery, but said nothing. Bell wondered if they’d ever had a case involving the FBI. They hadn’t even touched base with the sheriff yet; they’d all got in at 0200 this morning and fallen asleep for a bittersweetly cursed five hours before leaving the air-conditioned oasis of the hotel in the morning for the scene. 

It was more sleep than they got in New Orleans.

 Breaking the moment with a nod, Luther stalked back over to the side of the ditch, craning his neck down about two feet from the edge. He’d fallen in once. Bell didn’t know it for sure in his mind, but he did in his gut, from the way the agent held himself. 

He’d fallen once too, early in his days with the FBI. Stepped wrong off a muddy lick of solid ground into a mass grave near the aptly named Great Dismal Swamp of Virginia. His foot had caved a skull, rotted through with the seep of the bog and face bloated beyond recognition even before his clumsy idiocy. It sounded like the crunch of wet and rotten cabbage being split open. Nearly twenty years on, and he remembered the sound. 

If Luther tripped, it would sound like the crunch of pottery underfoot, shattering so much history of the tomb Severin had fallen silent in. Bell had been lucky back then for dental records and lessons learned. They were lucky here for more than that. He stood by Luther and watched the doctors work with the rest of the forensics team weaving through the area around them like ants to their queens. 

“Chances of finding anything around the area aren't good. Been too long.” Luther gestured at the body, before patting his shirt pocket reflexively. Nonexistent pack, Bell thought before replying.

“What do you think about the ID card?” Luther bit his fingernail, seemingly uncaring of the black build-up beneath them.

“I think we’re either very lucky and our killer is very stupid or–” He gestured at Bell to complete his thought.

“Or the killer left it here on purpose.”

“Or Severin here really did fall into the lake.” There was a dark twinkle of humor to Luther’s eyes. “And went twenty rounds with a gator.”

“I doubt that.” Both men looked down at the bemused face of Dr. Cargill, who stood hands on hips staring up at them with wide brown eyes. “I can’t tell you yet without a full examination, but the wounds look purposeful.”

“Thank you, Rhoda.” Luther smiled a bit ruefully, shaking his head. Bell wondered if Luther’s nature was why he got the social misfits of the agency like himself and Dr. Cargill attached to his cases. He seemed to have a patience for the weird, or at least put up a good facade that he did.

Dr. Cargill hummed and went back to excavating the last bit of the body with Dr. Lal. Bell wondered if she handled the heat better with her shaved head. His own father had gone bald, and while Bell hadn’t seen any signs of that happening in his own life, he was afraid to test fate by taking the razor to it.

“Too much water damage too, before it all turned to clay and red dust.” Dr. Lal didn’t even look up from her work. “I don’t believe you’ll find any DNA or identifiable particulates on the body after the water and heat damage.”

Luther shrugged, turning towards a sound down field. The kick up of that same dried blood dust and the hum of an engine came from a distance. Bell heard Luther huff a small laugh before he realized that whoever was making their way towards them was being escorted by the property’s owner on the back of a UTV. The deputies stood straighter, as it approached.

The sheriff then.

Luther reached a hand into the ditch to help Cargill and Lal up the embankment, while Bell approached the UTV. Sheriff Harlowe was a tall man; his knees folded in an awkward slope towards the footboards of the machine. He looked less like a sheriff, Bell thought, and more like an Appalachian mountain man. He imagined that the sudden increase in population hadn’t done much for the man’s attitude or number of gray beard hairs, but despite that he’d been the sheriff for the past twenty-some-odd years.

He looked it. The thought was uncharitable of Bell, he knew, but the man had the kind of skin that had been tanned and hardened as tough as whitleather. Wrinkles sat like divots in the parts of his face that weren’t concealed by beard or brows or the longish mane of salt-pepper-rust hair that stuck out in wild strands from under his hat. He’d been the sheriff for twenty-some-odd years, yes, but Bell couldn’t tell if he had another twenty in him.

Harlowe’s father was the sheriff before him, he’d been told. Besant, Georgia had been that sort of town once. The wisp of white smoke coming over the hills from the direction of the plant was as much a marker of desolation as it was progress.

“It Severin?”

The sheriff’s voice was roughly chewed gravel sifted through an ashtray. It reminded Bell of his father’s at its root, all Marlboro and masculine posturing. The accent was different, oceans apart, but the core was familiar. Bell wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not yet at least.

“We’re not 100% yet, but the evidence is pointing towards that.” Bell glanced sideways at the property owner, who was eyeing him with an almost affectionate sense of doubt he was sure was reserved for the most well-meaning Northerners. Harlowe gave him a nod, a friendly dismissal abided by. The sheriff waited till the UTV had turned and cleared the area before he turned back to Bell.

“You Tanner or Baylor?”

“Sorry, yes, Agent Bellamy Baylor. Bell or Baylor, either work.”

“Agent Luther Tanner.”

Bell turned slightly, as Luther wiped sweaty hands on trousers and extended one in greeting towards the sheriff. He hadn’t offered his own hand, but then neither had the sheriff. The man seemed skeptical as it was of Luther, who was cut more from the same cloth of machismo. 

“Boone Harlowe. Either name is fine. Ladies?”

“Yes,” Luther nodded towards the two lead analysts they’d brought along. “Dr. Rhoda Cargill and Dr. Bhavani Lal.”

“A pleasure.” Dr. Cargill moved forward for a handshake, which the Sheriff seemed mildly surprised by, but shook her hand nonetheless. Bell wondered if the issue was one of race or gender or even her shaved head and nose ring, settling quickly on the matter of gender, as Harlowe tipped the brim of his hat to Dr. Lal next.

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

“You as well, ma’am. Ma’am. You the uh…”

“Forensic pathologists.” Lal nodded towards Cargill.

“Yes, sir. Dr. Lal and I are leading the investigation into the body itself. Our team is combing the area for any trace evidence. Unfortunately, given the time frame, it’s unlikely there’s anything notable that’s lasted this long.”

“How long y’all think it’s been?”

“We can’t be sure until we’ve gotten him into a lab, but I would estimate he died shortly after his disappearance.” The sheriff nodded, turning from Lal to Cargill.

“Small mercy, I suppose. I’m guessing it’s not a drowning, Doc?”

Dr. Cargill shook her head and released an uncharacteristic sigh. She had a high and breathy voice, and the noise sounded almost musical–a lilting dirge to the deceased.

Bell sighed too, despite himself, glancing back at the creek bed. The skeleton was covered by the rise of the embankment, but he could see it–could see New Orleans–in his mind’s eye. The split of ribs. The wild slices of blade or animal teeth down to bone. The lack of eyes and ears and tongue. There had been flesh left in New Orleans. There had not been enough flesh left in New Orleans.

There were no mercies for Brandon Severin, great or small.

“Taking that as a no, huh Baylor?”

Bell shook his head, snapping back to reality to see the others giving him a concerned glance. He tried for a weak smile, feeling the crust of sunscreen crack in the lines of his forehead. Lal seemed to have a small mercy on him.

“It’s highly unlikely his death was a result of drowning.” Dr. Lal’s tone was as matter-of-fact as if she were describing the shape of the earth. “At least not without multiple major contributing factors that would have resulted in death otherwise.”

Bell had known Bhavani far longer than Luther. He knew less about her than he did of the other agent. He did appreciate her demeanor though, just warm enough to keep her overly clinical speech from making her appear unempathetic. Not that they were in need of warmth here. Since arriving, they’d been suffocating in a sauna of Southern hospitality and politeness, more cloying and clinging than even the sheen of sweat.

“So he was dumped here?” The Sheriff nodded towards the ditch.

“Or the lake, yes, and flowed down here where he got stuck. That seems most likely. There is a massive injury to his chest cavity. Given…prior encounters with a similar case, I would hazard that this was his cause of death.” 

Lal seemed hesitant to give this much information. Too many assumptions.

“Serial killer then?”

There it was.

“Too early to tell,” Luther rebutted quickly. “We’re not ruling anything out, though.”

“It is, then.” Harlowe seemed sure of himself, and Bell sighed.

“It’s complicated.”

“How–” Luther’s firm voice cut the sheriff off.

“It’s complicated. But again, we aren’t ruling anything out.”

A cloud the shape of a file box shadowed Bell’s mind. No need to worry anyone local. Not yet at least, but the sheriff looked as skeptical as Bell felt. And why shouldn’t he? Before the plant had moved in Besant was unincorporated, known for nothing more than a horse breeding facility. Harlowe had the demeanor of a man who had a fine discernment for horse shit, a sommelier of lies that got caught up in good breeding. 

The white smoke lingered above the hillside.

“Woulda hated to see him before he was just a pile of bones,” Harlowe commented from somewhere just behind Bell’s shoulder. His mind had meandered at some point during the muffled conversation. It was wont to do that more and more these days, especially since they’d been called to the Bonds case. He wondered if he should bother worrying about it. It seemed that he had so much to worry over, particularly corpses in creeks and swamps and ditches and run-off trenches.

He’d ruined enough by putting worry off in his life. What was a little more? 

Bell lingered near the back of the group, only vaguely listening to their conversation, instead staring between them, below them, into Severin’s empty eye sockets. Nothing else could be done in the field at this point. They’d have to transport body and earth and particulates alike back to the cold closet of a medical examiner’s office in the local hospital’s basement, hoping all the way that no equipment broke in transportation. Or, he held back a sigh, anything they had to send away for analysis got lost in the mail. It had happened more than he cared to admit. More than the FBI would publicly admit either.

“You’ll have to push the gurney back up towards the gravel road. We ain’t getting the morgue truck down here, not anytime soon, especially with how well it’s holding up. Hey--”

The sheriff had turned a glare to the younger of his deputies.

“No smoking. Dry as kindling out here, you’re gonna light yourself and the whole damn field on fire. Jesus Christ.”

Addiction was funny like that, Bell thought for the second time that day. 

He tamped down a wry smile, even as the young man tried to hide his sins and move to help with the removal of the body. Luther and Harlowe shared glances reserved for men with sons older than Bell’s own, as they helped the doctors back down the embankment. Pathologists lingered like fruit flies, as the choir of cicadas rose their pitch and volume till they were drowning out all else.

He wasn’t sure how he spotted it. The line of beech trees was nearly a hundred yards away, and the malformation was small. Could be a trick of light. Could be any number of things. Something called him still, some strange feeling wriggling in the back of his mind, like the melody of a familiar, forgotten song. He couldn’t place it. He was sure he’d never felt it before. It felt known to him despite that.

Bell looked beyond the others towards the tree line and began walking. Even a hundred yards away in the meandering windbreak of beech trees, the sound of cicadas was overwhelming. It thrummed in cacophony against the internal music of his soul, and were he asked later, he couldn’t tell anyone what compelled him to walk towards the line of bone-white beech trees sticking awkwardly along the boundaries of the field. Not truthfully. Not without sounding insane.

He could claim the carving was visible, just barely from the creek bed. That the sun had crept in and the lighting had been just right to pique Bell’s curiosity. None of that was true. They’d know that. Or would they ask? If it helped, would anyone care? The grass crunched beneath his feet. The corpses of dead cicadas crunched beneath his feet.

The trees grew closer. 

The marking was carved into the tree and partially covered by the clinging corpse of a southern grass cicada. Bell resisted the urge to brush it to the ground, and instead slipped it into a small plastic bag he’d carried in his pocket. He felt dizzy from the heat. The screams of the insects swarmed into the songs of a calliope, and his mind spun in a tortuous carousel race. Why? He bent down and leaned in close, fingers and eyes searching the bark of the tree.

The marking was a rudimentary drawing of a man, arms and legs splayed out in an X-shape and head a simple circle. Above the head were scratched lines not unlike a crown, and the arms and legs ended in similarly scratched claws.

It made him lightheaded in ways he couldn’t understand. The cicadas pressed in, ever present sonic warfare bombarding whatever sense he had that hadn’t already been overtaken by the oppressive heat. The caul of sweat and the shrieking cries of new life overwhelmed him.

Bell’s vision swam. He vaguely registered the crown of the trees filtering out the haint-blue sky. He felt himself falling, falling, falling, and he tried to reach out, to claw towards the tree, but could find no purchase there.

He fell through the veil. 

[starrsleep]

I am generally so surprised I have not seen many administration ocs :000

Maybe there some and I just haven't seen them but I just think it's a really cool concept so I made these little guys actually in the middle I adopted Lanier :3

I don't know I might post more in the future I'm not the best at drawing my character together but I have a collection of Ninjago ocs and I like making stories for them XD

I was going to add fun facts but I forgot so here's some

Lanier used to date Jay but they don't date anymore!

Kaden it's hyper fixated on the water machine and enjoys strawberry donuts!

Trinity enjoys burnt coffee XD

[roundtabletea]

Day in the Life of Launcelot

Similar to Guenevere’s day in the life post, we are again going to ask you to imagine a character as a modern day influencer--but this time it’s her lover, Launcelot Du Lake!

Hey guys… Launcelot here. Guenevere told me to get on here and give you a narration of a day in my life. So let’s look at the clips. Oh! Here I am after I’ve awoken in the morning, attending mass in the chapel like the great knight I am. I go here before I even eat breakfast. 

Let's move onto the next clip... Here I am dropping Guenevere off with King Arthur after mass. Guys, I'm only doing this because she's my patron, not because I love her or anything. Stop saying I do, guys.

Ok... anyways... This is me in the middle of a tournament. This was our midday break because at this point we had been fighting for hours. Obviously I'm the guy in the blue, as I never go to a tournament undisguised. It takes the drama out of it. And as an influencer I can't live without the drama.

Speaking of disguises. Here’s a picture of me dressed up as a pilgrim to scare Guenevere. No other reason. Why would there be another reason?

And finally… Here I am at the end of the day taking a nap under a tree. For some reason some queens stumbled upon me and seemed super interested. But, of course I ignored them as I’m loyal to Guenevere. Wait, what was that. My bad....

Image sources:

First painting: Launcelot at the Chapel, 1902 CE Book of Romance, Published by Amy G, 2019

Second painting: Launcelot brings Guenevere to Arthur, E1902 CE Book of Romance, Published by Amy G, 2019

Third painting: Illustration p.38 of the Boys King Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory and edited by Sidney Lanier, 1922

Fourth painting: Illustration from Skylocks version of  Merchant of Venice Act II Scene 5, Shakespeare and edited by Peter Simon and Robert Smirke, 1795

Fifth painting: How Four Queens Found Launcelot Sleeping, Aubrey Beardsley, 2014

[aikaterinesprout]

blue öyster cult fans, does anyone have any clue who the guy in the middle is? i just wanted to know and i couldn’t figure it out, considering he’s the tallest in the photo i was thinking maybe allen lanier, but he doesn’t really look that much like allen. it could be a different member from their EARLY early days that i don’t know about, but i’m not sure. please comment if you know or even think you do, thanks!

[fluorescentpipedream]

Ares - The God of War needed a new picture, I found this the other day and really liked it from Voltaire’s Insta. Ares -has- been exiled due to the “game” he and Loki have been playing for well over a millennia that was shattered by Sara and her travels through time. He’s up to something, though I can’t figure out exactly what is going on. But if I’ve learned anything about my characters, when they want an update, something's brewing. 

Xavier Medici - I finally managed to settle on a good picture for Xavier, though it’s not mine, I found it somewhere and I’m pretty sure it’s actually a painting. But...it works! Xavier has been one of the ones behind the scenes of Section for most of its inception, bringing in Justice Malone to work with him and Jurgen Uri in order to wrangle in some of the supernatural forces existing under the normal world. 

Jón Kristiansen - 38-ish years old, former performer for Cirque Du Soleil, classically and modernly trained ballet dancer, recently divorced and looking to do something more contemporary with his talents. His nickname is JJ, I think because his middle name starts with a J too, but it’s got a complicated spelling so he doesn’t typically use it. “Icelandic heritage, go figure” More recently he’s done choreography for several blockbuster films including La La Land and the unfortunate Cats remake. He doesn’t like to claim that one, who can blame him?

He is recently divorced, after 10yrs with his husband he was accused of cheating with a younger musician, which he was not doing. The 20-something was a friend, nothing else. His ex got most things in their settlement so he’s looking to pick up the pieces and do something new

Wizarding World characters!

Firstly, I changed Orion Marcone to someone else, and I know the robe looks weird but I’m kind of proud of it. Orion is the grandson of Newt Scamander and is just like him. A little autistic, a little hyper and obsessed with the care and treatment of magical creatures (and he likes a lot of Muggle things too, he’s got a small collection of miscellaneous muggle items like marbles and some other things he’s found interesting). Orion works closely with Hagrid down in the Magical Menagerie, an offshoot greenhouse type building made especially for his grandfather’s creatures. Inside there’s a Niffler, a Demiguise and a wider variety of magical beasts for the students to learn about, understand and know how to identify and protect. 

Daegon Targaryen - Daegon is the middle brother of the Targaryen family and dangerous when provoked. He works for the Ministry as an Auror though he’s not so much about catching the Dark Wizards as he is doing what he can to keep certain ones from being found. He and his sister Seraphina (sp?) are a couple though when she turns to Barty Crouch Jr when he steps up as the Dark Lord. Daegon serves no one but his family and himself and has intention on taking over as the Minister of Magic once Barty’s vision is finally realized. (Barty will end up changing his name to Emeric Crouch shortly after taking over as the Dark Lord, there’s nothing less intimidating than Barty)

Geralt Targaryen - Geralt is the eldest of the family and in love with his youngest sister, Beatrice, whom he takes a very dominant position over. He has been traveling off and on throughout the magical world, I’m not sure what he does exactly but he’s been in Romania working with dragons since the family is known as the only remaining dragon riders in the world. He commands a massive Ukranian Ironbelly, and though he doesn’t like the Weasleys much, he will work with them. When his sister tells him that she’s taken up the right hand of the new Dark Lord it sparks a bit of confusion until he finds out what happened to Voldemort then commits the dragons of his brood to Barty (Emeric). 

Thom Lanier Crouch (Targaryen) - The only biological son of Barty Crouch and Seraphina Targaryen, Thom is a 5th year Slytherin who has some interesting abilities due to his family being dragon riders and almost always dark wizards. He has the ability to use a form of the Imperious Curse in his voice, without actually casting the spell directly in order to influence people to do what he wants. He starts out his time in Hogwarts being friends and later wanting to be more than friends with the muggle born Diana Vaughn though when things at home take a turn, he attempts to turn Kristy Summers to the Dark arts so her ancient magic can be used to help with the revolution his mother and father are planning. Tom’s heart isn’t really in it and after seeing what kind of damage the ancient magic can do, he turns his back on his family in order to help his friends and go back to Diana, if she’ll have him. 

Kadence “Kai” Hightower - Auror for the Ministry of Magic and MACUSA, he is also Percival Graves’ former brother in law. After his little brother turned dark on him and his husband, Kai sought a way to recover from the pull of the darkness himself. He and his brother had always been close. Kai was first introduced to Evelyn Monroe when she met Percy the first time to get her mark removed and start down her own path as an Auror. He fell in love with her quickly and they spent quite a bit of time together, but because she was in mourning of her lost son and the supposed death of her husband, Barty, he didn’t make a move too quickly to get into her favor, but rather set himself up as a friend and consort should she need a shoulder to fall on. When the darkness sets in over London as a new Dark Lord rises to power from the ashes of the last, Kai takes a transfer from MACUSA to the Ministry and is brought on as an extra hand at Hogwarts for the security of the students. 

[game88an]

Idea of ​​Super Glove Ball as a live action film.

I know the game didn't get good ratings but I think it could be a success.

Super Glove Ball Movie: Story Idea

Five astronomy researchers have gone missing after they discovered a spaceship shaped like a hand.

They step into the Spaceship takes a look but then suddenly the ship activates.

Ships take them outside the earth and it is an alien who locked them in a square cube.

The astronomers forgot one thing on earth it was the Super Glove that can stop the evil alien by the name of Willtronaut.

It's a soldier named Trevin Hilleut who can save the astronomers and he needs the Super Glove to go into space and defeat Willtronaut.

Trevin's fiancee Paula is one of those astronomers gone missing.

Willtronaut wants the Super Glove because he has the Power Glove.

Name: Jawon Lanier

Ethnicity: African American

Profession: Computer Science

Allies: Homas, Jill, Paula, Keri and Trevin

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Homas Zimer

Ethnicity: Middle eastern

Profession: Digital visual artist

Allies: Jawon, Jill, Paula, Keri and Trevin

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Jill Mattez

Ethnicity: Latino

Profession: Science business woman

Allies: Jawon, Homas, Paula, Keri and Trevin

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Paula Manhattan

Ethnicity: Native American

Profession: Computer Coding

Allies: Jawon, Homas, Jill, Keri and Trevin

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Keri Gunter

Ethnicity: White

Profession: Digital moving graphics

Allies: Jawon, Homas, Jill, Paula and Trevin

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Trevin Hilleut

Ethnicity: Asian American

Profession: Soldier

Allies: Jawon, Homas, Jill, Paula and Keri

Enemies: Willtronaut

Name: Willtronaut

Ethnicity: Alien

Profession: Conquer

Allies: No allies

Enemies: Astronomers and Soldier from Earth.

Name: Rareinted

Ethnicity: Alien

Profession: Scientist later Hero

Allies: Trevin, Jawon, Homas, Jill, Paula and Keri

Enemies: Willtronaut

The characters' names are based on the person who created the game:

Trivia:

Jawon Lanier: Person named Jaron Lanier

Homas Zimer: Person named Thomas Zimmerman

Jill Mattez: Person named Jill Barad and surname based on company named Mattel

Paula Manhattan: Person named Paul Machacek

Keri Gunter: Person named Keri Gunn

Trevin Hilleut: Person named Trevor Hill

Willtronaut: Person named Will Novak and name are mix Will and astronaut.

Rareinted is based Rare and Nintendo with mix.

[171deshiije]

网络工具

网络工具

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[lboogie1906]

Willie Edward Lanier (August 21, 1945) is a former football player who was a middle linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs. He won postseason honors for eight consecutive years, making the AFL All-Star team before being selected to the Pro Bowl.

He was born in Clover and attended Maggie L. Walker High School in Richmond, Virginia.

A Super Bowl champion, he won the NFL Man of the Year. He was selected to both the NFL’s 75th and 100th Anniversary All-Time Teams and inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the College Football Hall of Fame.

He played college football at Morgan State University where he was twice selected to the small-college College Football All-America Team and was chosen MVP of the Tangerine Bowl.

He is a member of The Pigskin Club of DC. National Intercollegiate All-American Football Players Honor Roll.

He collected four interceptions and matched that total as he helped the Chiefs capture Super Bowl IV with a 23-7 upset of the Minnesota Vikings. He was stellar in the Super Bowl, recording 7 tackles and an interception. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[ahye1427]

4364 Links Boulevard Jefferson, GA 30549

Welcome to your dream home in the Traditions of Braselton neighborhood. This 5-bedroom, 4-bathroom home sits on the largest lot in a serene cul-de-sac. Enjoy an open floor plan with new luxury vinyl plank flooring, freshly painted interiors, and a spacious kitchen with modern appliances, granite countertops, and an island.

The grand master suite includes a sitting room and a luxurious bathroom with a rain shower head. An additional bedroom and full bathroom on the main floor are perfect for guests. The oversized, covered patio and semi-private fenced backyard are ideal for relaxing or entertaining.

Traditions of Braselton offers amenities like an 18-hole golf course, junior Olympic-sized pool, tennis and pickleball courts, and the on-site Country Club Restaurant, Twenty7. Conveniently located near Gum Springs Elementary and West Jackson Middle Schools, shops, dining, wineries, Lake Lanier, and the North Georgia mountains. Schedule your visit today and embrace luxury living! Call Bonnie Lelak (404) 788-2580 for more details.

[kwanzah]

Chief Legends

Willie Edward Lanier (born August 21, 1945), nicknamed “Contact”, was a middle linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs from 1967 through 1977. He won postseason honors for eight consecutive years, making the American Football League All-Star team in 1968 and 1969 before being selected to the Pro Bowl from 1970 through 1975.A Super Bowl champion, Lanier won the NFL Man of the Year in 1972. He was…

[cliffburton]

morgan looks kinda like judee sill but with allen lanier's like. decay or idk and she's blonde w a middle part

[thecazagroup]

#OPENHOUSE 1/29 SUN 2-4PM ���� in #Fairfax VA 22030 3603 Colony Rd $749,900 🛏🛏 4 🛁🛁 3

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[rtrucios]

Hoy les traigo el album True Genius (Sides of Ray) de Ray Charles , un copilatorio doble que incluye 4 estilos musicales, Soul, Jazz and Blues, Country y Pop Classics uno por cada lado en vinilos de 180 gramos que conseguimos gracias a los amigos de @vinilos.pe Este álbum (gatefold), lanzado en el 2021 bajo el sello de Tangerine Records incluye las siguientes canciones Side One – Soul No. Title Writer(s) Length 1. "Hit the Road Jack" Mayfield 1:59 2. "I Don't Need No Doctor" Ashford, Simpson, Armstead 2:33 3. "Unchain My Heart" Sharp 2:51 4. "No One" Pomus, Shuman 3:10 5. "Hide nor Hair" Mayfield 3:11 6. "I've Got a Woman" (Live) Charles, Renald Richard 6:11 Total length: 19:55 Side Two – Jazz & Blues No. Title Writer(s) Length 1. "Let's Go Get Stoned" Ashford, Simpson, Armstead 2:57 2. "I'm Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town" Razaf, Weldon 3:44 3. "Smack Dab in the Middle" Calhoun 3:18 4. "Them That Got" Harper 2:49 5. "One Mint Julep" Toombs 3:06 6. "I've Got News for You" Alfred 4:32 Total length: 20:26 Side Three – Country No. Title Writer(s) Length 1. "Here We Go Again" Lanier, Steagall 3:16 2. "You Are My Sunshine" Davis, Mitchell 2:59 3. "Crying Time" Owens 2:55 4. "Take These Chains from My Heart" Rose, Heath 2:56 5. "Ring of Fire" Cash, Kilgore 3:08 6. "I Can't Stop Loving You" Gibson 4:15 Total length: 19:29 Side Four – Pop Classics No. Title Writer(s) Length 1. "Georgia on My Mind" Carmichael, Gorrell 3:39 2. "Eleanor Rigby" Lennon–McCartney 3:00 3. "Busted" Howard 2:36 4. "Till There Was You" Willson 4:10 5. "Hallelujah I Love Her So" (Live) 2:59 6. "A Song for You" Russell 4:16 Total length: 20:40 #vinyl #vinylcollection #discosdevinilo #vinyladdict #vinylcollector #longplay #vinylcommunity #vinyligclub #vinylrecords #vinyloftheday #vinylgram #vinylcollectionpost #vinylcollector #vinyls #vinyllove #vinylclub #vinylrecord #musicaenvinilo #vinyllover #tornamesa #VinylLife #tocadiscos #vinylcollective #discodeldia #melomano #musiclover #musica #discosdevinilo #vinilos https://www.instagram.com/p/CnDJ2r_PiCU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ijustkindalikebooks]

Some things I enjoyed reading this week.

[ink-asunder]

Harry: Penelope whatever-your-middle-name-is Lanier!!

Penelope: How can you scold me if you don’t even know my middle name?

[don-lichterman]

Bob Lanier, Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame center and former No. 1 overall pick, dies at 73

Bob Lanier, Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame center and former No. 1 overall pick, dies at 73

Getty Images In the middle of the NBA playoffs, some sad news emerged on Tuesday night with the passing of a legend. Bob Lanier, who played 14 seasons with the Detroit Pistons and Milwaukee Bucks and was inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame in 1992, has died at the age of 73.  NBA Commissioner Adam Silver released the following statement.  “Bob Lanier was a Hall of Fame player and…