#of that horrid british man but

[senvurii]

DREAMSMP MEMBER AS IYOWA (VOCALOID) SONGS!! A THREAD!!

Ctommy / Almost ended - a song about a girl stuck in a loop- stuck chasing her own ending forever

ctommy part2 - Midnight Phobia

ctommy honourable mention (im a freak) / peachy key

ctubbo / over - about a young girl determined to find her dead friend in the stars

ctechno / adipocere - a girl wandering through the metaphorical cold for dead relationships

(note: i always imagined techno to living millennium, and this song to crimeboys. this is for accuracy.)

cphil / imawanokiwa - about a mother attempting to ignore the grief of losing her child

cniki / Till your tear goes - a remembrance to let go and love the day

cslime / living millenium - a painting-like girl observing humans for thousands of years

cdream / mercy killing - a girl whos punishing another for lying

cquackity / goodbye jackpot - a nihilistic outview on life told through casino metaphors

cpuffy / Dandelion - someone desperately trying and failing to protect what she holds dear

csam / angel care - a girl apologizing and grieving for a loved ones death

[cosmic-ships]

Its a baileys in my coffee kind of morning.

[spxnglr]

Good mornooning my beloveds, this morning I dressed myself up in summer clothes bc the house felt like a sauna and then walked right out into the pouring rain. How has your day been?

[horrors-are-miserable-n-yearning]

British child crying for their ma

[lesbojournals]

being an american muggle dating poly!marauders would look like...

-lets pretend this exists in modern times pls <3

-just constant cultural differences. ALL OF THE TIME.

-the boys were traveling to the us and stopped in the cafe you work in, and it basically took off from there

-you immediately fell for the accents

-remus got a tea from the cafe, you had made it, and it tasted so HORRID that he made sirius and james try as well

-they were disappointed but the disappointment soon disappeared as james realized your phone number was written on the side of the cup

-they text you and set up a first date, let you know they're sort of a "package deal"

-for the first date you show them around your city, confused as to why they were so in awe that you had your driver's license

-the first date went so well that they extended their stay in the us to get to know you better

-it's not until wayyy later that you become Official-this is when you find out about wizardry and it just leaves you like :o

-"so what british people get to be wizards and i'm just stuck here"

-"no, that's not how it works dove."

-you blush REALLY hard at the different nicknames the boys have for you compared to the american counterpart: love, dove, etc.

-sirius makes fun of you constantly saying "dude, man, bro"

-"dude you bought me flowers!! no way!!"

-"do you have to call me dude"

-james approves of the american dude-bro persona you occasionally put on for shits and gigs

[misskattylashes]

A few ruminations on Miles and America.

Currently on a very long cab journey to a boring work conference so I thought I would ruminate a bit, as the there are currently two hot topics of conversation about Miles at the moment. One of which I am not going to entertain because it is the usual PR crap, but it does sort of feed into my thoughts about Miles never being promoted in America.

On the surface it makes no sense. Go back to Colour of the Trap, which was never released there. CTT era Miles was cute, personable, BRITISH, had Noel Gallagher singing on the album and most of all some of the tracks had been co written with Alex and AM were becoming huge in the US at the time so surely releasing CTT would have been a sure fire money maker. He even had a super gorgeous girlfriend at the time in Suki, so I don't know what the reason behind this was at all.

Since then, apart from TLSP his career has been non existent in the US. Note how all the interviews around the world around at time of EYCTE were about how silly and close Alex and Miles were. Where was the toxic one? The ill-judged comment in a world where many stars must make ill-judged comments but their PRs pay the journalists or publications off to stop them mentioning it... America. So straight away at the height of Me Too, Miles has this horrid image of a sexual predator in the US. Unfortunately an image that still lives with him today on certain social media platforms.

Another thing I was thinking was if he had made such a comment to a male journalist would it have even been mentioned, or was it the fact she was female it still helped keep the hetero image at the time him and Alex were behaving outrageously on stage.

Miles has been signed to some major labels in the time Alex has just been with Domino, and I wonder if the reason the contracts have ended is because they have wanted to promote him in the US and the powers that be have said no.

I'll maintain he has been kept away from the states to protect Alex's image and stop drawing attention to their close relationship. I will never change my mind that it was not a coincidence that Mr Private Alex got a girlfriend who he appeared to have a passionate relationship with, and was happy to be seen standing in the street snogging like a teenage boy, at the same time as his most homoerotic image.

In the words of the man himself....and even though the majority of the fandom realised darn well most of CDG was about Alex, Miles still had to play the game and in interviews pretend it was about Hannah Ware. (thank goodness for those people who recorded him calling Alex Shavambacu!)

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

🚬🦇 Some Vampire!Price AU Lore🦇🚬

Bonus Mummy!Gaz at the end 👁��👄👁️

Wrote this from morning until night before I sleep. I've got too much brainrot to just let it stay in my head. It has around 4k words so enjoy!

---

John Cristopher Price was born a human in 1286 in England. Coming from a lord status, He was an honorable knight through and through, loved dearly by his subordinates and of course by the king himself, Edward I.

Price died in the battlefield against the Scots when an arrow pierced through his heart. A former vampire saw his fortitude throughout his life, and made him drink her blood, and he rose as a human no more, but a blood-hungry vampire.

No amount of weapons could kill him -- pierced, stabbed, crushed, he always comes back. His thirst for blood couldn't seem to be controlled. He could see the blood flowing through every human he saw until one night, he unconsciously controlled his wife's blood, stopping her heart, and drinking her dry.

Ever since then, the people saw him as a monster, a demonic being that would end humanity. They demanded his head and even tried to burn him alive, yet the sharpest swords by the finest blacksmiths couldn't cut his neck, and no hellfire could burn him.

Not being able to live past his mistake of murdering his own wife, Price eventually escaped and lived in solitary, roaming around the British isle.

He lived through generations, learning how to live like a human. He pushed through the churn in his stomach as he tried to eat animals and vegetables, drinking water and tea even though his tastebuds only knew bitterness. Eventually, Price earned total control of his body, finding the sweetness inside the bitterness, and regulating his own stomach acid so the food he consumes stays down.

He came back to society during the 1500s when England was under the rule of Elizabeth I. He became a farmer, earning connections and new friends, all the while trying to find his place in the middle of humanity.

Price couldn't seem to stay away from the battlefield though, as when he defended his lord's land from armed mercenaries who sought for his lord's demise, one of the Queen's people saw his potential to be one of her loyal knights in her conflict with Mary of Scots. He went overseas to Spain, France, and even Russia for her, personally knowing Elizabeth until her death.

As one of Elizabeth I's subordinates, He became a knight for the rest of the House of Stuart monarchs. After that though, his age became a suspicion among the knights, so he pretended to die in one of the battles and went back to live in solitude.

For hundreds of years he lived in a cycle. Showing up out of nowhere in the city, become a soldier, sneakily drinking the blood of his enemies when his friends’ eyes were averted, and when the people around him started to notice his unaging face or when they saw him not dying from swords, he’d flee the city for one or two generations, and then coming back again to become a soldier.

Centuries passed. Newer and deadlier weapons were invented. Of course he tried the weapons on himself, but none of them managed to send him to the afterlife.

The cycles kept going, but just as he thought he had conquered this vampire body of his, something dreadful happened.

During the height of World War I, he was one of the soldiers who were deployed to No Man’s Land. After spending weeks and even a month inside the trenches, his thirst for human blood became unbearable and started to take control of his consciousness. Despite trying to fight the urge, all he saw when he walked by his fellow soldiers and superiors was each and every pump of their bloods moving inside the veins.

One night, his thirst grew out of his control, and he attacked one of his own fellow soldiers in his sleep – his own best friend. His friend screamed as he sunk his fangs into his neck, unable to fight Price’s monstrous strength. The other soldiers inside the trench heard the terrifying scream and saw Price in his most horrid state – bright red eyes filled with nothing but insanity, fangs deep inside a fellow soldier’s neck with blood running down his chin.

As his friend’s body fell to the ground, his consciousness returned and he saw what he had done. The allied soldiers started to rain down bullets upon him, fearing that the devil himself had come up to earth, yet none of them managed to pierce him. No kind of bullet was able to go pass through his skin, and no matter how much he shouted, more explanations would only make them more terrified.

And so, in the middle of the chaos, Price used his power to control the flow of blood of every single soldier with a gun in their hands, rendering them immobile against their will. He couldn’t say anything at that point. No amount of apology would bring his friend back, and no amount of explanation would stop them from fearing him. In his sorrow, Price climbed the trenches, welcoming all the incoming bullets from the enemies with open arms, hoping to end this curse of his. Of course, it could not kill him, an eternal vampire.

With nowhere to go, Price stormed the Axis’ side of the trenches on his own, attacking the enemies, drinking the blood of anyone he could sink his teeth to. The more blood he consumed, the more powerful his control over the blood of the people around him. At that point, his body was the fullest he’s ever been with human blood.

In his most powerful state, Price stopped the heart of every enemy in his sight, instantly killing them. As fear and chaos wreaked around the enemies’ trench, the Allied’s forces started their march, only to find Price nowhere to be seen.

After that tragedy, Price lived in solitude for years, hiding in the woods and mountains, swearing to himself that he’d never consume human blood ever again, even if it belongs to his enemies. He lived in the moutains, away from civilizations, hunting for animals to live.

That is, until in 1940, Price met Sir David Stirling, a British Army officer from Scotland who had been searching for the legendary “Devil of The Trenches”. Price was initially extremely apprehensive of his intentions considering how he literally trailed a mountain to search for a legendary being – a dangerous one at that. However, when Stirling told him that he’s aware of his powers and that he's in need of special people for his mission in North Africa, Price finally relented and joined him to his first operation after the World War I tragedy.

Price fought in World War II with David and other soldiers under the name Special Air Service, "L" detachment. He became one of the key figures of winning countless battles in the North African Campaign without people noticing his powers, thanks to David’s clever ways of hiding his power and authorities as a military officer, even freeing David and the others when they were captured and became a prisoner of war. Price’s existence quickly turned into a legend, and as time went on, his powers and abilities became a highly classified information in an already secretive corps, securing his identity and even his livelihood.

Price joined the major battles that the SAS had involved themselves in, even becoming an instructor among the British Army, sharing his vast knowledge of warfares that he’s earned from experience. He currently lives in his own house in London, living among humans as a regular person, owning a calico cat named Greg.

After his mission in Urzikstan, Price expressed his proposition to Laswell about creating a task force consisting of people with special powers and abilities, who could easily and efficiently finish the missions with little to no complications, all from the depth of shadows.

---

You've read this far, holy shit. Have a bonus story!

BONUS : Mummy!Gaz ⚰️🧢

Throughout his career, Price had found more and more people with special powers and abilities, like the big brooding man who could travel along the darkness and disappear like a smoke, a young Scotsman who had an animalistic trait and happened to be an exhibitionist, and… A bloodless person,

Who happened to be far, far older than him.

Price found his grave, or rather, his sarcophagus in Egypt back when he fought in World War II during the North African campaign.

Price, together with David Stirling and the first members of the SAS were intercepting the Axis troops' railways and supply dumps, when he'd found an evidently colourful sarcophagus inside one of the carriages.

See, this was not a weird or odd finding, because they've received some news about the unearthing of many sarcophaguses from the Ancient Egypt throughout many parts of Africa, even the ones belonging to ancient kings and queens. With that said, this finding was not much of a surprise for Price and his teammates, it's just that they had never expected to find one themselves.

This sarcophagus, though, didn't look like it belonged to a king or a member of a noble family. Despite the eccentric colours and engravings, it's not as large and humongous like those belonging to a monarch, so the members of SAS just dismissed it as just another coffin of a civilian.

Contrary to the others, Price felt like the sarcophagus was calling to him. The feeling was similar to when he died the first time and tasted the blood of the former vampire. He was about to lift the lid and see what's inside, before he felt David's hand stopping him as another battle was about to commence.

Still, after the series of war was over and he'd settled as a human, Price visited Egypt in 1996, adamant to get some clarity about the weird feeling he got when he was near that one specific sarcophagus. He went to the research facility where the objects found were examined and preserved.

Price then went ahead and asked one of the scientists about the object, and found out that the man inside was never an Egyptian man at all, rather a young man from an Ancient African kingdom, likely the Kerma Kingdom, who traveled to Ancient Egypt as an artist. The scientist surprised Price even more when he said that the man inside likely died around 1500 BC, which was 2700 years before Price himself died.

And he thought he was old.

As they approached the sarcophagus, the scientist left Price alone with the ancient object, as he thought this visitor wouldn't be able to lift the cover which was around 500 pounds or 226 kilograms.

Obviously, it was a small feat for Price.

The vampire lifted the lid and carefully placed the massive object on the floor, and for the first time, he saw the face of the dead man.

Even though he'd long died, Price could tell of the youth in his face. The face of an artist who'd traveled a long way to neighboring kingdoms in search of beauty and inspiration, seeking to sharpen his skills and broaden his knowledge more. Alas, he died a young man.

As he thought, Price felt the calling yet again, now louder from the absence of the lid. He first contemplated about touching such an ancient, possibly fragile object, thinking that it could contain some dark magic or any supernatural powers that were beyond his already vast understanding of the world. But whatever happened to him happened, he guessed. He's virtually uninjurable, and if he somehow died, then he died. End of story.

Finally, Price made up his mind, going ahead and touched the young man's cheek.

Yellow light started to surround the mummy's body, and gradually, the embalmed parts started to change– no, regenerate, forming a bronze coloured skin. His cheeks started to become fuller and fuller each second, the bony features of his arms and legs grew larger, forming a figure of a living human.

Price felt like he was about to faint. He couldn't even remember fainting in his lifetime, but he began to understand something. This mummy - this young man - was coming alive by taking Price's own life force.

Just when Price was about to fall, he released the young man's cheek and stumbled a few steps back. He witnessed as more bright golden light surrounded his body, and how a hand that was just a rigid limb before, began to move, albeit stutteringly, and gripped the edge of his own sarcophagus.

The young man slowly sat up, twisting his neck around like he just arrived on earth, before finding Price standing a few distance away. His eyes were golden, but the parts where it's supposed to be white were coloured solid black.

The young man emerged from his own coffin, very slowly putting his legs on the cold floor. He unsurprisingly fell to the ground like a stiff baby finding ways to manage with his body, before he stood up again, looking straight at Price through half bandaged eyes.

The undead started to walk very slowly towards the vampire, stuttering his movements as one of his hand lifted like he was reaching for him. Price stood up straight and activated his blood controlling power, attempting to stop this moving corpse in its track.

The vampire thought that he'd lost his ability to control blood. He thought because he hadn't consumed any human blood in decades, his power had weakened and even disappeared for good, but that was not the case.

Price couldn't see a single drop of blood inside the young man's veins. Nor his brain, nor his lungs, liver, and intestines. His torso was empty, save for his heart that was still inside his chest, yet the organ was not beating.

After 700 years of his life, Price had found an animate object that he totally cannot control.

The wonders of the world hadn't stop surprising him, huh.

Price, starting to feel fear after so long, could only stand still and let the young man approach him.

As his face got closer and closer, Price noticed that his face was not filled with terror or any negative intentions. It was filled with… happiness?

The young man was smiling.

His hands slowly cupped Price's cheek, and just then, Price began to feel his energy depleting rapidly. He's trying to take Price's life force again!

Reflexively, the vampire swatted the mummy's hands away (which was hard and heavy as a rock).

"What the hell are you doing?!" Price shouted to the young man. The mummy was taken aback by his statements, seeming like he got confused by Price's actions. Not only that, he proceeded to look down, observing his own body and limbs, which were still wrapped with bandages in some parts.

Suddenly, the young man looked at Price and rigidly hugged Price. The vampire was startled at first, thinking that he's about to take his life force again, but nothing happened. Just a simple, warm hug.

Something Price hadn't felt for centuries.

Just then, the sound of the door opening startled the both of them. It was the scientist that had come back to check on Price, and the utter shock on the scientist's face was priceless. The sarcophagus lid was open, and the mummy that was supposed to be dead was hugging the visitor with a grin on his face.

The scientist screamed in confusion and terror in Arabic, before Price slowed the man's heartbeat, prompting him to drop down to the floor in an instant in a sleeping state. The vampire cursed under his breath upon the situation that has fallen before him, and released himself from the mummy’s hug. He then ran towards the sarcophagus and put the lid back, and then he proceeded by carrying the sleeping scientist to some unknown room where he didn’t detect any other blood pulses - the storage room. After a few minutes, Price came back to the room where the mummy was, only to see that the mummy was nowhere to be found.

Price ran out of the room in search of the young man, stopping for a moment to detect the sound of any blood pulses of the mummy, but he exclaimed because he just realized again that that young man doesn’t have any pulse at all for him to detect. So Price began to run around the corner, finally finding the young man was looking up at the other sarcophaguses on display inside the facility, seeming like he’s enamored by the intricate engravings and colours.

Price gritted his teeth in frustration and approached the bandaged man, before fireman-carrying the mummy onto his shoulders. He then ran towards the exit of the facility with the newly reanimated young man, opening his rented car and sat him down to the passenger seat, before he himself sat on the driver’s seat.

Price huffed in relief, trying to make sense of what the actual fuck just happened to him. There’s a living mummy beside him, inside this fucking rental car.

“You, listen to me.” Price began, prompting the young man to look at him.

“You were dead for 2700 fucking years. Until today, you were still dead, but it looked like I was giving you my own life force so you can walk the world of the living again. So that means you’re alive because of me, you got that?!”

The young man only tilted his head in confusion. Of fucking course. He probably only spoke the ancient African and Egyptian language. He facepalmed.

“Okay, I know what if feels like to live again after dying. It’s confusing, but shite, not for 3 and a half millenias!” He shouted before taking a deep breath. “What do I call you? What’s your name?” The 710 year old asked the 3500 year old, his finger pointing at his chest.

That last word seemed to be familiar to the mummy, so he began to mutter some vowels out of his mouth. It looked like producing voice was still extremely hard for him.

“K–ka…”

“What? Ka? Speak clearly.”

“Ke…”

Ke? Kerma? That’s the name of the kingdom he was supposedly originated from.

After a few minutes of the same vowel coming out of the mummy’s mouth, Price began, “Ka. Ka. Kal.”

“Kyle. How about that?” The young man’s black and gold eyes widen. Price swore he saw a glimmering light from his eyes like he just heard his actual name, or at least one of the vowels of his actual ancient name.

“Yeah, you like that, Kyle?” The mummy nodded slowly. “Good. I’m about to give you one hell of a ride."

"Welcome to the living world, Kyle.”

---

Woohoo!! This became too long and even became a lore for Mummy!Gaz as well! Thank you so much for reading and hope you love it! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

Leave a comment down below 👀

[im-jesus]

My children. Someone amongst you has insulted the love of my life (Andrew Garfield). I need your strength, your power, your numbers in this horrid moment. I beg of thee, destroy the girl who wreaks havoc upon my soul.

In the name of Jesus Christ! I beseech thee! Defend the British man who is literally old enough to be my father!

@jesus-christ-offical @judas-officially @angelicwhore114 @jesus-holding-your-fave @god-offical @captain-talla idk anyone else I’m shit at remembering names

@zipperrants you’re fucked, my guy

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Eli Lake

Just over a year ago, the entire world woke up to news of a massacre.

We all know the horrid tale. Waves of gunmen—some on paragliders, others on motorcycles—attacked families at kibbutzim and young people attending a music festival. The marauders filmed their murders on GoPro cameras. They burned families alive in their safe rooms, raped and mutilated their victims, and took hostages back to Gaza on golf carts. 

Why did they do it? 

This is how Al Jazeera journalist Marc Lamont Hill ascribed the motivation: “Before October 7, the people of Gaza didn’t have one minute of self-determination.” Never mind that Israel pulled out of the territory in 2005. Hill calls this fact “a right-wing lie that we’ve got to dissect with the truth, which is that for a hundred years there’s been a settler colonial project.”

For progressives, October 7 was a jailbreak from an open-air prison. 

But for the belligerents, it was Operation Al-Aqsa Flood: an act of jihad, or holy war. 

That’s what Hamas said shortly afterward, anyway. On October 10, they released a communiqué, which explained that the purpose of this massacre was “to bolster the steadfastness of the Palestinian people in the face of the open aggression of the occupation, thwart its schemes and dreams of Judaizing Jerusalem and Al-Aqsa, and achieve victory for the just cause of our Palestinian people and our struggle for the liberation of our land, prisoners, and sanctities.” 

It’s worth lingering on that phrase, “Judaizing Jerusalem and al-Aqsa.”

Because it reveals something very important about the Israel-Palestine conflict: that much of this is not about a country; it is about an ancient city. The world knows it as Jerusalem. The Palestinians call it Al-Quds. In the middle of this city is a large hill known to Jews as the Temple Mount and to Muslims as Haram al-Sharif, or noble sanctuary. Here, there are two great mosques: Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa. This, Muslims believe, is where the prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven in a dream.

And if you listen to Hamas, they’ll tell you that there is a plot by the Jews to destroy Al-Aqsa and build a third Jewish Temple where it now stands. 

That is a lie.

It’s been 57 years since Israel won the territory in the Six-Day War—plenty of time to Judaize Temple Mount. And though there are a few on the fringe of Israeli politics who speak fanatically about the desire to build a third temple, every government since Jerusalem was reunified has entrusted the mosques on top of the mountain to the guardianship of a Jordanian religious agency known as the Waqf.

Muslims, not Jews, remain the custodians of Al-Aqsa. 

But it’s worth understanding where this lie came from.

Palestinian nationalism has taken many forms over the past century, from Maoism to Islamism, but this one theme persists: Jews have no place in their ancestral homeland, and they threaten the third holiest site in Islam. You hear it over and over again in the history of Palestinian revolts. And it stems directly from one man.

Born in 1895 to one of Jerusalem’s great families, he could trace his lineage back to the prophet Muhammad himself. He was a seminary school dropout, an antisemite, and a Nazi collaborator—and the first leader of Palestine. His name was Haj Amin al-Husseini. And while Palestinians today are embarrassed by his legacy, it’s a legacy that explains many of the pathologies that still afflict their leaders—from the celebration of spectacular violence to the rejection of compromise.

The story begins in 1920, just three years after the British adopted the Balfour Declaration, by which the empire promised to facilitate the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people.

The British became the protectorate of Palestine in 1920, but they did not conquer or covet the land; it had been entrusted to the empire through the League of Nations. Before the British Mandate, Palestine had belonged to the Ottoman Empire, which collapsed after World War I. There had never been a Palestinian state as such.

But there had been Arab nationalism—both as a backlash against the Ottoman empire, and as a movement based on shared language, culture, and geography, according to Hussein Ibish, a senior resident scholar at the Arab Gulf States Institute in Washington.

And the first birth pangs of a Palestinian national movement began as a rejection of the Balfour Declaration—and specifically, the Zionist Jews returning to Palestine to create a Jewish state. It’s at this volatile moment that a young Haj Amin al-Husseini came onto the scene.

On April 4, 1920—which, in the Christian calendar, was Easter Sunday—Jerusalem’s Muslims were celebrating the festival of Nabi Musa, which involves marching to the tomb of Moses near Jericho.

A crowd chanted: “Palestine is our land and the Jews are our dogs.” 

Al-Husseini, who was only 23 years old at the time, stood on a balcony in the Old City, held up a photograph of King Faisal of Syria, and shouted: “This is your king.”

King Faisal was one of the first independent Arab leaders to emerge after World War I, and at the time, many Palestinians considered the territory to be southern Syria.

The crowd then descended on the Jewish quarter of the old city, bearing knives and clubs. In the ensuing pogrom, five Jews and four Arabs were killed. All told, 211 Jews and 33 Arabs were wounded in the riots. 

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

Later that day

Bear rolled into the works in an ugly mood. The stationmaster had not been kind or brief (what else is new - everyone on that Branch hates him), and he hadn’t been so much “sent away” as he had been “ordered to leave… now”.

There had been a pick-up goods bound for the mainland waiting at the big station, and he’d managed to talk his way onto it. It was one of the rare trains headed by a diesel from the other railway - a gray class 37 who seemed like the stern and silent sort - and Bear had enjoyed a complete lack of conversation all the way to Crovan’s Gate.  

The workmen had known about his arrival, and met him in the yards. “Hullo Bear!” The diesel foreman said. “Have you decided what paint you’d like? Obviously we can just do a quick touch-up right now, but for later?”

Bear had thought about this intently during the ride to the works. “I don’t care - just not green.”

“Not green?” The man looked confused. “But I thought you were going to want to be painted in western colours now that City of-”

“Absolutely not.” Bear interjected. “No Western anything. Understand me? I want nothing to do with any of them.”

More confusion. “But, I thought that-”

“Things have changed.” Bear was clipping his syllables again. This time it was understandable as anger. “Do you have Rail Blue? Or anything from British Rail?”

“Really? You want-”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Bear snapped. “What about that 37 who brought me here? He was gray.” 

“You want… Railfreight triple gray?”

“Is that what it’s called? Do that.”

“I- I mean, we can, but-”

“But what?” Bear narrowed his eyes. 

“But we don’t have enough gray.” The man spluttered under the intense glare. “We thought you’d like the green, so we ordered-”

“Well then what can you do?”

There was some more hemming and hawing and hand wringing, before the men pulled him into the paint booth without telling him what they were doing. He wasn’t in the mood to ask any questions, and so when they began pouring black paint into the tank of a paint sprayer, he just let it happen. 

“Do you want us to mask out the plates?” one of the men asked, pointing to the Great Western style name and number plates on his cab sides. 

“No.” He said curtly. “Take them off. Just paint something on when you’re done.”

“Okay… do you want us to see if He-”

“No!” He barked. “Not now. Not like this. Just paint it and get it over with.”

The men looked at each other warily, but shrugged and continued. They were going to strip this off after the holidays anyway, so it didn’t really matter. 

Did it?

-

The Big Station, That Night

“I can’t believe he would say that,” Gordon confided in Edward. 

“It certainly doesn’t sound like him, but Duck was almost inconsolable. It took Truro and Oliver quite some time to calm him down.” Edward’s expression was guarded, as though he knew that he didn’t have all the facts, and didn’t like it.

“Whatever occurred, it had to happen so close to Christmas, didn’t it?” Gordon murmured. “Some time of peace and joy. Puh!” 

“Maybe it was that horrid music they’re playing in the station? Drove him mad?” Edward suggested, trying to bring some levity in. 

Gordon rolled his eyes. He could just hear the awful sound of arrhythmic synthesized jingle bells if he listened hard enough. “That could drive any engine mad, but hasn’t Bear been trapped in Duck’s little backwater shed for the last week? What with that horrible set of accidents?”

“Don’t call it that,” Edward rolled his eyes. “It makes me feel like my shed is some ramshackle hut in the wilderness.”

Gordon wisely did not comment, and the two blue engines sat quietly for a moment. 

“Truro’s due in a few minutes,” Edward offered up. “I hear he’s trying to prove he can pull the express.”

“By taking your stopping train?” Gordon scoffed. “Next you’ll tell me he’s learning to fly, so he can challenge Concorde.”

Another pause. “You know, BoCo has very little to say about City of Truro, and none of it is good.”

A distant signal dropped on the huge semaphore array above the station throat. A moment later, a whistle could be heard from under the station canopy - probably Truro, setting off with his Arlesburgh-Suddery stopper train. 

“I know,” Gordon said quietly, thinking deeply. “The same can be said for Delta.”

“Is there some truth to it, then? Truro and diesels are like, well, oil and water?”

“I certainly hope not.” Gordon murmured, watching as Truro appeared from underneath the station canopy in a cloud of billowing steam. A picture of vanity that could make James jealous, his brass was polished to a shine visible from a considerable distance away, and his paint was a deep pool of silky green. In the lights of the station and the yard, he lit up as though a perpetual spotlight was upon him. “He’s yet to prove himself in any way. It would be a shame if we lost a useful worker in exchange for a show pony.”

A diverging home signal dropped, above the distant. There was a train bound for the docks profiled to cross Truro’s path. The Westerner came to a dignified halt, his smoke rising in a perfect column into the cold dark sky as he waited. 

“Maybe he could prove himself if you stopped annoying him every time you spoke to him,” Edward whispered. 

“Rubbish,” Gordon returned the volley. “I was much worse to you and Henry, and look at how well you both turned out.”

“Gordon, you were a pompous twit, not an instructor.”

“Yes, but think about it,” Gordon continued, unphased. “He’s older than either of us, and yet I can bring him into a rage with comments that you wouldn’t even register.” He paused, as a set of marker lights began to shine through the tunnel leading into the station throat. “If he were here now, he’d be screaming something about honor and dignity just from that Concorde remark.”

Edward mulled it over for a moment. In the distance, a somewhat familiar engine beat began to filter through the tunnel. “Oh dear...”

“Indeed…” Gordon watched Truro intently as Bear’s engine note got nearer. 

The oncoming train rolled out of the tunnel doing all of twenty miles an hour. Bear and his train of oil tankers rocked from side to side as they negotiated the many switches leading to the docks. 

“Oh…”

“...”

Gordon and Edward were both rendered momentarily speechless. 

It had been mentioned in passing that Bear had gone to the works for a new coat of paint, and goodness gracious was it a new coat of paint. 

Bear had been green for many years, but not anymore. Now, he was black from his frame to his roof. It was a shockingly dark matte black at that, making the few colors on him stand out with vibrant clarity: 

There was a single light blue stripe running down his body about three feet above his frames, a half-height yellow warning panel that didn’t quite cover all of his face, and white British Rail logos behind his cab. Tall white letters that read NORTH WESTERN were located between the cab doors and the double arrow logos, and all numbers were painted on in white stencils. It looked like the livery of that new “sectorization” thing they were doing in Scotland, but without the cream band that had made Donald and Douglas inexplicably furious when they saw it. 

It wasn’t applied well, either - even from far away, there were visible drips of black streaking into the blue. In some spots, the Great Western Green could still be seen, and there was a partly visible BR cycling lion logo half-covered by the blue stripe. The numbers were done with stencils and a spray can, it seemed like - there was copious overspray around the big 35 102 painted on each cab side.

As he neared Truro, his scowl deepend, and his engine began skipping and missing quite badly. The train slowed down even further, almost to a crawl, before his engine roared back to normal as he was almost level with Truro. 

With an earsplitting growl, his engine went to full power, and the train began to pick up speed. In the process, a massive cloud of sooty black exhaust belched out Bear’s exhaust. Thick and roiling, it stuck close to Bear’s roof, rolling over both Bear and Truro like a fog bank. 

When it finally cleared, Truro was black from buffer to footplate. His eyes and teeth were thrown into stark contrast - the only white spots against a sea of dirty black. 

He took one long blink, his face becoming a temporary sea of black rage, before snapping his eyes open. “YOU HORRID CREATURE!” he screamed, his whistle sounding like an air raid siren. 

“Takes one to know one!” was the only response as Bear rumbled down the line to the docks. 

For a moment, there was a perfect, shocked, complete silence over the yard. Edward and Gordon stared in disbelief at what had just happened. Truro was clearly so upset that he couldn’t speak. 

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Across the yard, James hadn’t seen Bear at all, and only witnessed Truro being enveloped by a cloud of clag. He laughed so hard that his safety valves lifted, and he vanished into a cloud of steam, still cackling madly. 

Edward and Gordon, startled out of their shocked state, looked at Truro, looked at where Bear had been, and then looked at each other. 

“What has he done?” Gordon whispered. 

[elodieunderglass]

Setting all other discourse about fiction and reality aside, I really love and appreciate how book-readers have decided that SOME little fake guys are actually extremely Real(tm). Like, even in the same BOOK, there will be fictional characters where the reader agrees that the author made a series of conscious and unconscious choices about this character, and there will in the same book be a little guy who absolutely DID exist and DID sentiently do these things.

Okay you need some examples. Most of you will understand Sam Vimes/Terry Pratchett. Everyone understands intellectually that Pratchett was a writer moving his little puppets around (except that Vimes is real, actually.) Pratchett could write Vimes doing ANYTHING and readers would believe it. When you see footlong discourse about Vimes it’s always presented as if he’s a Man who Chose To Do those Things, never a well-worn literary mechanism. People respect him: Sam vimes arrested a dragon - No he didn’t!! Man’s not real! Pratchett could’ve made him do anything! By some apotheosis Sam Vimes is a real little guy.

The character who is the most real is Stephen Maturin, who is much more Real but too obscure to start with. Stephen is the most character ever. He is Irish-Catalan active in 7 different anarchist separatist movements and also serves the British empire also. He is a horrible little scientist doctor surgeon spy, he is VERY dirty, addicted to 3 drugs, plays the cello, has broken every bone, and is smelly also. He has a sloth. He is the predecessor of all “put them in a jar with a twig” blorbos, but unlike YOUR degraded blorbos, he is real, actually. Look at how I write about him. He is our son Stephen who speaks every language. At no point do we accredit Patrick O’B for coming up with any of this hard work, let alone do we accuse him of making Stephen unbelievable or inaccurate. He is a real horrid little man.

With the possible exception of Paddington Bear, who is very polite, most Meta-Real entities are consistently horrid little men. This quality (plus the fact that ACD looms SO VISIBLY and distractingly over his shoulder) may be why Sherlock Holmes is beloved but unreal. He is horrid and detailed, but not little?

As you can see, I am trying to characterise the qualities of these entities, and whether there is a spectrum of reality. Jesus, for example, feels somewhat real, with cloudy edges possibly due to translation artefacts. Gilgamesh might be, ditto. Ishmael is NOT. Lizzie Bennett is a funny one (also a rare real female) because she is not at all real, but you could 100% encounter her ghost. Do you see what I mean here.

[therealslimshakespeare]

What is Elvis like as a father in law? I pretty much see him treating Donna and any of the other women who join the family similar to how he talked to fans at times. Everyone is darlin ', sweetheart, honey hahaha. Wanting to take everyone under his wing and spoil em. Especially Donna because she basically saves two of his kids.

This man -you’ve nailed it.

He loves people. We’ve established this. He adores his kids. Now, people who love his kids? Oh that’s just a beautiful upper tier of love from him. He loves them, he squirrels them away in rooms just one on one to grill them about their interest in a off-putting but lovingly intense way. He inducts them into the family with all the pomp and circumstance of a born performer while also taking care to give them private and subtle assurances of his welcome.

Of course there was Ella‘s fella Johnny, and the time Elvis put his dumb blonde head through the penthouse drywall. But that was no aspersion against Johnny’s good character, his valiant service to the nation as a soldier in ‘Nam or any real man-to-man dislike. It was entirely to do with a red blooded man marrying his 18-year-old baby. Elvis had sworn as a young father he’d kill anyone who came for Ella: Johnny can be glad he only has a permanent goose-egg back there from the incident. A few months of good intentions and proof that Ella is happy with her choice and all can be forgiven. Besides, Elaine seems charmed by Johnny and Elvis hates being anything but on the same page as Tink. 

Now Jack’s lady, she is a whole Lotta woman, so much Woman that some idiots might call her masculine, but that’s just her broad shoulders and brusque attitude leading you astray. Live and let live, Elvis believes, and he can sympathize with Jack. He knows a thing or two about the positive affects of your lady not letting you get away with shit. Or conversely only allowing you to in her company or under her supervision. It only takes Elvis a few months to get a read on Vic and stop trying to spoil her with jewels or perfume, instead he buys her cigars in the vain hope that she’ll stop swiping his. 

And then of course there is Danny and his precious Bee, raised most of her summers at Graceland and practically a Presley child until Shiloh had to play matchmaker and Danny had to make it weird and marry her. Oh well, at least they’re compatible and Elvis already approves.

And there’s Rosalee and her Sam Harrison, who Elvis likes well enough as he’s the son of an army buddy, even if the fool boy married someone else in the interim

and Daisy’s bloke ain’t half bad for being British, being known as Rosalee‘s kind professor, he’s got brownie points in the Presley family before Daisy attached herself to him, he’s a calming influence on that wild child and the rest of them, someone for Elvis to smoke with and talk about spiritual things.

And then there’s Donna. Now, Elvis does not have favorites, alright? He really doesn’t, Donna’s not his favorite. Don Don can’t be, as she is not a favorite, she is a fairy, a precious angel sent from above to patch up his babies and bring joy to their household. Whenever sweet Don Don is not being clutched by Jesse or gossiping with Jack or posing for Marie, her tiny self is tucked under Elvis’ armpit while he shows her his latest hyper fixation. She’s written many a caption for a polaroid after he complained of his bad handwriting and morosely wished upon a star within her earshot for some young helper to come along and aid him. Donna didn’t expect Elvis Presley to be so endearingly human -but he is, and it almost makes her forgive that horrid nickname.

…and then take into account the grand-babies that come from these…

[randomthoughtssideblog]

Okay, so this has been rattling around inside my head since I saw Sophmore Year

"As Above, So below"

The Gods of Fantasy High are Reflections of their Followers.

Mac and Donna are Followers of Sol.

Kristen was a Saint of Helio; Specifically chosen by him.

Mac and Donna are demonstrably Horrid Parents.

Kristen is a Messy, Chaotic person, and kind of a Gym Bro (Negative), specifically a Teenager caught between the belief that her God was wholly and Completely good and Kind, and the Adult realizations that the world is a mess and compromises are Common; Faults are to be accepted.

In Sophmore year, When Kristen is dead and speaking to Sol, Helio, and Galacea, Helio is still the same as he was in Freshman Year.

He's Messy, and Chaotic - and a Fuckboy.

Kristen, His chosen said in the first episode "If Helio Were here, he would pop out of a Corn Husk and Pop corn all over for everyone to eat" in reference to her parents bigotry.

Think about that.

And again in Sophmore Year, he sounds desperate. He's begging Kristen to come back, to join him again. Not in the Demanding way Sol talks to Kristen, like a Parent to a Obstinate Child.

No, Helio is on his knees Begging and PLeading for Kristen to forgive him.

Like a person begging their god for salvation.

Kristen asks Helio when she's dead why there's pain and suffering.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't have an answer.

Now again "AS ABOVE" to "So Below"

They are reflections of each other, but the "Above" come before the "Below"

Helio might've chosen Kristen because he was in a similar spot to what she was gonna be in.

Saint Kristen Chili's Applebees left her god Helio, and Found Cassandra.

Cassandra, Spawned from the remnants of The Unnamed Goddess of Mystery.

Helio's Aunt is The Unnamed Goddess of Mystery.

How fitting would it be for Helio to follow Kristen to his 'Aunt?'

I mean, Kristen hurt her brother by abandoning them with her parents.

Who's to say that the same didn't happen with Helio?

TL;DR

Gods reflect Followers, Followers reflect Gods, Applebees parent reflect Sol, Kristen Reflects Helio and Vice Versa.

Helio cold be in a similar situation that Kristen was in and needed someone that would accompany him in misery, but now the one he chose to accompany him (Kristen) may be his salvation.

IDK Man It's midnight and I've been awake for far too long. I could be misremembering something.

~~~~~

Also; Side note that's related Corn, as we might think of it today, brilliant, yellow, juicy veggie it is - That's not how it is naturally.

Wild corn is dark and hard and good for making flour and the like out of - it's difficult to eat straight off the cob. We bent and changed and Modified it to suit our desires.

Historically, Helio's followers migrated to Solace from Highcourt with a trail of violence leading behind them.

When the europeans (spanish, British, French) showed up to "The New World" They enacted great violence, took the natural resources and bent it to what they desired.

Something something Colonizers Bending the wild and natural to their will by culling the unprofitable and 'bad' crop is like a parent 'disciplining' the 'bad' out of their children

~~~~~

[witchlingcirce]

Okay so I’m real bored and I just want to give out some book recommendations by MWAH !!!!!!!

Howls moving castle

Synopsis: Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl's castle. To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there's far more to Howl-and herself-than first meets the eye.

Okay so now obviously everyone knows Howl’s moving castle from the movie (10/10 movie please watch). But honestly the book is so different!! I really feel like the book shines in a different way that the movies does. If you’ve seen the movie than the book is like if the movie versions of these characters do crack. This book was so light and easy, and if your able to get your hands on the audiobook I legit can’t recommend it enough. Howl is such a fun a character, and Sophie is just so silly. This book just remains so consistent and honestly I feel like the writing style almost makes these characters feel alive!!

The ocean at the end of the lane

Synopsis: A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy.

This book genuinely is not what I was expecting it to be but nonetheless was so exceptional. If you’re not familiar with Gaimens work, just know that’s a line. He wrote the novels for Good Omens and Coraline, which are both very famous movie/TV shows! The best way I can describe Gaimens work is literally that it’s so British. This book for me was consistently unexpected, in my mind I was like “this is going to happen!” And it didn’t! Not in like a plot-twisty way, in a “I was nottt expecting that”. This book takes an interesting approach on the concept of lost childhood memories. I think it’s a concept you don’t usually see but I feel like the way Gaimen handled it just made it so interesting. I truly felt for the narrator throughout this novel, this poor boy!

This is Amiko, do you copy?

Synopsis: Other people don't seem to understand Amiko. Whether eating curry rice with her hands at school or peeking through the sliding doors at her mother's calligraphy class, her curious, exuberant nature mostly meets with confusion. When her mother falls into a depression and her brother begins spending all his time with a motorcycle gang, Amiko is left increasingly alone to navigate a world where she doesn't quite fit.

AH!! This book was honestly so interesting to read and I highly recommend to anyone who is fond of Fujimoto's 'Goodbye Eri' and 'Look back'. The writing in this book was honestly top TIER. I think writing this book's perspective from a neurodivergent girl's POV in a society that doesn't really accept that is so interesting. Throw it into the context of her dysfunctional family who after a major event kind of fall part and no one is there to help her in some many different aspects of life is really interesting. I think this and the ocean at the end of the lane are the shortest here on this list but I really do recommend. Out of all the books I’ve recommended I will say this is the most depressing, but something about this book is soooo I don’t know how to put it. It’s definitely one of those books that will leave you thinking awhile after you’ve read it. I can stress enough how much of this book is worth to read!! It’s so tragic.

The space between here and now

Synopsis: Perfect for fans of They Both Die at the End and You've Reached Sam, this gripping, atmospheric YA novel follows a teen with a mysterious condition that transports her to the past when she smells certain scents linked to specific memories. Seventeen-year-old Aimee Roh has Sensory Time Warp Syndrome, a rare condition that causes her to time travel to a moment in her life when she smells something linked to that memory. Her dad is convinced she'll simply grow out of it if she tries hard enough, but Aimee's fear of vanishing at random has kept her from living a normal life. When Aimee disappears for nine hours into a memory of her estranged mom--a moment Aimee has never remembered before--she becomes distraught. Not only was this her longest disappearance yet, but the memory doesn't match up with the story of how her mom left--at least, not the version she's always heard from her dad. Desperate for answers, Aimee travels to Korea, where she unravels the mystery of her memories, the truth about her mother, and the reason she keeps returning to certain moments in her life. Along the way, she realizes she'll need to reconcile her past in order to save her present.

The concept of this book is really interesting and is executed in a really fun and new way. I feel like in a lot of 'time travel' books it gets too complicated or it just ends up lacking any sense and at some point stops making sense. This book didn't have that problem; having her 'time travel' be her going back to her memories was such a cool concept, and she executed it so well. I really enjoyed her descriptions of what it feels like to travel, and I'm glad she went into depth with it instead of leaving it up to the imagination. This book also did really well in showing that our main character was a teenager. Something about the way she wrote really made us feel like we were in a teenage girl's head-not in a choppy or bad way where it made you roll your eyes, but in a way that made you able to relate to the character. I also really liked how likable our main character was; it added to the reading experience! Also, I really liked how the main mystery of the plot was resolved; it was really interesting, and honestly, it wasn't expected! And to add onto what I said before, the time travel powers almost feel like they could be the powers of a life is strange protagonist if that makes any sense to anyone.

Immortal longings

Synopsis: Every year, thousands in the kingdom of Talin will flock to its capital twin cities, San-Er, where the palace hosts a set of games. For those confident enough in their ability to jump between bodies, competitors across San-Er fight to the death to win unimaginable riches. Princess Calla Tuoleimi lurks in hiding. Five years ago, a massacre killed her parents and left the palace of Er empty...and she was the one who did it. Before King Kasa's forces in San can catch her, she plans to finish the job and bring down the monarchy. Her reclusive uncle always greets the victor of the games, so if she wins, she gets her opportunity at last to kill him. Enter Anton Makusa, an exiled aristocrat. His childhood love has lain in a coma since they were both ousted from the palace, and he's deep in debt trying to keep her alive. Thankfully, he's one of the best jumpers in the kingdom, flitting from body to body at will. His last chance at saving her is entering the games and winning. Calla finds both an unexpected alliance with Anton and help from King Kasa's adopted son, August, who wants to mend Talin's ills. But the three of them have very different goals, even as Calla and Anton's partnership spirals into something all-consuming. Before the games close, Calla must decide what she's playing for-her lover or her kingdom.

I remember I read this for the book club I was in last year and I am forever grateful. I was a little hesitant going into this book because I genuinely did not really like either these violent delight books. However this book is actually so good. If you’re in a reading slump I highly recommend this novel to get you out. This plot follows genuinely a really interesting concept, and I liked the way body hopping was kind of represented. I also do feel like it’s an interesting play on this kind of hunger games concept. However I will warn you the body hopping powers are confusing but just go along with it. The actual world of this is inspired by an old city in China (which name I have forgotten) but if you compare to what that city looked like and to what’s described in the book Chloe gets it down to a T. The plot twists of these books are genuinely just so much fun. There’s so many little hints scattered around it makes you want you get a bulletin board and put the little lines up. Not to mention the ENDINGG, I was gagged. The sequel is this novel is also coming out later this year as well!

Uhm anyways guys I love reading so much my Spotify told me to stop listening to audiobooks and get a life 😭😭😭 who wants to be my goodreads friend

[lucifersresources]

stupid shit said in discord servers part three meme.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!  

how dare you be a cop.

i had a dream you worked for nasa but like... nasa were also cops, and you tried to arrest me for publishing pictures of the earth on twitter.

i have never been to jail.

i'm a nun, i've never been in horny jail in my life.

respectfully, you are gay 24/7

babe i'm horny, not sad.

[unintelligible mort screaming]

why am i even attracted to him?

your animagus form would be king julian.

shit i'm not a bot

i still have the immune system of a rat.

ethically, i can go to the library, right?

i can cry and rest at the same time, it's called multitasking.

i don't know where this comes from I'M A HAPPY PERSON.

i'm blowing you a kiss, if you don't catch it and put it in your pocket, i'm gonna end it all.

they're both switches, so there's multiple holes to choose from.

do you ever say something and wonder how exactly you got to this point in life?

mousekeep, mouselight, mouseboss.

ur funny and that's on me.

you made me do this, any injury is on you.

i can buy friends.

i can't bully you today, i have you pencilled in for tomorrow.

he's gay and mean.

ah yes, i'm a moron.

i am made a horrid joke... wait, you're british, you won't be scandalised.

i love lamps.

jfk is a werewolf for real this time.

i'm not putting him in the closet, he worked so hard to come out of that!

i'd like to thank the academy, my dad, and my trauma for the humour it gave me.

all he needs is a bong and he's happy.

god i wasn't even flirting i don't even like you like that man, no homo!

you're gonna die a bottom, how embarrassing.

now WHY is my banana nut muffin so goddamn bald.

i'm bisexual which means i'm attracted to men and i don't like men.

i'm bisexual which means i'm attracted to you as a result of your work and the fact i have no experience in this field.

i'm bisexual which means i'm attracted to me.

in the most affectionate way possible, i am not convinced you are of this earth.

[gazs-blue-hat]

Ive seen a few concept fics off of this and I’ll write a fic based off of this later but

141 would LOVE to watch the Great British Bake-off. They so would. Every week they make bets and cheer when their chosen champion gets star baker. Johnny would pout something horrid if his person lost.

Kyle talks a big game but he’s terrible at waiting for things to be done. (He’s a master at cooking though)

Simon won’t step near an oven, he knows what he makes will be edible but if it’s not a box mix, he’s not for it.

Price also doesn’t bake much. The only thing this man bakes is probably cookies or something.

But when it actually comes down to it, Johnny takes the cake. He’s so good at measuring exact exact EXACT amounts of things. (Demolitions is all measuring lol)