#if you spot the clue ref youre a real one

[jackalsarchive]

Wrote a response to a fic prompt, "write this in your style" from @breannasfluff prompt, "Purah's List" if you want to check it out.

This fic is also on AO3! It'll have the collections link as well, so you can check out the other fics people have written, along w/ the original prompt from Breanna.

It's a bit lengthy, so I'll put it under the read more. Please let me know what you think :)

I wrote from the Champion's point of view, but there's a bit of foolishness from the others at the edges.

It’s late morning in Hateno, the nine swordsmen circling around Purah’s table in the tech lab.

“I need all of this by sundown. All of it, from all nine of you. It’s a matter of life and death.” Purah says, with utmost seriousness.

They take turns looking at the list of items, and looking at each other, as they pick and choose who’s bringing back what.

Wind peeks at it, sarcastically asking, “Yeah? So what happens if we’re late, we die?”

Purah fondly rolls her eyes, as she’s standing on the table so she’s taller than him. “Oh please, I’d bring you back.”

Wind’s eyes widen, smirking and calling her bluff. “Oh, so you can just give someone life after death?”

Warriors snorts, commenting as he stretches his arms. “Pfft. Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage—oww!“ his sentence gets cut off by Time, giving him a glare, and Twilight swatting the captain in the back of the head, with the sailor laughing in the background.

So they all take their pick from Purah’s list, getting themselves ready for their challenge.

The door of Purah’s lab swings shut behind Wild, as he ambles past the warp circle, digging a pen out of his travel pack. He hears the soft creeeak…thump as the old heavy door opens and shuts again, the sound of old boots softly crunching gravel behind him.

“Sixteen potlids, huh…” the Rancher starts, in his easygoing drawl.

Wild looks up from scribbling his list of ‘Goron spice’ and ‘Chuchu jelly’ on the back of his hand, to glance at him. Wild gives him a look, knowing he’s about to say some choice shit. He hears the rancher continue, a teasing lilt to his words.

“…Do you even have that many in the population to—“

Wild cuts off the rancher’s words by swatting Twilight on the arm, “Oh shut up, go off and sniff some grass or something!” The champion retorts back, making him howl in laughter.

The champion swats him again, going for a playful kick in the calf, when Twilight catches him, ramming into his torso, arms gripping him and pushing, with the strength of his goats back home.

Their brief arm-swatting-turned-schoolyard sumo wrestling tussle gets cut off by the Veteran walking out of the lab next, squinting at the sun, and then them, before shaking his head as he keeps walking.

“What’d you have to get, Vet?” Twilight asks, still smiling as he follows Legend down the hill path, holding Wild’s head and neck in a chokehold under his arm, taking Wild with them down the road.

“Ah—uh. Three flint stones and one...luminous stone?” He trails off in his answer. “Purah was saying there’s a Talus by Ginner woods….wherever that is.” He finishes, brushing his pinkish hair out of his eyes, fixing his hat back on over his blond roots.

“Oh! Yeah! Ginner’s not even half a mile out the village, on your right, just go a bit past it, in the…north west-ish…direction. There’s a talus there…dunno if it’ll have luminous stone though. It might.”

Wild explains, through a slightly strained voice, still in Twilight’s chokehold, wriggling and pushing the bulkier man to his best efforts, to no success.

The veteran laughs at the sight, giggling as he walks down the path ahead of them, his Pegasus boots giving him the slightest bit of a faster stride.

Twilight finally lets go of Wild, yelling after Legend with “Don’t forget the Chuchu jelly!” getting a friendly middle finger in return, making his heart warm with the beloved jackass behavior.

Wild composes himself, checking his hand to make sure his list isn’t smudged, as he purposely steps on the back heel of Twilight’s boots as they walk downhill, getting one last shot in.

He fixes his long hair back into a loose tail, redoing his hair tie, as he speaks. “…Anyway. You should be able to find some good amount of lids here. If not, there’s most likely some at the monster camps outside town, or Kakariko’s like…not too far away, on four legs.” Wild advises, turning back at the lab, seeing the traveler and their blacksmith come out next, the traveler swinging a bucket in his hand, and Four tying his hair back, looking mildly perplexed.

They make it to the bottom of the hill, Wild getting an encouraging pat on the back from Twilight, before splitting ways.

Just a couple things to grab. Easy. Wild could do all this in his underwear, and only a rusty axe and a tree branch on him. In fact, he probably has.

Wild taps his fingers rhythmically on his thigh, idly and mindlessly alternating fingers in a fast tempo, as he laps around Hateno a couple times. He asks around about the merchant caravan, using his usual intel source of Nebb and Karin, though the two kids don’t know anything. He does get shown a cool iridescent worm that Karin found though.

He spends five minutes poking and playing around with the worm with the two kids before he remembers he actually has some responsible shit to do, and excuses himself, waving at them as he keeps walking.

Unfortunately, either the gossip circle at the laundry basin was wrong, or that merchant caravan from Eldin is quicker than he would’ve thought. The caravan isn’t here, and Pruce from the produce store didn’t get any spice.

The champion blows out a puff of air in frustration, leaning against the beam of the Hateno main gate.

He doesn’t have his slate, still being repaired by Purah. So he can’t just warp somewhere….

But it’s a risky gamble if any nearby merchants would even have Goron spice, this side of Hyrule….he may have to get it the hard way…

…Shit.

The champion does one last desperate search around Hateno, with the same results. He even digs through his shelves and cabinets in his house across the bridge, hoping to the three spirits that he’s not just wasting his time.

….He wasted his time, he found nothing.

Wild heads out of his house, locking his door, when Bolson calls out from his lounge spot by the cooking pot, lounging in the shade.

“Looking for Zelda, dear? I think she said she was traveling to the Domain for a few days, she left a day or so ago.” He says, his tone lilting and floaty, squinting at Wild under his eyeshadow.

Wild waves him off. “No Bolson, but thanks for letting me know why she wasn’t home. I’m actually looking for spice but we don’t have any.”

Bolson, quick as a whip, answers back as Wild starts to cross the bridge.

“Well you’ll have to talk to your lady about that—“

“What…?—wait—no! No, that’s— Bolson!” The champion sputters, caught off guard by Bolson’s teasing dirty joke, as the older man cackles, tilting back in his spot on the grass. The older man adjusts his position, waving him off as he continues lounging in the shade, as Link’s house has the best of it.  

Wild, red and flustered, speed walks his way back to Hateno’s main gate. He waves to Thadd as he exits, spotting Sky a bit away, peeking around a tree, looking at a beehive a few trees away, squinting like he’s going to snipe it. Or trying to mentally control the bees….Whichever, Wild has faith in him.

Wild’s getting his breathing ready to start the run to Eldin until he can grab a horse, when hears the faint sound of the earth falling apart, with tremors under his feet.

The veteran must have found the stone talus. He doesn’t hear cussing yet, but he does hear faint sounds of battle, so he figures Legend is okay. It’s not one of the senior taluses, or anything elemental, so it should be nothing more than a workout for him.

He sends a mental wish of luck to him, and gets moving.

The champion’s running at a good pace, controlling his breathing, wondering how he’ll get Goron spice in time before sundown. He stops before the monster fort camp near the hill, catching his breath.

He watches the moblins and bokoblins stalk around, some on some patrol path, others looking like their squabbling over a stack of boxes.

…Wait. Maybe…

Wild checks his shield’s condition. A little banged up, but it should work…if he gets it right on the first couple tries. His bow and arrows are sturdy on his back.

He takes a deep breath, and gets climbing up the near rock hill, staying out of sight of the camp.

He checks the sun, guessing the rough estimate of time. He faces the right way, seeing his shadow doesn’t point towards noon yet, so he’s not doing too terribly on time. He crouches, his eyes following the red moblin, as it circles and stalks closer…and closer…almost…

There. Now!

Wild takes one last breath, and sprints, drawing his shield. He gets good airtime, planting his feet on the straps of his shield, drawing his bow. It feels like time slows as he aims for contact on the Moblins left shoulder, pointing north-northwest.

Perfect.

He feels his boots and shield drop against the shoulder of the moblin, monster screams and snarls with indignance and offense as Wild gets bounced off.

The bounce gets him good airtime, sending him far as he reaches the highest he’ll get, snapping his paraglider open, the champion’s shoulders flaring in protest briefly as the fabric and wind resistance yanks and pulls.

He takes time to laugh like a madman, yelling “I still got it!!”  as he glides past Necluda towards Eldin.

Wild thankfully has enough energy today, and got enough height in the air to make it to Foothill stable, crashlanding and dragging his feet, faceplanting into the dirt. If he remembers right, there should be a Goron salesman, or someone around here carrying Goron spice…

He asks around and searches for about half an hour, sitting and resting a bit, drinking water. Today, it seems, the world must have it out for him. No one has any, after checking with Ozunda at the counter, then Beedle, then any poor traveling merchant unlucky enough to make eye contact with him. He probably sounds like he’s losing it, asking for Goron spice like it’s his lost child.

“Hey! Ozunda, anyone come by with Goron spice?”

“Nah, S.O.L buddy, I’d tell ya if I knew, though.”

The champion heads into the stable, towards the den area.

“Damn it…Beedle, any Goron spice?”

“No, my friend! Just arrows and fireproof horned lizards….you want your usual stock of arrows though?”

“Damn…no, I’m good, thanks though.”

“….Are. Are you sick…?....You don’t need more arrows…?” Beedle asks, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, silently calling his bluff, holding his bag open like he knows Wild is going to cave.

Then Beedle starts again, sounding nice, but with the vibe of a viper before it strikes.

“…You always need more arrows, Link…”

Wild buys more arrows, wiping the sweat from his brow and shaking off the chill from his spine.

He leaves up the Death Mountain trail, snagging a fireproof elixir with his remaining rupees, waiting until absolutely necessary to drink it.

An hour’s hike finds him hauling ass past the dismantled guardian remains up the trail, panting and sweating, already feeling the sunburn on his cheeks and back of his neck.

He gets to a stopping point, hands on his knees, trying to bring air into his dry throat, coughing as it’s almost too dry to swallow. Wild grimaces as he licks his lips, tasting sweat from above his upper lip.

He pops open the elixir, drinking it, hoping it’ll last long enough to get in, buy the Goron spice, and leave. Or combust into flames, whichever happens first.

He drinks it all, ignoring the texture, and ignoring the fact that multiple people, several times, have told him ‘Link, that’s a topical cream!’ or ‘Link, don’t drink it, it’s for your skin, I think it’s toxic to be consumed—‘

Haters, all of them. If it works, it works, he thinks.

He runs and hikes up the mountain pass, the next hour feeling like it’s being stretched out, and the heat making his body feel like it’s being pulled towards the earth. His steps getting harder and harder to pick up. He’s starting to fear that elixir wasn’t strong enough…

Finally, finally. He gets to Goron city.

Wild stumbles up the path, skin and clothing drenched in sweat, near falling onto the store counter, panting.

“Please….please….sell me something…Goron spice…”

The Goron merchant watches him for a second, his eyes wide like he’s witnessing something of terror. He grabs a scooper, filling a jar Wild hands him with the spice, as Wild sells a few chunks of rock salt and amber, to pay for the amount of spice sold by weight, along with having some rupees of his own after getting shaken down by Beedle. He buys two more fireproof elixers, downing one, and storing the other, checking the duration first. He heads back down the trail, heat-dazed, red-faced, and damp from sweat, his hair frizzy and partially undone from the gliding and running.

The champion dips his fingers into the hotspring nearby, to help tame and redo his hair, sighing as he still feels himself bake in the sun, but it’s more of a bask now, rather than feeling like someone buttered him up and threw him on a grill like a stalk of corn.

He’s ambling down the path when he snipes a Fire Chuchu with an arrow, for looking at him wrong. He almost leaves the remains be, when he remembers he needs Chu jelly as well, cussing and stomping as he scoops it into another jar. To add onto it, he isn’t careful enough and the jelly almost spills, flaring to burn his arm.

“Hhhsss---ooww—fuck!” He hisses, shutting the jar tight.

 If Purah has any issue with it being not plain, she can deal. It might even be cooler than what the others find.

It’s late in the afternoon, almost evening, as he gets back to Foothill stable. He takes out his fastest horse, a constantly antsy appaloosa mare. Her hooves are already trotting and kicking in place, waiting for Wild’s go ahead. He barely finishes his signal when she takes off down the road like lightning struck her, Wild holding onto the reigns, choking out a curse.

Thankfully, she doesn’t like following paths, similar to her rider, bolting through the Lanayru wetlands soon enough. And if Link didn’t know any better, he’d say she ran that Lizalfos over on purpose.

He pats her flank, hoping at least the others had an easier time getting their odd items on Purah’s scavenger hunt from hell.

Wild steers his horse into Hateno just in time, reigning in her manic energy, petting her and calming her as he guides her into the pen by his house. He fills the troughs, and triple locks the gate, only because he knows the horse won’t jump the fence, but she likes to try and kick the lock and break it out of spite, even if she doesn’t leave. His mood is lifted a bit after just being on his horse, and from the fact he was able to find what he needed, still technically before sundown.

Wild shuffles up the path of the tech lab, his boots crunching the dirt up the hill, sunburnt like a lobster, and the burn still stinging a bit on his arm. He runs into Legend and Four, walking with them into the lab tower, trickling in with the rest of the group.

Purah has them set their things down, the champion thunks down the Goron spice on the counter with a grin, and the jar of the red Chu jelly. He elbows Twilight in the ribs in good nature, seeing the full count of sixteen potlids. Though he does have to cover his snort when Twilight all but body slams a still living Chuchu out of his wolf pelt.

“What, did you make friends with it or something?”

“Oh shut up, you look like you cooked yourself and forgot the seasoning.”

“Yeah and you look like you got a nice right hook in the eye, did you try and flirt with it or—“

“Alright, alright, settle.” Purah hollers at them, going down her list of the rest of the items. Each one of them surrenders their burden, and piles the Chu jelly collection onto the lab table, on a collection tray to prevent any from rolling or spilling off.

Poor Sky and Hyrule look like they stung, soaked, rolled in leaves, and then steamed over a low heat. Wild decides not to ask. It’ll come up over dinner later.

The captain looks….oh Din have mercy is that goat sh—

“It’s mud.” Warriors says, bluntly, looking no one in the eye.

The old man looks like he fought a whole hen house. He probably did. Time places the egg, pristine, no cracks, gently onto the table, stepping back, shifting his weight, looking like he just moved a chess piece that would decide his life or death.

After all is said and done, Wild finds not only is his Sheikah Slate not even recalibrated yet, but their nonsensical scavenger hunt was just errands.

‘Just like old times’ All the Links think at once, thinking of their past sidequests on their respective journeys.

The champion looks to Purah, internally wanting nothing more than food, a bath, and a story of what the hell Hyrule and Sky were doing, when he speaks.

“…So what’s this all for? What’s important…?”

Purah looks up over her glasses, tinkering with his slate.

“Oh, I didn’t say? Impa’s visiting tomorrow.”

It takes every ounce of Wild’s willpower to not ask what in Farosh’s green earth what all this stuff is for in relation to Impa. He wants to. So badly.

A loud fwump is heard through the room, as Legend sits heavily on the ground, throwing his cap off and resting a short staff on his lap, looking like he just did an eight hour shift in a fighting ring.

All nine leave the lab, with a promise from Purah that the slate will be fixed before they have to leave, as they shuffle down the hill, to hopefully end their night.

It’s quiet, and peaceful, despite their appearances and general presence as they all stagger through the village.  The cool night air coming from Mount Lanayru, and the breeze from the coast of Hateno bay act as a soothing balm on their skins.

Until the sailor pipes up, in middle of their group.

“…So…you think miss Purah would mind if a couple of those dynamite sticks were missing..?”

#lu wtiys #linked universe #lu fic #j writin #if you spot the clue ref youre a real one

[bluewinnerangel]

Harry's band still has 'Chicago' on their overalls. Harry set up a phone box so people could call him from Chicago 👀

Okay anon I had to come across some twitter threads to see what you were getting at and let's sum it up yeah, a list of coincidences, things to do with larry and Chicago. I'm probably gonna miss a bunch (and prob not gonna list a bunch of others- i barely see the logic in these being intentional already), soo its a bunch of things that are in the realm of chicago + bears + phones/calling + home coinciding? I guess? Anyway:

Obviously the main point that's making us talk about this is Louis releases the song Chicago. With lines like "if you're lonely in Chicago you can call me (baby)" (that's not whole the takeaway of the song but I'm bringing in TSBL in a later point so we're highlighting her)

Adding here he said its half based on real events half theoretical, and he does have an affiliation to Chicago:

To start off with your points, during Harry's Chicago residency in October 2022, there was a phone booth at the venue and llama Doris posted about it (they havent much since :( ), with a description about calling Home.

Harry's band wears overalls with names of cities they've performed at, since Chicago some have showed up on stage with the name on it, for instance Mitch yesterday (that is nov 25th 2022.). I don't know how often they wear what. The band was also wearing Chicago overalls (Sorry for shit pic) on Nov 9th 2022, but like again I have no clue what they wear every other night.

On that note, nov 9th 2022 was also when the Silver Tongues mv released, and the shirt Louis wore in it, the Englandy Homey one, he was last seen weaing innnnnn padapadapada Chicago! (Feb 2022) (He wore it on stage before in Indianapolis)

Sidetrack on recent music videos, somehow the Sushi mv features a dude wearing a shirt that says "LT HS SENIORS", from a high school in Chicago. Although I think the highlight here is LTHS idk how many LT highschools are there to pick from if we're going for intent here.

More sidetrack on the Silver Tongues note: first teased couple days before it via photoshopped phone (or was it even, unclear, maybe a ref to all the calling lyrics in FITF incl. Chicago, is the phone in the mv?, he just said have a phone via youtube xoxo):

During Harry's 2022 Chicago shows he did some ring related stuff ( pointing a sign out in the crowd) and posted that pic of him with a ring backstage that looks like he was making fun of all the peace ring talk lol

During Harry's 2021 Chicago show(s sept 24 and 25), this was I believe the only time (or one of the rare occasions) there were mentions of Home playing before the show - artists pick

In 2021 he also first played To Be So Lonely ("don't call me baby again - it's hard for me to go home - to be so lonely") at Chicago night 2, mind this is the 12th show of the tour and only then added it, and it was and continued to be bathed in bluegreen lights (but then he got bullied into playing it thr previous shows and especially chicago night 1 so that's most likely the reason eh... and also i hope the fans never do that again.)

During one of the 2021 shows he also found 2 people in the crowd in Chicago where he went off (paraphrasing, check link) YOU LOVE EACH OTHER? [out of the fking blue:] YOURE BEST FRIENDS?? GET MARRIED. Mind you this was a few days before a 4 day break including September 28 so I can think of better reasons than the place he was at if we wanna read into that fhfhdhd. This was also when we got those Louis spotted in uh relative close proximity receipts.

For Louis' 2022 tour the only exit song among the massive list of curated post show songs that still stands out to me (although yes I can place it in the list of songs-we-fucked-around-with-on-stage-during-1d like I can make it make sense still thematically it's a detour from the rest imo) is Ceelo Green's Fuck You, yepyep played in Chicago

Were going back in time now: Louis got his 28 tattoo in Chicago in 2015 (together with the buttpenguin which keeps being brought up in current interviews)

In 2015, 1Ds Chicago show featured these bears:

Like there's so much shit going on here there's a masterpost.

Basically the worst in terms of things to read into. Go read that post.

Again 2015 when the rainbow bears came up with this sign, borrowed from the Chicago Bears. (See the logo bottom right). Now that is the first sign you find on the Google when you try to find a sign about bears coming out so again seems coincidental, but still.

(Also green bay packers <> chicago bears? Eh? Eh.)

There was an attempt to get them points together tumblr. They're gathered from all over the place but instigated by anon as well as this thread woop credit.

Honestly I think we just notice more Chicagos now? They're just being their regular home calling rbbsbbs and also do that in chicago and thats it lol. On the other I do like to entertain the thought they for whatever reason have this connection with Chicago (also yes im very much aware of stunt related connections) and its showing in the quirky stuff they do beyond the obvious (being writing a song called Chicago huh).

Out of all this the one thing that does make me go OKAY THEN is Harry first playing TSBL in Chicago, 12 shows in, bluegreening, the idea Ls around at the time, and then a year later blep parallels Louis' Chicago.

Oh also I think getting the 28 tat in Chicago could be significant. He sure still knows that number dhdhdhss

#been trying to find logic in that last point in regards to the song but idk #and the point before that works both ways as louis being inspired by being there and the othrr way around harry holding off to #play tbsl until chicago bc of whats to come and its his way of linking them lol #and i always mostly care about this stuff bc i just think thats what theyre like and they find some comfort in doing these things #semi publicly with a meaning to them thats each other or more. i just like it a lot. im not trying to find far fetched links to prove shit #just. so were clear.

[cobra421]

Nathanial Info

Ref from pr1ncemax!

Verse: LifeLine

Date: 5/17/21

The Basics

Full Name: Nathanial

Pronunciation: umm

Nickname/Alias: Nate, but prefers real name

Meaning: Gift of God

Origin: idk honestly...

Pet Name: Kid (Aarron), Snap (Cobra), Annoying Pest (Starkiller)

ID Number: unknown soul number

Gender: Male

Gender Role: He has no limits

Orientation: Pansexual

Real Age: 10 (cant's age

Age Appearance: 10 (can't age)

Birthday: Jan 7th, 1994

Deathday: Nov 3rd, 2004

Birthplace: Denmark

Family

Immediate Family: Unknown

Upbringing: A Good Boy

Infancy: Unknown

Childhood: HYPER

Specific Looks

Species: Human/Dingo

Ethnicity: Scandinavian

Blood Type: Unknown

Preferred Hand: Right Handed

Facial Type: Oval

Eye Color: light Green

Hair Color: Blond/orange fur

Hairstyle: kinda sticks up

Skin Tone: Pale

Build: Skinny and Short

Height: 58in

Weight: 50lbs

Birthmarks/scars: Scar on left hand

Distinguishing Features: Black tipped tail

Mental

Health: dead...

Energy: way too much

Memory: He can't remember anything

Senses: Great Sight and Smell

Handicaps: small limp in Left leg

Medication: Needs some...

Phobias: Atychiphobia, Autophobia, Belonephobia, Catagelophobia, Scoptophobia

Mental Disorders: ADHD, PTSD

Looks Overall

Grooming: messy

Posture: depend

Gait: fast and clumsy

Coordination: Very clumsy

Habits and Mannerisms: bites hands when nervous, taps foot when excited

Scent: The smell of children

Behavior

Mood: Excited/happy

Attitude: Veryapproachable and friendly!

Stability: Due to his PTSD, it differs

Expressiveness: Hides feelings of unease/depression

When Happy: taps foot, runs around

When Depressed: bites hand, hugs legs, balls up

When Angry: He has no anger, just sadness

Living

Current Residence: 8 5 11 11 (Lower Land)

Community: oH mY gOd DeMoNs EvErYwHeRe

Family: Cobra (Daughter/sister),

Friends: Viper, Reed, Jack, Aarron, Caine

Enemies: None :)

Bosses: Basically Anyone

Heroes: Cobra

Relates to: Jack...

Pets/Familiars: Also takes care of Terrance

Material Objects

Wardrobe: hoodies mostly, and little kid t-shirts

Home: Shabby House, protected by barriars. No yard. Room is shared with Aarron, with checkered orange and black carpet.

Neighborhood: Shady

Transportation: Walking Mostly

Collections: Stuffed Animals

Love life

Lovers: Aarron

Marital Status: Dating

Turn-Ons: He has no requests

Turn Offs: Aggression

Position: Sub

Plays: um

Virginity: He's a small boy leave him alone

Element: Air

Beliefs

Religion: None I guess

Morals: Pretty Rightous person

Motivation: Everything!

Priorities: His Family, Love, friends

Philosophy: Glass half full

Etiquette: Think of a Child

Motivations

Main Goal: To protect and Love Cobra

Minor Goals/Ambitions: Nothing! He makes no goals for himself

Career: A Animal Rehabilitation Worker

Desires: Love

Wishlist: He'll be happy with whatever

Accomplishments: convincing Aarron that hate isn;t what he wants.

Greatest Achievement: Unknown

Biggest Failure: Letting Thorn get close to Cobra

Secrets: He wishes that Cobra had let him die and saved Thorn

Regrets: trusting Thorn, Not being able to protect Cobra

Worries: Aarron turning Evil again, strangers

Best Dream: He has no clue

Worst Nightmare: Cobra dies and he's left alone

Best Memories: Anytime that everyone around him was happy

Worst Memories: Thorn's Death

Personality

Hobbies/Interests: draw, watch movies

Skills/Talents: Good at Acting and filmaking

Likes: Everything

Dislikes: people being mean or rude to him, being called short

Sense of Humor: childish

Pet Peeves: Argueing

Dreams/Nightmares: PTSD of Thorn's death and his own dead 16 years ago

Quirks: twitching ears, mutters in sleep, able to make cooing noises

Savvy: Random Things

Can't understand: Politics, Anger, Complex emotions

Closet Hobby: Unknown ;)

Well Rounded

Strengths: Great listener, paitent with people

Flaws: impaitent with events, socially awkward, doesn't like being grabbed, Eye contact is hard

Perception: It could be better

Conflicts: Unknown

Instincts: look behind him, shut doors

Lures: Helplessness, fun

Soft Spot: Cobra

Cruel Streak: Get fooled he's perfect

Supernatural

Powers/Abilities: Teleportation

Origin: death

Ability: Pretty good for a kid!

Immunities: Unknown

Restrictions: Has to focus on where he's going

Alternate Forms: Has soul form (dingo) since he died, and human form

Small Personality Quirks

Favorite Colors: orange and yellow

Favorite Animals: Any!

Favorite Mythological Creatures: Phoenix

Favorite Flavors: ANything sweet

Favorite Foods: candy

Favorite Drinks:orange juice

Speech

Languages: A little Norweigion, English

Accent: Hard to tell cuase of lisp

Voice: high pitch

Speech Impediments: stutter and lisp

Insult: Stop it!

Laughter: -intense giggling commences)

Signature Quote: "I know there is some good in you. Now we just have to find it."

Personality Quiz Answers

Temperament: Chloric

Enneagram: The Enthusiast

Ego/Superego/Id: Inperfection and harm

The Self: (The center/core of your character)

The Shadow: clingy :(

Creator Notes

Alignment: Good

Symbol:

Song: I'm still standing by Elton John

Vice: Envy

Virtue: Patience/Charity/Kindness/Humility

Defining Moment: Insisting Mercy

Tropes: The little brother

One Word: Perfect

#nathanial #lifeline-comic #pansexual

[hermannsthumb]

Would you want to write more (if you're taking suggestions) of Newton and Hermann getting caught in the act (any sort of act) by other people?? And that's how they're outted to other people at the PPDC? I find it cute and funny how they would both react

Anonymous said: Also, I love your writing Haha

hehe here’s a short little thing that i dont like totally think is good, i’ve had a little bit of writer’s block so it’s nice to get something out (for ref outted refers to relationship in this ficlet, not sexuality, for clarification)

-----------------------

“Some party!” Newton shouts.

Hermann supposes this is objectively true: it is a party. They are in attendance. Newton, enthusiastically, loudly, Hermann, begrudgingly, dragged here against his will. Dragged here--from the confines of his warm bed, in his warm bunk, forced out of pajamas and into slacks--by Newton, against his will, forced to confine himself to the most deserted corner possible or be jostled around by dozens of rowdy colleagues he only half knows. It was the best night’s sleep Hermann had had all week. “Some party,” Hermann agrees.

Newton shoves a red plastic cup in his hand. “Here, lighten up,” he continues to shout. “Have a drink.”

“What is it?”

“No clue,” Newton says. He gives a laugh.

Enthusiastic, loud Newton, with his wrinkled, rucked-up t-shirt, his foggy glasses, his sweat-damp hair (which he pushes back from his forehead now), a crooked party hat, his skinny jeans that leave less than nothing to the imagination. He’s managed to acquire a thin layer of glitter since they arrived. From the makeshift dance floor, perhaps; Hermann has watched him jump around it all night like a graceless, hyperactive jackrabbit. He’s a horrific dancer. It was terribly alluring nonetheless.

Hermann takes a sip of the drink, if not just so Newton will be pleased and grace him with a smile. Newton is; Newton does.

He drops down on the plastic folding chair next to Hermann’s and swings his arm across his shoulders, and nuzzles against Hermann’s neck a moment later. “Let’s dance,” he murmurs. His breath smells like cheap beer.

“Too crowded,” Hermann says. He chokes down another sip of the drink--sweet, lukewarm, probably spiked soda. “I’m rubbish at it, anyway.” His cane’ll get in the way, and if he leaves it here, he’ll have to hang off a clearly tipsy Newton, which can’t end well for either of them. Besides--they haven’t quite become public with their relationship yet. Hermann is not ashamed, or anything as such, but he knows workplace romances can get a bit messy, and he would prefer to minimize the mess as much as possible should he and Newton ever--well-- Hermann does not want to think of that now.

Especially not when Newton’s looking at him like this.

“It’s not real dancing,” Newton breathes. His hands have started to roam across Hermann’s chest, under his sweater. “You just have to hold on to me, and I’ll do all the work.” He presses a kiss to Hermann’s throat. “Grind up on you a little. It’ll be fun.”

He tugs one shirt-tail out from Hermann’s trousers; Hermann bats him away, ducking his head bashfully. “Newton,” he says. “Not here.”

Newton draws back. Another smile. “Sorry,” he says. “You just look so cute. Who wears argyle to a party?”

“A party I didn’t want to go to,” Hermann reminds him.

“But you came anyway, so thank you,” Newton says. He steals a sip of Hermann’s drink; Hermann watches the lines of his throat as he swallows. “C’mon,” he says, “one dance. You can just stand there.”

Hermann hums. “One dance.”

Hermann has another drink (for the courage), and Newton drags him to the dance floor, where he throws both arms around Hermann’s neck, presses their bodies flush together, and stares at him with big eyes and a pout until Hermann--blushing--places his free hand at Newton’s back. His other sweats furiously around his cane. “Dude,” Newton scoffs.

Hermann lowers his hand. He lowers it a little more, until he can feel the waistband of Newton’s tight jeans. Then he lowers it some more.

“Better,” Newton says, and starts doing very interesting things with his hips.

They wake up sprawled across the lab couch twelve hours later, Newton in nothing but boxers, Hermann in Newton’s t-shirt, and a very amused Tendo Choi being far too loud above them.

“Rise and shine, kids,” he says. “I brought breakfast.”

“Ugh,” Newton says. Hermann groans and buries his face against his bare chest.

“Advil, too,” Tendo says, and a rattling bottle lands next to Hermann’s head. “Heard you had some fun last night.”

Hermann had a drink before Newton took him out to dance, where Newton began gyrating his hips in that fascinating way. Then Hermann had another drink. Then Newton had another drink. Hermann doesn’t remember much of the night after that. 

Tendo, gossip aficionado, is more than happy to fill in the rest. 

They had drinks. Newton took his shirt off on the dance floor. He took his shoe off on the dance floor. He tried to jump up onto a table and sing to Hermann. He fell, and attempted to steady himself on Hermann, who then fell, too. They shared a passionate embrace against the legs of a chair. Newton sang to him a little there. They stumbled out of the room and spent an hour necking in the hallway, where several people spotted them (two mortal enemies such as themselves) and had their whole worlds turned upside-down, apparently, and then stumbled back to their lab where they, presumably, finished what they started.

“Your pants are in LOCCENT, by the way, Newt,” Tendo concludes.

Newt squints over the styrofoam coffee cup Tendo graciously handed over. “How?”

“Beats me,” Tendo says. “We found ‘em this morning.”

Newton and Hermann stare at each other for a while once he leaves. Newton looks uncomfortable.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Newton says. “That everyone...”

Hermann is surprised to find--despite his usual deep reservations about his privacy, public displays of affection--he doesn’t. “No,” he says. “I don’t mind.” He smiles; Newton smiles back. “I like that people know.”

“Man,” Newton says, “I would totally kiss you right now if my breath didn’t smell like shit.”

They settle on a hug. “We ought to find your trousers,” Hermann murmurs in his ear.

“Yeah,” Newton agrees.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #idk whos just throwing random parties but gotta keep morale up yknow #Anonymous

[starrysence]

Can you do some Christmas morning fluff with Specs x Henry? ~Cam💝

ahhh yes soft boys !! also i think this is the last holiday related request i have WOOOOOOO we did it bros. also love u cam

genre: fluff

words: 449

warnings: none. pure fic

×××

the last thing specs expects for a christmas morning is to be woken up by having the air knocked out of him as a pillow collides with the side of his face, a small yell of surprise slipping from his lips.

"it's christmas mornin', specs!!" he hears, only being able to identify the voice as henry's.

specs emits a tired chuckle, rubbing his eyes and opening them to see his best friend - his boyfriend - grinning widely down at him. "well, merry christmas, sweetheart."

"that's all you're gonna do?" henry asks with a pout, sitting back. "c'mon, get up! i wanna open the presents!"

"ah, yeah. the total of two presents sitting under the small plastic tree because we're both currently too broke to afford an actual tree and get each other any more than one gift each? thrilling," specs says jokingly. henry laughs and snorts occasionally, shaking his head.

"well, i'm sure whatever you got me is amazing!" he exclaims with a bright smile once his laughter dies down. specs feels himself falling in love all over again as he sees the smile, and there's no denying that it's extremely contagious.

"alright, alright," he gives in, returning the infectious grin as he sits up in their bed.

henry claps excitedly before pressing a quick kiss to specs's lips and grabbing his hand to drag him into their living room.

specs can't help but chuckle as henry grabs both gifts from beneath the tiny tree, and the boys hop excitedly onto the rather worn out (but still sturdy) couch.

"who first?" they ask simultaneously, laughing together as soon as the words leave their mouths.

"okay, how about... at the same time. on three," specs suggests.

"you have the best ideas," henry says cheerfully.

specs smiles shyly as his boyfriend kisses his cheek. "thanks, henry. alright. on three. one. two. three!"

the satisfying tearing of wrapping paper is heard as both boys eagerly open their presents.

"holy shit, babe!" henry exclaims, grinning as he stares at the box in front of him. "you got a new toaster!"

"kind of figured we could use a new one since race broke the last one," specs says with a smile. he looks down at his present and his smile only grows. "you got me a glasses case... i love it, sweetheart."

henry smiles sheepishly. "it's not much compared to your gift, but since you have a tendency to constantly lose or break your glasses, i thought you could use a case that makes it easy to find and hard to break."

their smiles turn into grins as they share a soft kiss, ready to spend their christmas morning together, more in love than ever.

×××

wow im love them ???? it's curremtly 4:03am and i cried through part of the dogfight soundtrack writing this ,,,, also if u caught the toaster ref ur a real mvp love u man. and i hope you like this cam !!! happy christmas eve/happy holidays to all of u!!!!

-sanj 💕

tag list:

@one-candy-cane-please ​ | @suddenly-im-respecsable | @intoomanyfandomstopickaname ​ | @be-more-chill-evan-hansen ​ | @aw-jus-let-em-try | @bencookisagod ​ | @well-the-kids-do-too ​| @auspicioustarantula ​ | @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn ​ | @have-we-got-news-for-you ​ | @not-a-scab ​ | @newsiesgarbage ​ | @pineappapizza | @andthewoildwillknow ​ | @concrete--donuts ​ | @stopthe-presses ​ | @thomasbeingthomas | @i-love-loki-and-sherlock | @maxvanna | @spot-me50-papes | @and-i-lostmy-shoe | @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing | @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog | @backgroundnewsies | @ridin-in-style | @sunshine-e-cigarettes

[if you want to be added to my tag list, please shoot me an ask or a message letting me know! i’d be happy to add you!]

#newsies #newsies live #specs #specs newsies #henry newsies #specs/henry #henry/specs #sanj scribbles

[taylorsmiththeauthor]

An Empath, A Psychic, & A Human; first chapter

I’ve decided to take some advice from the tumblr writing community and build my empire, so to speak. So here is my first post about writing, despite the fact that I’ve been on this website for over a year lol. Feel free to check out my wattpad, @Real_Taylor_Smith. I’ve also just put up instagram where I’ll be posting news, extra content, and excerpts as well as here! It’s @real.tay.smith and soon I’ll have a website up. A little heads up, this story has a fair amount of foul language, so be warned. Until then, happy reading!

HUMAN

The air in the truck was tense.

No one had really been sure of what we were supposed to fight. The best that had been offered to us were a few blurry pictures of a massive scaly beast with wings, and audio of a terrible scream that seemed to come from the beast. The world quickly claimed that a dragon had somehow come to be – and we were supposed to fight it.

I glanced around me at the faces. They were all of my friends who had signed up to be in reserves, which was part-time military. We all had our reasons; money, benefits, looking good on applications, or whatever. We wanted to serve from the comfort of our homeland, not fight dragons in downtown Toronto, the biggest city in Canada and seventh most populated in the continent.

I took out a picture I always kept in my pocket near my heart; a photo of my girlfriend. It was one of my favourite photos of her, because it captured her almost completely. She was standing on top of a crazy old Mayan ruin, overlooking an ancient plaza, the jungle, and a large river. She grinned at the camera, hands on her hips, smile lines crinkled around her blue eyes, blonde hair escaping from her bun pinned back with a hairpin made by locals. She looked incredibly happy and in awe of the place she was standing on. That had been taken about two years ago on her last March break trip of high school when she went to Belize with the school. I liked to carry the photo in my uniform, remember that she was waiting for me back home.

“Alright pansies, listen up!”

The sharp command from our sergeant had me scrambling to put the photo away as he stood up and handed out new pictures.

“Now I can’t say that I’ve ever fought dragons before, nor have I been taught the protocol, so I don’t really know what to do. But that’s fine because there is one thing I do know – it is our duty to keep this place safe. Toronto has yet to be fully evacuated and the beast is not contained. We still have no idea where the hell it came from or what the hell it is, but we gotta stop it.”

A photo came around to me and I looked at it, my heart plunging into my feet. The thing gripped the top of the CN Tower, green leathery wings spread wide, head open in a snarl, mouth full of jagged teeth. The thing looked huge, at least the size of a T-Rex. I passed the picture.

“Because we have no idea where this fucker is going to go, we’ve set up a perimeter along the Harbour Front, Bloor St, Bathurst, and Don Valley. We’ve got about fifty platoons stationed around to stop wherever this thing decides to go. We’ll be down on King, by the Princess of Wales Theatre. We’ll be there soon so start your praying, because we’ve got a one in fifty chance of being stuck with this beast.”

I looked over to my left and met eyes with one of my oldest friends, Donovan. He, another friend of ours, and myself all joined together. The other friend, Kaiah, was exceedingly lucky as her family had all gone to another city for a funeral. So, Donovan and I were about to face a dragon.

“What’re the odds it has a video-game weak spot?” Donovan asked quietly, “Like, a soft spot on its belly?”

I shrugged, “With your luck, no.”

“Don’t speak of my bad luck, because then we will have to face the damn thing.”

“Knock on wood I guess.”

“Everything near is us metal, so we’re all fucked then.”

We laughed quietly, the impending doom still very much a real threat. We talked for a little bit but soon fell silent and felt the seconds tick past. Far too soon, the sergeant stood up.

“File out in formation!”

We followed, hopping out of the truck and getting into two straight lines, facing east where the monster would be. To my left was the theatre, and I vaguely remembered going to see a play with Hazel. The Curious Incident of the Dog in The Nighttime, I think. Now, all the signs read Hamilton, which I knew Hazel had been dying to see. She said I would like it, but she felt bad because she had already promised Mackenzie she would take her because she was already a huge fan. I smiled, grateful for the memory.

However, I was violently ripped back to reality when I heard a screech. The videos didn’t capture it. Nothing could.

It was as if a T-Rex and a lion roared while someone scraped their nails against a chalkboard and it shook us to our core. I didn’t pray nor did I believe in a god, but I found myself asking that it wouldn’t be us, please let it not be us.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

My back straightened automatically and I opened my mouth to make an explanation, but it wasn’t me the sergeant was talking to – two weird civilians had wandered into the area.

One of them was Hazel.

She wore a long white dress with bronze breastplates, shoulder pads, arm guards, and gladiator boots. Her dress was styled like an Ancient Greek chiton,  and the blonde hair piled up on her head sported a style from the same period. From her back sprouted a massive pair of dove wings, the feathers an opal-esque shade, shining dozens of colours, the edges of the wings covered in bronze. At her hip was a woven belt on which hung several drawstring pouches and a dagger.

The person beside her was dressed just as weirdly, but very differently. Their entire outfit was made of brown leather and bronze plates, and it kind of looked like a rogue from D&D. Like, 90% of the pants were extremely tall leather boots with straps and holsters for knives and other things. The top was a green tunic that went just above their elbows and brushed the top of the boots, under which seemed to be brown hide. They had a brown cloak on top with a hood, a green cloth pulled up over their nose, the same pine green as their eyes. They had a mask on their face seemed to be made of moss, covering the area around their eyes. Little flowers sprouted from it as well as small branches with blossoms out the top, making it look like they had antlers. From what little I could see of them, I could tell they had dark brown skin and a very thick afro. I had no clue whether it was a guy or a girl.

“We’re ordering you to evacuate the area,” Hazel said calmly, arms crossed and hip out to the side. That meant she didn’t want any fooling around.

“Except for you, there aren’t any civilians downtown.”

“As far as we’re concerned, you are civilians.”

“Hey, Crybaby, aren’t they militia?” The other asked.

Hazel looked at them and then at the platoon before turning back to her partner, “No, this is the reserve force, it’s part-time military. Civilians, technically.”

“Oh shit, right. Is that thing you were worried about…?”

“Yes.” Hazel spoke curtly and it seemed like she glanced at me, but it was so fast I couldn’t tell.

“We are official military,” the sergeant said angrily, “and you’re civilians! You need to leave immediately, or I will remove you by force, which I do not wish to do.”

“Just try it,” the partner scoffed, but Hazel shot them a look and they rolled their eyes, maintaining quiet.

“I apologize, but you are unfit to deal with this problem,” Hazel said cooly, “We are, however, very well-versed in dealing with wyverns.”

“And just what the fuck is a wyvern?” The sergeant spat.

“What you’re planning to fight,” the partner said, “and my pal here knows that it’s going to be coming this way, so you better get a fucking move on.”

“How in the hell do you know this?” The sergeant asked, seeming to be unsure.

“Classified.” They spoke in unison.

“So please just leave it to us and get your soldiers out of here,” Hazel said, seeming to be losing her patience.

“I can’t do that!” The sergeant was losing his too, “You’re just a couple of wackos who’ll get yourselves killed and land me in a world of trouble.”

“Quite the opposite, I assure you.” Hazel glared at the sergeant and her partner narrowed their eyes, which made him apprehensive.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Donovan asked beside me.

“You serious?” I said, turning to him, “That’s Hazel, I can’t tell who the other is though because of the mask.”

“What?” Donovan asked, looking at them, “How do you know it’s Hazel? She’s wearing a mask too. And what’s with the wings?”

I opened my mouth when another screech ripped through the air.

“You have three minutes before the wyvern gets here,” Hazel warned, danger in her tone, “So either you let us do our jobs or you die and make it a lot harder for us. But one thing is for sure, we will do what we need to do to take this thing down.”

The sergeant shifted, “Well just because you wear weird clothes and know what this is doesn’t mean that you can defeat it.”

“Look, man,” the partner spoke, “we can’t do anymore than is allowed for the situation so how about this – let me fight your best fighter. Whomever wins can kill the beast, old honour style.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the sergeant scoffed.

“Well, your attitude calls for it.”

“Appy,” Hazel warned, “be careful.”

“But you’ll ref, right?” The partner asked, “Fae rules and all?”

Hazel sighed, “Yes, I’ll ref.”

“Great. So good sir, get your best fighter.”

The sergeant scowled but turned to us, “Jackson! Front and centre!”

We all watched as Tyler Jackson, a big muscular prick of a guy, stepped forward with a grin. He was proud and self-centred, and by far the best fighter we had. He had yet to be beaten in hand-to-hand, even from the sergeant. The small person didn’t stand a chance.

“What’re the rules?” Tyler asked, “And do I get a prize?”

“If you lose, you live. If you win, you die with honour. Pick a blade.” The small person didn’t seem to give a shit that Tyler was twice their size.

Tyler grinned and pulled a knife from his pocket. He was deadly with it, and everyone had at least one scar from it.

“Let no blood be spilled,” Hazel said as she and the sergeant stepped back to give the pair space, “Appy, I’m serious.”

“You’re no fun,” the partner complained.

“Where’s your blade?” Tyler teased.

The partner, evidently called Appy for some reason, reached for a bronze armband on their upper arm and pulled it off, glowing as it extended into a massive broadsword. Appy grinned like a maniac and Tyler looked scared shitless.

“Appy,” Hazel warned.

Appy sighed and the sword shrank down to a dagger, “Just wanted to scare the guy,” they complained.

“Make it quick, let no blood be spilled, and may the winner have the honour of defeating the Wyvern. It hath been spoken, thus let it be.” Hazel raised her arms as she spoke, saying it like a chant. A heavy weight settled in, as if the words themselves really carried a spell.

As soon as Hazel finished speaking, Appy lunged for Tyler, but he saw it and dodged. Yet Appy was too fast. They caught him by the middle and flipped him over, causing the blade to fly from his hand. He made an oof as he hit the ground, the wind knocked from him. Appy sat on his chest and pinned his arms with one hand, the other holding a knife to his throat.

“One...two...three. And that’s match. We shall fight the wyvern,” Hazel announced, glancing at the street beyond them, “and just in time. You need to take your soldiers and leave, get as far away from here as possible. But if you see the wyvern, freeze – they like a moving target.”

“What the hell is that?” The sergeant barked, “There had to be some trick!”

“No, trick, I assure you,” Appy said as they got off of Tyler, turning their back to him, “I just guess that military training doesn’t match up to a Knight’s.”

Tyler was enraged, and it was obvious. He had never lost a fight, especially not to someone so weird and small. He snatched his blade from the ground and thrust up on his knees, aiming for Appy’s side.

Appy sidestepped easily and sliced their blade across Tyler’s arm, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his blade.

“That’s one angry dude,” Appy said as they slid their dagger, now an armband, back into place.

“I said no bloodshed,” Hazel huffed as she knelt down next to Tyler and pulled out a roll of gauze.

“The fight was over!” Appy argued, “Besides, he was wanting to give me a scar, everyone in this damn platoon has one from him. Thought I would return the favour.”

“God, you’re like a dumbass Batman villain,” Hazel complained to Tyler as she bandaged his wound, “With less honour than the Joker, you piece of shit.”

“How did you know I was thinking that?” Tyler asked, scared, “You psychic?”

“Term is telepathic,” Hazel said matter-of-factly, “I’m psychic, Appy’s an empath. Now that that’s cleared up, leave.”

The sergeant bristled at the last word as he had watched everything unfold.

“Just because you won one fight-”

“I’m sorry,” Appy snarled, suddenly rounding on the sergeant, pulling their blade out and holding it dangerously close to his face, “Do you not understand basic combat rules, let alone fae? I won, so you leave. You can’t break a deal, or the fae will fuck you up, if I don’t get to you first. Feel fear.”

At this, the sergeant scrambled back, visibly shaken and sweating.

“Appy!” Hazel scolded harshly, “Fear won’t help this, only make him worse. Besides, it’s too late now.”

“Too late?” Someone asked.

“Yeah,” Appy said coolly, “blame these two assholes.” Their head jutted towards the sergeant and Tyler, “If they had only let us do their jobs then y’all’ight’ve lived.”

“No one is going to die,” Hazel assured, taking the sergeant by the arm and picking Tyler up, leading them to where the rest of us were standing. She pushed Tyler off on someone and sharply told the sergeant; “Stay behind this line.” Then she produced a piece of blue chalk from her belt and drew a curved line in front of all of us, chanting quitely all the time. Once she finished, she bent down and kissed it, making the line glow a faint blue. A shimmering wall formed in front of us, Hazel standing on the other side. Then she turned to us, “Don’t move, don’t make a noise, only breathe if you need to. Disobeying any of these will get you and everyone else killed.”

“Crybaby, E.T.A.?” Appy called, a longsword suddenly in their hand as a shriek cut through the air.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

As soon as Hazel finished saying ‘one’, she pulled something from her pocket, watched by the wyvern as it rounded the corner.

“Oh, we are so fucked.”

#original works #EP&H #my writing #original writing

[fossadeileonixv]

Athletico 2 Milan 1

So close.

A brutal way to lose a game. 

As usual front to back thoughts and ratings. 

MAIGNAN 7 Hard to blame him on either goal. I know that’s a cop out thing to say but it’s true. Excellent once again in cleaning up balls in the back and distribution to the wings. late save on Felix was unreal.

CALABRIA 7 Good job holding down Carrasco as well as keeping an eye on Suarez lurking at the back post. Headed away several chances. Didn’t offer much going forward but had his hands full.

TOMORI 7.5 Excellent once again. It’s hard to find any fault in his game. Got better and better as AM circled closer and closer.

ROMAGNOLI 6  Played 83 great minutes and then shit the bed. Totally lost on the cross to Griezzman. Didn’t dive in, stick a leg out or anything. That has to be cleared man. 

THEO 6.5 Good on offense and questionable at best on defense. Kessie’s first card, albeit a terrible call IMO, comes from covering for Theo. Plain and simple. Who’s that on Theo? Kessie? Pioli? Take your pick. No matter who you look at it covering for him has been an issue for about 18 months now and isn’t changing. 

KESSIE 5.5 Let’s be honest, both calls were terrible. The first should be a warning. A yellow that early has to be for some completely egregious. A shirt pull is not that. The second is just 2 guys going for the ball. He doesn’t come through the player from behind or anything. Kessie also has to be super aware after that first card though. He can’t take any chances. He just had to at least get to the half for a sub. In short in 29 minutes he got 2 cards, was dispossessed twice and was easily the FOTM

BENNACER 8 Absolutely fantastic all game long, not only on the stat sheet but via the eyeball test. tackles, dribbles, clearances he did it all. repeatedly cut out attacks through the midfield. Really mad up for the poor showing at Anfield. Not a clue why he was subbed off. 

SAELEMAEKERS 7.5 Similar to Bennacer was all over the place not only on the stat sheet but on the field. help keep the attack alive after going down to 10 men while also helping Calabria to bunker in. One of his best performances to date. Taken off just as he was getting tired and sloppy. 

DIAZ and LEAO 8.5 co-MOTM Where in the world would we be without these 2 this year? 7 goals and 3 assists now between them in all competitions. Incredible work rate and effort to keep us not only in the game but to keep attacking while down to 10 men. 

REBIC INCOMPLETE Had to be sacrificed after Kessie saw red. Probably a good idea since his mouth was probably gonna get him a red as well. 

Subs

TONALI 7.5 Had this conversation with a friend before the game that went something like this. 

friend: I see Kessie is starting

me: Is that a good thing considering his form? 

friend: Good point. He’s been shit of late

me: Meh

Right now Tonali/Bennacer needs to be the double pivot. Kessie is now the odd man out. 

GIROUD 6.5. Not much you can do in that spot besides hold up the ball and pray. Did have one half chance that almost became something. 

BALLO-TOURE 6 He played. Not sure why. 

FLORENZI 6 Got beat on the cross that led to the tying goal. Tried to make up for it by creating some chances late. Overall though a sub that made little sense. 

KALULU 6.5 Saele was washed and had to come off. Kalulu came on and had a rough time. Totally caught ball watching on the tying goal.  Made a beautiful defensive play before ultimately getting shafted on the handling call. 

Coach

PIOLI 

When he gets the subs right we look great.  When he doesn’t we really suffer. let’s go sub by sub shall we? 

SUB #1 TONALI for REBIC No brainer there. Down to 10 and needed another mid. We become a sort of 4221 where we can still apply pressure but also defend well. 

SUB #2 GIROUD and BALLO-TOURE for DIAZ and LEAO I get Giroud coming on. You need that main guy up top to at least be a focal point to hold things up. I’m not sure I understand Ballo-Toure though. He’s barely played and when he has it’s not been great. I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but i would have kept Leao on at LM for his work rate and defending. Shocking, right? Now though we have a 441 with no real creative and a LM in Ballo-Toure that’s playing out of position. Mikey no like. I hate guys out of position. 

SUB #3 FLORENZI and KALULU on for BENNACER AND SAELEMAEKERS.

whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

I could understand Florenzi for Saelemaekers as he was clearly getting tired and Florenzi is a fine discount version of him. 

Kalulu though? Bennacer OFF? Bennacer was fantastic. He could easily have been co-MOTM alongside Diaz and Leao. He was amazing. So you bring on a RB and move our RB into the midfield? No. NO. NO!! Our final lineup would look like this:

Kalulu-Tomori-R13 -Theo

Florenzi-Calabria-Tonali-Ballo-Toure

Giroud

You might be able to get away with that against Spezia but not against Athletic in the Champions League. Come on man. Just leave Calabria at RB and Bennacer in the midfield!  Athletico saw that weakness and came right at it. Come on man. That can’t possibly be your finishing lineup in a game like this. Four backups across the midfield?  No way. Credit to him he’s usually top notch at handling subs but not this day. He had those 5 subs burning a hole in his pocket and just couldn’t resist. He shit his pants late. There’s really no other way to put it. He gets a slight pass as we were down to 10 men.... but still. Ugh. 

RANDOM THOUGHTS

- Still can’t believe Kondogbia didn’t get sent off for the two handed shove. That was trash. 

- F Luis Suarez

- F the ref

- watching the replay of that PK call makes we want to puke. 

FORZA MILAN! 

Lisi

#IMIT

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/are-selena-gomez-niall-horan-dating-selena-gomez-boyfriend-clue/

Are Selena Gomez & Niall Horan Dating? | Selena Gomez Boyfriend Clue

Sparks are flying! This Selena Gomez and Niall dating clue will for sure make you think the couple is together. The rumor mill started when the pair were spotted together at an event late last week. Journalist Mike Wass tweeted that he thought he saw the two pop stars together at Lewis Capaldi show on April 3, and naturally, fans are super curious to know more.

Wass shared a video from the concert, writing, “The @LewisCapaldi showcase was incredible. “This guy’s a fucking star! (Also, unless I’m hallucinating, Selegend & Niall were sitting at the table next to me).” So hold up—can we just pause for a second? Imagine this. You walk into a concert to see one of your favorite singers. You find your seats. You look to your right and there sit Selena Gomez and Niall Horan. So. Freaking. Casual.

Anyway—back to the story at hand. If this is true, the pair must be dating, right? Gomez is officially single after splitting up with Justin Bieber for good in March 2018. There were rumors that she and her Neighbors 2 co-star heartthrob Zac Efron might be dating, but that turned out to just be wishful thinking. (Efron has now been linked to Olympic swimmer Sarah Bro). The former One Direction band member is single now too after splitting with Academy Award nominee Hailee Steinfeld. So the timing seems…kind of perfect!

We’re keeping a close eye on Gomez and Horan. Fingers crossed this isn’t the universe pulling a belated April Fools Day joke on us—we need this to be real!

Look how cute both of them are. They would make an adorable couple. Just sayin’.

Also, after all the drama between Justin Bieber, Hailey Baldwin and Gomez the past few weeks, it’s time for her to have something new going on. A spring romance might be just the thing!

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#celebrity dating rumors #celebrity news #entertainment #health insurance news usa #health news usa today #latest health news usa #niall horan #selena gomez #Skin Care

[theredwallrecorder]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) pt 3 - SHOWSTOPPER

*walks up to the mic in a completely silent auditorium*

*clears throat loudly, opens mouth*

[this is what comes out of my gaping mouth]

( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

I’m not gonna lie, I love Martin and company with a fiery passion, but sweet Redwall strawberries if I haven’t been waiting for this part since the beginning of this ridiculous fic. Our heroes have had their time in the limelight, and now to introduce the real showstoppers. We’re goin full anime up in here, and by “full anime” I mean “you about to be smothered in copious bromance and awesome combat”. From this point on, fic parts will focus on individual duels, but it’ll all get tied together in the end. @thegoldensoundtwice not a day goes by that I don’t blow a kiss in your general direction for riding this crazy train with me. Thank you for lettin’ me borrow your daughter ;3

Please enjoy Redwall Hell: The Anime pt 3, in which Martin and company are redirected to a new waypoint, and Vulpuz pretty much loses it. How are we supposed to hold all his pent-up anger and frustration? No clue, but I’m willing to bet that she would know the answer to that one. *wink* Also, if anyone’s curious, the top two photos at this link depict what she’s wearing upon her arrival, courtesy of @raphcrow. Thanks for the ref material, bae, and more besides. <3

A quick note on wounds/injuries in Redwall Hell: I’m working off the headcanon that you can sustain injuries in Hellgates. The visible ones (cuts, bruises, etc) leave behind a wound that glows with a soft light. I imagine this plays into the “yes, you are actually in purgatory” atmosphere. However, you do not actively bleed in Hellgates. I mean... you’re already dead, lol. You can’t die twice... right?

If there’s a part 3, that means there’s a part 1 and a part 2. Have at ‘em.

Oh, and here are some jams for your listening pleasure: /SHOWSTOPPER/, /LAST REMOTE/, /THROWDOWN/, /THIS TOWN, YOUR GRAVE/, /NOVOCAINE/, /DRUMMING SONG/, /DARK HORSE/, /GIRL/

Let’s rave.

- - - - - -

Martin and Laterose blinked. The quarry, the sea, the makeshift throne and all of the northeastern shore by Marshank was utterly gone, as if somebeast had taken an old rag and wiped them from existence. The scene from ages past had been replaced by the familiar veined brimstone and eerie reddish glow of the desolate landscape of Hellgates. They were standing in a small clearing, edged on three sides with a low wall constructed of mismatched obsidian boulders. Myriad chunks of brimstone littered the area. Warily, Martin abandoned his offensive charge, the point of his sword still trained forwards. The sounds of indiscriminate shuffling prompted him to look back over his shoulder.

Rose had stopped swinging her sling. She was kneeling alongside Dinny and Grumm, helping the two dazed moles to come back to their senses. Several feet behind them, Gonff sat up, patting himself down to make sure he was still in one piece. His face was the very picture of awed surprise and confusion, but when he locked eyes with Martin, the irrepressible mousethief burst out laughing.

“Hahaha! We’re alive!” he cried, leaping to his footpaws. Hardly able to contain his joy, Gonff cartwheeled over to where Felldoh still lay in a baffled heap, the warrior squirrel’s intact spear laying across his chest. Still laughing, Gonff snatched up the spear and offered Felldoh a paw. “Up y’come, matey!”

Felldoh groaned as Gonff helped him up off the ground. “Ooh, that’s a sore spot for sure. Would anybeast be able to explain what exactly just—”

He froze mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open. In their midst a vixen had suddenly materialized, a dark gossamer cloak swirling slightly about her. She stood, tall and stern, her unwavering gaze fixed not on any of the company, but upon the disturbed visage of the Great Vulpuz. The ruler of Hellgates was crouching close to the ground a few yards away, his jaw working spasmodically, his eyes fixed on the cloaked vixen. Without moving a single muscle, she spoke to the woodlanders gathered around her, her tone low and urgent.

“You have done well to come so far. Now, you must abandon this fight. Follow my lantern. It will lead you to the one who does not belong here.”

In that moment the six friends became aware of the presence of a gentle glow, softer and more substantial than the unnatural light of Hellgates. The light emanated from an elegant paper lantern affixed to a delicate pole of bamboo wood, which had appeared in the air next to Gonff. The lantern swayed gently back and forth in an unseen wind, its pole hovering several feet off the ground. The aft end of the pole rotated slowly upwards, the artfully carved handle coming to rest against the back of one of Gonff’s paws, as if the lantern was offering itself up to be held.

The mousethief hesitated, his brow creased with doubt. He glanced up at Martin. The warrior mouse’s mouth was set in a grim line, and he was watching the newly-arrived vixen intently. The thought of the group being confronted by another deadly trap flitted briefly through Gonff’s mind.

“It’s all right, Gonff,” Rose broke through the mousethief’s reverie. “This is the one who has been guiding us with her voice, the Lady of Hellgates.”

“Burr aye, take oop ee loight, zurr Gonffen,” Grumm encouraged.

Bolstered by his friends’ confidence, Gonff reached out to grasp the Lady’s lantern. The bamboo pole seemed to thrum with an energy all its own, causing a tingling sensation in his paw. He eyed the lantern curiously as it bobbed to and fro.

“How will this tell us where to go? Should I… ask it?” He gestured to the lantern with his free paw. “Will you show us the way?”

Without warning the lantern and its pole bucked so fiercely, Gonff was forced to take hold of it with both paws. The animated lamp seemed to gather itself before executing an enormous leap, effectively dragging Gonff across the clearing. “This waaay, maaaaaaaates!” he managed to holler back at the company before the lantern tugged him over the crest of a low hill and out of sight.

Loth to abandon what he knew to be a brewing conflict, Martin hovered betwixt uncertainty and his warrior instincts. It was not in his nature to leave another to fight his battles for him, especially one so mysterious as the Lady of Hellgates.  

“Go.”

The Lady’s spellbinding voice shattered Martin’s spirit of indecision. For the first time she tore her gaze from Vulpuz, a vague smile of admiration playing about her lips as she beheld the warrior mouse with her bright, piercing eyes.

“Your heart has courage, but you know not whom you face,” she cautioned. “You must be swift, warrior! The tenderhearted one called Blaggut needs you!”

The mention of a creature in need reminded Martin of the task at hand. He nodded to the rest of the company, and the five friends tore off across the clearing after Gonff, disappearing together over the distant knoll. The Lady breathed a visible sigh of relief as she felt the presences of the woodlanders grow faint.

Meanwhile, Vulpuz, ruler of Hellgates, had abandoned himself to a temper tantrum. At some point during the exchange between the Lady and Martin’s group, he had thrown himself upon the ground to writhe piteously in the dust, scoring deep scratches in the earth with his claws. At intervals he would throw up his head to snarl at the sky, tearing great tufts of white fur out of his tail as he did so. Ravenously he gnawed upon the boulders around him, crushing broken pieces of the fiery brimstone between his powerful jaws. He eventually succumbed to rapidly dragging his paws down his face in a repetitive, anxious blur of motion, all the while hurling accusations, entreaties, and insults at the Lady.

“How could you? How could you?!” he screeched, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “I had them! Do you know how many eons of insufferable boredom I could have blissfully passed through with those imbeciles as my pets?” Vulpuz’s eyes bulged, the veins in his neck pulsating as he gave full vent to his rage. “Curse you, foul and deranged vixen! How could you take this from me?! This was to be my moment of ultimate triumph, the pivotal instance where I, the Great Vulpuz, would steal the very crown of Dark Forest right from under the dripping snouts of those idiotic woodlanders! Why? Why?! What in my name have I ever done to you to deserve this sort of treatment?” The Great Vulpuz scrambled onto his footpaws with erratic urgency. He paused briefly, his chest heaving from the exertion of his outburst.

“I… I have to do something about you. I must do something about you!” Vulpuz’s upper lip curled into a snarl, flecks of spittle falling from his chin. “I… I know you will interfere again… if given the chance.”

The Lady placed one paw on her hip, regarding Vulpuz with mild amusement. “There,” she cooed at him. “You’ve spoken your piece. Tell me, how does the Great Vulpuz feel now?”

The white fox’s entire body shook, and he bent forward at the waist. “Ooooooh, I feel so betrayed,” Vulpuz wailed, his voice almost a sob. He continued to speak aloud to nobeast in particular, his gestures wild and distracted. “How could she do this to me? Me, the ruler of Hellgates? When I knew she had come, I rejoiced, thinking she would join me in my revelry… but, no.” He scuffed at the ground with a vicious kick. “No, no, NO! She protected those miscreants! Hellsteeth! Just thinking about it makes me want to tear myself limb from bloody limb! Augh! And the smell! How noxious and revolting the stench of Dark Forest that clung to their miserable bodies like fine mail!”

A full minute of complete silence elapsed, in which Vulpuz remained hunched over and panting, the inner flames of his fury stoking themselves into an untamable wildfire. Slowly he raised his head, locking eyes with the sole object of his hatred, and in his gaze was the pale light of a cruelty so chilling the Lady flicked one ear in acknowledgement of it.

“I feel… rage.” Vulpuz’s voice had grown deathly quiet. “Rage at the one who took what was mine by right of conquest. How deeply I long to thrash her beyond recompense, to tear out her eyes and commit them to the infernal winds, to defile her adulterous establishment, to completely and utterly…”

He smiled at her.

“… Devour you.”

The reddish light of Hellgates slowly dimmed until the Lady found herself surrounded by complete darkness. Though Vulpuz was unaware of it, she could still see him, his knack for warping appearances having no effect on her. He was laughing now, echoes of maniacal glee ringing about the stone-rimmed clearing.

“I’ve had enough of your kittish antics, vixen,” he admonished. “I will let the stroke of my chisel of anger fall upon you. Haha, finally! You will give me what I desire, and if not, I shall carve it from you by force.”

Four distinct presences manifested themselves to the Lady in the same moment, catching her off guard. Before she could react she was confronted by a heavy whooshing sound, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a great iron war club come barreling down towards her. In an instant there was an answering flash of drawn steel, and Willow Slay stood alongside the Lady, her flawless curved blade effortlessly parrying the fatal strike.

The Lady blinked. “Willow Slay, what in Hellgates are you—!”

The chef of Redwall Hell’s nightclub unceremoniously interrupted her. “My Lady, on your right!”

Out of the darkness snaked a cruel thonged whip, the metal barbs lashed to its ends seeking to tear gaping holes in the Lady’s flesh. Suddenly, the whip caught on an obstruction in its flight path. Nivedita did not even wince as the biting thongs wrapped themselves around her upraised arm. She snarled into the shadows, dislodging the projectiles from her wrist and forearm with a disdainful shake.

“My Lady, are you hurt?” Nivedita turned slightly to catch the eyes of her mistress, the glow from her wounds highlighting the contours of concern etched into her face.

“Well, no,” the Lady blustered, “I am fine… but, you both, I…”

Willow laughed out loud as she deftly tossed her blade to her off paw in order to summon forth a pair of throwing knives. “My Lady, I know you didn’t really expect us to remain at the nightclub while you went off to tango with the old fox. Damn well inconsiderate of you— erm, pardon the language.

“That is, we’d like to tango too, if it’s all right with you,” Nivedita finished sheepishly.

The Lady observed both her steward and chef with wonder. The unlikely pair were peering into the darkness around them, every muscle poised to defend. Very little surprised the Lady, but the loyalties of her most beloved children never ceased to prompt within her a spirit of humble gratitude. She bowed her head before glancing up in Vulpuz’s direction, a tacit gesture of submission.

“I… consider myself thoroughly chastised,” she exhaled, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Forgive me, Nivedita, Willow, for attempting to deprive you of this honor your both rightfully covet.”

The chef and the steward seemed to swell with pride. Boldly they faced the darkness before them, fearing neither creature nor fate.

“Think nothing of it, my Lady,” declared Willow. She directed her knives to circle in the air above her free paw, the tip of her sword flicking up and down in sync with their rotation. “These blades are yours to command!”

“Yes!” Hope danced in Nivedita’s eyes as she adopted what she thought to be a cool and aggressive combat stance. “Let us fight with you!”

“Shut up, shut up!” Vulpuz roared from his hiding place in the shadows. “How dare you show your faces here, you worthless serfs! I will have nothing to do with you. Amuse yourselves with my right and left paws whilst I entertain your mistress!”

“Ha! Suits me!” Willow Slay scoffed. “I’ll tan any hide what shows its miserable self here! Prepare yourself to receive me, clubface!” Without another word the courageous mink threw herself into the darkness, leading with her blades.

Nivedita’s kind features were set with determination. “For you, my Lady,” she intoned, stepping forth to allow the shadows to swallow her up as well.

The Lady breathed deeply, her all-knowing gaze effortlessly piercing the darkness. She locked eyes with the infuriated ruler of Hellgates and gracefully held out an open paw.

“I am ready, Vulpuz.”

#boi he boutta do it #lemme tell you writing vulpuz is so much fun #he is a trip #i kind of have a bit of a confession to make about him tho #ive been playing gratuitous amounts of ratchet and clank #and ive been imagining dr nefarious' voice when writing vulpuz's lines so... #*shrugs sheepishly* #armin shimerman's voice is just #[insert pacha reaction image here] #so good #and now that i'm far enough into these tags #HOW ABOUT THAT HELLGATES TRIO AMIRITE #nakama so real u get the feel #<3 <3 #*cracks knuckles* #this party's getting crazy #let's rock! #Redwall Hell #fan fiction #Vulpuz #the lady #the vibrant lady #Nivedita #Willow Slay #Willow #Martin #Gonff #Dinny #Grumm #recorder's queue

[celticnoise]

I like to watch nature TV shows when I am in the right mood, but I tend not to enjoy those soft-soap ones about penguins or dolphins or wild birds. I prefer to watch the predators, the killers, and as brutal as life is out on the Serengeti, or in the dark woods of Russia where wolves prowl (I have a particular love of wolves), the most vicious place of all is actually the average back garden, at the level of the insects, where survival is a constant war.

One of the most fascinating things I’ve seen on one of the many shows about insects was when Sky did one on the Schmidt Sting Pain Index; for those unfamiliar with it, this is the measure of how strong and painful an insect bite is for a human being.

(They actually got the guy to test this, you ought to see it.)

At the bottom, at Pain Level 1, are those bites which are so slight you probably wouldn’t even realise it. At Pain Level 2 are more familiar ones; the honeybee, the common wasp and a bunch of others. Pain Level 3 includes some fearsome wasps and ants and at Pain Level 4 where you would rather chop off a limb than endure any more agony, are insects who’s names alone would petrify some people; the Tarantula Hawk Wasp, the Warrior Wasp and the Bullet Ant.

But if we’re talking about buzzing, droning things, irritants of the worst kind, unwanted presences you would rather not have in your home, I would add Pain Level 5, notable for causing blinding headaches, erasing brain cells and exploding ear drums; one thing cause it all. Andy Walker.

That’s a joke, but only just.

Walker is, of course, an ex-Celtic player. But he has never acted like it.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I deplore the sycophancy of ex-Ibrox footballers who trot out a constant party line and never question what’s going on there. I would not want any ex-Celtic player in the media to do that; criticism and scrutiny are healthy things.

But Walker is a joke figure to our support, and not for nothing.

I’ve written about this guy umpteen times on this site; he is one of the worst people ever to be given a commentary job.

He is ignorant about the game to a staggering degree for someone who used to play it and he demonstrates this over and over and over again.

He is also on the record as supporting players who cheat by diving and trying to con referees, and I find that loathsome in someone who once played for us.

And although an ex-Celtic player, he has made a media career on slamming our club and reporting every negative no matter how ill-informed he is on the matter at hand. At the weekend he said one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard come out of a pundit’s mouth when he claimed that the shocking raised boot lunge at Odsonne Edouard would have been a foul everywhere on the pitch … except for the penalty box.

Last night he weighed in on the issue of officiating, a subject on which he has had precisely nothing of any value or substance to say before now, and he still doesn’t. Instead he’s had an unhinged rant at Steve Clarke on the same subject as Gerrard was raving about yesterday.

“I think it’s pathetic of any manager to want to get anyone else banned for two games,” Walker buzzed and droned on Sky Sports.

Except, if he’d paid attention instead of simply listening to Steven Gerrard and parroting the absolute nonsense he was talking yesterday, he would know that the Kilmarnock boss did nothing of the sort. Yes, he challenged the compliance officer to “do her job” but he made it damned clear that he was not advocating a ban for anyone. It’s also not even clear if he was talking about Defoe or Candelas, two entirely seperate incidents.

Clarke called for consistency in the approach to games. 

He asked pointed questions, he made detailed points.

But this is a typical Andy Walker moment, where he latches on to something without having the first clue as to the context, and lets his tongue run ahead of his brain.

I knew there would be a counter-blast against Clarke, first from Ibrox and then from elsewhere. Because Clarke talked too much sense. He told it straight and tried to get a discussion going, a real one instead of the SFA’s fake version. That was never going to be allowed to happen, of course, and first Gerrard and then our ex-player – who not a single Celtic fan I know can stand to listen to – have attempted to obfuscate and blow smoke instead.

Since the weekend there have been two contributions worth listening to and one which kind of made me laugh in spite of myself.

That came from Craig Levein and his “20-yard box” sneer at Dallas’ awarding of two penalties which were outside the area.

The two intelligent statements were that of Clarke himself and our club ambassador Tom Boyd, who’s call for foreign refs was spot on.

That, too, of course, has provoked backlash. I’ll deal with that later.

The rest have been predictably awful.

But this is a subject which is not going to go away.

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You can discuss this and and all the other stories by signing up at the Celtic Noise forum at the above link. This site is one of the three that has pushed for the forum and we urge all this blog’s readers to join it. Show your support for real change in Scottish football, by adding your voice to the debate.

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