LOOKING FOR GEORGE PICS I SEE, CAUGHT IN 4K
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@ellensgirlfriend
LOOKING FOR GEORGE PICS I SEE, CAUGHT IN 4K
Niki is so beautiful dear God I’m such a simp
How do I directly tag the dream smp in its entirety
alright so. what if humans were the only sapient species in the universe to not have magic
and then aliens invade and they’re like “oh haha look at these hairless apes they have no magic, this is going to be easy” and then they get slapped in the face because instead of magic, we’ve developed all this technology and you can’t cast spells faster than someone can pull a trigger
and as is usual for my weird ramblings, i wrote a story after thinking about this too much.
—
In over a hundred systems and a thousand worlds, the Coalition reigns. Under a thousand different skies, and in millions of cities, the Eternal Flag flies. It’s an empire larger than any in galactic history, and it’s a superpower that may never come again. A civilization built on the greatest magitech ever seen, powered by great globes of mana and flickering energy cores. A civilization made up of a thousand sentient species.
The crew of the Growing Flame and their support ships are here to make it a thousand and one. It’s a small little planet with a primitive, backwards species. Sol Three.
“No sign of civilization,” the Oracle hums from her post. “The fleet’s ready to descend.”
“Hold on,” the Navigator says, tapping at her moving painting. The colors swirl and reform again and again, the magically-imbued pigments responding to her touch. “Didn’t we see cities on the initial sweep? Population’s suspiciously high for a no-magic civ, too.”
“The scans are never wrong,” says the Oracle. “The attenuator picked up zero signs of residual magical energy.”
“Let the fleet descend,” says the Executor. “The Fifth Expeditionary fleet will be here in three cycles, and I’ll be damned if I let them take this planet before we do. I’m one away from promotion.”
Despite the Navigator’s protests, the Pilots nod, and they tap at a multitude of buttons and dials. The tightly-sealed copper and glass ship descends into the planet’s atmosphere, magitech engines spewing mana as they descend.
“Careful with the output,” the Oracle says. “Planet’s a total mana dead zone. No ambient magic. We won’t be able to use the reclaimers for fuel, so we’ll have to run on stored energy.”
Alongside the Flame, a dozen ships descend into the atmosphere of Sol Three. Each is a glittering specimen of the Coalition’s finest - magitech cannons, engines that can pull three g’s of acceleration with a top speed of hundreds of units per hour, warp engines for inter-system jumps. Each one’s bristling with armor and weaponry, ready to blast any fledgling species into submission.
Despite his professionalism, the Executor can’t help but grin. A fierce sort of fury runs through his blood every time a new upstart species is battered into submission - it’s addictive. He settles his gaze on one of their sister ships, the Steady Cadence.
…He has a good view as a glowing streak shoots through the air, and an AIM-120 AMRAAM beyond-visual-range air-to-air missile blows that wannabe steampunk ship right out of the sky. The engines explode, and stored mana evaporates a quarter of the craft as it breaches containment. The Steady Cadence goes into freefall, trailing blue aetheric smoke. It impacts the planet’s surface with a crash.
The Executor is too shocked to even react for a few precious seconds. Another ship goes down in a gout of flame.
“STATUS REPORT!” He bellows, his voice cracking as he does. “WHAT THE HELLS JUST HAPPENED?!”
“Projectile weapon of some kind,” the Oracle screams, the Painting at her post swirling so rapidly it’s become a whirlpool of color and light. “Nothing on the sensor sweeps.”
The pilots have taken it upon themselves to engage evasive maneuvers without being ordered, and it’s only because of this that the crew of the Growing Flame survives the next few seconds. A glowing streak blows past the ship and detonates, rocking the craft - but it doesn’t hit the engines, and the Flame stays afloat.
Around them, the remaining ten ships do the same. The magic engines whirr as they’re pushed to their limits - the ships dance up, down, and spin in literal physics-defying maneuvers. A few ships are hit, but many of the glowing streaks detonate without crippling a craft.
“EVADE,” The Executor shouts, far too late. He runs a hand over his fur, smoothing it down in an attempt to regain his composure. “Open fire!”
“On what, sir?” The Conflict head asks.
“Find whatever’s firing those smoke trails, and destroy it! In fact-” He growls. “Blow away anything that’s moving and isn’t flying a friendly flag. We’re going to burn this world.”
The Conflict head nods, and a runner’s sent to relay orders to the weapons crews manning the cannons in the bowels of the ship.
An AIM-120 AMRAAM BVRAAM missile is a masterful piece of engineering. It’s designed with a seven inch diameter, uses active transmit-receive radar guidance, and is a total fire-and-forget missile.
But it’s still constrained by the laws of physics. The reality-warping engines of the Fourth Coalition Expeditionary fleet are not.
This fact keeps the fleet in the air. For now.
“LOAD CANNONS!” The runner shouts, and in the bowels of the Flame and her sister ships, a dozen high-yield magitech cannons are loaded with glowing mana-shot.
A Sol 3 craft comes into view - some kind of angular, shimmering beast. It’s definitely not copper. It sweeps past the ship, too fast to be tracked with the naked eye.
“Targeting online,” the Conflict-sub-head shouts from her post. “Fire at will.”
The remains of the Coalition fleet spit over a hundred glowing blue cannonballs at the rapidly disappearing Sol craft. Each one is capable of leveling a small building with a direct hit.
None of them have a direct hit, though.
A shockwave sweeps across the sky with an earsplitting boom as the Sol craft’s engines flare orange-white-red, rather than the pale blue of a magical engine, and the ship disappears as surely as if it had teleported. The sound doesn’t even hit the Coalition fleet until the craft’s already long gone.
The next pass doesn’t come. The craft never comes back within visual range. Instead, a barrage of missiles and gunfire from outside visual range pick off ship after ship.
“No… no engine lock,” the Oracle says, her face pale. It’s dawned on the crew that they’re going to die here.
“We need to get a message to the Fifth Expeditionary Fleet,” the Executor says, his voice low. He understands his duty, even if his rivalry is strong. “We need to warn them. Take us out of atmosphere.”
“And the other ships, sir?”
“We need- we need a way to get away. They can buy us time. These Sol pilots might take the distraction.”
The Oracle nods, and closes her eyes as she telepathically transmits the command to the other ships. They, too, know their duties.
The Growing Flame gets away.
A dozen Coalition ships burn on the surface of Sol Three.
—
On the surface, two men sit in a room that doesn’t technically exist, discussing an event that technically never happened.
“Do we know where they came from? The Russians? The Chinese?”
“No idea, sir. The technology seems… primitive.”
“They dodged Sparrow missiles, Jack.”
“Yes, but - there’s something weird about that. We’ve looked at their engines. They shouldn’t have functioned at all.”
“You’re telling me they came in with broken engines?”
“No, sir - I mean they shouldn’t have worked at all according to the laws of physics. The designs wouldn’t physically lift a ship off the ground.”
The two men stand in silence for a few moments.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“You’re glowing.”
One of the men raises his hand, and turns it over. He snaps his fingers.
And a tiny bolt of lightning arcs between them.
—
In a darkened facility, the recovered wreckages of a dozen Coalition ships sit, bleeding full tanks of magic into the air of a world that previously had none.
OP PLEASE CONTINUE THIS
A tall ghoulish looking man with a green robe and strange symbols on his cheeks comes up to you and says "hey sexy. Drink this"
Would you?
I wouldn’t hesitate to gulp this one in one bite, with the plastic still
Happening right now, July 2020
ok but imagine your Person A talks to one of their friends about their relationship w Person B and their friend is really shocked after Person A tells them that they never tell their spouse, Person B, that they love them. like for as long as Person A and Person B have been together neither have ever said “I love you” which neither of them notice. so Person A goes home and while sitting down they just go, “Have I ever told you I loved you? I love you.” and then Person B is like “omgomgomg oh shit I love you too I’m sorry for not saying it before.” like???? that’s just very cute??? like neither of those two in the relationship didn’t need any validation and those two were just vibing???? I appreciate this very much
things I have to stop saying
-bro
-like
-what
-dude
OK BUT WHAT IF INSTEAD OF PEOPLE THAT COULD READ PEOPLES MINDS DIDNT JUST SIT AROUND TRYING TO READ OTHER PEOPLES MINDS TO SEE WHO THEY WERE IN LOVE WITH BUT INSTEAD THEY WENT INTO THE PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSION AND HELPED PEOPLE WITH DiD AND SCHIZOPHRENIA AND OTHER PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AND DIAGNOSED THEM AND MADE THEM FEEL LESS ALONE. YOU KNOW HOW AWESOME TO IT WOULD BE FOR THEM DOSSKSBSKS
Guess what I started watching?
This scene was supercute. As far as first meetings go, I thought this summed the two of them up nicely.
Miraculous Ladybug gives me so many early morning cartoon feels. I wish I would’ve had this when I was younger, but glad to have it now!
i think instead of trying to figure out someone’s pronouns we should just call them captain.
how do you join a gang? asking for a friend.
“Sometimes I’d like to think that every firework show isn’t really about entertaining us but to remind the Gods or just God that we still exist or else he’ll forget about us and leave. “
You are the chosen one and kill Death. No more dying from illness, no more dying of old age, no more dying from freak accidents. Earth is living hell. There are too many people and the planet is slowly turning to ruin. How do you undo your mistake and bring Death back to life?
I become death.
wait what if I actually search up what happens to farts and I find out they evaporate or some shit. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself tbh
Canada to Texas, Terry Evans
WHAT IF MY FART TRAVELLED ALL THE WAY HERE ITS SEEING THINGS I HAVENT SEEN BEFORE
should I or should I not abandon the emperor for a sudden maiden that appears out of the water claiming to be the daughter of god from an uncaptured land where they wear pencils skirts and speak Korean and to where I still live in the old ages where archives are written for the enjoyment of knowledge and where lust and wicked sin are forbidden and I am cast away to serve the lord of the church? idk man it seems like a pretty hard decision