#paragraph post

[jack-whatsyourangle]

i love seeing posts that are like "idk if people are even in the newsies fandom anymore" because it's like. babe. we're all here. we're all active. there's like 6 mafia aus, 3 royal aus, and a whole lot of angst going on over on ao3. i could name at least 10 people off the top of my head and those would probably just be my mutuals. this fandom is not dead yet.

[indigo-shipper]

Your name is Nepeta Zahhak

And you are dead. You are currently crying over the inability to save a person very close to you from the dark abyss of being grimdark. Even if neither of you knew how to help him, you still thing what happened is your fault. Your blue tears get soaked up in the fabric of your gloves, but there are more tears to compensate for the loss. Very suddenly you are interrupted by a strange feeling all across your body. A feeling of being cut and restitched like fabric. A feeling of your limbs not being connected but rather floating near each other. Then, you suddenly feel like you dont weigh a thing. you look down on yourself. Pieces of your hands and arms are being ripped apart of your body in a scratch-like pattern, flying off like ashes on wind. Your blank, lifeless eyes widen in shock and confusion. You have no idea of what is happening to you, and it seems like you cant stop it. You cant feel most of your body. You close your eyes before your last tear drops. Your name is Nepeta Zahhak, and you just woke up from another nightmare.

Doomed timeline event: END

[macaron-n-cheese]

My role in the Barrett’s Privateers historical fiction committee was Abraham Rowe. Abraham Rowe was expelled from his land in Vermont by Ethan Allen’s Green Mountain Boys! How dare they! Stinky Ethan Allen, that damned old rat. He fled to Canada and joined up with Barrett’s Privateers. He is a staunch Loyalist. I love King George III!!!!!!!1!!1! I made sure to end all my speeches with “God Save the King!” In a crisis committee like this, we are allowed to send “crisis notes.” These notes will be answered by the “crisis gods” who direct how the story will proceed. Our ship is the Antelope, without Captain being Everett Barrett.

At the beginning of the meeting, I wrote a letter to Colonel Clark asking him for aid on forming a Loyalist militia. In the meantime, our crew was deciding on a code of conduct, supplies, and where we will sail. Of course, we are very kind privateers and decided that we will be respectful and equal to one another :). Colonel Clark replied saying that he will spread the word about forming the militia and help organize it. I sent him a reply about securing arms for the militiamen as well as writing to the local gazette about purchasing an advertisement under the alias of Austen Rutledge! Many crew members wrote to their contacts for food and supplies and were greatly successful! We got some caviar.

Crisis update! We have successfully captured a ship, taking the American Captain Fergin prisoner and hiring his ship and its Scottish-not American-crew to join us in our privateering journey. There is also news of a rogue pirate raiding ships in New England under a name that I unfortunately forgot </3. However, while other crewmates were concerned about the health and cleanliness of the ship, a few other crew members and I wrote a JPD to organize the exchange of Captain Fergin for supplies and a ransom of $10,000 the next time we were at port.

Crisis update! Captain Fergin has successfully been traded in Savannah, Georgia, a neutral port. However, this port has an overwhelming amount of infighting between Rebels and Loyalists. Some unknown crew members decide to loot and burn ships before we leave, but the fire spreads and burns the entire city! The name “Barrett” is now a curse, the He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named of Savannah. We are exiled, never to come to Savannah again. While sailing away, in a cloud of fog, coconuts are hurled at us, with noises such as “ooh ooh ah ah” being heard from the mysterious ghost ship. We are immediately suspicious that Sinbad’s ape friends wanted to give us some snacks.

Crisis update! The Bonny Prince of Scotland has hopped aboard and sails with us now! The Antelope have come across three ships! Two American ships which do not have much treasure onboard, and one British ship that would be a joy to loot! Me, being a loyal British subject, I of course wanted to come to the aid of our brothers-in-arms and defeat those damned rebels! Unfortunately, I am situated to be seated right in between my two rivals, the famed sailor Sinbad and legendary swordsman Montoza, both who craved plunder! We held a vote which ended in support for Britain. Luckily, I was first to speak and argued that a capture of the two yankee ships would be just as prosperous as the capture of the British ship because firstly, we have two, possibly three if the British decided to join us, new additions to our fleet. Secondly, we can ransom any prisoners we take! Third, our letter of marque is from our dear King George III. We can’t commit treason against him! The entire army would be after us! My fellow loyalists and I wrote Directive “Britannia Rules the Waves” (which is later played) to show to the world our superior navy!

Crisis update! The plot has been circulating to overthrow Captain Barrett and replace him with the Bonny Prince of Scotland and it has been a success! In our battle against the Yankees, a fierce storm hit, with lightning striking the mast, causing it to fall in which “Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs,” as he was in the shanty. The battle and mutiny is a success! We will sail onward to Scotland with our allies! (Scotland the Brave is playing).

My militia, now named the Blue Sea Crew in spite of the Green Mountain Boys, had a major victory! We have successfully captured the Green Mountain Boys and Ethan Allen! I make haste to write back, promising to return to Vermont as the Royal Governor. I, too, request an audience with his majesty, King George III, write to General John Burgoyne about his experiences in upstate New York to plan on how the Blue Sea Crew may conquer southwards, and write to John André to invite him to tea upon my return! I also tell Colonel Clark that he can reveal my true identity, now that I plan to return to Vermont, in which I will be safe.

Crisis update! John Paul Jones has joined our crew and duels with Montoza. Montoza wins and JPJ is not fatally wounded (during our next break I play John Paul Jones is a Pirate). A second mutiny has occurred, trying to overthrow the Captain, the Bonny Prince of Scotland!!! It fails and the conspirators are put on trial. The plot to exchange Captain Fergin has been made known to the entire ship and now we are being accused of breaking the Code of Conduct because of the bounty we received from the trade. Our crew craves bloodshed for us, holding an onboard trial where we are shown no mercy. I plead that I will graciously accept exile and forfeit all my earnings from the trade, but am sentenced to death. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~

My ghost watches as the Crew goes on to aid the Bonny Prince in gaining Scotland’s independence, making him the Bonny King of Scotland. This victory could not have been achieved without all the mythical creatures that crew members met on their journey, such as Moby Dick the White Whale, Nessie the Loch Ness monster, various mermaids, Sinbad’s demons and apes, and so many more.

Actually, in my crisis note before the trial I said that I was going to abandon ship and sail to Vermont to serve as governor. Because of timing, I am not sure if I was actually killed or if I got away before the final verdict. The crisis note and trial were sent closely before the committee ended and the closing ceremony started. My alias was also never revealed, so I imagine it would have been revealed if it was confirmed that I got away. Doing this was so fun! Here are notes I kept throughout the committee.

[artificialgrievand]

Serket sighed. She had cracked into these books several times over, and while she was getting a clearer picture of the distinction between the four different cults that liked to house themselves here, she had barely even scraped the surface on what each one actually wanted to accomplish. Coupled with the fact that the Wall Crocs didn’t seem to really be in allegiance to any of them and were instead just a symptom of the work being done here, and it just added frustration to humiliation.

Some of them thought the mountain could lead them to the center of the earth to access some sort of hive.

Some of them thought the chill at the peak was the perfect condition to reach some being of utter emptiness in the cosmos, beyond even the void.

Some felt that the mountain was connected so some sort of quantum force that could alter the earth on its very axis, allowing for something to be hatched elsewhere in the world.

And, even then, some just thought there was a treasure buried here connected to some greater deity.

All such grand lofty goals for this place and they hardly connected or intermingled at all!

“Raaaaaaaagh!” Serket yelled as she tossed some papers aside, flinging them from her desk. She was so close to figuring things out. Sitting through all of the excess information that wasn’t relevant to her research. Getting to the heart of the matter. But nothing was making itself clear!

With another cry Serket flung some books against the door, only for them to keep flying with an accompanying clatter.

Harry had ducked under the flying literature with impressive swiftness.

“Uh, knock knock?” He said, bemused as he lifted a tray of teacups. “You looked like you were in it for the long haul today. Figured I would step into the kitchen for once. Don’t know if this is drinkable but…”

Serket blinked a few times, then winced.

“Ah, Harry yes hello!” She responded pleasantly, tenting her fingers together. She looked at the tea, tilting her head for a moment, before realizing that he wouldn’t really know any better. “Tea would be. Lovely, yes.”

With a nod and a slightly exaggerated bow, the man dressed from head to toe in snow gear stomped his way through the study, only bending down briefly to pick up another book that had been flung to the ground. He turned it around in his one hand a bit, then gave it a bit of a wave as he set the tea tray down.

“Still at it?” He asked, tossing the book back down onto the desk.

Serket blinked at the book hesitantly, then nodded. The book he had picked was one she hadn’t touched since receiving it. Fairly recently.

Harry nodded, waving his hands in mock surrender.

“Say no more, I know not to come skipping into a war zone.” He gave a small puff of a laugh, before slowly beginning to retreat from the study.

Serket looked at the book he had thrown in front of her, then, looked up.

“Harry, you were a scientist once, yes?”

Harry froze, back turned to Serket.

“Once upon a time,” he said, tone level but bordering on grim.

Serket paused, knowing this was a bit of a sore spot.

“Ah. Well…”

Serket paused, watching the steam wisp away from the teacup in front of her. She bit her lip, before looking up at him, determined.

“How do you go a8out trying to push through a dead end in your research? Or rather, what do you do when you’ve turned everything over and have yet to find what you need?”

Harry looked over his shoulder, smiling as his steely blue eyes twinkled ever so slightly.

“I find it very rare that one has ever looked at everything.” He patted the doorframe before nodding at her and making his way out of the room.

“Godspeed, Miss Serket.”

[demandezglassjoe]

"Excuse me? I'm lost, could you tell me where I am, sir?"

Joe was looking up at a street sign, his eyebrows drawing together. He didn’t seem to hear the young woman’s voice over the rushing traffic. Clutching the handlebars tightly, he seemed to lean backwards a bit in his red bike, which was front heavy with groceries in its basket.

[flippinoptimist]

Light This Thoughtful Time-Consuming Gift On Fire Please

Velius wasn't sure if it would help or not, but he was curious and thought that maybe it might at least serve as a distraction.  Even in the worst of cases, Bleu might have fun destroying the squishy little things.

And so it was that a facepainted limeblood started using his sendificator to check out Bleu's dreambubble, searching for the current location of the troll of the hour, and more specifically his transportalizer pad.  After verifying that all was as it should be, Velius blew out a breath, and set to work with his alchemiter and a good selection of his recent impulse purchases.

It wasn't long before the gift appeared with a flash, a largish punch bowl appearing conveniently atop the transportalizer pad.  The punch bowl was filled to the brim with stacks of blossoms that had been carefully (and somewhat amateurishly) carved from watermelon.  Arrayed around the bowl was a set of sugar syrups (some flavored and some not), along with an assortment of flavor extracts and food colors.

And a bottle of whiskey.

And a small, cookery-style blowtorch.

And a note.

"what happens if you try to caramelize these

what is the best method?"

He didn't bother signing it.  He didn't really think that he had to.

[breathe-andkeepbreathing-blog]

3/13 Klaine at Quinn's party

Kurt didn't really want to go pick Blaine up. It would take another hour, and by the time they reached Quinn's party, they would have to sneak in. Quinn wouldn't care if they were late, but Kurt hated being late. It wasn't fashionable anymore. Just tacky.

He knocked at Blaine's door, dressed to the nines. On Kurt's lithe, pale body was a light periwinkle button-down that made his skin look even paler, black cords, and rustic grey boots with thick black laces. He looked good.

Only the best for his steady.