#shadowspellchecker

[shadowspellchecker]

<p>3. 2. Jyn raised Imperial </p>

<p>So many ways to make it work.</p>

<p>Raised by Krennic. Raised by Mrs. Krennic. A hostage, an adoptee. Even child bride. Loyal Galen. Lyra alive. How about some other imperial raising Jyn?</p>

<p>4. 3. Cassian's first assignment results in Jyn Erso run-in</p>

<p>Could easily jive with above.</p>

<p>5. 4. Steela Lives AU</p>

<p>…And raises Jyn. Completely changes the character of the Partisans, and might mean that Jyn isn't ditched at 16. </p>

<p>6. 5. Partisan Jyn AU</p>

<p>In 12 After the formation of the empire, Saw Gerrera is injured. Liana Hallick, 16 years old lieutenant, becomes his apprentice and successor. She inherits it 2 years later. </p>

[ilreleonewikia13]

TQG FANFIC:PAWN AND KNIGHT

by @shadowspellchecker

He is thirteen when the mark suddenly changes from smokey blur to actual letters. I'd take the knight.

They are rough, and disjointed in the way of young hands. But the words are clear enough, and he knows what they are referring to. They interest him. Because they are not the words of a potential spouse, but a colleague or competitor. He has heard about such matches before. He is relieved because it promises a lifetime of competition and going for the top. It means not settling down, not settling for the ordinary, of excitement. It means more chess. But Benny is thirteen, and a chess prodigy, and he has games to play. He spares a thought to this upstart kid who he cannot wait to crush, and moves on. 

 She is five, and is learning her letters. She sees the similarity between the scribbles on her arm and the characters in her books. She asks her mother what they mean. 'That just means there is someone out there who will try to control you', Alice dismisses. But Beth is five, and has been isolated her whole life. She does not understand.

[shadowspellchecker]

"Royal Family" of Suna, or Uzumaki Clan Really Gets Around

Option 1:

Option 2:

This is a bit of a leap, but it makes sense. Suna isn't exactly famous for magnet release. But the Rasa's family apparently is. So, one lineage makes sense given the size of the village. The Third had it, and so does Rasa, but they don't share much of a resemblance. However, Rasa does to Reto. Somehow they need to be connected on one lineage. There's other options within this. Given the difference in coloration, the Third might be Reto's wife's nephew, with both the wife and the Third bearing the magnet release from a common ancestor. Rasa's mother might also have borne the Magnet release, so Reto's wife may not be the carrier. In such a situation, the Third might be Rasa's maternal uncle. In this scenario, Reto's wife might be the carrier of the redhead gene, making for an additional parallel with Konoha's founding family.

Because who has red hair? The Uzumaki.

[shadowspellchecker]

12/9/2022

They chase it into a land of trees Pleasant and peaceful they wanted to stay. But the moon tore the dream asunder And the deer took flight And the people followed it into the night. They came to a land of fire and blood. N As you may have guessed this is the story of the Nara through the ages From before the tree and Kaguya's rampages The world's are the epochs, the path is time, Unknown is the original name But deer and shadows They are the same Shadows and the deer, they are the same.

[shadowspellchecker]

Dream from the night of 7/28/2025-7/29/2025

Dream goes like this: We're flying into San Diego Intl. Airport; specifically reminiscent of when we were flying in from San Francisco in 2025. It's daytime, but not bright daylight. I'm in the aisle seat, about halfway down, economy. So we're flying in, but instead of coming in through the buildings towards the ocean, we are on a course from the West-NorthWest towards the East-SE, towards the buildings. We're coming in to land, then suddenly the plane aborts. We're going through the buildings, closely in-between, on the normal route, but going uphill. Image: The brown-tinged windows of occupied office buildings, narrowly skirted by the white airliner wings. It's fast. Quickly we're out past the urban areas, past the first batch of mtns. Then I'm informed the plane must have missed its window, and is going back into the holding (hanging) pattern. We're told by the flight attendants to get out of our seats and head down the aisle, towards the front of the plane where there's going to be a safe compartment to stay in for the holding pattern. It was downhill, but we're not falling or anything so at that point it wasn't badly sloped. It's super orderly, and I quickly fall in line. At the front of the plane there's a platform, out of the door kind of like a temporary walkway, but with rope netting for railing. It's a quick right turn, but there's a crack maybe a foot, two feet wide, where you can glimpse outside. Toddlers are specifically warned to be carried by parents. Rattles, not quite sturdy considering the drop below. I look out, and what I see fills me with such wonder-terror: Through the wispy white mist, lines of 747-type airplanes, suspended midair, vertical with tails-up, still and hovering like sperm whales asleep in the ocean; hanging like bats off the edge of a dark cloudbank from my left. Our wings twist, and the plane finds its space. Image: 4 below, four above. Sweeping vista, think the beach / ships pano in Saving Private Ryan. Think one of the planes sort-of level with us was a United. Then I'm entering the compartment, which is beige, and dull, and much larger on the inside than it is on the outside, and gets taller (or ceiling shorter) towards the edges.

[shadowspellchecker]

continent emerging from the mists.jpg

Created: ‎Saturday, ‎December ‎24, ‎2011, ‏‎8:53:42 PM Modified: Saturday, ‎December ‎24, ‎2011, ‏‎8:53:43 PM Location: G:\Age- Lenovo full\Old Files\ Program: Microsoft Paint, Windows 7 version?

[shadowspellchecker]

4.doc

Created:07/26/2014, 09:44:00 Modified:08/11/2014, 10:17:00 Location:G:\Age- 20140904\Libraries\Documents

4/10/13

-...Dismissed

-winces. Doesn't want to do this. Really wants this job.

-forgive me, sir. If you are still interested in hiring me, then there is something you really must know.

-What?

-I have...fits, sir?

-fits?

-Fits.

-You mean epilepsy?

-That's what they call it. What they want to put it down as. But it isn't epilepsy.

-What makes you say that?

-I have read many books on the subject—quite a few indeed... but in none of these have I found any mention of victims speaking in tongues.

-...sit down. Tongues?

-Aye. Old version of Irish.

-...Are you sure you're not possessed?

-Yes sir, it's a family thing. The Vatican sent an exorcist. Nothing to exorcise. Here is a copy of the report.

-Thank you... Well, you affairs seem to be of

-It will not interfere in my duties; I have very good control on it and will warn you if my duties involve coming into contact with a trigger.

What is your trigger?

Violence, sir. Warfare. Stay away from any mobs and you'll be fine.

Can see you did not want word around.

What do you think it is from?

We suspect we've got a bit of sí blood. Morrigan, probably, and well my

Wood henge- Concentrator – In

Bluestonehenge - ?

Out stonehenge – generator

Orion belt henges

some sort of focus concentrator redirect?

4/22/13

Old Irish

Bran = raven

fiach = raven.

fili m filid poet, seer

acc filid fileda

dat filid

gen filed

filidecht poetry, divination

macc son, bond, surety

4/23/13

A geas is...well, it acts like this: you break it, you die. But really there's two types of geas: the inherent, you got no choice about. You have it your whole life. And if you break it, you die—not just like that, but slowly, over time, or on your next task.

Then there's the voluntary type. Simple, really. You make a vow to maintain the geis, and you get some sort of advantage in return. But if you break it, then your advantagous edge is lost, leaves you the next time you call on it—effectively kills you anyway

Tom wear commit an act of violence in war

020513

May I speak freely, sir?

Matthew, not really listening gives go ahead.

I have been told I am a good listener, sir, if you want to talk about it. Sometimes helps.

Matthew looked sorely tempted.

Little known fact: I hear every 'private' conversation held in this car. Never say a word about what they say.

I really shouldn't be telling ya this, but you shoulda give it another go.

How do you know this?

...You're not the first to confide in this way, Mr. Crawley.

Then who...?

Sorry, sir, Driver Patient Confidentiality.

The son of a doctor laughed, getting the pun.

Thank you Branson...it helped.

It does sir. Best of luck.

Thanks.

[shadowspellchecker]

Thoughts on Dreams.doc

Created: 12/01/2016, 15:01:00 Modified: 12/01/2016, 15:01:00 Location: G:\Age- 2016-2017\Fall 2016\Desktop

Thoughts on Dreams

Just been reading through Planetcopia's World Dream Bank's notes on dreams; it got me thinking about my own.

The first one that comes to mind is from when I was eight or nine. It is in much more detail in one of my diaries, I think, but to be brief, the key points: I found a frog/toad thing. It was a CUTE frog. It fit in my hand. We explored the garage together, made a secret base in the attic. (The Attic was much roomier than it is in real life; I think this surprised me in the dream, too.) It was my friend. When Dad woke me up, I complained, saying that because I was having the BEST dream…

It was unusually coherent, and is one fo the few where I have woken up smiling.

Far less pleasant, and terrifying, was one from when I was about six or seven, I think. Something I think happened before this; I cannot recall it, though. This was the lead-in to what I remember. Some of it is coming back; I'll note it down as it comes:

Yes, there was some animal involved. One, two? Rabid, perhaps, there was fighting in my living room.

This was back before we got rid of the carpet in the eating area. Nona's table was still in place, and unpainted.

Anyway, I was looking for Oreo. I'm in the living room; I walk past the sofa, so I am coming in from the front of the room. I see something in the left corner of the breakfast room area; Nona's table is centered under the big picture window; there is space on both sides; I go to the one to my left.

I can see (a cat or dog, Some sort of mammal, but very small) is licking (or chewing) something on the ground.

It is daylight colors on the carpet, I think. Might have been daytime.

the animal bolts through the kitchen door

I am crouching down, and I see what it was it left. Oreo is lying on the ground motionless, dead, but instead of his head, I see I see it turn into the bloody skull of a terratorn exposed where Oreo's head ought to be.

I woke up there

I think this was the last time a nightmare drove me to crawl into my parent's bed.

I told them I dreamed that Oreo had died. Nothing more.

I remember having one with Auntie Margaret, I think. Or was it Mary? Anyway, we were at their table, the way it was when they were alive—this must have been this last summer, maybe in June? Anyway, and we were talking, and I was saying goodbye or something like that, maybe "I missed you" and "I love you—I'm sorry I never said it enough" and I think there was something about "What's it like in heaven"