sand clump

I feel like no one talks enough about how losing Noodle affected Murdoc

-Murdoc and Noodle have the video and Noodle’s escape all planned out, and it’s all perfect. Murdoc tells her, “Ignore the radio calls. Ignore the search parties. Parachute off that island, call me when you’re safe, and go take your break.” Noodle promises, and everything’s ready. 

-Russel and 2D are panicking after the crash, the support team is trying to radio her, the crew is searching through the wreckage, but Murdoc isn’t worried. He’s waiting for the call. 

-But the call doesn’t come. Murdoc waits a day. Then two days. Then a whole week. And Noodle isn’t calling. None of his calls go through. And that’s when Murdoc starts to panic. 

-It’s the way he burns through a pack a night staring out his cellphone and waiting for a text, the way he holes himself in the radio room resting his forehead on the rim of a rum bottle, hoping she’d maybe try to catch him on the waves. But he doesn’t hear anything. It’s all static. 

-One night he’s too drunk and too manic and he stumbles to the crash site and just starts digging. Pulling away the wooden slats, burned clumps of Earth, empty bullet shells, metal sheets stripped from the bombs that were dropped. It’s been hours, his hands are bloody, his shirt is soaked through in sweat, and he finds nothing. He sits there on his knees, staring at his hands, looking around him, and he feels his throat close up. He realizes he fucked up. 

-He visits that crash site every week to look again, long after Kong is burned down, long after the group is in shambles. 

-One day at the crash site, when he’s thinking about plastic pieces hiding in the sand, he finds a clump of Noodle’s hair. He sits there, runs his fingers through it, realizes he finally has a piece of her that he gets to keep, and comes up with an absurd idea. 

-He pulls out medical journals, books on coding, programming languages for robotics, and dozens and dozens of pictures of Noodle. He slaves for nights on end, so many nights he can’t remember, and he knows this idea is absurd, but what if it worked? What if he could actually do it?

-It takes him months but she’s finally ready. When he runs his fingers through her hair, it almost feels real. 

-But it’s not the same. Cyborg doesn’t remember their inside jokes from when Noodle was 10 and still using pinky promises to keep them sacred. Doesn’t remember the time Murdoc would always buy Noodle chocolate when he went out to get smokes. Doesn’t remember the smile and the pat on the head he gave her when he heard her Demon Days sketches. Cyborg kills and does what he tells her, and he knows Noodle wouldn’t have tolerated that for a second. But he needs his band. He needs her. He needs what keeps him sane. He can’t do without it. He wouldn’t survive. 

-Then there are nights he sits in Cyborg’s charging station, watching the sparks, reading her malfunction logs, looking on eBay for replacement parts, and feeling his throat close up once more. His fingers shake as he flips through pages and pages of error messages. He prays in secret that she doesn’t burn out. He can’t lose her twice. He might not survive it. 

Part Of Your World [a Barry Allen AU]

a/n: hi hello yes this fandom needed a little mermaid au, yw… just not into any of the requests im getting….maybe part 2?……. But you can role play with me!!

On a pair of new, shaky legs, you brace yourself on a rock, body dripping with water, glistening slightly. A grin appears on your face as you steady yourself, damp hair matted to your forehead, covering your eyes. You wrap yourself up in a stray piece of light brown fabric, posing as you spin around, admiring your crafty work. Not too shabby.

Suddenly, there’s a sound of an animal, making you jump, scurrying away from the furry dog chasing you. In a hurry, you climb up on a rock, eyes full of fear as he barks again and again. “Cisco! Cisco, where are you, Cisco?!” a male voice echoes, coming closer and closer to the spot you’re at. The dog runs to the voice, which makes you sigh, dropping your makeshift dress to your thigh.

Pushing your hair to one side, you smile nervously, seeing the familiar prince stare back at you. “Oh.” the brunette breathes, scratching behind the shaggy dog’s floppy ears. He cracks a grin, stepping in front of the dog; white pirate-like shirt flowing around his chest. “Um, Miss, are you al…right?” His bushy eyebrows crinkle together. “Do I know you?” he muses, cocking his head to the side; sandy brown locks swishing.

A tiny gasp escapes you and you nod, brushing your hair from your eyes. Barry grins from ear to ear, grabbing your hands. “It’s you! You’re the one! The one that saved me!” he exclaims, black knee high boots clumping the sand together. Again, you nod rapidly, squeezing his hands. “What’s your name?!” he asks in a giddy tone, hazel eyes blown wide.

Opening your mouth, you go to speak…nothing comes out. Both of you frown. “Oh.” Barry mutters, dropping your hands. “Then I guess it can’t be you…” he deflates, looking down, rubbing his neck. Puffing out a breath, your shoulders slump and you bite your lower lip, thinking of a way to explain to him…

Tapping the rock excitedly, you catch his attention, hitting your neck with the tips of your fingers gently, moving up to your mouth. Barry squints at you; hands hovering around your arms. “You-you’re sick?” he asks, tucking his chin to his chest. Shaking your head, you move your hands horizontally, trying it again, almost falling off the rock. “Careful!” the prince gulps, catching your upper body.

“I gotcha, I gotcha…” Barry coos, green eyes sparkling at you, darting around your face. You blush, clutching onto the silk white fabric of his shirt, legs wobbling underneath you. “I’ll take you to the palace, okay?” he smiles sweetly, palm pressed to your hip, holding you to his side; other hand clasped with yours on his chest.

Stumbling on your new feet, you rest your head on his shoulder, sighing quietly. Barry peers down at you, noticing your clothing. “You can wash up and get changed too.” he nods, letting go of your hand to move your hair. This is your chance to get him to fall in love with you. Three days, Eobard said. You can do three days…hopefully.

noisypaintersong  asked:

Helloooooo :). For the 1000 followers special: #4 with Shiro and Hunk (Gen pls). Something to do with Shiro's arm. Please :) and congrats on 1000 followers!!

It’s the 1000 Followers Special!  Based on these prompts.  Prompts are now closed.  Don’t want to see all 35 of these?  Block ‘1000 Followers Special’.  Can’t read on mobile?  These will slowly be posted to AO3 starting in a few days as ‘Hold Up Half the Sky’.  A huge thank you to Xagrok for the beta’ing!

A beach trip had sounded fun at the time.

Hell, it had been fun in the moment.  It was nice to take a few hours just to enjoy, and while the ocean hadn’t been exactly like the ones on Earth (clearly, considering it was a shimmering orange color), it had been good weather for it.  The sun beat down but the water stayed cool, and the sand had been fine and soft, the air crisp and the sky clear.

They hadn’t stayed long, but it had been a good break after weeks of nothing but training and fighting.  They’d synthesized bathing suits as quickly as possible, and Shiro was thankful that no one had given him any bother for picking something more like a wetsuit with one shorter arm.  Pidge had gotten more teasing for picking boardshorts and a tank top, and then refusing to get into the water at first, preferring to relax on the beach.

Shiro had let her get away with that for the first hour or so, but it was inevitable that she got dragged into it eventually, considering Hunk and Lance’s pure enthusiasm to be in the water, and Keith’s desire not to be the primary target of their merriment.  So Shiro had done the responsible thing by putting Pidge on his shoulders and creaming them both in a game of chicken.

But eventually the sun set, and it was time to head back to the castle.

With the showers chaotic and occupied, Shiro had decided to focus on the work he’d put off instead, reading through information from a recent mission, trying to find anything useful against the Galra empire.

Eventually he’d put the pad down and stretched, reaching for the glass of water he kept at his desk.

His arm had scraped at the movement, nerves lighting up from the odd, jagged vibrations.

(Read More Below)

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one-shot for @jilychallenge - february 2017

@gryffindormischief vs @woollfs (previously gxnevras)

prompt: so I’m a greek god and you’re a demigod who I turned up to curse because man you screwed up, but honestly that face is too cute to turn into a minotaur au

A/N: so this goes over 5900 words HA.  Not Greek gods but it’s all about gods/demi gods and whatnot.  Also it’s loosely based on the Epic of Gilgamesh so if you recognize anything that’s why. :)  @petalstofish this is it!!!! :) <3

Also available on FF and Ao3!

A sharp wind licks across the steep rock outcropping that cuts into the emerald landscape below, far enough down that vertigo kicks in for even the bravest.  Aside from James.  He’s traveled these lands enough times that nothing but that initial free-hand slide over the side to whatever makeshift handholds he can find will even bring his pulse above a resting heart rate.

Tucking the remnants of his lunch into his rather Spartan pouch – wouldn’t do to climb on a too full stomach – James tightens his belt, stretches his limbs, and strides toward the precipice with the casual purpose of someone who knows themselves and their task. That is until the scratching of claws – four sets if his ears are to be believed – scrape across the rough hewn stone.

James turns at the last minute, even his highly trained senses too slow to defend beyond raised forearms protecting his chest and head.  His vital organs should be well enough protected by the stiff leather that wraps around his middle, although his legs are vulnerable beneath the soft, worn cotton of his dark green trousers.

All this slips through his mind like a well-worn checklist – a product of years spent fighting and defending and being generally heroic – in the brief moments before the large, dark beast descends on him, the impact of its hulking form nearly knocking him to the ground.

As it is, he stumbles back a few steps which is a few more than he’s surrendered to any opponent since he counted his age in double digits.  Considering the circumstances, he lets the injury to his pride roll off his proverbial back as he flips the beast over his literal one and James quickly grabs his newly sharpened dagger from his boot.

With a few huffs that almost sound like indignant laughter, the dog like monstrosity stalks closer again and the two circle each other warily.

Relying on the adage of fortune favoring the bold, James quickly closes in on his opponent, its back to the sharp cliff as he wields his dagger expertly.  And yet despite his prowess, each swipe and thrust is easily evaded despite the rather heavy appearance of his foe.

Their single combat proceeds in this fashion for a time, neither gaining ground, neither surrendering, until James finally sees his chance and herds the beast toward the edge.

In the split second before he intends to push it over, delivering it a fairly sympathetic death as these things go, the monster shifts before his eyes, thick dark fur melting from its body and revealing taught olive skin, but the silver-grey eyes remain the same.

Momentarily caught off guard, the beast – man – grasps at his forearm desperately.  James narrows his hazel eyes inquisitively, jerking the man back from the sharp drop and shoving him toward his abandoned campsite.

Smirking rather arrogantly for a man who just barely escaped death’s clutches, his companion pushes up onto his hands, legs extended in front casually as if spending a lazy day picnicking by the lake.  “Quite the fighter then.”

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[image description: a black plastic tub of brown/undyed kinetic sand sitting beside its cardboard packaging box, both on a wooden floor. The package reads “National Geographic Ultimate Dino Sand” with the text “feels great and never dries out! 2 LB set with 6 dino molds and 6 dino figures. Real dino poop fossil!” The box shows a pile of brown/natural/undyed sand with three dinosaurs - stegosaurus, brontosaurus, dimetrodon - resting in the sand. A white hand holds a clump of sand, dribbling it down onto the sand below.]

Sand has always been a Strong sensation for me. On the one hand I love feeling it run through my fingers, on the other it is sensory hell when it sticks to my skin. Kinetic sand seemed like a great option. I tried a few different homemade and knock off sands but they did not work for me. The sand got everywhere and while I love playing with it, I never used anything more than my fingertip because the sand tended to stick to my skin. Eventually I decided to give a branded sand a try. 

This is National Geographic’s play sand. I got it from amazon (here) It’s $15 USD. It is amazing. 

It has no chemical smell, even up close, just a general sand smell that I only noticed when I literally stuck my nose in it (with my hypersensitive sense of smell). It leaves no smell on my hands either.

It stick to your hands a little sometimes, but it is very fine grain sand and I found that I didn’t mind it much. But, even better, after you play with it a little while it picks up all the little pieces of sand and nothing sticks to you at all. It’s amazing. 

This set didn’t come with a storage container, just a tray to use the sand in. I store it in a plastic container with a lid, but honestly I’ve left it out for days and nothing happened to it. I play with this sand nearly everyday, it may be my favorite stim toy.

I highly recommend this sand to anyone interested in kinetic sand. It works really well, mold easily, is clean and easy to clean up, and doesn’t stick to your hands. It comes in a few other colors but I read reviews that imply that those might be more likely to stick to your hands and tended to stain skin and clothes, but they are worth looking into if you are interested.

Fabulous! Thank you so much for a great submission, @bluestreaksand-freckles!

I am so glad to have a sand that isn’t Spinmaster’s kinetic sand that I can recommend to folks (like myself) that doesn’t have a chemical smell!

one spring morning,
the sun ceased to hum
it radiated light and warmth
but the earth was devoid of sound

one summer morning,
the waves stopped crashing
they still spat up foamy white scum
and sparkled - like the water was threaded with heated diamonds

one autumn morning,
the sand turned to dirt
clumped with strands of salted seaweed
and plastic buckets left by the tourists

one winter morning,
the sky turned grey
and the air was still - no fresh sea-air breeze
there wasn’t a soul for miles
asides you and I

oh, what a depressing sight!

Really, There’s No Need To Be Jealous (Taehyung)

I really hope you don’t mind but I just had to add a slight twist to this story, just to spice it up a bit. fear not, it’s still very cute and fluffy, but yeah i blame 4meensuga (jk thank you so much for your infiration)

Genre: white fluffy sand

Word count: 1698

Rating: B for Betcha didn’t see that one coming

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Numb - Surfer!Ashton one shot

Summary: Ashton was nearly pro, until a bad accident halted his surfing career. Angry and caught between medication and depression, Ashton met Y/n, the new girl in the picturesque coastal town. He crushes hard, and you two have a bit of fun…


Rated: Explicit. Smut. 

In Ashton’s POV

DISCLAIMER: Includes talk of injuries, scars, depression and medication use.

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Princess of the Universe (Steven Universe AU RP)

Steven had been sitting beside the beach, thinking about the events of the past day. Every now and again, he would go visit Lars in Homeworld, who is still in hiding. Luckily, they haven’t been found yet, but every day, Steven could feel Yellow and Blue Diamond becoming more and more involved. They cannot outrun her forever, and they’re running out of time with each passing day.

All solutions he thought of came to nothing but a grizzly end. Invading Homeworld with just the gang, even if they included Lapis and Peridot, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

He grasped a clump of sand and tossed it into the ocean, defeated as he hit another dead end.

The others had been going on missions with their new recruit. Steven had actually saved Anita on a mission, though it is unclear what gem she possesses. She can conjure fire… And the other gems are baffled too. But this time, Steven needed to be alone, to process everything he had learned.

But the processing was cut short when a grown man with a scarred chest washed up onto the cove unconscious.

Steven immediately ran up to him. “Mister! Hey mister! Are you okay?! Wake up!”

He grumbled for a second. Steven looked around for a second to see if the other crystal gems had returned. Then he hauled the shirtless man effortlessly into their house.

Just as Steven was able to lay the man down on the couch, the other Crystal Gems have returned.

“Hey Steven!” Amethyst said before noticing the body on the couch. “Who’s that guy?”

“I don’t know…” He said. “He just washed up on the shore.”


and i know you feel it too

requested by @thesaverofworlds

basically just what happened between philip and lukas after the water/lake scene from 1x07

Philip is shocked when Lukas sits down next to him. It’s an act of kindness he’s never seen from Lukas. He doesn’t push, or try harder to get Philip to come into the water. He just sits down beside him, probably freezing his ass off, and wraps his arms around his knees.

“My mom used to take me swimming. I used to stay under for so long it freaked her out.” Lukas says, eyes on the water.

“What was she like?” Philip asks.

Lukas’ pauses, his lips curling up slightly, eyes glazing over.

“She smelled like flowers. She had a really soft voice. She was kind. She used to sing. She was good at it, too. She was always singing, or humming.” He says.

“Dad was, too. But when she died, it was like….like she took music with her.”

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anonymous asked:

Peggy and Co. vs IKEA AU

I know you said AU, but I actually thought of an interesting non-AU take on this prompt that’s more or less along the lines of what I expect the prompt was probably going for (putting together flatpack furniture, that kind of thing?) except in a 1940s/1950s version.

“Daniel,” Peggy said from the doorway of the garage, “come to bed.”

“Few more minutes,” Daniel muttered, down on the concrete floor with his bad leg stretched out in front of him and a lathe-turned wooden crib bar across his lap, carefully carving down the end to fit a space drilled with a drill bit that turned out to be ¼" too small.

A moment later, he heard her footsteps, quick and light even carrying the weight of eight months’ pregnancy. Her hand drifted across his hair and she bent to kiss his forehead. “Just remember you have to work in the morning. This is the boss speaking.”

“Duly noted, boss.” He tipped his head up to receive her kiss.

She had never – and he was infinitely grateful – told him that he wasn’t good at this, or that he didn’t have to do this. It mattered to him, building the crib for his firstborn son or daughter from scratch. He’d never done woodworking at all, so he’d had to start from square one. Peggy hadn’t minded Daniel turning the garage of their new suburban home into a wood shop. He bought what he could afford, and made friends with the neighbors and the lab guys at the fledgling SHIELD to gain access to what he couldn’t. It sometimes felt like one step forward and ten steps back, but he was going to build this crib and it was going to be a nice one, not a hacked-together, lopsided piece of junk, but something nice, an heirloom worthy of his firstborn, something his future baby would be proud to pass on to his grandchildren.

The problem was, Peggy’s official due date was less than a month away, and he understood that babies could come early. At the rate he was going, the kid would be walking before he built it a place to sleep.

… which was why he was still up at three a.m., carefully shaving off tiny scraps of wood, trying to make it look good – professional – not something that was going to make his future son or daughter laugh about the crib that fell apart when he or she was three months old.

When he nearly gouged his finger with the chisel, he decided that it was time to go to bed. He had to be up in three and a half hours anyway.


Daniel got through the day at SHIELD mostly by working out woodcraft problems in his head. He was fairly sure he’d finally figured out the aspect of the corner-joining technique from the woodworking book that had been eluding him. As soon as he got home, he could start putting the corners together – for the third time, after having to take it apart twice and sand down the clumped glue to try again.

“I thought pregnant women were supposed to be the ones who couldn’t keep two thoughts in their heads, not their husbands.”

“Okay, first of all, Jack, please go jump out the window. Second, I’m telling Peggy you said that. Hope you can run fast.”

“I can outrun a pregnant woman, Sousa.”

“You know she won’t be pregnant forever, right?”



He drove home with visions of mitered corners occupying his mind. Peggy, who had reluctantly agreed to stay home from SHIELD in month seven, was buried in a pile of case files in the baby’s room (currently serving as a home office) and had forgotten to start dinner. She volunteered to do a takeout run, while Daniel gratefully vanished into the garage.

He’d only been there for a few minutes when there was a polite tap on the door.

Peggy never knocked. “C'mon in,” he called, bent over the book of diagrams. If he just cut that bit, and turned it that way …

“Agent Sousa.” Jarvis came in with his hands clasped behind his back, stepping carefully between the neatly planed bits of crib.

“Jarvis?” The incongruity of having Jarvis, in his impeccably tailored suit, trying not to touch anything covered in sawdust almost sent Daniel into a laughing fit. Years of diplomacy as the head of the L.A. SSR office managed to kick in before it was too late.

“I came to see Ag – Director Carter. She appears to be absent.”

“Yeah, she’s out getting food.”

“Ah.” Jarvis cast a curious glance over the scattered parts of the project. “Dare I ask …”

Daniel struggled to his feet with a hand on the workbench. “It’s a crib. For the baby. Want me to show you?”

He expected Jarvis to be bored within five minutes, since he and Ana had no children, but in fact Jarvis turned out to have useful insights into the precise techniques of getting the pieces to join up (“No, Agent Sousa, one would add the glue before inserting the dowel –”) and the finer details of using the tools he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“Never figured you for the handyman type, I have to say,” Daniel admitted.

“I am not, but one can’t spend this much time assisting Mr. Stark without picking up a few things.”

It wasn’t the only night Jarvis showed up – he claimed that Daniel’s garage was a pleasant escape from Mr. Stark’s current attempts to expand the menagerie – and, thanks in part to his pointers, the crib was finished three days before Peggy went into labor.

Daniel could never quite prove whether Peggy had or hadn’t called Jarvis to provide assistance … but he could never get either of them to admit it, either.

At least, he reasoned, it could’ve been worse. She could have called Howard Stark.

once, there was this girl.

she was shy, didn’t like to talk to people, so if she talked to you, you were lucky. she had lots of friends, and a boy who cared about her greatly, but still she was sad. she had a permanent black cloud above her head. no matter how sunny it was outside, her days were grey. her friends would try to cheer her up, but their efforts were unsuccessful more often than not. she had yet to find her blue skies. to find her happiness. that one thing that would push away the storm clouds invading her mind.

in the back of her mind, she always felt the burning desire to get away from everything. all the worries and sadness. leave it all behind and go on an endless adventure. but she was always too scared. never brave enough.

then one day she was at the beach. tangled hair blowing, clumps of sand between her toes, crisp wind against her back, goosebumps lining her arms. she had had enough. so with five seconds of insane courage, she just started running. her heart raced from the adrenaline, her breath short. and she finally felt free. she could have turned back. but she kept on running, and eventually faded into the horizon. just like that, she was gone. poof.

no one’s really sure what happened to her. maybe she eventually went back. maybe she went on to restart her life in a new place, without the current troubles. maybe she got swept away by the strong waves from the ocean. maybe she just kept on running until she couldn’t anymore. but at least she was finally free. she finally had that moment of happiness. she had reached her blue skies.


Public Lands/ Exploration/ Road Trip/ Throwback/ Adventure

White Sands, New Mexico.

The light changed so fast. We passed through the gates minutes before closing, just in time to catch sunset. Heavy clouds overhead; one minute the world was pink, the next purple, and finally blue. The wind picked up and rain pelted us as we left. 

The next day afforded more time to explore, white gypsum sand clumped together in little kernels where it had been soaked the night before.

The Isolated Heart

Author: dandelionsandroses (starveinsafety)

Summary: When Katniss Everdeen had signed up to become a servant on The Mockingjay, the shipped tasked with bringing the Crown Prince, Peeta, to the east she had never expected to find herself, shipwrecked and lost on a desolate island with the very boy she had been charged to serve. ‘Historical’ AU, Shipwrecked!Everlark.

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the signs as types of underwear
  • Aries: heart boxers
  • Taurus: hiphuggers
  • Gemini: commando
  • Cancer: clumps of sand
  • Leo: loincloths
  • Virgo: packaged underwear
  • Libra: waist high briefs
  • Scorpio: thongs
  • Sagittarius: ten thousand bees
  • Capricorn: a raccoon
  • Aquarius: hamburger wrapping paper
  • Pisces: tighty whiteys