I’m the kind of guy who spends way too much time thinking about videogames and tabletop RPGs and stealing ideas from videogames to use in tabletop RPGs and something just struck me: death in tabletop RPGs really sucks.
PLOT: You’re friends with Stefan and dating Damon. Damon gets a little too jealous. Word count: 978 Warnings: Swearing
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Well what would you have me do?”
“NOT THAT STEFAN!” You replied, getting out of his car and walking to the front door.
“There was no way in hell I was just going to sit there and listen to that scandal known as copyright!”
You huffed. This conversation had already been repeated on numerous occasions.
“Stefan, the 1975 are a unique band that have changed the world of music,” you stated sassily, wandering straight into the Salvatore Boarding House.
“Y/N, they’re just rip offs from a band that was back in the 70s and believe me, I was there, I know,” Stefan defended himself, closing the door behind you both and walking over to the glass cabinet and pulling out two tumblers.
You scoffed, “Well you didn’t need to yell at Matt to change the radio in front of the whole Grill! I wouldn’t be surprised if you were banned for life, and for you, that’s a long-time buddy,” you told him patronisingly, patting his chest.
He handed you a glass of Bourbon.
“I’m not going to apologise for my actions. The lead singer looks like a wet dog.”
Anger flooded through your blood. “Take that back Stefan Salvatore.”
He just laughed at you. However, you were feeling a little different towards the matter – defensive.
“Matty Healy is a living, breathing, walking, talking, goddamn SEX GOD! DO YOU UNDERSATND ME?” You yelled back at him, taking a step closer every time. Stefan wasn’t takin your petty little threat and burst out laughing. Little did he know, this enraged you even further.
Compressing your feelings until you had safely put your glass of Bourbon down on the table, you picked up the nearest cushion and started to attack him.
“Ow! Jesus-Y/N stop!” Stefan cowered behind his hands, trying to protect his face.
“TAKE IT BACK!”
“THEN BYE-BYE PRETTY BOY!” You announced and carried on hitting him aggressively. You knew inside that you were probably taking it a little too far, but it didn’t matter.
At the end of the day, you were still best friends. You carried on hitting him until he fell to the floor, where you clambered on top of him and held his arms down to stop lashing out.
“Well,” a deep voice came from the doorway, “Sorry to interrupt.”
You looked up to the voice to see your boyfriend Damon, but he wasn’t happy. Instead, he looked at the position that you and Stefan had ended up in – you were straddling him. You got off Stefan, who was shooting you an apologetic look and walked over to Damon.
“That wasn’t what it looked like,” you started to stand up for yourself.
Damon just looked down at you, “Sure it wasn’t.”
And with that he walked up stairs, ending the conversation.
You turned back to Stefan as if to say ‘what should I do?’ and he nodded towards the stair case, giving you a small smile in return.
Taking two steps each time, you walked straight into Damon’s room, where he was just lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong Damon?” You asked, making your way over to him. But before you could, he stood up and looked at you angrily.
“You and Stefan. It’s always you and Stefan. I rang you six times to meet today, but no, you were with STEFAN! Are you getting my point?” He spoke down to you like a small child, the sarcasm dripping off every word.
“Damon,” you smirked, finally understanding what was going on, “Are you…jealous?”
He scoffed, “Jealous? No. I just don’t want my girlfriend to be hanging around my brother all the time.”
You started to laugh, “Oh my god, you are totally jealous!”
“AM NOT!” He yelled back.
“Yes, you are! You’re also stubborn.”
“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” He shouted again, but he was only angry because he was getting caught out.
You decided to make him prove it. An idea struck your mind and you were feeling evil.
“Oh, ok then,” you acted, making it seem like you were giving up. But you were far from it.
Right then and there, you took off your shirt, revealing your new lacy bra. Damon’s eyes lit up as he saw what you had done, and his classic smirk plastered on his face. Before he could say anything, you headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Damon asked, confused at why you would strip and walk.
“To see Stefan,” you replied simply.
Suddenly, a whoosh of cold air rushed past your face and Damon appeared in front of you, slamming the door shut.
“FINE!” He gave up, throwing his hands up in despair, “I am jealous! Happy now?”
You took his face in your hands, making him look directly into your eyes and you smiled.
“Damon Salvatore, I love you. Not Stefan, you. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Ok? Just accept that and stop being a paranoid boyfriend!” You told him truthfully.
Damon’s eyes softened as he took in the words. Passionately, he connected your lips and kissed you. Fireworks went off inside you like time-bombs, just waiting for the right moment to explode and make you truly happy. Eventually, he pulled away and brought you into his arms, his hands moving over your hair.
And I’ve been thinking about the way Natasha’s hands tap his arm. So unhurried, and casual, and well, familiar. Almost…subconscious?
So I went back and rewatched the flashback/dream sequence from Age of Ultron.
That’s obviously not the Winter Soldier. But note the similarities in their appearance- the physique, long hair and the stubble. Now look at the gif below.
SHE TAPS HIS ARM AND HE LETS GO.
What could this mean? Now, the flashback isn’t completely accurate. It is a distorted version of her memories, courtesy some mental manipulation by the Scarlet Witch. That’s why we see those creepy children without mouths, symbolising suppression and blind obedience. It’s clear somebody tinkered with Natasha’s head. Erased and manipulated her memories.
Coming back to my point, what if the man who has her in a headlock is actually the Winter Soldier? And Natasha doesn’t remember him because he has been replaced in her memories by someone else? A stranger who faintly resembles him.
I see the tapping on his arm thing a link between these two encounters. The tapping in the AoU scene is sort of a distorted version of the one in CACW. The latter is very subtle. It’s like she doesn’t even realise that she’s doing it.
What if this was some sort of a code between them? Her training in the Red Room was certainly intense, as seen in AoU. Maybe this was a way they devised to let him know he was hurting her too much, to ease back a little. It’s something the trainers may not catch. Maybe they’d even come up with an entire Morse code based system.
This is what her hands are doing in the “You could at least recognise me” scene. I’m still not sure what that line means. Maybe her mind is starting to remember a little. But her body definitely knows him. That’s why when his metal hand is around her neck, choking her, her fingers gently wrap themselves around his arm. She doesn’t even attempt to pry him off. Her fingers are whispering Stand back, Soldier.
(There’s a high chance I’m reading too much into this. Probably a product of my mild disappointment with the lack of Buckynat interaction in CACW. But this idea just struck me and refused to let me go. What do you guys think? Am I delusional?)
(Also, sorry for the crappy gifs. First one isn’t mine, though.)
Summary: After an awkward encounter with Jughead Jones, you’ve been avoiding the anti-social teen. However, in the most cliche way possible, you end up paired together in a group project making avoidance harder than it first seemed.
I’m pretty new to writing on tumblr, so the response Vain got was overwhelming! Pretty sure that if I didn’t make a part 2, someone was going to skin me alive, (i got a LOT of asks for it, which I think is awesome!) It’s probably going to turn into a full on series so yay hype.
Warnings: - A lot of Shakespeare stuff which I try to explain :3
Jughead x Reader (Still not so much romantically yet, plz don’t kill meh)
Female reader is Newt’s pregnant fiancee (3 months). There is an incident downtown (the one you want) involving Grindellwald and she is in danger. When he and Kowalski go to rescue her he sees she’s been taken. He ends on his knees crying in frustration.
“You need to stay here, Y/N.”
“Please, Y/N… just please do this for me, okay?”
“But I can help!”
“I know you can…”
Leaning in, Newt placed his forehead against yours. Putting one arm to your waist and the other to your stomach, he closed his eyes as he envisioned the day he’d finally get to meet his soon to be child.
Opening his eyes, he looked down to see your hand on top his, your engagement ring shining in the light from the nearby lamp.
jongyu / band au,
omegaverse / r / 1500 words warning: omegaverse things Jonghyun never imagined that Jinki would want him.
this is the first part of a drabble series. i will write in it off and on, but each piece will probably be short (1-1.5k) and can standalone, which i think will make it easier for me to write in it over time.
The elevator seems smaller with just the two of them, because
Jinki is standing so close. Jonghyun’s pulse speeds from the proximity, and he’s
cursing himself for agreeing to take Jinki back to the dorm from the after
party. He knows better than to do something like this when his heat is coming up soon. Being close to an alpha when
his hormones are starting to fire up is always a mistake, but it’s the worst
possible decision when the alpha is Jinki.
He feels their shoulders touch as Jinki’s head tilts down to lean
against him. “You smell nice,” Jinki mumbles. His voice is soft and low, warm
breath blowing against the sensitive skin of Jonghyun’s neck.
AN: You guys were requesting I write some parts to this so here’s part one :) I’m sorry it’s not as good as the AU gifset sounded.
“When did you get a tattoo?” Scott asked as Stiles tugged of
his Lacrosse Jersey.
“What, are you kidding me!” Stiles growled and stomped over
to the mirror to look at himself and found his ribs dusted with tiny triskelion patterns. He
almost thought it was cool but then quickly remembered the last places the mark
had shown up and decided he was really getting sick of it.
“You should have said and I’d have come with you.” Scott
muttered as he grabbed his bags and frowned when Stiles started checking all
over. “You didn’t get drunk and tattoo yourself, did you?”
“Scott I can barely draw a straight line, I don’t do art, I
do brain stuff.” He mumbled and Scot flinched when Stiles turned his back to
his friend and pulled the front of his shorts out. “Well better than last time I
“I wonder, Joseph. Have you ever thought about taking a leave of absence from your writing?
He had thought about it; after every blood-drenched nightmare it was all he desired.
"It’s not possible at present.”
“What do you mean by that?” His therapist pressed. She was more persistent today than usual.
“I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried so many times. To just get away for a while; to Italy or Hawaii or Prague and just…declutter.”
“But I can’t. I can’t take a leave of absence from my mind. It follows me wherever I go.” His gaze was fixed on the rock fountain by the window, but his eyes were a thousand miles away.
“As much as I try to distance myself from all the gore and instability, I’m a victim to my own mind. When I’m struck with an idea, I can’t ignore it; it hurts me to try. It tears me apart, like a pressure in my brain that becomes more and more condensed until it threatens to explode. Unless I write it down.”
He looked up at his therapist, and even now he didn’t see her as a slightly overweight woman in her forties, but rather as a collection of major arteries and vital organs with blood pumping all around them.
They both wanted the other to open up so they could peek around inside, but in quite different ways.
“Creativity is an itch that needs to be scratched,” he continued. “And the more you scratch, the more it festers. It’s infuriating and it never goes away. I used to think it was a positive thing, but I don’t like what I’m creating anymore. I don’t like what’s being created out of me.”
His therapist began scribbling furiously on her legal pad. A considerable amount of time passed before she put the pen down and shot him a hard, calculating look.
“Do you think you’re capable of murder, Joseph?”
He didn’t respond immediately; opting instead to stare at the rock fountain a little longer. He tuned out all other sound, letting the water trickle over his most gruesome thoughts until they rose to the top of his mind. Then he leant over the coffee table and switched off the recording device which his therapist had been using for all their sessions.
Requested by @a-girl-who-loves-disney:
Hi Meg! May I request a Steve Rogers x fem!reader? Tony invites the avengers to an art gala of one of his friends. Steve is immediately excited for it (he is an artist so of course he appreciates it :) While at the gala, Steve finds the pieces to be absolutely amazing. Later, Tony introduces everyone (Steve, in particular) to the reader who is the artist being featured. Tony mentions to her that Steve is an artist and she quickly starts talking art with him. Lots of fluff, please! :)
Here you go, lovely! I do not own Steve or Tony. They belong to Marvel.
Warnings: Fluff, all the fluff
Pairings: Steve Rogers x fem!reader, Tony Stark.
Steve’s ears perked up at the words
“art exhibit”. Anyone who knew Steve knew that he was an artist and
that he loved to look at the work of other artists. Tony had just invited the
whole team to an art gala by a local artist who just happened to be a friend of
his. “She’s pretty nervous about it, so I told her I’d be there, for moral
support. I also told her that I’d invite all of you,” Tony was saying, but
Steve had already made up his mind. He was definitely going to go.
week later, Steve climbed into the limo with the rest of the team, dressed in
nice slacks and his blue button up that Natasha had insisted he wear. Since it was the gala of a local artist, there
was no need to wear an expensive tux, for which Steve was grateful. He gave a
shy wave to the paparazzi standing outside before quickly making his way
inside. “Sorry about that. Apparently someone let slip we were
coming,” Tony explained, but Steve wasn’t paying attention.
You knew it was a mistake after the first pixie stick. The way that the pink mustached man’s eyes light up would mean nothing but trouble. After about the fifth pixy stick, two glasses of Mountain Dew, and somehow a mouthful of marshmallows… where had he gotten those from… Wilford was bouncing off the walls, and you were fighting a battle that you had no way of winning. Every time you would try to take away the sweets, he would disappear and return with hopeless amounts more. The kitchen table was slowly becoming like a small dragons hoard of cookies, candy bars, and cupcakes that Wilford was desperately trying to break into.
“I am healthy! I AM DIET!” You shout jokingly as you slap a package of smarties from his hands. Then muttering to yourself “What the hell am I supposed to do with all of this junk food once you crash?”
“(Y/n)! Why do we not do this more often?” looking over you see Warfstache jumping from one piece of furniture to another and walking across your coffee table to get a better angle on to jump on the pile of pillows he had put together. He jumped off the table into the pillows then in a flash he was over by the radio turning up the volume absurdly loud.
“Wilford NO! The neighbors are going to call the cops!” You yell leaving your post by the table to turn down the music. When you look back to the table, you see Wilford basicly vibrating as he tries to grab the sweets before you can stop him.
You could tell by his actions and movements that this was just about the peak of the sugar high. Meaning that the sugar crash was well on it’s way and that was a whole other monster that you will have to deal with. Right now you need to focus on getting the man in front of you to calm down enough that you can talk him into a sensible state of mind. “That’s unlikely.” you think to yourself with a giggle. That’s when a wonderful idea struck you.
“Wilford? How would you like to go on a walk? Maybe to the park and back… You can bring Chico!” The mustached man just looks at you with a gigantic grin plastered on his face nodding his head enthusiastically.
(A.N.) I included Chico cause he is my head cannon pet for Wilford now. Sorry not sorry. I actually plan on writing a crossover with Dark’s cat and Chico. Would y’all be up for that? Let me know.
“Because nobody cares about me!” Fiddleford grit out from
behind the safety of his weapon, “Nobody gives a damn what has happened to me!
Not my ex, not my family, and certainly not you!”
His words were filled with bitterness and hatred but also a
soft of hopeless sorrow.
Stanford Pines had expected a lot of things when he had gone
to investigate the secret room in the museum. The cult had been one of them but
he had not expected this to be the result of his investigation. He did not
expect to be face to face with one of the greatest failures in life as he held
a gun to his head. Ford held up his hands in a sign of peace; the palms were up
to show nothing was in them and he kept a calm look on his face.
“Fiddleford…I-,” Stanford began, “I do care. I’ve always
Fidds shook his head and the red hood slipped from his head
to show the messy, thinning hair. Fiddleford looked so lost and broken. His eyes
full of rage yet dull at the same time.
“Save it, Pines. I don’t need to hear your damn excuses.”
Fidds’ finger twitched on the trigger to the gun and the grip on Stanford’s
shirt tightened. “Ya’ never cared about anything but your dang project. I was
just there to be yer guinea pig.”
Stanford opened his mouth to retort but closed it before he
could form words. Everything the man in front of him said was true. He had
messed up; he had messed up so much. Fiddleford had gotten the brunt of it when
it was still a small problem and now this could lead to the end of the world.
It was all his fault.
“Got no excuses now, huh?” Fiddleford laughed bitterly and
lowered his head, “It’s cause ya’ know I am right.”
“I…I’m sorry…” Stanford whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should
have been more concerned. I should…I should have listened to you.”
Fiddleford gave another bitter laugh and looked back up at
Stanford. The anger was gone and it left a dull sadness behind cracked glasses.
Stanford held his breath as he waited for forgiveness from
the man that he in no way deserved it from. He almost pulled back when the man
pressed a kiss to his lips. A relief so powerful ran over him that he almost
started to weep.
All too soon Fiddleford pulled back and Stanford was aware
of the sound of a click next to his head. The man in red smiled softly at Ford
in a bitter-sweet way and took a small step back.
“Yeah…,” Fidds said softly, “You should have.”
A bright flash of blue took over Stanford’s senses before he
could respond and the world went dark. When he woke up, he was laid out in
front of his house. How he got there was a mystery and why there were tears on
his face confused him.
“How did I…? Where…?” Stanford looked around the yard he was
laid out before an idea on how he got there struck his mind.
“Dammit Bill,” he muttered and pushed himself up from the
ground, “Just leave me alone for five minutes.”
He knew the request was impossible but a man could hope.
How did you and cully meet if you don't mind me asking?
I don’t mind at all, Anon!
We met, believe it or not, right here on Tumblr. I had read Cully’s Boosh fics, and admired them, back when I first entered the Boosh fandom, but they were on a fandom hiatus then. So when they came back, I recognized the screen name as an awesome person with good thoughts.
Cully DID come back to Boosh, and asked some Booshy meta questions on here, which I loved and was delighted to jump in on. Then Cully discovered my meta, we struck up conversations about fandom matters and story ideas, and we just clicked! It turned out that Boosh was far from the only interest we had in common. Started writing fanmails back and forth (in ye olden times before Tumblr had a messaging system), which just got… really really ridiculously huge and involved. We must have half-written a million epics together (some of which might yet turn into fully fledged stories), and although we weren’t really aware of it, that was kind of our courtship of each other, delighting in the way we understood each other instinctively, and made each other’s brains fizz, and so easily tossed ideas back and forth without missing a beat.
After that followed an awkward and magical period where we each slowly realized we had developed feelings for the other person and spent the summer PINING RIDICULOUSLY after one another, unsure the other person felt the same and full of FEELS all the time. And flirting constantly, ever more brazenly, even while we were wailing to our friends about what does she MEAN, is it flirting to say that she’s given me privileges to play with her hair? I’M JUST NOT SURE. It was 100% out of a gay fanfic.
But eventually Cully was brave and said they had feelings for me, and I fessed up about my feelings for them, and a few weeks later they asked me to be their girlfriend, and I said yes. And that will be two years ago, in just a few weeks! So: don’t ever let anybody tell you nothing good happens on Tumblr.
The morning came fast and you didn’t even seem to mind to be up earlier before the sun. You slipped into the outfit that was already picked out before rushing to get your hair and makeup done. You were more excited than anything to get back to comic con.
Since you became famous, this is all you wanted. You could care less about the red carpet, you just wanted to get to be part of comic con. You jumped with excitement as your were finally at your panel interacting with fans.
“(Y/n)! Did you mind if I just saw you something?” A fan asked as she got out her phone. She slipped it towards you as you smiled watching the different gifs. And then the camera focused on a certain Marvel actor that seemed to get you all hot and bothered with just the mere sight of him.
Oh my god yes heck me up yo I love your writing I'm so glad I found you. Any thoughts on continuing Medic!reader x Blackwatch!McCree cause BOYYYY HOWdyy I'm in need of a confession followed up with some needy kisses for these nerds.
And I’m glad to meet you!! Thank you, I’m glad you also enjoy.♡
You know, it never actually crossed my mind to continue it. But oh man, needy kisses, desperate kisses are nice (I flush just thinking of it).
But also consider this: medic!reader has no idea they like McCree and McCree is in denial. He’s got it bad, but doesn’t realize it until Ana and Fareeha make some off-hand comment about him going around the base looking love-struck (he doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him, he thought he looked normal. What the hell is a love-struck look anyway?)
He starts running like crazy through the halls, like, McCree, you can’t run away from your feels. (“You can’t catch me, romantic thoughts!!”). Gabriel catches him and makes some smug comment about McCree finally realizing it. He’s yelling at Gabe about how he’s wrong (Gabe’s always right when it concerns his ‘kids’.)
Gabriel just laughs him off, says something about letting know before someone else gets to you.
Then McCree’s trying to find you, desperate to either kill these feelings or do something with them–they’re fighting to get out his chest, and he’s just running, leaving Gabe behind who is just laughing his ass off and calling Angela (“Hey, doc. McLovin’ is coming over, make sure the surveillance cameras are trained on him. I’m gonna bring popcorn. Salty or sweet?” “Mc…what?”).
Everyone is watching this shit go down. (“Gabriel! Ana! What’s going on? Why do you have pop–” “Can it, Golden boy! Display all footage from cameras L0 to V3! Make room, we got some good shit to watch!” “Jack, sit down. We’re watching history in the making.) They’re watching McCree running around the med bay where you were supposed to work. He even runs into a couple of operating rooms. (Angela was groaning and face palming. Her staff were going embarrassingly nuts, running out of his way, knocking things over.)
He finally runs into the med bay’s cafeteria (regular cafeteria is too far and doctors are kind of on-call). You’re there, eating a fucking bagel. Why bagels? What do you like about bagels that you didn’t like about him? Did you even like him? He stops. Wait. Oh fuck, he’s gotta backpedal. What was he doing? Was he really about to…
"McJesse? Did you need treatment?”
You’re waving a hand in front of his face. He was just standing still in front of you. He snaps out of it and can’t say anything. He’s just speechless because the feels are causing a traffic jam in his brain. Fuck, you’re looking at him and you’re expecting him to say something and he’s freaking out internally.
“I–I…” Come on, silver tongue. “I’m Jesse McCree.” He internally smacks himself. So does everyone else watching this. That was dumb. He knows you know his name, you’re just teasing. Oh god, he’s dumb and you’re looking at him like he hit his head.
“Yes…” you said slowly, standing up just as slow. “Are you sure you’re okay? No concussion, no fever?” You place a hand on his forehead. You’re so close, he can smell you (sterile solutions but something pleasant and distinctly you), your hand is warm (it seeps into his heart), you. are. touching. him. It’s so innocent, but holy shit–he’s shaking from way too much feels and energy.
He pulls your face in for a kiss. You drop your bagel and everyone in the monitoring room is screaming and Jack is just so confused. What the fuck, guys? They’re using high tech surveillance systems for this? Oh well, it is kind of cute.
Jesse finds out that he missed entirely in his haste–he kissed your upper lip only. Ha, loser. But you’re just blink at him, and then he feels such deep regret. What the fuck was he doing, jeopardizing the relationship between you and Blackwatch? The one medic who defended them and risked life and limb to protect them? Oh shit. He fucked up.
They can all see he’s freaking out once he pulls away. There is much popcorn.giffing. (“He’s choking up!” “Damn it, kid! The goal is right there!”)
You’re like ??? but in a really calm manner. It was cute, but you’re not too sure you really like him in that way yet. You pull him back to reality and ask him to take it easy. Why not go for a coffee first?
Coffee?? Oh, Gabe makes great coffee. Maybe he can figure it out. So, he’s like, “It’s a date.”
Everyone breathes this huge sigh of relief.
Man, this guy is super distracted now, but has weird blazing passion for coffee. Good job, you rendered this guy a love-struck idiot. Be proud.
THIS is the Cool Thing I Wanted to Share with Y’all
I have always been lucky having traceable family lineage, which a lot of black families do not have. From all the research both sides of my family did, it turns out that my mom’s side has a lot of history from the area in which I attend college. And a lot of this history seems to be dating back to almost 200 years ago when, of course, my ancestors were slaves on or near this land.
Anyhow, yesterday my witchy friends and I decided to go on a local history walking tour through a place called the Forks of Cypress. While we were there my friends and I decided to get a feel from the ruins of the mansion within Forks of Cypress. It’s rich with history and all that remained of the mansion was 23 out of 24 pillars and all the power radiating from it. The fire appears to have taken everything but there is so much more than the fondation and 3 pillars.
So, here we are standing in the middle of these ruins trying to get a feel for all the energy there. At first it’s a bitch for me because we are surrounded by old white people and the crowd makes it hard for me to tell the difference between old white people and other energies. I eventually get a feel for it; I wanted to tell my friends that I felt power, fear, pain, but I mostly felt relief and unconditional love. At this point, my friends already stated they felt fear and power from the location and the tour had started. It would be hard to try and tell them what I felt of the land. I love them but they can’t hear worth shit sometimes.
During the tour guide’s whole presentation, I’m a little put off. I’m bothered by the fact that the Forks of Cypress was the Forks of Cypress Plantation and this man mentions slaves and their work on the columns in passing. And usually I’d get over it but he really grazes over all this information about how successful these white people were with these damn thoroughbred horses without mentioning who actually took care of the horses. I’m not going to rant about how I think that slavery was dismissed because white people feel guilty about slavery thus they never want to hear about it. I don’t have the energy.
I might have displayed my disappointment a little more if I wasn’t distracted by the sense of connection I was feeling to the location. Something that I couldn’t see was relieved to see me there. I figured that it was probably the spirit of a slave shocked to see a black person standing in a sea of old white people. This assumption came from the fact that I can’t shake an image of a black woman with her hair up and with her a dress out of my mind (I have like 0 ability to see entities so this is probably just my mind wondering.).
Anyhow, I couldn’t get over this feeling of unconditional love. Like it pained me and probably whoever was there to see me leave. I nearly invited whatever was there to follow me (probably a good idea that I didn’t). Anyhow, I was so struck by that experience and the white-centric tour that I decided to look up the history of the slaves on the Forks of Cypress Plantation.
What I (and my mom) found next shocks me.
Through Google, I find that my ancestor, Alex Haley (the dude who wrote the book Roots that History Channel made a series of) has ancestors that worked on the plantation. I was a little disappointed for a bit because I’m related to Alex Haley on the side that isn’t famous. Roots was about tracing his mother’s side all the way back to Africa; given that were was ready information on Alex Haley’s family and the Forks of Cypress, I assumed it wa his mom’s side. I was wrong.
My mom did the real digging and I love her. We found out through Alex Haley that my great great great great great grandmother Sabrina was born a slave in Cherokee, Alabama (1816) and later gave birth to my great great great great grandfather on the Forks of Cypress Plantation.
[I was going to have a picture here but I’m honestly too lazy to pull it off my phone.]
SOOOOO I actually felt a familial connection at the Forks of Cypress. That attachment was probably because my energy was familiar to the spirits there. I’m looking at probably doing magic involving my ancestors. I’m overjoyed. I have a chance to learn something so many others don’t know.
[This is my first ever imagines for folks. I did this as a gift for a friend, and the reason I am reposting it is because I might continue it onwards as another idea for it won’t leave me alone. Imagine being a waitress at the local inn and a childhood friend of Edward Kenway when he makes his way to port…and to you.] (Here), (2), (3), (4), (5)
Only a few more hours to go, or at least this is what you’re telling yourself as you clean up one of the tables in the tavern you’ve been working away at for several months now. Long hours with lousy coin of which to pay for what you needed, but hey—work was work. The back of your hand to your brow, you sigh with relief that everything appears just about in order only to lose that idea all together when you hear the door open once more to allow in customers.
Your eyes widen, heart racing to the point you feel breathless as your fingers clench the tray in your hands…that lousy Jackdaw Captain…