#with a moat full of sharks

[seat-safety-switch]

Real estate in my area is depressing. There’s the usual: unaffordable condos, unaffordable row homes, unaffordable single-family homes. Boring! Where’s the castles? Where are the volcano fortresses? I can scroll the listings all day long and not a single torture pit or giant laser dome will appear before my wondering eyes.

Part of this is no doubt because of economic incentives. Something like a tank full of sharks that you slowly lower spies into is expensive to maintain – we’re talking sharks, shark food, water, water filtering, the occasional liability lawsuit. Not only that, but any realtor worth their salt is gonna tell you to get rid of it, since it makes the room look smaller. In their eyes, most customers are not “shark tank” people, and they may be thrown off by its presence during a walk-through. Better to move it somewhere else, and put out some decorative throw pillows to cover the spot where it used to sit.

This even affects me, a person with no particular bent towards supervillainy. What do I want? A large industrial space for storing cars, car parts, car accessories, and broken cars. And it would be nice to have a place to put a bed, and maybe a toilet. Does the real estate market provide me with such a building? No. Which is why I’m currently taking a shit at the 7-Eleven, because my bathroom is full of moped parts. I know it’s just for staff, Ethan.

Perhaps I should just be grateful. I heard that some big Hollywood star ended up with a castle addiction. They’re expensive to heat, castles. Just couldn’t stop buying them, the community association was soaking him for every red cent. That’s how they get you, you know. Moat fees. Plus the parking sucks.

[alexandersimpleton]

Au where Leland wins the battle and locks all three princesses up. Maria in a tower so high not even her birds could reach her, Lorena in the middle of a lake that she can't fight her way out of, because lake, and I haven't decided on Gwen's prison, but something underground.

But anyways, the CPC go to try and rescue them. In the moat around Lorena there's a giant blue sea monster big enough that it barely fits in the lake (it's quality of life is not that good) that's shaped like an eel with mote fins, guarding Maria is a red dragon that is bound to the tower with an illusion chain that it could easily break but decides not too for some reason, and Gwen was trapped by an armie of the undead, lead by one undead dude who looked kinda like the litch from Adventure Time.

In case you didn't guess it, these are Leland's sons. He cursed all three of them into being horrible beasts who only exist to keep the princesses trapped. For the two older brothers, their beasts had way smaller brains than humans, so they couldn't even understand the situation they were in. They're just two monsters that have strange memories. And from these memories sprouts fear. And so, Blaine and Lance are both turned into thoughtless monsters consumed by their respective fears. Until the CPC comes and gets a witch to uncurse them. First, they had to confront both about their fear and motive from guarding the princess. For Lance it's feeling the need to protect her from anything that might hurt her, and for Blaine it's mind-crippling fear of Leland. It turns out Leland royally screwed with them, however, so the cures would only be partial. Blaine's dragon-ness was derived more closely from his appearance than other transformation spells and so the spell couldn't be completely ripped away from his appearance. (Essentially, transformation spells are kind of like playdough. The original form is blue and the transformation is red. Usually these are separate and can be switched between, which is why most transformation spells can be cured, but sometimes some of the blue gets pulled make red, and it makes the two permanently linked. This is what happened with Monica's curse, and what is now happening with Blaine's) so Blaine still has a dragon tail, yellow where the white should be in his eyes, giant horns, and fire when he breathes out of his mouth or talks.

Lance, on the other hand, didn't have the problem. In fact, he could shift into humanity and into partial sea monstertude painlessly and at will. There were two problems, however. One, his brain could never completely shift back to humanity. He a sea monster capable of complex thought, not a human. Whenever Lance is human, it causes him extreme dysphoria. His human Blaine is just barely there enough to control his limbs decently, but his sea monster brain thinks that he shouldn't have limbs at all. One time the dysphoria got so bad he snuck outside and slept in a sleeping bag as an equivalent to a dysphoria hoodie. The CPC soon got him one of those shark blanket things that you can stick your whole body into for his birthday. The second issue was that Lance still counted as a sea creature. He needed moisture every so often, or he'd die. The more human he was, the more moisture he'd need. This was actually not much, no matter how human he was, but his body started freaking out long before it was even necessary. After only a couple of hours of full human form, his skin would start to feel dry and flaky, and his throat was sting, and his lips were dry, and he felt like he had been in a desert only drinking sand for the last three days. Of course, these symptoms didn't actually cause any harm to his body, they were just unbearably painful, so Lance tries to go partial sea monster, with a long blue tail shaped kind of like a whip, fish eyes, and a significantly thinner body shape.

And then there was Frederick. He had gone against Leland and ruined everything. Leland had assumed that cursing his sons into beasts had put them out of their misery, at least, so he figured he wouldn't give Frederick the pleasure. When the CPC found Frederick, he was on the ground, shaking. His flesh seemed to be rotting away in some places. His hands were only bones, and the same was true for one half of his face. They had expected some monster, but when Frederick shot up, but immediately winced. Cold mist shot out from his mouth as he spoke, greeting the club. He stuttered and his voice cracked. He was in pain. The CPC had managed to bring him, along with Gwen, back out to the witch. Turns out, he was just undead now, and nobody could do anything about it without making him regular dead. But there were some things he could do to make it suck significantly less. There were special bandages he used to hide his nerves, and couldn't scrub himself while he bathed anymore because that'd cause skin to fall off. It'd mainly just give him a heart attack and make more never to cover, but they still decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

So yeh. Curses

[robotawakey]

japan was nice i think i should have appreciated it more

all the landscapes, little streets. idk. i think i would have liked it more if i went alone and could have just walked around and spent longer in places i liked. kyoto was so beautiful kind of melancholy, the moat full of plants in osaka castle was incredibly pretty and i wish i could have seen it at dusk or dawn in a lower light setting.

i dunno. i wish i did more, appreciated more. i'm glad i went.

i should post on tumblr more. i love you tumblr, with your extensive image support and lack of character limit for posts and alt text. i'm lying in bed, curled around a certain plush shark with bedroom pop playing and i think i kinda feel ok. i have a math test tomorrow morning i'm due to fail. i don't know how to end a post like this

see you around, maybe

[melodromacy]

MONEY ON MY MOTHERFUCKIN MIND Cop five haircuts at the same time White-gold pants, jet ski made of yuan Foie-gras bust of Albert Einstein Get money

MONEY OUT MY MOTHERFUCKIN MOUTH A mansion, a ranch, and a camp, and a town A motherfuckin store with the floor made of scalps Bobby from the block don't got rocks, he got alps Get money

MONEY IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN JAR Shark fin pastry, summers on mars Twenty motherfuckers in a levitating car Seven-forty-seven full of women and cigars Get money

MONEY IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN POT A castle full of cars and yard full of yachts A leopard with a mink and an arm full of clocks All hand wound every day by Spock Get money

---

MONEY IS A MOTHERFUCKIN JOKE Forty bald eagles sewn into a coat Zoo with the crib, mermaid in the moat Buy another strip mall every eighth note Get money

MONEY AINT A MOTHERFUCKIN PROB Its a sport I invented to win when I watch And own all the rights and the lights and the locks Even own the ice in the Sprite you just dropped Get money

MONEY OR YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN LIFE Two-ton angel carved outta ice Alligator sailboat, dollar-sign eyes Fill a warehouse full of Van Gogh's twice Get money

MONEY OR YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN HEART I could give it to my dog, he makes money when he barks Or put it in my fridge or in one of my parks that I bought So my robots could learn how to LARP Get money

[maxsix]

[oldinformaticn]

“   love   is   for   children,   i   owe   him   a   debt.   ”      is   one   of   my   Leave   Favorite   things   tbh

[creweemmaeec11]

Villain x Hero Writing Prompt: The villain has been inactive for weeks, leaving the hero paranoid afraid of what the Villain's up to. The hero manages to find where the Villain lives and find them curled up in blankets on the sofa with a raging fever. Have fun with this prompt!

So sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy!

There were so many things the hero expected to find when they finally tracked the villain down. Spike pits full of snakes, shark tanks and iron maidens. Spiked fences and alligator moats or... at the very least a tripwire or two!

What they WEREN'T expecting was a cozy little cabin-looking house with a smoking chimney. Ivy covered much of the exterior brickwork, and the garden was overgrown, but nothing about the place was falling apart. Well worn in, but up-kept nonetheless.

Yet the hero had double and triple-checked their info. This was definitely the villain's house.

They hesitantly walked up to the door, taking a deep breath before knocking. They could hear the sound resonate through the house as they waited.

A few moments later, the door clicked and swung open seemingly on its own, with no one on the other side.

"Hello?" The hero called into the seemingly empty hallway.

No answer.

Slowly, they stepped in into the hallway.

The entire building was quiet save for what sounded like the murmur of a tv in a nearby room. The hero followed the noise, feet padding through the dark hallways until they stepped into what they assumed was a living room of some sort.

At least, that's what they guessed based on the presence of the TV, but they didn't have time to investigate further, as the sudden sound of a gun cocking in the darkness made them freeze.

"Don't. Move."

"Villain?" The hero asked, eyes glancing over to the direction of the voice, but they couldn't make out anything in the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" the voice asked again.

The hero squinted. The voice sounded like the villain, but... it also didn't? It was much more gravelly and rough, lower and more strained sounding.

"I was looking for you..." the hero replied in confusion, slowly turning to face the direction of the voice.

"Why," the voice accused.

"Nobody's heard from you for weeks; I wanted to know what you were planning..."

"I'm not-" the villain was cut off by an impromptu coughing fit. The hero winced, noting how hard and frankly painful it sounded.

"You're sick," the hero stated, connecting the dots.

"No- *cough* shit," was the snappy reply.

The hero took the chance, barely making out a light switch beside the door frame; they reached and flicked it on.

"Don't-!"

Too late. The room illuminated, revealing a small cozy living room. There were two windows with thick black curtains pulled across, a tv and a couch, upon which was a mountain of blankets with a head and a handgun poking out of them.

The villain winced, throwing an arm over their head to block the light from their eyes.

"Do you mind!?"

"Sorry, sorry-!" the hero replied. They could now see a floor lamp next to them, which they flicked on before turning the main lights off again.

In the dim glow, the villain lowered their arm, revealing just how horrible they honestly looked. Their eyes and nose were red, face pale and sickly, hair dishevelled and greasy.

"As you can see, I'm not doing anything so-"

"You look like hell," the hero stated, looking over the villain in front of them.

"Gee, thanks," they replied sarcastically, rubbing at their eyes.

"When was the last time you ate?" the hero asked in concern.

"Excuse me?" came the bewildered reply.

"When was the last time you ate something?" the hero pushed.

"Uhh..." the criminal floundered, brain foggy from being so sick, "I don't know? I- can't you just leave already!?"

"No! I'm not leaving you alone in this state!" The hero snapped indignantly, "How do you expect to get better if you're not eating anything!?"

"What are you, my mother?" the villain grumbled under their breath, "I'm telling you, get out of my house!"

The hero raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing their arms, "sure, all you have to do is make me. If you really don't need some help, it should be no problem for you,"

The villain extended their hand, aiming their gun at the hero. Before they could even think of something snappy to say, the hero's foot swung up, kicking the firearm out of the criminal's hand and up into the air. In what was practically a blur to the villain, the hero caught the weapon, emptied the bullets onto the floor, switched the safety on and tossed it over their shoulder.

"Anything else?"

There was a moment of silence where the stubborn villain simply stared, before finally caving, "ugh, whatever,"

"Perfect, now, I'm going to go make some soup while you close your eyes and try to get some sleep," The hero explained, snatching the TV remote to flick it off and then set it out of the villains reach.

Remarkably, the villain began to feel better after a day or so. And though they would swear up and down the hero had nothing to do with it, they both knew better.

MASTERTAGLIST:

@llamaly @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway @larinzz @sharraus @asrasmysoulmate @kaiwewi @akawrites000 @sunflower1000 @aroacewitchyacademic @seppycup @lbelle0527 @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @freefallingup13 @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @homosexual-having-tea @friiday-thirteenth @chocomarsgalaxy @ravenshadow17 @daydreamed-snippets @stankyt0es @jinx1365 @rainy-knights-of-villany @fromtheo-withlove @maybe-a-cat42 @the-sky-writes @watercolorfreckles @noirewaves @digitalart-dwa @itsleighlove @chibicelloking @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @daedae127 @wish1bone1 @ilikebooksbuttheresnousernames @defectivehero @vpow @dog-in-a-bog @hstoria @canigetanamenforbritney

[dailyadventureprompts]

Wilderness: Roads of the Coldhearted

Your party presses through the veil of sleet, and every step you take feels like a struggle. You are fighting the very wind itself, and the frost covered bones and crumbling ruins you’ve passed serve to remind you that standing still in such weather is a death sentance. How did you get here? What need could be so great as to climb these perilous peeks? The hole in your memory shocks you enough that you nearly lose your friends around a bend in the path. Catching up to them, you see it, battlements only visable against the rock and the migrane colored sky by their sheer scale.   A castle, and perhaps a chance to get out of the cold you’ve been trapped in for so long. 

Setup:  There are many dread domains, each one a nightmare prison built to contain a great evil. This one is a labyrinthian tangle of pathways through a jagged mountainside, reflecting the final hours of a bloodthirsty margrave who spent hours fighting though a winter storm to return home, only to discover that all his cruelty had been in vain. 

Sorrow, war, and misfortune are the ruling elements here, along with the horror of exposure and a chilling wind that hunts the party with it’s own malicious will. 

Challenges & Complications: 

Wretched beasts ride the skies of this domain, striking without warning or circling like stormbitten buzzards. The remnants of soldiers mummified by the cold shamble their way through patrols or wait in ambush, and always return to their station after some time after their clashes with the party. Those that wear tattered officer’s uniform even manage to remember previous encounters, and will plan their defenses accordingly. 

Leaving the domain will require the party to trace a shifting maze of claustrophobic caverns, icy canyons, crumbling bridges and narrow switchbacks that what. as the “roads” of this domain. They possess their own sinister intelligence, seeming to know the exact right time to close or fail and drop the party into a new form of peril.  Scaps of maps may be found hidden along the road like treasure, but these too are full of misdirections, showing no true path and seemingly only able to agree that the mountains they depict are called “The Sorrows”. 

The castle in the heart of the ragged web of pathways is no shelter from the blizzard, as the cold winds pour from its open windows and echo through it’s echoing halls. This fortress is home to many terrible beasts, none more so than a screaming windstorm known as the Resounding Agony, which prowls the domain the way a shark might a reef. While not exactly intelligent, it will harry interlopers by alerting their pursuers, causing avalanches, and causing maddening fatigue. 

Sorrowsworn and other shadowfell beats are drawn to the Roads of the coldhearted en-masse, and can frequently be seen clashing with the soldiers. This is quite unusual for a dread domain, but whatever unseen architect is at work here seems to allow it. 

Background:  Nothing mattered to Margrave Orlan Esterna more than legacy. He was a proud patriot who’s family had defended the borders of the empire for generations, and he was bred, raised, and trained for the singular purpose of holding that border against those he thought to be little better than beasts. Savage cruelty was what was expected of lords like Orlan, and he differed from his predecessors only in that he did not confine that cruelty to wartime. The Margrave was of the opinion that the continued existence of his ancestral enemy was provocation enough to ride out into the lowlands to burn villages and poison wells, or to put his own peasants to death for too closely resembling those peoples he hated.  Thus did the margrave Esterna carve a moat of death and terror around his lands, ruling it from the lofty heights of his ancestral keep. 

Orlan’s one joy in life was his extended family, a panoply of siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins that shared in his storied legacy, and lived dotted out through neighboring lands. Favorite among these favorites were a pair of nieces, who Orlan and his wife raised as daughters and heirs, as they could not have children of their own. 

The Margrave’s bloodlust came back to haunt him one day as news reached him of an incoming raiding force, led by the sister of a commander he had captured ( and gorily tortured) in the last border skirmish. Riding out with his men, Orlan realized too late that the “raiding party” was merely a faint, and that the avenging sister’s true intent had actually been a direct strike at his home, perfectly timed with a winter storm to delay his soldier’s march back to the keep.   Caring nothing for his own troops, Orlan marched them anyway, and lost most to a day and a night of freezing wind and snow-slicked paths that were never meant for so many travelers. Even with his haste, the Margrave was too late. His household had been slaughtered, and the cruelties he had inflicted upon that foreign commander had been returned to him threefold. Discovering his wife and nieces in that state broke him, and in that moment he and his keep were taken by the mists, as the dark powers caught scent of his suffering. 

Further Adventures: 

Margrave Orlan remains frozen in the moment of his greif, petrifed into an ever-screaming statue fromwhich the howling storm emerges. The Innermost chamber of his keep has become a frigid gallery of his own mistakes, in which the gory cruelties of his life play out in the flickering  ice-sheets, though whether they are visions sent to torment him or his own memories, none can say. This gallery is haunted by a shadowy reflection of the avenging sister, who rules over the castle and its denizens as if it were her own. 

Scenes of Orlan’s wanton violence are echoed throughout his domain, from the poisoned wells, to the destroyed villages, to grim chambers of torture slick with half frozen blood. As with many men addicted to violence, Orlan was also a  consummate duelist, and his victims wait in dramatic locations waiting for their chance at a rematch. 

The only way to calm the storm and temporarily escape the dread-lord’s attention is to bait the Resounding Agony into pursuit across the mountains and draw it into the statue chamber in which Orlan sits. The scream meeting its origin will create a feedback loop and shatter the vision-displaying ice, calming the howling statue for a short time along with the tempest outside. At this point the Margrave’s statue will begin to weep (the dread domains are not subtle), and the puddles that result will collect and form new vision ice in time. 

Rewards: 

Perhaps the only reason to willingly travel the Roads of the Coldhearted is to reclaim the Margrave’s famed weapon: Forebearance. created by a heroic ancestor who earned the family their noble investature for services granted to a sainted king. The weapon itself is rumored to have possessed great power, as some might call it a vestige of divergence

Dormant: 

The weapon is a paired set, a +1 silvered longspear ( 1d8, 1d10 versatile), and a +1 shield that share an attunement slot. Both are intricately filigreed, and can act as any kind of spellcasting focus. 

These items also possess the “trick” quality, allowing the bearer to combine (or revert) them as a bonus action to transform them into an oversized battleax. In this form the weapon is still silvered, but has the heavy property, a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls, and has a damage die of 2d8. The unwieldy nature of this weapon in this form causes it to get stuck into a nearby surface on a roll of natural 1, requiring it to be pulled free in place of an attack. 

Awakened: 

The weapon gains a pool of “zeal” points equal to the wielder’s proficiency bonus. When wielding the spear, they may spend one point to cast wrathful smite. While wielding the shield, they may spend a point as a reaction to reroll a failed save, taking the second roll even if it is lower.  If wielding the Battleax, they may cast dispel magic as part of an attack roll, using the attack roll in place of the spellcasting ability check. These zeal points refresh on a long rest. 

Exalted: 

Familiarity with Forbearance allows the user to swap between forms on their turn, including in between attacks or as part of a reaction. The longspear’s bonus becomes +2, the shield grants +1 to saving throws, and the battleax’s bonus improves to +3.   The zeal points now refresh on a short rest. 

[creaturesfromelsewhere]

The Addams Family in Florida & how I became a Goth

"You're dearer to me than all the bats in all the caves in the world." -Gomez to Morticia

Yup, you read that correctly - there is an episode of The Addams Family that takes place in Florida (full episode above). It's not the original b&w show from the 60's, but the cartoon that followed in 1973. The cartoon is terrible - I mercifully never saw it until recently. Nevertheless, the Addams Family in Florida is canon, which finally brings my favorite family within the domain of Florida Gothic.

The premise of the cartoon is that the Addams clan has loaded up a motor home and are traveling about the country. While this opens up interesting plot opportunities, the execution leaves much to be desired. In this episode, they arrive at Cape Canaveral, Florida, and are targeted by a couple of con men, fly about in a rocket, and are staggeringly unfunny.

The Addams Family first lurched onto the Saturday morning cartoon circuit via The New Scooby-Doo Movies when Scoob & the Gang meet the Addams Family in episode 3 of the series, "Wednesday is Missing".

The New Scooby-Doo Movies are also pretty bad, but "Wednesday is Missing" at least boasts the main cast from the 60's TV show, John Astin, Carolyn Jones, Jackie Coogan, and Ted Cassidy, voicing their characters, plus the bonus of a young Jody Foster voicing Pugsley. Here's that episode as well, because if you watched all of the one above, you must enjoy suffering so help yourself to some more:

I'll revisit Scoob & the Gang later, since they also have a Florida episode. Anyway, someone at Hanna Barbera got the idea to spin the animated Addams assemblage from Scooby-Doo to it's own show where it somehow managed to run 16 episodes over 2 seasons before collective sanity was restored and it was canceled. Astin and Jones wisely passed on the series and only Coogan and Cassidy reprise their characters because money. There was some small amount of creativity involved, as their mobile home is cute. A coffin and a tombstone comprise the front of the vehicle, while the rest is styled to resemble the Addams mansion. It even has a tower with a permanent thunder storm over head and bats circling about.

When they stop someplace where they'll be parked at for a while, a back hoe arm emerges and digs a moat complete with sharks and a drawbridge. I would have totally dug this souped-up set of wheels as a kid, but I still don't think I could have managed to watch an entire episode.

That's about where the creativity ends and all that remains is cringe. With that out of the way, let's move along to my preferred iteration of The Addams Family:

There are quite a few 'how I became a goth' videos on Youtube and blogs on Tumblr of late, and they're actually rather interesting. It's fascinating to see what path folks took to reach their particular dark aesthetic, but it got me to thinking what it was that lead *me* down said path. Unlike many others who were first entranced by goth music's siren song, my path was a bit different. I was first seduced to the dark side by this irresistible goth beauty:

Reruns of The Addams Family aired 5 days a week in the late 70's and were conveniently on right after I got home from school. I had just enough time to settle in, and then da, da, da, dum, snap, snap. I wanted the Addams clan to be *my* family. My own family was perfectly normal and average, although I already wasn't, and this show reinforced the wasn't. Morticia imprinted herself upon my mind with the skill of Wozniak programming an Apple II. All my girlfriends have been Morticia - dark hair, pale skin, penchant for black clothing, creepy, kooky, ooky, and prone to sword fights in the living room. Well, perhaps not that last part. I also watched re-runs of The Munsters, and while I liked that show, too, it never struck the same chord within me as The Addams Family did. For a delightful while, perhaps an entire year, one was on right after the other. Cool, right?

So there I am, an impressionable youth immersing himself almost daily in this strange black & grey world of harpsichord music, baroque decor, and gothic beauty. Why, it was almost as if I were being pre-programmed for:

And that, is how I became a goth.

CreaturesFromElsewhere 6/2/2021

[louisapennyfeather2021]

Newsies(2017) at the Beach

Jack is watching everyone, but he's also being a total child. Yes, he's like the dad and wants to make sure everyone is alright, but have you seen the guy? He's running through the water and getting knocked over by waves. He tries to play a round of beach volleyball, but ends up having to save Romeo from drowning cause the kid forgot he can't swim.

Davey is keeping tabs on everyone, but it's Davey. He's trying to build to most realistic, functioning sand castle with a moat, draw bridge, and everything. At some point, Race tramples it while playing beach volleyball and Davey chases him around with the volleyball for half an hour.

Katherine is just having the time of her life. The girl is a beach junkie. She has a cooler full of beach snacks, a big umbrella, a flashy beach towel, and even a beach ball. No one ever knew, but the girl can surf. She spends most of the morning surfing and then teaches Les and some of the other guys how to surf on foam boards. It's the highlight of her day to see them all slip in the shallow waves, except Les. He catches on quickly and ends up teaching with Katherine.

Race is being Race, but worse. He has a full day of pranks and jokes planned. He has a fake shark fin hat that he uses to scare Elmer. Him and Albert bury Jojo in the sand while he takes a nap. The one thing he didn't mean to do was run through Davey's sandcastle, so you can imagine the fear he felt when he trampled the extravagant build. Even after Davey calmed down, Race kept looking over his shoulder.

Albert is being a beach stud. He's flexing whenever someone passes, he's playing beach volleyball, and overall trying to look good. He gets cocky when Katherine tries to show him how to surf and he's the one who falls in the water the most. Even though he knew about Race's shark fin prank, he screamed. Like a small child. Elmer didn't even freak out as much as he did. Race choked on sea water from laughing so hard.

Romeo is working on his tan. After trying to learn to surf and almost drowning, he just laid down on a towel and relaxed. His logic is that ladies like a good tan, but he ends up falling asleep and getting a horrible sun burn. His entire front side is beat red and his back is its normal shade. His tan lines are horrid, but he isn't too focused on them. He's more focused on avoiding Race and Albert so they don't smack his sun burn. It happens many times.

Les is kind of everywhere. He builds a sand castle, learns to surf on a foam board, plays some beach volleyball. At one point, he somehow convinces a guy to take him parasailing. Davey had a minor heart attack, but Les had a great time. The best part was he got to look over to the beach and see Davey running circles and yelling while everyone else started laughing.

Elmer is like Les, but without the parasailing. He doesn't build Sandcastles, but he makes some sand sculptures with JoJo. He even makes Jojo into a sand sculpture after Race and Albert bury him.

Finch is digging a hole. He digs a big hole near the water and he's super proud of himself... Until the tide comes in and starts filling up his hole. Just imagine the scene from Friends where Joey dug a hole. It's just like that.

Specs is searching for "treasure" with a metal detector. He finds a lot of trash, but he also finds some coins and rings. He creates quite a collection. He uses some of his treasures to convince Race and Albert to not smack Romeo's sun burns. It works for a total of five minutes.

Jojo... The poor kid... The morning started out great, he just sat in the beach to wait for it to warm up a bit. It was cold out in the morning and he doesn't like swimming in the cold. It just bothers him. When he does go swimming, Race pulls his swim trunks down in the water. He freaked out and immediately left the water. While he was still soaking wet, he tripped over his own feet and got completely covered in sand. He cleaned off in the water and Katherine convinced him to try to surf. He did pretty well, better than Albert. When he got tired, he laid down on a towel to nap. This resulted in him getting covered in sand, yet again. He was annoyed, but he didn't want to move because Elmer had made a mermaid sculpture and Jojo had to admit, he was a hot mermaid.

Spot is the angry life guard parent who's constantly yelling at Race for misbehaving. He chases Race around with a water gun and sprays him whenever he pulls a prank. He has the sunscreen on his nose and the sunglasses like a real life guard stereotype does, but this only results in Race laughing at him.

Let me know if you agree or if you'd change anything!

[antichristsxbox]

Knight in Shining Armor

Summary: You’re a princess— locked away in a tower, under a sleeping spell, waiting for a brave suitor to come rouse you from your slumber. Luckily, Sir Michael Langdon has come to the rescue. 

From the writer: Hey guys, I’m so excited about this! I think there’s going to be a few more parts to this, so stay tuned and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list. Big shoutout to @jocelynscloset​​ for proofreading this for me! Also, if you like this, be sure to check out my masterlist here! <3 Update— here’s part two, here’s part three, and here’s part four + here’s my masterlist with more fics!

Word count: 2,404

Background knowledge in italics:

A princess blessed with the gift of the Light, as it is known. To be able to conjure up power from the good, almost like a wizard of the time. A scary gift, sure, but a gift nonetheless. It must be a recessive trait, as nobody else in the family has been touched by the Light thus far. As your powers grew with you, you turned from a whimsical girl to a seemingly omnipotent woman. Whispers became less hushed around the castle as doors would open with no servants, candles would light with no match, and books would become loose from top shelves with no ladder. The King and Queen, your parents, have decided it is best for you to wait for one of your own power to suit you. ‘Only the best, or better, for our princess,’ their words replayed in your mind. A tower was built with barriers only a skilled knight could make it through alive. It seems irrelevant, though, that you would have liked to stay awake. As you were lead to the tower, you were apprehensive, but excited for when you would soon be roused, if ever. 

Soft rays cascade through thin curtains to fall on bedsheets. A faint chirp! chirp! chirp! of the birds from outside can be heard. As you lift your head to see who has come, nobody more perfect could be thought of. This is not a figment of your imagination. Bright, blue eyes that energize you more the longer you look— soft, long, blonde hair that hangs a little past his shoulders, right above his silver, gleaming armor. 

How long it has been, you cannot tell. Your parents had you put up and locked away for your own safety. Your conjuring abilities had been far too much for them to handle. As powers grew, so did the desire to use them. Such a convenience to have, and a waste to not use, you thought. Now, that urge has subsided, all due to the happiness you were feeling that somebody had finally come to save you. A loving kiss was all it took to break the spell. Although it was a one-sided love for now, a warm feeling began again in your chest. The suitor must have made it through the traps and misleadings that lead up to your room— the highest room in the tallest tower. The tallest tower guarded by a moat full of fish, bigger than the great, big whale that swallowed Jonah, your father said. Top floors of the tower protected by a dog-beast of three heads and enormous size, and misleading staircases that would send the adventurer falling down thousands of feet if one wrong step was taken. 

“Are you here to save me?” you ask, sitting up and glancing at the mirror in your bedside table. A repressed memory tells you that you never looked like this before, not even entering the castle. A gold crown sits atop your head, three rubies, each in the middle of their own peak, the biggest gem sitting in the center. Red fabric falling from your arms as you reach up to touch the cold metal. 

“Yes, Princess,” he says, guiding your fingers from your crown into his warm grasp to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand. As you fully sit up, you swing your legs to the edge of your bed and stand. 

“Who is my suitor?” you ask, reaching for a gold pitcher and a crystal glass. Flowing from the top with ease is your first drink since probably five years. Clear liquid passes your lips and beads on your top lip, and you rub your lips together to rid them of the excess, then turn to the man behind you. 

He is now standing, at least six feet tall it seems. A very impressive, strong knight. A long sword hangs down from his belt, leading your eye to his gleaming, black boots. His hand makes its way to your shoulder, glistening in the sunlight. Wrist so reflective, it’s aggressive for a little clock. Diamonds glisten, light shining in through your arched window. 

“Sir Michael Langdon,” he says, kneeling before you and releasing his sword from its sheath, cling! The long strip of metal lies in his two hands as his head is bowed towards you. As you place your glass down, a finger of yours makes its way to the bottom of his chin, tipping his head up. Azure is all you can see, eyes almost as beaming as his armor in this sunlight. The warmth of his body being a now-familiar feeling, and a welcome reminder that you are, in fact, awake now. 

Sir Langdon stands again as you release your touch from his face. 

As you know, Michael is likely here to rescue, then marry you. He seems like a fine man, although you had only just met him. If he leaves without you, you are stuck here, now awake and with little water and food to sustain yourself with. The spell had been broken, and it seems nearly impossible for you to replicate it yourself. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you toy with the idea or running off with Michael and never returning. How would your family know that you’ve been saved? Do they come to check up on you often? The barriers set seem near impossible to sneak past and still leave intact. 

“Come with me, Princess, your kingdom is so eager to meet you,” he says, offering an arm for you to grasp. 

“Do you not wish to know who it is you are leading?” you say, taking a small step back and offering a small smile.

“My apologies, Princess, what is your name?” he says, now holding his hands clasped behind his back, posture straightening up in anticipation of an answer. 

“Lady Abigail of Minnesott,” you say, softly reminiscing of your home before the tower. A river ran down behind your castle, and an open field before it. Wild deer, turkey, and mustangs all present in the temperate, deciduous forest around your home. Oh, how the leaves would turn in autumn. How sharks teeth and pottery fragments were readily available as the tide drew in, when you pursued the river bank searching for lost treasures. You could only hope for a place as beautiful, wherever Michael would take you. 

“A beautiful woman of a beautiful land,” he says, offering his arm again. Warm metal is a refreshing sensation across your fingertips, and Michael leads you down the staircase. With horror, you witness the scattered bones of at least ten men, splayed across the floor beneath you, piled up near where the dog-beast once resided. Dried-up blood stains and gore were on display across the walls, the only other artwork here besides the oil on panel of your family, safely tucked away in your room. 

Past the slain dog-beast, for it was not just a creature of your father’s dreams. Across the long bridge of the moat, above the murky waters. Shadows of large fish and glimmering of large scales suggest that one of those creatures may still hold Jonah captive.

Out on a post was a dark horse, secured with a rope skillfully tied. One pull, and the rope is free of its tangles. A firm hand grasps your waist as you mount the horse, but hands are careful to travel no further south. A true gentleman, you must remark in your mind. As Michael mounts the horse in the seat in front of you, one swift kick is all it takes before the four feet under you are trotting, then running. A small jingling noise is coming from the seams of your dress, and a quick investigation is needed before you determine that a compass is in the pocket of your dress. One small glance down, and you realize that the horse is taking you south rather than North.

“Should we not be headed toward Vandemere?” you ask, a somewhat urgent tone in your voice.

“My kingdom is south, Princess, near Havelock and towards the Croatan Forest,” he says, a stern look in his face as he scans the path ahead. As Michael seems to know where he is going, your worries are washed away. Your sense of direction may have been put on hold during your deep slumber, but it is back now, and perhaps stronger than it was before. 

The forgotten feeling of tiredness washes over you, and before long, your grasp on Michael loosens enough so you could relax, but you’re still steady while he’s riding horseback— you lean in to drift off on his shoulder, warm metal and all. When you wake, it is now dark outside, and the horse has stopped running, but it now simply slow-trotting through a forest. A few more minutes through the dark forest, and Michael beckons the horse to stop. He is now dismounting his ride and tying up on a tree branch.

“Stay here, Princess, I must go search for a landmark on our way,” he says, walking off. You pull out your compass once more, only to realize that the arrow will not point anywhere besides south, no matter where you turn. 

“Are we more towards Trent, or Pollocksville?” you ask, but Michael is already into the woods before you even began to speak.

Ears alert and ready to pick up on any cues as to where Michael is. Not a chirp! from a bird, not a crackle! from skimming the side of a bush, not a swoosh! as his feed passed over the ground. Only visual cues left to guide you towards him— if you choose to go and venture— even the stars being hard to see through the thick foliage. 

“Princess!”

Your heart skips a beat as Michael shouts. Your leg swings over the saddle so you’re sitting atop the horse, then you carefully slide down, using the stirrup as a guide as to where to place your feet. It is only then you realize how fatigued you are, running on barely any water and no food since years ago, probably. 

“Sir Langdon, I’m following your voice!” you shout, heading the direction his initial call came from. Step by step, you make your way on the dusty ground. There is no path, no landmark presenting itself yet. Only the memory of which way his voice had come from. It is now colder than you remember it being at night, although this could just be due to being farther inland— no body of water acting as a heat sink during the day, then releasing heat through the night. 

Leaves crunch! under your feet as you begin walking faster. The darkness tends to disorient you. Faint outlines of trees begin to grow and shrink as you walk further. Turn around and you’ll see nothing, only the night’s dark blanket, engulfing the sky and almost everything around you. 

“Are you alright?” a faint voice causes you to turn around, and you find Michael waiting for you by a strange stump, it seems like. As you walk closer, you realize it is a ring of mushrooms, leading down to what seems to be a small cavern, only there is no other demarcation other than the ring of mushrooms to warn any passerby of this dip in the road. Walking closer, you see it is actually a well, as the inside is even darker than the ground surrounding it, and the edges are a perfectly symmetrical circle. Very strange, you thought, but perhaps Michael would like to stop for the night and continue the long journey tomorrow. 

“Could we draw up some water?” you ask, looking towards the well, but not daring to step any closer than four feet. The last thing you would like is to be a victim in another situation where you would be in need of rescuing. 

“Of course, Princess,” Michael says, stepping closer towards you and taking your cold hand in his warm one. As his fingers travel up your arm and toward your jawline, you shudder at the sensation and move back. He begins to lean closer, with his still-warm armor grazing your front. He takes another step forward to move into you closer and brings his arms around you protectively. A small shuffle in your direction from him has his warm face nuzzled between your shoulder and neck. 

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” he says, voice muffled from his face being buried in your dress. You step back to look at his face, although you can barely see a thing in the overwhelming darkness of the night. It is very hard to trust a man you had only met earlier today, and you would only have to see with time if Michael could hold up to this. 

Creeping in from the back of your mind, a very fatiguing sensation begins to wash over you once more. You feel wobbly almost, and contemplate just falling asleep then and there, your dress is thick enough to keep you warm through the night, and it seems as if Michael wouldn’t let you lie down alone. Michael then removes his face from your shoulder, and the cold air is again exposed due to your low neckline. His thumb rests on your top lip before his hand is entirely pulled away, moving towards your chest. It doesn’t take much to move you, and you almost melt at his lively touch.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he says. Without any time for you to question what he is asking forgiveness for, your fatigue has gotten the better of you. In perfect timing for Michael, a small jostle is all it takes for him to send you down the well. Unbeknownst to you, Michael had you exactly where he wanted you, luring you towards the secret Hellmouth. 

Information on ring of mushrooms mentioned:

Fairy rings are acknowledged to have otherworldly powers or be connected with dark forces, according to various folklore tales. They have a mythical reputation of fairies or supernatural creatures being present around the rings— there are many warnings of the dangers of entering a fairy ring throughout different stories. Many sources warn of fairy rings being created by shooting stars, lightning strikes, or the work of witches. Some even say entering a fairy ring can lead to certain doom. 

///

Tag list: @langdonsoceaneyes​ @ms-mead​ @daydreamingofcody​ @psychobitchtess​ @swampwitchh13​

[imagine-always-and-forever]

Officially Evil

A Klaus Mikaelson Mini Imagine 

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Words: 650

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I saw the gif on Google and I just HAD to use it. This came out of it.

It was official. You were now truly on the “evil villain” list for all of your former friends. They wanted nothing to do with you and when you came up in their plans, it was in ways they could end you. It only took a year of dating Klaus and all their attempts to “rescue” you to fail for them to come to the conclusion that you were simple well and truly a lost cause of evilness. 

Fine. 

You flung your coat onto the chair as you shut the door as you walk into the kitchen. Klaus was standing by the counter, pen in hand as he wrote what was either his latest plan or a shopping list for art supplies.  You went to the fridge and pulled out the chilled bottle of vodka you had stashed in there and took a long swig.

You weren’t even a big drinker but after the days you’ve had you needed this. No. You earned it.

“Things not go to plan, love?” Klaus asked with an innocent look on his face.

You glared back. You did not need him saying that he had told you so after today. You knew it was a long shot. Being officially labelled as his evil queen was even mildly expect but being labeled pure and plain evil villain Klaus or no Klaus for all eternity in their eyes is not what you expected.

How could they be so immature? Stefan and Damon especially, at that. They were somehow able to live all these years without realizing that good and bad didn’t exist? People were a complex thing and labelling someone as evil was absolutely ridiculous. Moral judgement went past seeing things that black and white by the age of seven and yet it ended up stuck at good or bad in all of your friends. Former friends.

You pulled your phone out to text Rebekah that you needed a girls night at some point this week. 

“Already plotting your revenge? I’m so proud,” Klaus smirked.

“No.”

“Then what, pray tell, are you doing?”

“Looking up castles for sale. Preferably with dark and awful dungeons and moats full of dangerous animals. Maybe sharks with laserbeams,” you deadpanned.

You looked up from your phone and sighed. Klaus’s eyebrows were almost into his hairline.

“They’ve decided I’m pure evil.”

Klaus found this very amusing.

“No. I mean it. I’m officially an evil villain. So I might as well act the part and find an evil castle and buy evil looking furniture and evil looking clothes and an evil dry cleaner and all that. You know. To be consistent with my new status.”

“Actually, not to nitpick but we evil villains usually use minions to pick up our dry cleaning, that sort of thing,” Klaus replied. You sent him a pointed look. He shrugged, but the smile wouldn’t stay off his face. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” He walked over to you and turned you to face him. His hands trailed up and down your arms. “We can’t have you going around not knowing the rules of villainy now can we?”

“Are you the welcoming crew or something?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow and ignoring his close proximity.

“I wrote the book,” he smiled before he kissed you.

To your annoyance, you laughed into the kiss. Klaus’s hands trailed down to encircle your waist as he deepened the kiss. For a moment, you forgot the awful week you’ve been having and just kissed him back.

“Now, rule one,” Klaus said against your lips. His hands trailed further down and he gripped the edges of your shirt. “You have to dress like a villain. So, this,” he said, tugging on the shirt, “will have to go,” he smirked and ripped it off.

Being an evil villain might not be so bad after all. Especially with Klaus as your enthusiastic teacher.

[intosnarkness]

Rejected Trump-era border control measures:

Use helicopters to move Mexico so it’s not south any more

Cockroaches, but like really big ones

Bake a bunch of pies so hungry migrants float through the air like cartoons, declare them aircraft and then shoot them

Put up signs that say “AMERICA IS CLOSED PLEASE CALL AGAIN LATER”

Land mines???

Tell refugees that we’ll give them citizenship, then declare bankruptcy so we don’t have to

Hire those intelligent sharks from Deep Blue Sea as agents

A moat full of incels

Announce that we found oil, declare war on the Rio Grande

Build a long, beautiful, huge bridge to Canada (suck it, Trudeau)

Hands Across America, but just at the border

Just tell everyone the wall is done. Repeat until they believe it

[cleucilaynesaustralianlitblog]

10 Interesting Australian Novels

The Secret River by Kate Grenville

“In 1806 William Thornhill, an illiterate English bargeman and a man of quick temper but deep compassion, steals a load of wood and, as a part of his lenient sentence, is deported, along with his beloved wife, Sal, to the New South Wales colony in what would become Australia. The Secret River is the tale of William and Sal’s deep love for their small, exotic corner of the new world, and William’s gradual realization that if he wants to make a home for his family, he must forcibly take the land from the people who came before him.” (Amazon.com)

2. The Brush Off: A Murray Whelan Mystery by Shane Maloney

“Murray Whelan is the political advisor to the newly appointed minister of culture, Angelo (“Tell me, Murray, what are the Arts?”) Agnelli, and he’s hanging on to his job by his toenails. On his first day, the disgruntled young artist Marcus Taylor is found dead, drowned in the ornamental moat outside the National Gallery. The police rule it a suicide, or perhaps an accident, but Murray is not so sure. Besides, this ugly incident occurred on Agnelli’s watch, so the heat is on. A born detective despite himself, Murray digs, and the deeper he goes, the more puzzling the mystery becomes. Who is this other painter, Victor Szabo, also dead, unknown in his lifetime and now the darling of the art world, with works fetching crazy prices—funded in part by the government? And what about suave businessman and art maven Lloyd Eastlake, who is whispering financial sweet nothings in Angelo Agnelli’s ear?” (Amazon.com)

3. The Dragon Man (Inspector Challis Mysteries) by Garry Disher

“A serial killer is on the loose in a small coastal town near Melbourne. Detective Inspector Hal Challis and his team must apprehend him before he strikes again. But first Challis must contend with the editor of a local news-paper who undermines his investigation at every turn and with his wife, who is attempting to resurrect their marriage through long-distance phone calls from a sanitarium where she has been imprisoned for the past eight years for attempted murder.” (Amazon.com)

4. Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden

“When Ellie and her friends go camping, they have no idea they're leaving their old lives behind forever. Despite a less-than-tragic food shortage and a secret crush or two, everything goes as planned. But a week later, they return home to find their houses empty and their pets starving. Something has gone wrong--horribly wrong. Before long, they realize the country has been invaded, and the entire town has been captured--including their families and all their friends.” (Amazon.com)

5. True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey

“In True History of the Kelly Gang, the legendary Ned Kelly speaks for himself, scribbling his narrative on errant scraps of paper in semiliterate but magically descriptive prose as he flees from the police. To his pursuers, Kelly is nothing but a monstrous criminal, a thief and a murderer. To his own people, the lowly class of ordinary Australians, the bushranger is a hero, defying the authority of the English to direct their lives. Indentured by his bootlegger mother to a famous horse thief (who was also her lover), Ned saw his first prison cell at 15 and by the age of 26 had become the most wanted man in the wild colony of Victoria, taking over whole towns and defying the law until he was finally captured and hanged.” (Amazon.com)

6. The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

“Rosie Jarman possesses all these qualities. Don easily disqualifies her as a candidate for The Wife Project (even if she is “quite intelligent for a barmaid”). But Don is intrigued by Rosie’s own quest to identify her biological father. When an unlikely relationship develops as they collaborate on The Father Project, Don is forced to confront the spontaneous whirlwind that is Rosie―and the realization that, despite your best scientific efforts, you don’t find love, it finds you.” (Amazon.com)

7. Cocaine Blues (Phryne Fisher Mysteries) by Kerry Greenwood

“The London season is in full fling at the end of the 1920s, but the Honourable Phryne Fisher―she of the green-gray eyes, diamant garters, and outfits that should not be sprung suddenly on those of nervous dispositions―is rapidly tiring of the tedium of arranging flowers, making polite conversations with retired colonels, and dancing with weak-chinned men. Instead, Phryne decides it might be rather amusing to try her hand at being a lady detective in Melbourne, Australia. Almost immediately from the time she books into the Windsor Hotel, Phryne is embroiled in mystery: poisoned wives, cocaine smuggling rings, corrupt cops, and communism―not to mention erotic encounters with the beautiful Russian dancer, Sasha de Lisse―until her adventure reaches its steamy end in the Turkish baths of Little Lonsdale Street.” (Amazon.com)

8. The Dry by Jane Harper

“After getting a note demanding his presence, Federal Agent Aaron Falk arrives in his hometown for the first time in decades to attend the funeral of his best friend, Luke. Twenty years ago when Falk was accused of murder, Luke was his alibi. Falk and his father fled under a cloud of suspicion, saved from prosecution only because of Luke’s steadfast claim that the boys had been together at the time of the crime. But now more than one person knows they didn’t tell the truth back then, and Luke is dead.” (Amazon.com)

9. Voss by Patrick White

“Set in nineteenth-century Australia, Voss is White's best-known book, a sweeping novel about a secret passion between the explorer Voss and the young orphan Laura. As Voss is tested by hardship, mutiny, and betrayal during his crossing of the brutal Australian desert, Laura awaits his return in Sydney, where she endures their months of separation as if her life were a dream and Voss the only reality. Marrying a sensitive rendering of hidden love with a stark adventure narrative, Voss is a novel of extraordinary power and virtuosity from a twentieth-century master.” (Amazon.com)

10. Breath by Tim Winton

“On the wild, lonely coast of Western Australia, two thrillseeking and barely adolescent boys fall into the enigmatic thrall of veteran big-wave surfer Sando. Together they form an odd but elite trio. The grown man initiates the boys into a kind of Spartan ethos, a regimen of risk and challenge, where they test themselves in storm swells on remote and shark-infested reefs, pushing each other to the edges of endurance, courage, and sanity. But where is all this heading? Why is their mentor’s past such forbidden territory? And what can explain his American wife’s peculiar behavior? Venturing beyond all limits—in relationships, in physical challenge, and in sexual behavior—there is a point where oblivion is the only outcome.” (Amazon.com)

Bonus 11. That Deadman Dance by Kim Scott

“Bobby Wabalanginy is a young Noongar man, smart, resourceful, and eager to please. He befriends the European arrivals, joining them as they hunt whales, till the land, and establish their new colony. He is welcomed into a prosperous white family, and eventually finds himself falling in love with the daughter, Christine. But slowly-by design and by hazard-things begin to change. Not everyone is happy with how the colony is progressing. Livestock mysteriously start to disappear, crops are destroyed, there are "accidents" and injuries on both sides. As the Europeans impose ever-stricter rules and regulations in order to keep the peace, Bobby's Elders decide they must respond in kind, and Bobby is forced to take sides, inexorably drawn into a series of events that will forever change the future of his country.” (Amazon.com)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ego Shark AU: sandcastles!

the reader and our shark boys spend some time making a sandcastle! How do they do? 

Jack: Jack just uses his hands, and the structure ends up a little lop-sided, but he's still proud of his creation! Always keeping a positive outlook on things. He will even decorate it with shells and seaweed and seagull feathers.

Chase: he always tries to make the tallest sandcastle, but of course either gravity or the wind comes into play and the structure falls flat. His disappointed look is sadly adorable, but the reader cheers him up with some belly tickles.

Henrik: he goes for the childish beach toys and uses them for their prupose, even for what they're not used for. He will make tiny windows and doors in his structures, and will use his body to shield any waves from crashing into the castle. This is why he always has to have a deep moat surrounding his masterpiece.

Anti: he mostly sits back and watches the reader to the building, and will absentmindedly give them shells to decorate it with. However, if he gets too bored, he'll start a sand-throwing fight, which leads them both into the water.

Jackieboy: he goes big--really big. He will use so much sand--wet and dry--for his work. To him, it's not just an activity. It's a competition. He doesn't even let the reader do much and just takes care of it himself. 

Robbie: he will help the reader with a sandcastle by collecting sand, and before long there's a big hole. He'll get a bit playful and will sit in the hole, which will prompt the reader to bury him in it with only his head, arms and feet sticking out. The reader can't help but tickle his toes a little and smile as he laughs hysterically. 

JJ: he and the reader will make a ring of small castles, decorate them with shells and twigs, then sit in the middle together while watching the waves. 

Shawn: the reader will make the basic structure, and Shawn will do the detail work and smoothing. He's on more of the quality-over-quantity spectrum. He doesn't stop until he thinks the castles look perfect, and if he messes up, he prompts they start over.

Angus: he gets bored easily. If he's not happy with the castle, he'll kick and stomp it out of existence. He's even done it to some poor kids at the beach while storming off. The reader had to quickly explain to the moms while they comforted their sobbing children.

Marvin: he doesn't like how sand gets everywhere, so he'll sit and watch, like Anti. However, he will be a backseat builder, telling the reader what to do or how they should do things. It does quickly get annoying, which will lead to Marvin getting a face full of washed-up kelp.

........

These are sweet! I used to make a lot of sandcastles and they were fun!

[knives-and-lint]

abandoned sand castles

Because of this gifset, and a conversation with @spidergwen

-

“What,” Prudence asks, tilting the circle-lensed glasses down her nose. “Are you wearing?”

Sabrina looks down at her swimming costume with its long sleeves, long legs and stripes. Reminiscent of  Coney Island in the late nineteenth century.

“You guys said retro,” she replies.

“Retro,” Agatha reiterates.

“Not ancient,” Dorcas finishes.

Sabrina looks at their swimsuits, very much similar to the nightgowns they all wear, minus the robes. A definite vibe from the 1940's. Prudence's being white, to Agatha's black, and finally Dorcas' green. They look like the goth versions of some pinup poster you'd see in a soldiers foot locker from World War Two. Sabrina doesn't share this opinion with the Sisters. Already on the wrong end of the fashion plate for the day.

Prudence takes a step closer, reaching out a hand to tug playfully on the costume's skirt.

“Where did you even acquire such a museum piece?”

“My Aunt Hilda,” Sabrina answers with a small curtsy.

Agatha and Dorcas both laugh into their hands, as if Sabrina is the most naive yet delightful creature they've ever come across. Prudence however, circles her like a shark waiting to chomp, misplaced fashion concept not withstanding. She leans forward for a whisper light kiss to the witch's lips.

“Wretchedly adorable,” she spits without venom. “What am I to do with you?”

Sabrina blushes, but fights the instinct to duck her head, smirking instead.

“Join me in having a fun day at the beach?”

Prudence pushes the glasses back up her nose.

“Of course,” she accepts. “So much fun.”

Sabrina is kicking around the water, as the waves rush up the sand, continually looking back at the Sisters. They've all chosen to plant themselves firmly in the sand, parasols protecting them from the sun, as Agatha reads from a musty old book while Prudence and Dorcas lay on their backs.

“Are you really just going to lay there all day?” Sabrina inquires, making her way back to them.

None of them move.

“That's the plan,” Prudence answers, never lifting her head.

Sabrina can't help to pout.

“It's a beautiful day,” she insists. “The water isn't that cold, and I just thought-”

“That we'd run around like silly little loons?” Prudence interrupts.

“Sorry Sabrina,” Agatha inputs.

“That's just not our style,” Dorcas finishes.  

Sabrina folds her arms, eyes locked with Dorcas, knowing they've had more than a few conversations about a beach day. It was the two of them that convinced the others to come. She doesn't quite want to believe that once they're here, she's just going to fall in line with her Sisters because that's what always happens. She walks right up to the redhead, leans down and takes her hand, pulling her up despite the resistance.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” Sabrina demands. “We're building a sand castle.”

Dorcas' brow creases together, but once on her feet, she doesn't try to lay back down. Instead she reaches for her parasol, and allows Sabrina to take her hand, guiding them toward the water.

“Careful Sister,” Prudence calls.

“Try not to burn,” Agatha states.

Dorcas' feet shuffle quickly through the sand, trying to keep up with Sabrina's exuberant pace and enthusiasm.

“I will burn,” she mutters to herself. “I'm the palest one here.”

Sabrina hears and laughs accordingly.

“Should you get too toasty,” she offers. “I promise to rub aloe all over you.”

Dorcas does not dismiss the idea, about to follow up with an innuendo of her own, when the water flows across her bare feet. The temperature causes her to scream, not expecting it to be quite so cold, and Sabrina laughs again at her discomfort.

“If you're just going to make fun of me, I'm laying back down.”

Sabrina just tilts her head.

“Not making fun,” she assures. “But you're, how should I say, wretchedly adorable?”

Dorcas frowns, but does not head back to her Sisters as threatened, following Sabrina to her knees to collect wet sand into a bucket she never even noticed Sabrina was in possession of.

“So we just,” Dorcas begins, not quite sure how this is supposed to work. “Mold it like clay?”

“Kind of,” Sabrina allows, flipping over the bucket to create the first tower. “Here,” she offers a small shovel to Dorcas. “Take this and start digging a moat.”

Dorcas just looks at her.

“If we're going to build a castle, we're doing it in grand style.”

Dorcas then looks at the shovel in hand as if it's an object she's never seen before.

“This is silly.”

“Yes,” Sabrina agrees. “But fun.”

A big wave crashes behind them, pulling Dorcas' attention to the water.

“I love that sound,” she offers softly.  

Sabrina turns her head, the unasked question clear in her eyes.

“Waves on a beach,” Dorcas clarifies.

As if sensing something in the declaration, Sabrina leaves her bucket half full of sand, and twists around the face the water. Dorcas follows suit, settling down, and placing the parasol between them.

“What about your castle?” she asks.

Sabrina takes her hand, leaning over to rest her head on Dorcas' shoulder.

“It can wait.”