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Toontown GoodbyesWinky Dizzypop popped out of her portable hole and gazed at the fireworks in the sky. It had been a very long time since she'd come to Toontown--her phrases were still set to Winter, and her Doodle, Topaz, was still talking like it was April Toon's Week. She had visited a few times on occasion, but they were always brief.
Not today, though.
Today she had been called back because the world as she knew it was ending soon.
Winky felt sad as she watched the fireworks gleam and glow in the sky. All of the friends she had made, when she looked, were no longer around.
And there was so much she had yet to do--things she'd promised herself she would do, given resources and time. She had never gotten past that Mover and Shaker quest for 3 Laff Points, and, thus, could get neither a Lawbot suit nor a Bossbot suit. When accessories were new, and even when they were old, she had never been in a position to buy one. She had never purchased a Doodle from Donald's Dreamland or gotten very far in fishi
Endings: A Princess Tutu fanficHe still had no idea how it could have happened. Where had he gone wrong? Were the characters he chose for the roles that inadequate that they would not do as he wished? What made them want to defy fate?
Perhaps Edel had not been entirely wrong when she said a story without an ending was cruel. For now, bereft of his magnum opus, having it stolen away by those he wrote into existence, Herr D. D. Drosselmeyer himself had no ending to look forward to. He was already dead, after all.
But he did have plenty of time to think about things.
Drosselmeyer considered the possibilities amid endless clockwork gears. Once these gears had spun him a Story, his Story, but now they were still. The quiet unnerved him, reminding him of death and cut-off hands and all sorts of other unpleasant things; their constant noise before had been a comfort that the story was progressing nicely, as it should have.
As it should have... but not as it did. All thanks to a role no one but a
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More