#..... i was thinking too like. in a theoretical scenario lets say everyone in america could get on board with refusing to pay taxes. like

[magnoliamyrrh]

its been insane witnessing the full force of propaganda and american imperialism with my own two eyes as an adult these past few years. obviously ive known abt it plenty and seen it before, but witnessing it at this age with this much force is... dystopian and crazy

[soulmate-game]

Part 2: The same prompt, but Siblings this time

Tim paused the video on his computer, the red figure on it in mid-leap off of a building. Be rewound the video, played it, paused again at the same time stamp.

No, his eyes were not deceiving him. The video was not doctored.

So what the hell was going on?

“Hey Timmie, find anything on that Paris situation Bruce asked you to look into?” Dick’s voice made Tim startle, nearly spilling his coffee all over the keyboard and possibly deleting his hard-earned research. Rescuing his lifeblood from certain doom, he hugged his mug to his chest and glared at his older brother for a second. Dick was not in the least bothered, used to this sort of reaction from the younger detective. Dick just grinned, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair and looking up at the images on the large computer screen above them. He whistled lowly, impressed. “You’ve made a lot of progress, nice! Anything you wanna share with me before the debrief tonight?”

Tim clenched and unclenched his jaw, weighing his options. Dick waited patiently, knowing that sometimes Tim needed a minute to sort through his rapid-forming thoughts. Finally Tim sighed, setting down his mug grimly.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted. Tim’s tense tone immediately made Dick stiffen, straightening up. His eyebrows pulled down, and he returned his gaze to the computer.

“Okay, that’s your serious voice. What is it?”

“I… need your confirmation with something,” Tim turned around and looked straight at Dick. And he hesitated again, because certain… past interactions with his eldest brother once again flashed through his head. The entire Bruce-is-alive and being threatened with Arkham interaction, to be specific. But Tim needed to know the truth, it was his fatal flaw he supposed. He couldn’t back away in fear of how Dick might react.

“Ohhhhkay?” Dick just grew more and more concerned the longer that Tim took to actually speak.

“So, just to recap. There are only four people in history who have been able to do a quadruple somersault, right?” Tim asked, knowing full well the answer. Dick, predictably, shifted and grew even more on alert at the inquiry. He knew that couldn’t mean anything good. His jaw clenched, and his hands formed tight fists. But Dick also remembered the Bruce incident with Tim all that time ago, and he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes. So he forced himself to take a deep breath, and shake himself away from jumping to conclusions.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “Me, my parents, and my sister,” he confirmed rigidly. Tim nodded, and then rewound the video on the screen again, nodding to show that Dick should focus on it.

“Okay. But watch this,” Tim suggested, starting the video again. Dick watched as the red and black-spotted heroine of Paris, Ladybug, zipped through the air and around buildings with her yo-yo. He watched as she let go, at a height that even a normal person could manage, and executed four perfect somersaults in mid-air before landing nimbly on the ground. Tim paused the video again, his eyes never leaving Dick’s tense face.

“It isn’t doctored,” Tim said, filling the silence and preemptively answering the questions he knew he would get. “I checked. Magic is involved, but Constantine and Zatanna both confirmed it would have no hold over basic physical abilities like flexibility or… gymnastics. Only specifically combat styles used by past Ladybugs can be transferred magically to the next Ladybug, not this.”

“Tim,” Dick’s voice was terrifyingly blank. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing yet,” Tim was quick to hold up his hands in surrender. “I’m still doing research. It’s possible, though extremely unlikely, that she managed to teach herself how to do that. You tell me, Dick, how likely is it?”

Dick swallowed, not wanting to say it but knowing he had to look at the facts. “... At her age? Next to impossible,” he admitted. “She could learn it, theoretically, as young as seven or eight, but only if someone who knew what they were doing taught her since she was about three.”

Tim nodded again. He knew those numbers, he knew where they came from.

“Then— and this is only a theory right now— we have what I think is the more plausible scenario,” Tim swallowed. This was the hard part. “Your sister was kidnapped after your parent’s death, but the body that was found wasn’t actually her’s. It wasn’t in a state to be physically identified, so—“

“I know what state it was in, Tim!” Dick snapped, forcing himself to take a few steps back and just breath. Even now, the image of a tiny body burned beyond recognition was burned into the inside of his eyelids, there to taunt him whenever he blinked or slept and let his mind wander in just the wrong direction. She would be… what, Jason’s age, now? She was seven… only seven, when their parents died and she ran off into the Gotham streets in despair. When she was kidnapped, as is what happens in Gotham.

When Dick was presented with a body he could not say WASN’T her’s a week later.

“The DNA…” Dick tried. “They said…”

“I know,” Tim’s voice was carefully soft. “But the records on your family’s DNA were all kept by the circus back then. The Talons had access to those files. It’s very possible they were tampered with. Switched. It wouldn’t be hard for them to burn your sister’s actual medical files and replace them with forged copies that had someone else’s DNA on them. The data of the girl who actually died.”

Dick closed his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t want to hope, it would hurt too much if Tim was wrong.

Tim had been right about more unlikely things than this, a voice in the back of his head whispered. And yeah, that was true. But Dick was still too scared to hope.

“Finish your research, Tim,” Dick’s voice was strained with suppressed emotion. He couldn’t even look at the younger vigilante as he left the Cave. “Find out who Ladybug’s civilian persona is, and then we’ll talk.”

Tim could only sigh in relief when Dick was gone. That could have gone much worse.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week later, the entire family was gathered. This was the full debrief on the Paris case, rather than the progress update that they had had to do before. Research took longer than Tim had expected, he had years of data to go through after all. But he had come away with exactly what he had been looking for.

After running through the overall situation and where the fight against HawkMoth was at in the present day, Tim licked his lips and took a deep breath. This was it, the Who-Is-Ladybug part.

“I was able to get security footage of her detransformation, just one lucky shot from ten years ago, when this whole thing began,” he prefaced. “She was thirteen years old, and untrained as far as heroism goes, so it stands to reason she didn’t know yet how to be properly careful about transforming. This is that security picture,” he carefully put the enlarged picture up on the Batcomputer, as well as sliding a physical copy onto the table for everyone to pass around.

Dick didn’t even try to grab it, his eyes glued to the computer, expression unreadable. The picture was a little grainy, but most of the girl’s face could be made out. Pigtails, dark black hair that shimmered blue in direct light, blue eyes.

But it was the next picture that Tim pulled up that pushed everything over the edge.

“These are the official pictures of her that I was able to get from Paris records. This first picture is of her at the same age at the security footage, thirteen. The second picture is her now, age twenty-three,” Tim said, before the side-by-side came up on the screen. Tim’s eyes slid over to Dick, who was frozen in his seat, just staring at the images silently. He wasn’t even breathing.

“Dick?” Bruce asked, immediately noticing the behavior. His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

Dick’s next breath came in with a shudder, and he clenched his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears that came out. He choked out a broken chuckle, shaking his head and giving out a lopsided, watery grin.

“Heh. Another point for Timmy being right,” Dick jokes weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“What do you mean? Tim?” Bruce turned to the younger of the two insistently. “What’s going on? Who is she?”

“Currently, according to Parisian records, she is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim told them. “More specifically, her full name is Marinette Gray Dupain-Cheng. Which I believe is what she chose to change her name to after she was kidnapped sixteen years ago from right outside Haley’s Circus, and illegally transported to France,” Tim clicked another button to bring up a third picture in the side-by-side. It was of someone who was clearly a younger Marinette, but in the very familiar costume of the Flying Graysons, standing right next to a twelve-year old version of Dick. “Because her birth name is Marie Natalia Grayson. Dick’s younger sister, who until now was presumed dead. But I was able to confirm that the medical records back then for Marie were forged, and the information on them could not actually belong to her. The body that was presented as Marie’s… was a red herring to hide that Marie was no longer in America at all.”

Dick’s sob-laugh drew everyone’s attention back to the first Robin, who was now silently, openly, crying. Nobody really knew how to deal with that, and the room descended into awkward silence as Dick tried to regain his composure a little.

“Marinette… Gray,” he whispered, chuckling again and shaking his head as he wiped at his cheeks. “That idiot… her ability with subtlety hasn’t gotten any better, that’s for sure,” he was smiling now, still staring at the pictures of Marinette on the screen. Of his beautiful little sister, all grown up and not buried six feet under like he had thought for far too long.

Because this was different from Hope. This was certainty. The face, the far too on-the-nose name, the somersaults, Dick had even noticed it in the way she swung on her yo-yo. The body memory from years of Trapeze, those little quirks he recognized as belonging to his sister that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But now, all together, he could admit to himself that it was her. It was really her.

Could it be a clone? Maybe. Maybe. But that was why Dick snuck out to France the very next day, informing absolutely nobody.

Because he had a test that only the real Marie would be able to pass.

—*—*—*—*—*

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” the deep, unfamiliar male voice made Marinette squeak in shock, nearly dropping the phone in her hands. She leaned so far to her right that she almost fell over, but her nearly perfect balance (that only failed her when she was nervous or self conscious) kept her upright.

Her eyes darted down to her phone screen, where an app that Max had helped her create was opened. It utilized at least five hundred little fly-shaped drones that Markov managed and kept track of to scan the city for corrupted butterflies and recognize the level of stress or other negative emotions that civilians were experiencing. It cut down severely on patrol time that the crew had to do, making it easier for them to balance their hero and civilian lives and also allowed for them to arrive at the scene of Akuma attacks twice as fast as before— along with helping with the original purpose of catching evidence to use against Hawkmoth, of course.

Marinette straightened her back, smiling sheepishly and closing out the app. She had just been making a routine check, it had only been open for a minute. How had he managed to sneak up on her in that time? Only chat could do that anymore.

That is, until Marinette turned around the rest of the way and got a good look at the man. Her eyes widened— what was Nightwing, a vigilante from Gotham, doing there?

“I don’t see what plausible deniability has to do with anything,” she replied in easy, unaccented English. She might not speak it often, but she did stay in practice. Even now a lot of her fashion notes and thoughts were in either English or Romani. “It’s just a game app that my friend created,” the practiced lie flew easily past her lips, and she was able to even smile confidently and begin to happily ramble about Max’s (public) achievements like she would in any normal situation. “It is still in the test phase of course, but it uses virtual reality and mapping technology to create a treasure hunt sort of adventure game that people can do as they walk around. Like Pokémon go, but with real-time footage of the city— with people not included besides the game characters of course— and it rewards caution as well as keeping active,” she explained their cover story for the app happily. But Nightwing only smiled easily at her with his arms crossed, clearly not believing a single word.

“Ah— but that probably isn’t interesting,” Marinette purposely stuttered, turning her face into one of (surprisingly genuine) confusion as she looked at the vigilante. “What are you here for anyway, Monsieur? This doesn’t seem like—“

“I have a riddle that a friend of mine told me to ask you,” he interrupted, instantly putting Marinette on guard. She took a step back, eyebrows pulling down at the odd request. But still, she chuckled nervously and shrugged. She had to maintain appearances after all.

“Uh, sure..? Riddles are fun, in the right circumstances I guess.”

Nightwing beamed happily, nearly blinding the poor girl. “Awesome!” His next words came out in fluent Romani though: “If a Hummingbird ever gets lost, what kind of animal will track it down?”

Marinette’s mouth went dry, her shoulders dropping. Her mouth opened and closed, the shock of the question leaving her unable to even pretend she didn’t understand exactly what was said. Nightwing’s gaze grew more intense, yet his smile got impossibly soft.

Marinette swallowed thickly, and she took a deep breath before responding in Romani: “You shouldn’t— only one person—“

“That doesn’t answer the riddle, ma’am.”

Marinette’s confusion turned into a harsh glare. “He would never tell someone else to ask me that. What are you trying to play at, Nightwing?” She hissed harshly, still in her native language.

“Listen, Marinette,” Nightwing held up both hands to try to calm her down. It did the opposite, making her take another step back. “Batman and the rest of our team has been looking into the Hawkmoth security—“ Marinette cursed, clearly seeing where this was going. “— We believe he found out who Ladybug is. But, we also found signs that your real name is—“

“Shut up!” She yelled in English, fists clenched tightly. Luckily she had gone into an alleyway to check her phone, or else they would be attracting attention by then. Her eyes sparked with anger. “You don’t get to use that name. And if you’re so smart,” Marinette tucked her phone into her purse and scaled the wall next to her nimbly, perching on the roof as Nightwing cursed and began to follow her. “Then try to predict my moves, birdy.”

It only took a few minutes and crossed rooftops for Marinette to call on her transformation and pick up speed. She knew by then that Nightwing, and probably the other Bats too, already found her out. Not ideal, but manageable. Now she wanted to show him why he shouldn’t come into her territory and dig into her past and think he could get away with it.

Somewhere during the chase, more Bats appeared one by one. Judging by what Ladybug was able to overhear, they had come as soon as they realized where Nightwing had snuck off to.

That made Marinette pause from where she hid behind a sloped roof, in the middle of a call to her own teammates. Nightwing hadn’t come on his team’s orders?

Why the hell had he come, then?

She shook thought thoughts away, focusing on her plan. Paris was her city, and she would make sure the Bats learned their lesson when it came to sticking their nose in Parisian business.

“Bug?” The soft, concerned call came from her yo-yo and pulled her from her contemplating. Max, in full Pegasus attire, was frowning at her in worry on the small screen. She just shook her head at him.

“I’m fine, Peg. Just don’t like how this feels like Gotham ruining my life again,” she remarked sourly. “But I’m fine. Start plan We’re Not Kids.”

Max nodded, but rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like; “even though we made this plan when we actually were kids…”

A portal opened in the air a few seconds later, releasing Honeybee in all her gold and black glory. The winged hero zipped through the air, immediately putting team Miraculous at an advantage since team Bat didn’t want to actually harm them.

It took a glorious five seconds for Honeybee to paralyze them all before Tortoise dropped out from another portal and surrounded the temporarily paralyzed vigilantes in a dome shield that kept them in just as easily as it kept everything else out.

One by one, Marinette’s teammates dropped out of more portals until Pegasus himself joined them. Ladybug took that as her que to come out, leaping over her hiding place to land in front of her friends, who had formed a half-circle in front of the trapped dome.

“Vixen,” she called to the fox-themed hero, whose ears twitched before she straightened to attention. “Create an illusion to hide us. The last thing we need are any pictures or anyone asking questions.”

“Got it!” Vixen agreed easily, raising her flute to her lips. A short melody later, and their surroundings warped. To those inside the illusion, it seemed as if the world merely ended off of the rooftop they were on, into only blankness. Outside, that very rooftop appeared empty.

It was then that Chat Noir stepped up to take Ladybug’s side, his acidic green eyes scanning over the Gotham vigilantes trapped inside Tortoise’s protective barrier.

“You can release the paralysis, Honeybee,” his order was noticeably softer than Ladybug’s clear commands. It was obvious that he was the deputy in this situation, the flexibility to Ladybug’s iron leadership. That was when the red clad hero crossed her arm, resuming control of the situation wordlessly. The Gotham heroes briefly glowed gold as Honeybee let their paralysis begin to gradually wear off.

“Paris is my city,” Ladybug’s voice was at a normal volume, but came out with such auditory steel that it was clear she expected to be listened to, or she’d know why. “If I needed or wanted your help, I would have asked for it. Now, if you had come here normally to offer aid, then we might be having a different discussion right now,” her eyes narrowed further. “But you dug into my past. You violated my privacy. And Nightwing, you crossed a line,” she would have continued if the blue and black clad hero didn’t use his sudden ability to move to rip off his mask.

Marinette’s voice died in her throat, and for a while she thought she might be hallucinating. Those eyes, that face— she knew them. She knew them, because she saw them whenever she dared close her eyes. Because the dreams she had, the dreams that made her never want to drag herself out of bed because she wanted to believe those dreams were real so badly, always contained those eyes. And that face, though it had been much younger in her memories.

She stumbled, and only Chat’s presence at her side kept her from toppling right over.

“Bugaboo?” He asked frantically, distraught. She just shook her head dazedly, pushing herself back to her feet and away from her partner.

“I’m fine, Chat. Just…,” she assured her partner, but her eyes never left Nightwing. She licked her lips nervously, before continuing; “... Bluebird,” she whispered, making Nightwing’s eyes widen. Her brother’s eyes. “That’s the answer to the riddle, right?”

Slowly, a wide smile split his face before he began to laugh happily, despite Robin slapping Nightwing’s mask back on his face with a furious grumble.

“Ladybug?” Tortoise asked, stepping up to her other side cautiously. Seeing as they were all adults now, none of them had to worry about time or power limits anymore. “Are you..?”

“Release the shield,” she ordered instead of answering, her eyes clearly damp behind her mask. “I need to strangle my idiotic older brother for scaring the hell out of me.”

That made the rest of her team make their various exclamations of shock, but Chat and Tortoise stayed silent. Chat just put a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder in support, while Tortoise zipped his wide gaze back to Nightwing before sighing and releasing his ability.

“Only you, Bug,” the green clad hero groused playfully. “Only you.”

If Marinette Dupain-Cheng suddenly introduced her long-lost brother to her closest friends and family that same night, nobody voiced the coincidence out loud.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1: Romance

Part 3: Bio!Parent

[whimpering-hearts]

SASSY-JELLYFISH: Which 2p's in axis and allies would survive a Bird Box or The Happening scenario? Thank you so much, I really enjoy your writing.

So, this is an interesting question, because to me surviving a Bird Box or The Happening scenario is just as much about luck as it is about actual survival skills. It’s not like a zombie apocalypse, where you can theoretically beat the shit out of the monster and survive. Here, all it takes is one asshole removing your blindfold or throwing you out into the garden and, bam, you’re dead.

For the purpose of this question, I’ll use Bird Box as the scenario, because I just watched it this morning just so I could answer this question. For those who haven’t seen the movie, a general idea of what we’re working with:

There are invisible entities terrorizing the world. If you see them, you are either enraptured by them and become a devout slave intent on spreading their image (by removing others’ blindfolds), or you are driven by intense sadness or fear to kill yourself.

Because nations are normally immortal, we will say for the sake of this scenario that death by one of these entities is one of the few permanent deaths a nation can face.

2P America / Jason A. Cardinali: He’s one of the first to die. He might have the survival skills to handle a zombie apocalypse, or a viral outbreak that drives everyone crazy, but this? Invisible entities? Yeah, right, you’re pulling his leg. He’ll tease you for being paranoid, then open the front door despite your begging protests. See? Nothing to be scared - and then he goes quiet, too quiet. You watch from behind your parted fingers as he walks into the kitchen, takes the butcher knife, and slices his own throat open from ear to ear.

2P China / Xiaoyu “Xiao” Wen: Xiao’s answer to stress is to get high - and so he does. He loses himself to the opium, to the cocaine, to the ecstasy, to the hallucinogens, sees the world in a fuzzy haze. He tells you it’s a survival tactic, that if you can’t see them, if you’re so blinded to reality, they can’t get you. And, for a while, you think he’s right. But then one night you’re woken by the screams, his screams, far from you, outside, and without thought you race to him. He’s clawing at his face, at his eyes, digging fingers into his sockets and scraping and pulling. His words are incoherent, terrified, desperate, and when you try to calm him, he turns his fingers onto you. “You can’t see it - you can’t see it. It’s so horrible!”

2P England / Oliver Townsend: He’s managing the lunch crowd at the bakery when it happens. People run down the street, screaming. Cars drive into each other, into crowds, into the brick building across the street. He goes to the front door - glass, all of it’s glass, the windows, the door, everything - and looks out to see what’s causing this mayhem. And see it he does. It’s beautiful, riveting, powerful, how could these fools run from something so glorious? So, he finds you upstairs and takes you by the hand.

“Come here, poppet, I want you to see something amazing.”

2P France / Jacques Girardot: The first person he calls is Oliver. Oliver, who does not answer, who forces Jacques to leave a voicemail telling him Jason is dead. The second person he calls is Beau. So many things he doesn’t say, so many regrets he doesn’t voice. Your hand is a comforting weight on his arm, your face pressed against his shoulder. You have no food. You have no water. You have nothing. Jacques may be able to survive on wine and self-hatred, but you are human, more delicate. So, he braves the mayhem and goes to the store - and he never comes back. He bleeds out on the market floor, his final thoughts of you.

2P Germany / Lars Brenner: It was his idea to go on a supply run - a foolish, terrible idea, he realizes now, because you’re both lost on the streets of Munich, hearts pounding and breaths quick, desperate, as you try to find any identifiable landmark. Your hand is warm in his sweaty palm and he squeezes it tight, hangs onto you with a desperation fueled by adrenaline. It feels like you’re going in circles - if he peeked, just for a second, just for one look, he might be able to tell where you are. But the moment he does, his heart goes cold with fear and his mind screams. You feel him pull away, call for him, voice thin, panicked, fall silent when you hear it: the beating thuds of Lars bludgeoning himself to death with the chair leg he’d brought to protect you.

2P Japan / Ren Suzuki: For Ren, the best course of action after witnessing the outbreak of suicides is obvious: if seeing is what drives you to madness, then clearly seeing is the problem. He blinds you first, not flinching at your screams, your pleading tones, blinds you with household chemicals that burn. His care of you after is delicate, apologetic - bandages over your eyes, with a kiss over each socket. After, he blinds himself. It’s the only way to survive, and you will survive.

2P North Italy / Luciano Valentini: “Safe room. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument. You’re sent scurrying to the deepest, safest parts of the mansion, hidden away from both monsters and men. And he stands at the door, your fiercest, most loyal guard. He kills the men who come to his house seeking refuge, kills the men who come and speak in hushed, reverent tones and tell him to look, just look. Sometimes, in between the killing, he hears the whispers, feels the wind brush across his skin, but he doesn’t give in. Because the moment he gives in you are dead, and you are everything.

2P Russia / Pyotr Ruslyakov: Like everything, it starts in Russia - and Pyotr is not impressed. He watches his neighbors let strangers into their homes and fall prey to their minds, watches as they lay themselves out for death to take, and he shakes his head because fools, they’re all fools. He keeps you close, keeps the doors locked and the windows covered, ignores the pleas for help, ignores the please to let us in, let us in, please, keeps you safe with him because if you’re going to survive this you have to be clever about it, you have to be smart. He doesn’t care if the whole world falls into ruins as long as you are alive.

2P South Italy / Flavio Valentini: He is in a perfect state of bliss. His mind is quiet save for the whispers, the voices, your voice, telling him to spread the vision of these most glorious creatures, telling him to help the rest of the world see. Flavio was, unfortunately, one of the first to fall to the invisible entities. He wanted you to be the second, his second, but when he pried your eyelids open and made you see, you were so overwhelmed by the vision of your new masters. He could only watch, pained, disappointed, a lost part of him screaming beneath the calm, as you poured the wine from dinner onto your clothes and set yourself aflame.

[antikristvs]

Could you do the rest of the autumnal asks? :D

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did? - Acting

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say? - “Do not betray your culture because everyone idolizes America. Stand with the Gods of your Ancestors, do not flock together with sheep. There is no shame in being unique”

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other? - I currently have two people I’d consider my best friends. One I met in a literature event we both sent our writing to and soon realized we have a lot in common. Other I met on here, we connected through our love for metal and horror. Shout out to @forestrunewitch (who ditched tumblr for ages already, R.I.P.) and @cthulhu-is-metal 🖤

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? - Valak (The Conjuring/The Nun), Bughuul (Sinister), Temperance Brennan, Phantom of the Opera, Freddy Krueger, Damien Karras. I am obviously exclufing characters of my own creation. fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like? - full of band shirts and horror merch, several dresses from killstar, a few pairs of combat boots (heels, too) and biker pants, a couple or three of fantasmagoria bags and coats, a lot of leather attire, countless acressories, piece or two of lingerie and many oversized band/horror hoodies. Sounds about that. . cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy? - mushroomsamber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have. - I am afraid most of my opinions are… unpopular, especially fandom wise. Let’s say I think Cardinal Copia is the actual Horseman of Pestilence, a dominant in bed and a bisexual with heavy preference for women. Also I think Valak is the most attractive character in The Conjuring/The Nun.fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario? - Wonderful as long as I am a good ruler to the deadjack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose? - Taissa Farmiga or Winona Ryderspice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted? - No, at least by a malevolent spirit. Speaking about a benevolent one, I am pretty sure he stayed in his home, but I could not confirm his presence, neither could his wifeorchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn. - see the new Michap Myers move on Halloweencrow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for? - Physics. An awful teacher ruined it for me before I realized how much it interests me. bonfire - describe your dream house. - right now I mostly imagine an apartament. It’s small, because I am young and just starting to gain, though fitting me, my cat, my rats, maybe even a dog, a snake, a rabbit and my theoretical significant other. The walls are covered in metal and horror posters, a few flags hang too. The space itself is a mess. Shelves break from my collection of books, figurines, props, cds and dvds. I possess a lot of house plants, and the couch is not enough for cushions, blankets and horror plushies. Neither is the bed. Clothes are thrown everywhere. The air has heavy smell of perfume, cigarette smoke and books. The tables are ridden with art supplies, magazines, candles, bottles of whiskey, notebooks… I don’t know. The vision is pretty abstract. I’d lay it out far better if I had seen the space.cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where? - Old heathen Lithuania most likely. cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school? - I have not yet graduated and I am pretty sure I will never misd that fuckhole. cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on? - my eyes and my hairmaize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street. - I pressed the wrong number on my door code and had to wait a few seconds. Suddenly, there was a man running towards me. I panicked. Luckily, I managed to get the code right the second time. I slammed the door just as the man was to reach me. I did not not know what he wanted and I did not want to find out despite I probably would have been able to defend myself as he, in the brief flash, seemed of honorable age. He slammed at the door, cussing. I felt relieved. I was safe. Only a while after I realized I never heard a sound… no footsteps, no voice, no slam… I still wonder was he really there. quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)? - I enjoy various herbal teas, fruit teas, black tea with almond milk or lemon, lemon tea with sugar or honey. As for coffee, I drink it either raw black, those insmatnt 3in1 coffees or sometimes just choose an interesting latte as well as other coffee drink variations that intrigue me in the coffee shop. pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad? - Neither. It is purely a choice. moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly? - Definitely messy. My house and room is the opposite of orderly.flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date? - No, but I have been in a bad place in a relationship. cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have? - I would have long, luscious, slightly wavy black hair with “666” shaved into the temple.ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life? - Yes