#already there are FEELINGS man
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fvzzyelf · 1 month ago
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this wasn't him. over and over his heart brayed those words, a constant thrumming reminder in his pointed ears.
(it's not him, it's not him, it's not him--)
and yet... he laughed the same. chewed and chomped on a cigar the same. wore the same kinds of shirts, had the same slight crease at the corner of his eyes where even a healing factor was no match to time's touch shown in crow's feet.
he smelled the same too. that was maybe the worst part for kurt. the sweet, smoky vanilla of cigars and the bright bite of canadian whiskey, the exact same one his logan used to drink.
still drank, if his universe was still standing. kurt didn't know and had long since given up finding out. what was the point when it had been months now here, and before that even longer in that hellscape of the voidland. kurt made peace with it, and then came this logan and his peace shattered.
it was too easy to fall into old habits.
(it's not him, it's not-)
like flirting shamelessly, even if his logan and this one were clueless to what kurt really meant. that was always okay, he didn't think it would ever be more, kurt never got his hopes up that way and he had plenty of ways to distract himself with plenty of other people who were obviously very, very willing.
but this universe felt different. like a new beginning. what was the harm?
so he leaned in, spoke his observation... and then a three fingered hand skated down the man's spine, the excuse for touch coming from the fact that this party was a little crowded in this tiny apartment. they were watching shatterstar show off switchblade tricks, wade being used as the assistant that got stabbed more often than not.
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"mm, perhaps. but there is more to that. i am drawn to people who are dangerous... and not complete imbeciles. i like a little thoughtfulness in the risky behavior, a more obvious intent..." this was spoken with a lopsided smile, a smug knowing expression as he watched wade howl from losing another finger.
it wasn't him, but kurt didn't care just then.
@gobubyourself
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bbbbbbbbatman · 1 year ago
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Bruce gets accosted by reporters and one of them asks "Is it true that you're in competition with Superman to win Batman's affections?" and he is so taken aback bc what the fuck are they even talking about? There are a million questions going through his head such as, since when was superman into batman? since when was this public knowledge? wtf did bruce say to imply that he was into batman as well? And he doesn't have an answer to any of these questions so he just smiles and says, "No, I'm not. The word competition implies that Superman has a chance, which he does not."
why did he say that? Bruce doesn't know, it just felt like that's how Bruce Wayne would've responded bc what's more Brucie than fighting with Superman for Batman's heart? anyway, upon reflection, this was maybe not the best response in terms of long term consequences, but he's committed to the bit now.
a week after all this goes down, news reporter Clark Kent is caught saying that Batman deserves better than Bruce Wayne, so is a third suitor putting his hat in the ring to win over batman?
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ihatebrainstorm · 10 months ago
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A little thingy from my nonsense sketchbook
Hope you all have a wonderful day- And if not, hang on a bit longer, you’ll get through it 🌤️
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littlemoonflowr · 2 months ago
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is this anything
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technically-human · 1 month ago
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Ooh, now that we’ve seen N!Edwin and DP!Edwin talk about Feelings could we see the same with N!Charles and DP!Charles?
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As simple as that.
Edwins version
ko-fi
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archiepelago · 8 days ago
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wyvernity · 7 months ago
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been thinking about the sinnohtrio lately......plus misc other stuff
also, casual ko-fi drop!! get something in this sketchy style starting at $10 woop woop
#finally decided to do a commission test run u_u#pokemon#trainer lyra#trainer kris#trainer dawn#trainer lucas#rival barry#rival silver#ayalumi#hisuian zorua#luxio#timeskip tag#rkgk#anyway it's sinnoh time !!!#still figuring out their designs and lore but this works for now#god's specialest little guys & their very normal bestfriend who they would kill/die for. up to interpretation who is killing/dying#dawn is the platinum protag who meets giratina and becomes champion#distortion world affected her way more than compared to cynthia and cyrus since she's still a developing kid. but hey cool ghost hair!#4-5 yrs later lucas gets blasted to hisui..lost his memory for the three years he's there and when arceus sends him back he's just like Man#the entire time barry is CHILLING PLAYING HAVING FUN#and forever worried abt his friends ): dawn & lucas are soo nonchalant about what happened to them it's a bit concerning to everyone else#design comments umm the only thing that matters is that they still have their og scarves 👍#and i guesss these are spring/summer outfits. winter dawn gets leggings and big coat ok. she already has too much yin energy#btw i use the cleanse tag as the direct opposition to the spell tag even tho that's probably not a real thing LOL)#oh yea barry wears the tower master ribbon 24/7. tower tycoon in training and won't shut up about it (i love him)#character dynamics i will talk abt that in another post if i feel like it... these days i just want to go replay pla aughh
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secretsimpleness · 3 months ago
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Sometimes I want to bring Morrigan but then I remember I play as a face-tanking rogue and I bring Wynne. Warden Cousland, Morrigan, Wynne / Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware
#dragon age#dragon age fan art#comic#morrigan#warden cousland#healer#bioware#dao#dragon age origins#hero of ferelden#cousland#wynne#I'm back. I guess.#I did not notice at first but apparently I took a break from tumblr. I've already had several breakdowns over the dashboard.#(turns out I was on the 'for you' tab rather than the 'following' tab. the theme had changed as well. absolutely insufferable.)#I've felt really unconnected for a while but it actually feels better now? as if my tumblr mutuals was the missing link.#very healthy and hot of me ngl#so. I had a two week holiday this year and they were instantly slurped up. it went so fast!#there was this big football thing the week before my holiday - basically teams of teens come from all around the world to play etc.#I heard a girl tell her teammates that 'I'd love to travel on this bus every morning; happy people all around you; just add some music...'#she was also very excited when the bridge opened. the 'happy people' around her sighed bitterly and leaned back for a ten minute wait.#it is thankfully over now. the bus home is no longer stuffed full of football teams. but it's a fun experience for the players etc etc etc#well. in other thrilling news I went to spy on our sister shops during my time off. to see what they do differently. maybe steal some ideas#one store was like an instagram post with fancy teacups and stylish outfits. who knew a second-hand store could be so boring.#the other was like a man-cave with furniture and a passively-aggressive note by the toys stating that 'if u break it u pay. idiot. tnx<3'.#the man-cave was my favourite :)#rant over now! take care and bye etc!
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ceruark · 2 months ago
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DANCE WITH THE DEVIL.
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synopsis: yan! hsr men as slasher movie killers… and “love interests.” [blade, boothill, aventurine, sunday] words: 3.1k cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking. slasher elements, gore. a/n: happy friday the 13th to all who celebrate
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BLADE is already pretty much like Michael Myers from Halloween: large man, terrifying presence, unfathomable kill count, and cannot die. No matter what you do, no matter how many times you or the other survivors find a way to kill him, he keeps coming back, and with renewed vengeance every time.
The first time you’d been subjected to his knife was at a summer camp. Having gone there every summer for years growing up, you grew attached to the place and decided to pick up a role as a counselor in the summers following your high school graduation, and they passed peacefully. However, in the few months leading up to your college graduation, misfortune befell the small town where the camp was located. Someone’s grave had been dug up, and just weeks after that, people started turning up dead, their bodies littered with so many stab wounds that some were unrecognizable.
Given the ongoing investigation, the counselors and other camp staff requested that the summer camp not reopen, but the owners and even some parents insisted they stay open, and so despite your better judgment, you returned. You needed the money, and you knew how to defend yourself— if anything happened, you could keep yourself and your kids safe.
At least, that’s what you believed. When the man appears in the doorway of your cabin, his stocky figure silhouetted by the moonlight and leaving two red eyes gleaming down at you, you know there’s not a chance in hell you’re making it out of there alive.
You’d thrown yourself at him, yelling for your kids to escape through the back. He’s been merciless, sinking his knife into your flesh over and over again, but you persevered and fought back until you were sure every single one of your kids had made it a good distance away from the cabin. At some point you’d collapsed, from exhaustion and blood loss.
The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. They had your house guarded since he hadn’t been detained, but once word of his death by police gunfire got around, things calmed down significantly. You relaxed over the years, letting your guard down and believing that things could return to normal. Serial killings all over the nation popped up, but you worried not—after all, the killer you were concerned with was dead.
One of the survivors reached out to you five years after that fateful night, wishing to get together with the others who lived to get drinks and properly move on from everything. It was, of course, a set up; Blade had returned, and the man who invited you believed he’d be spared if he got the rest of the survivors together in one place.
He’d been the first one murdered that night. 
Once again, you narrowly dodged death, just barely managing to get yourself to a hospital before you received one stab wound too many. Time goes on, and no matter how many times they put a bullet through his head, he manages to come back. The list of survivors has grown, but the list of victims is now countless.
You’re in your thirties when the police reach out to the adult survivors. There’s a new survivor: a five year-old girl by the name of Yunli. Her parents had been ruthlessly slaughtered, but he hadn’t touched even a single hair on the young girl’s hair. She didn’t have any living family, and so, you agreed to take her in. 
Life is easier with Yunli in it. A bright, spunky little thing, she brings joy to your days and some semblance of a family that you’ve been too scared to seek out. It’s nice to have the sound of laughter filling your home.
That same laughter has you smiling tonight, the girl’s giggling floating down the hallway and into the kitchen, where you’re washing dishes. A quick glance at the microwave’s clock tells you it’s close to her bedtime, and she’s far more energetic than she typically would be at this time. You wipe your hands off on a dish towel and walk down the hall toward her room, wishing to find out what’s working her up at this hour and wanting to tell her to wind down before bed.
You knock lightly before turning the knob. You get the door open a crack before the sight on the other side of it leaves you frozen, horrified.
He’s in Yunli’s room, kneeling before her as she shows him the many dolls you’ve bought her. His knife is on the floor beside him, and the eyes that have haunted your dreams for years pierce into you, pinning you where you stand.
The girl seems… happier with you, than she had been with her parents. Perhaps he’ll have to be kinder to you this time.
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BOOTHILL gives me Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes in terms of how he kills and the brutality of it all, but not personality-wise. No, I actually think he’d be quite personable with that southern charm of his— so of course, no one would ever expect him to do anything unspeakable.
You and your friends are on a road trip when the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing but fields of crops as far as the eye can see, and the only sign of civilization is a barn, some stables, and a few coops with two houses near them about a mile away from where you’re standing.
You all make the trek, hoping to be able to get some help from the people living there. Worst case scenario, if it’s all been abandoned, you can squat there and look for tools to help you fix the car. But to your surprise, when you knock, a kind-looking man with wild white and black hair opens the door, and after hearing about your situation, is more than happy to be of assistance.
He tows the car onto his property and takes a look at it, determining that the entire engine needs to be replaced. Given his distance from the nearest auto shop, he says he’ll leave for town Sunday afternoon and get the part on Monday morning. It’s going to be an all-day trip, so he likely won’t be back until early Tuesday morning.
You’ve got a couple days to get to know him, in the meantime. Your friends absolutely adore him, pointing out how good of a guy he is, some even pointing out how attractive he is. You scoff one night as he’s making dinner away from where you’re all sitting, as one of your friends starts a bet on if any of you will be able to sleep with him before all of this is over.
Sunday afternoon comes all too soon, though, and none of you get very far with him before he’s heading off in his truck toward the nearest town. You’re a bit shocked that he would so willingly leave a group of strangers in his house unattended, but you chalk it up to his kindness that seems to be boundless.
You should have been far more concerned.
You’re all woken up that night by the sound of a chainsaw revving, shortly followed by one of your friend’s horrible shrieking. The room devolves into panic and chaos as you watch her get torn to shreds by the very man who invited you into his home, now donning a mask of what you hope is animal skin.
You all flee in different directions, but he knows the property better than you do, and sure enough, your friends are picked off one by one until you’re the last one standing. You narrowly dodge some of the traps he’s set up and take refuge in the stables, struggling to keep yourself together as you hear your friend’s cries in the distance. 
While looking for something to defend yourself with, you find a box hidden in a pile of hay. It’s locked, but you force it open, dumping its contents on the floor. A pistol, a few handwritten letters, and pictures of a woman and a young girl. You place the pistol beside you before your curiosity takes over, causing you to slowly go through and study the pictures.
In your distracted state, you failed to notice that he’d gotten into the stables. You jump to your feet when the chainsaw revs just a few feet in front of you. You turn off the safety and raise the gun, your hand steady and your shot clear.
He’s lost so much in his life, and it’s driven him to madness. And you, you remind him of something— someone precious who he lost to illness, to the cruelty of life.
He can’t lose you again. He won’t allow you to leave.
And that’s not something you’ll realize until he’s staring at you from the barrel of a gun you believe is loaded, laughing for a reason you can’t understand.
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AVENTURINE stepped right out of a Scream movie. He’s a classic Ghostface-type killer, phone calls and everything. He’s certainly got the charisma needed to make the intimidating phone calls, and I feel like he would enjoy stalking and toying around with his prey a bit before going in for the kill. 
You could probably argue that he’s not the type to want to make things messy, but I feel like in this case, he would be using this as an outlet, meaning all his kills are brutal and gory. (Creative, at times, too. The police will give him that.) There’s just something so comforting about being covered in blood, the warm liquid almost serving as a warm embrace.
For him, there aren’t any better targets than his close friend group. He knows all their darkest secrets, and has no problem using his knowledge to torment them and easily back them into a corner, too panicked to see him coming until it’s too late. These people have always been fake, anyway, and he knows they’ve always looked down on him. Can you really blame him for taking out the trash?
And then, of course, there’s you. You’re not a saint by any means— no, you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in the closet, and each secret you divulge to him because of the trust you foolishly placed in him is sweeter than any death he could imagine giving you. Maybe that’s what draws him to you so much; where everyone else wears a mask, there’s something about you that’s genuine, and it’s a side of you that you’ve entrusted to only him.
So when the killer finally shows up on your doorstep, he’s the one you turn to. As you’re on the phone with the killer, responding to his taunts in an attempt to figure out where exactly he is in your house, you’re texting Aventurine on the side and sending him what you believe is your last goodbye. 
“Do you want to be forgiven?” The disguised voice on the other line croons into your ear. “Do you think you should be?”
You’ve just pressed send on your message when a hand seizes you by the back of the neck and throws you to the ground. The impact of hitting the hardwood floor distracts you from the sound of a phone buzzing nearby. You scramble backward, attempting to get to your feet as you do, but the masked man grabs onto your foot and sinks his knife into your calf, ripping a pained screech from your throat.
He drags you back toward him before settling on top of you, his legs straddling your waist rather suggestively. He sinks his blade into you and drags it across your skin slowly, the scorching pain leaving you writhing and crying out in pain.
He flees once he hears sirens in the distance. The police find you on the floor of your living room with four stab wounds and multiple cuts. Aventurine shows up not long after them, disheveled and worried and flashing the police the text you sent him. They allow him to ride in the ambulance with you, admiring his intent to endanger himself if it meant saving you.
You’re so frazzled that you don’t even notice he showed up at your house way sooner than he should’ve, as though he was already nearby. You just blindly turn to him for comfort, clutching onto him for dear life. It’s cute.
He runs his hands through your hair soothingly, shushing you and gently rubbing your back as you sob into his shoulder. You shouldn’t worry so much, dear. He’s here now, and he’ll make sure no one else lays a finger on you ever again.
You don’t realize your grave mistake until you’re standing in Jade’s basement, her brutalized body at your feet and a metal pipe in your hands. You can defend yourself all you like, but it’s far too easy for the masked killer to evade your swings and land his blade in your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh. All places that won’t kill you, of course.
When you finally collapse to your knees, sobbing hysterically and succumbing to your fate, the killer unexpectedly drops to his knees beside you. He wraps his arms around you and presses his chest to your back, trapping you in his hold. You shudder as he runs his blade along your face and neck, smearing your own blood across your soft skin.
“It’s okay,” he coos, and the familiar voice makes you freeze. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The mocking laughter that follows makes your heart drop, and the rest of your hope vanishes.
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SUNDAY is definitely involved in some Children of the Corn type of shit. Some supernatural slasher stuff where there’s a cult behind everything, and he’s at the head of it all.
Ena is not a kind god. Countless generations of Oaks have tried various methods of worship and offerings, but none work quite as well as the human sacrifice. This is something Mr. Wood had taught him from a very young age, explaining to Sunday their history as he methodically cut up whichever poor soul had wandered into their humble, hidden town that week.
As head of the Family, he’s exemplary. No one has ever wielded a blade quite like he has, his hand always steady and unflinching. His blessed hands bring prosperity to the land that has never been seen before, Ena’s favor raining down on him and his people. He is as revered as their god at this point, and there is nothing his people would not do for him.
The road trip you make every year to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving was a long one, and a sudden downpour along the way has you rolling to a stop in the nearest town. You plan to just take shelter at a restaurant and grab a bite to eat while you’re there, then fill up on gas and be on your merry way once everything clears up. 
Everyone is so kind, though. The locals in the restaurant make conversation with you, asking about your life and cooing at you once you explain that you’re on your way to visit your family. You spend most of your time talking to the people at the table next to you, a man and his sister, and you get so lost in conversation that you haven’t even realized night has fallen. You pay your bill and are ready to head out when the man stops you.
“You should stay the night at one of the inns,” he advises, a delicate hand placed on your shoulder. “There are still storm clouds, and it could start pouring again at any moment. It would be unfortunate to have to travel through that, especially at night.”
You check the forecast, and to your dismay, he’s right. With his help, you check into a hotel across the street, and you thank him for his assistance before you turn in for the night.
Your peaceful sleep is soon disrupted by a rag being held over your mouth and nose, startling you awake. At this point, you’ve already breathed in the chloroform, and you barely have time to register the formless figures around your bed dressed in shades of white and navy blue before you pass out.
You wake up in an underground cellar, stone walls encasing you in cold nothingness. There are four other people in the room with you, also bound and gagged and staring back at you with wide-eyed terror. There are screams of pain echoing down the stairs from somewhere above you all, the sound of synchronized chanting doing little to mask it.
It’s not difficult to guess what fate awaits you.
Young children dressed in extremely formal clothing bring you all food and water. They’re sweet to you all, terribly so. You’re not sure how long you’re down there, but the time you have left is counted down with each person that is taken out of the room. There are new people brought into the cellar, but once the original four you were with are gone, you know your time has come.
The next time the shapeless people in robes descend the steps, they reach for you. You’re injected with some kind of sedative before you even have the chance to lash out at them, and the blindfold they place over your eyes seems pointless, since you black out, anyways.
When you wake, your arms and legs are bound to some kind of marble slab that you’ve been laid on. You’ve been stripped, and your skin is covered in some kind of oil. It’s cold, and the vulnerability of being exposed just makes your situation all the worse.
Your breath hitches and your pitiful, muffled cries for help stop when you feel something sharp prick your skin. Sunday lightly applies pressure to the knife in his hand, carving beautiful patterns along the surface of your skin. With his free hand, he traces a gloved finger over the beads of blood the blade leaves behind, his touch so devout it’s downright sinful. The sight of you brings him pause, the knife stopping all too suddenly.
It is the first time he has hesitated during a ritual.
Perhaps… you’re not meant to be sacrificed. No, surely something as divine as you is meant for much more than that. Perhaps Ena has lured you here just for him, a reward for his unwavering faith, steady leadership, and all he has done for their people.
“As the highest among us,” Mr. Wood had said the day he named Sunday the new head of the Family, “you have first pick at reaping Ena’s blessings.”
Ena is not a kind god. But perhaps, just this once, they would allow him to be selfish.
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mueritos · 5 months ago
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happy pride to all queer children of immigrants
patreon
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benevolenterrancy · 2 months ago
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May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home
#svsss#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#bingqiu#sqq#lbh#scum villain#heard the song Take This Body Home by Rose Betts and it nearly took me out at the knees#it really really suits sqq's self-detonation in hua yue city right? i'm not the only one feeling this?#considered adding some literal shards for them to be stepping on - since sqq's sword explodes - but i couldn't quite make it work#anyway this has been playing like a music video in my head for the past couple days highly recommend listening to the song#if you haven't heard it before#can't get over the absolute dissonance between how sqq views this scene and how everyone else must feel about it#like to him he's just completing his plan - hopefully keeping lbh from destroying a city with energy imbalance and escaping The Plot#nbd! he and sqh have planned it all out it's FINE :) off he goes!#meanwhile everyone who loves him - including lbh who worked years to get back to him and is trying to work through a lot of grief#and resentment and doubt and longing and... - watches him DIE in FRONT OF THEM#just collapse while coughing up blood sword disintegrating energy completely consumed#like holy hell sqq could you traumatize the people around you any more???#no wonder lbh went a little bit crazy after that like my man was already not in a great place but what the fuck#lbh watches his shizun presumably sacrifice himself for him ONCE AGAIN like after he's finally Gotten Strong his shizun is STILL#coming to harm in an effort to make up for his shortcomings#my art#most of the time out here drawing what amounts to muppets and then sometimes i get the urge for this and just need to cover everyone in blo
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ruporas · 1 year ago
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in a mood (ID in alt)
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fisherrprince · 16 days ago
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Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,
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#sorry it’s how my brain works (sometimes can only see things in terms of tv scene-)#tumblr exclusive video fancy…#dcmk#my art#(quietly coughing and spluttering) OK alright I can feel the creative brain explosion slowing down. geez#coughs.#nyways. weird that there hasn’t really been a main case where poison is involved in a certain way#If I watch my own scribbled boards for too long im gonna get too embarrassed to post. Send post#Subarus hair is still infuriating by the way like take that off your normal hair is easier. The beanie is easier#you like Have to have the side corners on this haircut or it doesn’t look right#anyways. shiho ptsd moments I think she kind of gets irritated that shinichi doesn’t react the same so when he does she gets like#weirded out and vindicated and a little protective. Like woah wait. Love that you understand me rn don’t like that you feel bad I am going…#to…………. ssssssssssit here about it…………………………….. uhhhh. do you want. a rubix cube to get your mind off it#I don’t want to talk about my feelings I just want you to get it. you don’t wanna talk about your feelings either which is……………. Hmmmmmm#I like her. love of my life miyano shiho#masumi sera#conan edogawa#ai haibara#akai shuichi#let conan swear. HE SWEARS A LOT BUT LET HIM SWEAR IN ENGLISH I KNOW HE KNOWS THEM#man needs his emotional support akai family they like him#rigorous trials to being approved by the akai matriarch but everyone else likes him already and have already picked him up multiple times#and shuichi would let him swear
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6ebe · 5 months ago
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When I said Spain were violating child Labour regulations I didn’t think they actually were 😭
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egophiliac · 1 year ago
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BOOK SEVEN IS COMING TO ENGLISH TOMORROW!! AHHH I THOUGHT I HAD MORE TIME TO MENTALLY PREPARE FOR THE TRAUMA!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!
🚨 AHHHHHHHH! IT'S COMING! 🚨
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I'm wonder if it's going to be broken up the same way? I know Eng sometimes chunks things differently (you guys apparently got the entire back half of 6 in one enormous update?!), so I'm curious if we'll have the same cliffhangers! :O there is...so much that happens...
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little-pondhead · 1 year ago
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Classic "promised-at-birth-to-the-Ghost-King" story, except the contract never states how, exactly, the King is to use the offered soul. Usually, one would be offered as a bride or sacrifice. But with Pariah Dark sealed away, his retainers got a little lazy in the last few millennia. They just made some generic contracts and practically handed them out like candy.
When Danny took over as king via conquest, that included all the weird and messed up soul contracts the previous retainers had signed. And since ghost magic was a thing and seemed to have it out for Danny personally, many of these contracts updated their terms and conditions as soon as that crown hit Danny's head, reflecting the new King's subconscious desires and personality.
This caused many issues with those still around to profit from these contracts. Some people lost their power, some gained more, and some were unbound and kicked to the curb. A few special people found themselves dropping dead after their less-than-ethical abilities disappeared.
Danny was unaware of the chaos he had unintentionally caused for quite a while. It was only brought to his attention when a letter arrived on his desk one day with a copy of someone's valid contract enclosed. The new changes have been highlighted, and a separate note is attached.
It seems that in exchange for blessings of near-immortality for her infant son, a mother had offered Pariah Dark both their souls in order to ensure her child's survival during harsh times. (The souls were to be collected upon death and were to be used as soldiers in the King's Army.) The mother's soul had returned to the Keep decades ago and was recently assigned to tend to the gardens, while her son seemed to have grown into a fine gentleman and was still alive. He used his mother's gifts to serve his country and loved ones well, it seemed.
At first, Danny didn't see what any of this had to do with him. If the mother was already a part of his kingdom, and the son would be eventually, why was a letter about the whole thing showing up before him?
Then he read the revised contract, which bore his magical signature. A signature that overruled the power of Pariah and binding it to him.
'...and as such, in return for the abilities stated above, [Mary Pennyworth] and [Alfred Pennyworth] will fulfill the conditions detailed below, upon pain of Ending.
[Mary Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a lieutenant in the Skeleton Army caretaker in the Gardens of Pluto.
STATUS: COMPLETED
[Alfred Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a general in the Skeleton Army caretaker of the King and his Court.
STATUS: PENDING'
Danny had to re-read the contract several times to understand what it was saying. He now had a caretaker? What did a caretaker do? Was it like a ghost parent? Could this guy ghost-ground him??
He sighed and pressed the speed dial on his phone for Tucker. Time to find out who the hell this Alfred Pennyworth guy was, and how to break a magic contract when it wasn't even fulfilled yet.
Meanwhile, Alfred had just found the original copy of the contract amongst his mother's belongings after it glowed and drew him in. The paperwork cleared up a lot of mysteries he'd always wondered about himself, even if he disapproved of his mother's methods. Nonetheless, he smoothed out the aged paper with dark green ink, noted the fresh (sloppy, a teenager?) signature, and began preparing to meet this supposed new King and his Court.
It wouldn't hurt to make introductions before he died, after all.
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