#it’s like rabbit heart (raise it up) origin of

[felixravinstills]

I was listening to a song and I was like “haha, Felix-core” and then I was like “kind of me core too actually.” Then, the lyrics registered in my brain and I was like “oh no!”

Anyway, I should make a playlist that’s just a personal playlist but it could also double as a Felix Ravinstill playlist… call it abyssalis payne or something…

[solxamber]

Can't wait to request Skully boy, but let's do a part 3 of White Rabbit!Reader since the overblot aftermath is usually somewhat of a positive effect on the overblot person, I want it to do the opposite to White Rabbit!Reader since before their overblot, they were always jumpy, timid and anxious.

Now, I kind of want them to be like this half the time whenever someone bothers them:

Aftermath of White Rabbit! Reader's Overblot

Characters: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya

Original White rabbit! reader ask ; White rabbit! reader overblot ask

thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is probably the first to notice the difference. While he usually relied on your obedience to the Queen's rules, your newfound bluntness shocks him. He asks you to organize paperwork, expecting the usual nervous compliance, but instead, you sigh and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it, don’t have a heart attack.” Riddle is speechless for a moment, his face flushing. Though he won’t admit it, he’s at a loss. “What… happened to you?”

Trey Clover

Trey has always been the calm, stable figure in your life, a grounding presence in Heartslabyul. But even he’s taken aback by your sudden shift. “You’re not the same nervous bunny I’m used to,” he remarks when you snap at someone who’d pushed you too far. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Guess I finally had enough.” Trey offers a small, understanding smile, knowing all too well the pressures of keeping up appearances. “If you need to blow off steam, my kitchen’s always open. Just don’t burn out.”

Cater Diamond

Cater, who usually plays things off with a lighthearted comment or a perfectly timed selfie, can sense the change in your mood. "Whoa, who flipped the switch on you, bunny?" he jokes, holding up his phone for another pic. You barely glance his way, grumbling, "Put that away before I snap." Cater's smile falters briefly, unused to you being so short with him. "Yikes. Someone's in need of a chill day. Maybe a group selfie will help?" He backs off but keeps an eye on you, curious how long this new attitude will last.

Ace Trappola

Ace is taken aback but more intrigued than anything. He used to enjoy teasing you for fun, always expecting a shy or flustered response. Now, you roll your eyes and say, “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Ace laughs nervously but is secretly impressed by your sass. “Hey, I liked you better when you were jumpy. You were easier to mess with.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce feels bad. He didn’t realize how much the teasing had affected you until now. He approaches cautiously, noticing your new, weary demeanor. When he tries to help, offering to carry something, you grumble, “I’ve got it, I’m not helpless.” Deuce scratches his head, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’m sorry if we pushed you too hard.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona finds your transformation amusing at first. As one of the few prey beastmen in the school, he always enjoyed calling you "herbivore." But now, when you meet his taunts with a dry “Yeah, real original, Leona,” he raises an eyebrow, both impressed and a little curious. “Finally got some backbone, huh? Good. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just ‘cause you stopped cowering.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is caught off guard by how done you seem with everything. He tries to pass off some chores, as usual, but you just give him a deadpan look. “Do I look like your personal assistant?” Ruggie chuckles nervously. “Whoa, you’ve changed. Guess I’ll just… do it myself, then. Heh.”

Jack Howl

Jack, being the most straightforward, notices something is wrong immediately. He never liked the way people teased you, and now your exhaustion worries him. “You don’t look so good. Is there something I can help with?” When you respond with a tired “Just let me get through the day, Jack,” he frowns, unsure how to handle this new side of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul appreciates how compliant you were before, especially when he needed help with contracts or deals. Now, your indifference makes his eye twitch. “Care to assist with a little… business?” he asks. “Do it yourself, Ashengrotto,” you reply without even looking up. Azul’s smile falters. “How… unfortunate.”

Jade Leech

Jade enjoys your shift in attitude. To him, it’s fascinating to see prey become more assertive. “My, my, you’ve grown quite bold, haven’t you?” he muses. You don’t even glance his way, muttering, “Bold? I’m just tired.” Jade chuckles, intrigued. “I do hope that exhaustion won’t stop you from keeping things interesting.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd used to love squishing you just to see you jump. Now, when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and you groan, “Not now, Floyd,” he pouts. “You’re no fun anymore, Little Rabbit. Bring back the scaredy-cat!” He sulks but also seems weirdly fascinated by your new attitude, poking you to see if he can get a reaction.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s sunny disposition remains unchanged, but even he notices that something’s off. He invites you to join a party, only for you to respond, “I’m not in the mood.” Kalim blinks, genuinely concerned. “Hey, is everything okay? You always used to come… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is more analytical about your change. He senses something deeper at play and approaches cautiously. “You’re different now,” he observes. “No kidding,” you mutter, pushing past him. Jamil hums thoughtfully, wondering if there’s something he can learn from your overblot experience—or if it’s just another thing he needs to keep an eye on.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is used to elegance, control, and composure, so your new bluntness strikes him as unbecoming. “You’re really letting yourself go,” he comments sharply. You simply stare at him, unbothered, and say, “And you care because?” Vil frowns, his perfectly crafted facade slipping for a second. “Honestly, how disappointing.”

Rook Hunt

Rook finds the change in you utterly fascinating. “Ah, the hunted has become a hunter in their own right! Magnifique!” You stare at him with exhausted eyes, muttering, “I’m just trying to get through the day, Rook.” He laughs, completely unfazed by your exhaustion. “Every day with you is an adventure, mon lapin!”

Epel Felmier

Epel, who never liked being underestimated, gets where you’re coming from. He nudges you with a grin. “Bet you’re sick of everyone treating you like you’re fragile, huh?” You shrug tiredly, “Sick of a lot of things.” Epel chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. Don’t let ‘em push you around anymore.”

Idia Shroud

Idia is a little freaked out by your change. You used to be predictable, easy to understand—now? Not so much. He glances at you from behind his tablet and mumbles, “Uh… you okay? You seem… different.” When you snap back, “What do you think?” Idia recoils, instantly regretting his question. “Yikes… never mind…”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho, ever the optimist, immediately notices your shift in behavior and tries to cheer you up in his own enthusiastic way. “I can analyze your stress levels! Maybe we can find a way to relax together!” he offers, his eyes lighting up with data scans. You give him a tired look and sigh, “Thanks, but I just want to be left alone.” Ortho frowns, his usual cheerful energy dimming. “Okay… but remember, I’m always here if you need help!” He can’t quite figure out how to help you, but he makes a mental note to keep monitoring your well-being.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus can feel the weight of your exhaustion and frustration. He’s perceptive and doesn’t need to hear you say much to understand how deeply the overblot has affected you. “You carry a heavy burden now,” he says quietly. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a choice.” Malleus watches you with a somber gaze. “You do. You always have a choice.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is concerned but also intrigued by your sudden shift. “My, you’ve grown up in such a short time,” he teases, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Not sure if that’s a good thing,” you mutter. Lilia’s eyes narrow. “Be careful not to lose yourself, young one. This world can be… unforgiving.”

Silver

Silver, ever the calm and observant knight, is probably the least surprised by your change in demeanor. He approaches cautiously, noticing your exhaustion even before you speak. “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t push yourself too hard,” he advises softly. When you sigh and mutter, “I’m just tired, Silver,” he nods, understanding in his quiet way. “If you ever need to rest, I’ll stand guard for you.” He’s not one to pry but offers his silent support.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is offended by your change in attitude, especially since you no longer respond as deferentially as you used to. “What happened to your respect for authority?” he barks. You shoot him an irritated glare. “Respect is earned, not given.” Sebek’s jaw drops, his mind struggling to compute your audacity.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo has always had a certain disdain for the chaotic nature of magic, and as someone who seemed so harmless before, you were never a particular blip on his radar.

But after your overblot, when you return to a more cynical, jaded version of yourself, Rollo is... intrigued. “I see you’ve shed your naïveté,” he comments one day when you cross paths, eyeing your newfound sharpness.

You sigh and rub your temples, muttering, “I’m too tired for whatever lecture you’re about to give me, Rollo.” He raises an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Perhaps you’ve come to realize that order, after all, must be maintained by force. Even for someone like you.” His words are clipped, but there’s almost a sense of kinship as he recognizes the exhaustion that comes from living within strict expectations.

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is disheartened by your exhaustion. He approaches you with genuine concern, his wide, innocent eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry if anyone’s been making things harder for you,” he says softly. “You don’t deserve that.” You give him a tired smile, “It’s fine. People just… don’t know when to stop.” Neige nods. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Che’nya

Che’nya finds your new personality endlessly amusing. “My, my! You’ve finally joined the cynical side of Wonderland!” he teases, popping in and out of view. You roll your eyes, unimpressed. “I’m too tired for your games, Che’nya.” He grins, floating above you. “That’s what makes it so fun, friend.”

Crowley

Crowley had always seen you as one of the more manageable students—timid, hardworking, and, most importantly, someone who didn’t cause him headaches. But after your overblot? Let’s just say he’s... mildly concerned. “My dear White Rabbit, surely you don’t mean to talk to your esteemed headmaster in such a disrespectful tone!” he blusters, feathers metaphorically ruffled when you brush past one of his long-winded speeches with an eye roll and, “Please, for the love of Seven, just get to the point.” Crowley is left gaping, unsure whether he should reprimand you or seek out some sympathy for your newly discovered spine.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is quick to notice your shift in attitude and respects your newfound bluntness—though only to a point. “You’ve finally found some grit,” he comments, his voice sharp as usual. “Good. Just don’t let it cloud your judgment.” You nod wearily, “I’m way past judgment.”

Mozus Trein

Trein raises an eyebrow at your attitude shift but doesn’t comment much. He simply sighs, “I hope you’re not letting stress affect your studies.” You shrug. “Stress is part of the deal, Professor.”

Sam

Sam’s sharp eye notices the change immediately when you stroll into his shop, a bit of a scowl replacing your usual fidgety demeanor. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bunny. What’s got you hoppin’ mad today?” he teases lightly, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

But when you shoot him a tired look and say, “Sam, please, just give me the potion before I scream,” he lets out a low whistle. “Whoa now, partner! You’re wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box! If anyone knows about stress, it’s me—how ‘bout I toss in some tea on the house?” He’s concerned, but he can’t resist a little ribbing, hoping to ease your frustration.

Masterlist

[oneshlut]

SORRY! i originally asked on the wrong post! My bad!

Hello!!!! I have no idea if this is the right post for requests, but i reqd your overjoyed headcanon and absolutely adored it! I love your writing style already! I originally had two requests, but for now ill go with one, with the Amazing Didgital cricus blowing up, i found favoritizim in the mean purple rabbit, i was wondering for some Jax crush headcanons? I loved your other one, and if its no trouble, id love to read it! Have a lovely day/night!!

A/N: omgomg!! it warms my heart hearing that people are enjoying my writing! thank you so much for the request, i hope you don't mind that i sprinkled in some confessing headcanons in there.. enjoyenjoy!!

Input Feelings (Jax x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Jax crushing and confessing headcanons

Nothing irritates Jax more than someone new. Sure, a new fella to add to the prank list, and yet, another re-do of the theme song. So seeing you spawn into existence, scrambling around fearfully, made him feel both amused and annoyed. Let's just say he started out with mixed feelings for you. Mind you, these are just judgements. He hasn't even met you yet. Rude, I know, but it's Jax.

Meeting you went way better than he thought! You actually didn't find him annoying? That was a change of pace for him. Of course, not like he minded. Not at all! Looks like he'll have a new sucker to prank after all.

Although Jax was amused by you, you sure weren't. Not on the second day, at least. You had been talking with him earlier that day, and he wouldn't shut up about insects. Weird, you'd think of all people to be ranting about insects, it would be Kinger. Until later that night, or at least you thought it was night, you opened your door to find spiders in your bed.

And thus, you became Jax's main target for pranking! Hooray..! Yes, you liked his company--he was actually pretty fun to be around! But, uh, you prefer your outfit to not be soaked from a water bucket by the end of the day.

You two became frenemies. Sometimes, days went by where he wouldn't prank you. Shocking, I know. Jax just didn't wanna be too harsh on you, y'know? Which is weird, because Jax doesn't go easy on folks very often.

On days where he wouldn't prank you, you would sometimes receive notes from him. It was a good spirit lifter to go to your room at the end of a long adventure and see the corniest dad joke ever written on a piece of notepaper with crayon writing, sitting there on your bedside table. And on good days, you'd even write notes back for him!

One day, Jax gets either asked or teased about how he's so fond with you, and so rude to everyone else. He either makes some dumb excuse or tries to raise suspicion on the person asking, like the asshole he is, but it gets him thinking. He doesn't like to think. He's a man of action. But you were a.. different scenario.

Before, he was this complete asshole. And that's it, really. But you did something to him, something that he had no idea what to do with. Caine's gotta be messing with his coding, right? Maybe he input feeings in his code just to be mean. But being mean was his thing! God, what have you done to him..?

You, at the time, had no idea you were stripping away all of his confidence. As far as you knew, he has just been a bit nicer recently. Which was good! Right? Right. The notes would've been obvious proof he was getting better. Well, first, he was sending more notes rather than.. bugs.. but second, the notes started getting nicer and nicer. Some were just straight up compliments. That's when you noticed something was off. Jax never complimented anyone. Though, you didn't mind some of the compliments...

It's not like Jax has never been in love. He knows he had some sort of love life when he was in the real world, but he was left with just wisps of what it actually felt like to love someone. To care for someone. Though, now, he's finally able to remember.

You noticed how his teasing significantly decreased the more you spent time with him. You kinda missed it, but you're not one to complain.

Jax, on the other hand, was on edge all the time around you. He hated that you washed away his confidence facade, he hated how soft he was around you, how vulnerable. But that smug smirk wasn't gone just yet. He had one more "prank" to pull.

Ha, he wishes it was a prank. It really wasn't. This was actually the most serious he's ever been. He stared at the crudely drawn purple heart on a piece of scratch paper, only now doubting everything he's ever done as butterflies arose in his digital stomach. Standing outside your door, he suddenly felt all the nerves coming back to him he never thought he'd have to feel again. Jax swallowed down his nerves, but still couldn't hide the flush look on his face--or the fact that his pretend-guts were being tied into a bow.

Inside the small homemade card was an admittance to something he never thought he had to admit. Something he'd rather admit in person. Instead, since every inch of his confidence was gone at this point, he confessed in horrible handwriting, written with crayola twistables.

Jax took one final breath before sliding the heart under your door.

[aboxofcereales]

Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.

Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.

Last update - 10 April 2024.

Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's in fact 24 & Neutral Good. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.

Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 35 & True Neutral. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.

Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command.According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she' 48 & Lawful Neutral. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.

Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's 30 & Chaotic Good. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.

Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 & Lawful Evil. Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.

Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 263, which doesnt seem right, & Neutral Evil. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.

Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.

[jennelikejennay]

It's Bottom Spock Week!

To me, Spock on the bottom just seems the most obvious and natural thing, so it baffles me that there's less of it. Now I don't always go with the obvious, and I like to subvert any hierarchy or dichotomy that exists, so I have fics of all flavors and most of my fics switch it up.

[insert essay here about how top/bottom shouldn't be Gender Redux, that dom/sub, physically on top/bottom, active/passive, penetrator/penetrated, are all different things and it's all much more interesting when they are mixed or subverted in some way]

But I have a lot of bottom Spock, so I'm going to link it all here.

Humans fall in love like this. Without choice and without warning.

Spock has fallen into loyalty.

So begins a slow courtship that reminds Jim of the circling of two predators. Both intensely focused on the other. Both trying to lead, in different ways.

Spock felt utterly powerless to resist him. This had been the problem between the two of them from the beginning. Kirk—Jim—was the real captain of the two of them. He was the one whose will was irresistible. Spock would have followed him into hell itself, but what he could not do was pretend, for a single second, to be Jim’s commanding officer.

Jim had seduced him, quite deliberately, as if any seduction had even been necessary. Spock would have done anything, anything he asked, merely for a word.

For us, to command is to be serene and still. To allow oneself to be served. We associate this with the female, with authority.

In any event, Spock's heart was in Jim's hands now, through the gift of water. There was no choice but to trust him.

If Jim hated the alpha stereotype and didn't want to be placed in that box, how much more would Spock hate the omega stereotype, being the powerful and controlled man he was?

Jim’s head came up. Something about how he had said that twigged a primal reaction. “Are you challenging me, Spock?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is it necessary for me to?”

Spock’s eyebrow hiked up higher and his lips twitched. “Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe Earth lagomorphs are sexually dimorphic, and the male occurs as frequently as the female. Obviously I am wearing the totem of a male rabbit.”

[webanglikethat]

On religious guilt, Nova.

SOURCES: First divider on Pinterest // Untangling Religious Trauma by Gary L Ellis // “If you really love something” on Pinterest // The Great Divide by Noah Kahan // Florence + the Machine – Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) // Suniti Namjoshi // Clean from Sin quote on Pinterest // Anna Kamienska, Notebook // Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers, from “Questions About the Father,” published in Shenandoah on tumblr // Maggie Stiefvater, Greywaren (Dreamer Trilogy, #3) // Cross Photo on Pinterest // Scaramouche’s story on Tumblr // Dust to Dust — Misfits // The Sandman Universe: Nightmare Country Vol. 1 // Stained Hands on Pinterest // @//sainticide on Twitter //Statue one on Pinterest // Statue two on Pinterest // statue three on Pinterest // Statue four on Pinterest // Statue five on Pinterest // Statue six on Pinterest // Statue seven (hands) on Pinterest // Eyes painting on Pinterest // Hands candle statue on Pinterest // Seven Sorrows Heart for Sorrowful Dolosa on Pinterest // Eyes painting (2) on Pinterest // quote by Akwaeke Emezi // “God please” on Pinterest // “I never asked to be like this” on Pinterest // Body picture on Pinterest // @// thegirlhoodtheory // Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life // “God it’s me again” on Pinterest // “Religious fears” on Pinterest // Picsart stickers // Flesh - Robots - Angels on Pinterest // Thomas Daggett, The Prophecy // Family Tree (Intro) by Ethel Cain // Stake Art on Pinterest // @//Avainblue on Tumblr original post here // Daredevil (2019-) Chapter 2 - Page 15 // @//holyaches on Twitter // lace divider by divinespit.

[pluckyredhead]

I have fallen down a Fourth World rabbit hole (this is @ngoziu's fault) and am now reading everything DC has ever published with these characters, in order, as is my wont, and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, so I'm going to start dumping them all here. Sorry.

Background if you have no idea what I'm talking about but want to read this post anyway (why?): in 1971, Jack Kirby left Marvel because he couldn't put up with Stan Lee any longer and came to DC, where they were like "Yes you can do anything you want" (this was a lie). He immediately began writing, drawing, and editing an incredibly ambitious epic that stretched over four simultaneously published books: Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen (we can mostly ignore this one), New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People. These books came to be known as Jack Kirby's Fourth World Tetralogy.

The books all center around the war between the utopian planet New Genesis, ruled by the benevolent Highfather, and the dystopian planet Apokalips, ruled by the evil Darkseid. At the heart of the narrative is "The Pact," aka The Cosmic Baby Swap. To ensure a (temporary) truce, Highfather and Darkseid traded sons when said children were very young - so Orion, Darkseid's son, is raised on New Genesis, and Scott Free, Highfather's son, is raised on Apokalips. Neither knows who their real father is until adulthood.

Orion grows up in a utopia, but tormented by his feelings of rage and otherness that he can't explain. Scott is raised in a torture orphanage, because that's just what happens on Apokalips, but eventually he escapes to Earth and becomes the escape artist Mister Miracle. The Cosmic Baby Swap begs what to me is the central question of the Fourth World, which is: what is the nature of good? Which boy will be a hero? The one born to good and raised by evil, or the one born to evil and raised by good?

TRICK QUESTION THEY'RE BOTH HEROES!!! GOOD IS MORE POWERFUL THAN EVIL! LOVE WINS AND FASCISM LOSES! This is so, so important to me and any version of these characters that doesn't understand the really not very complex symbolism here is invalid and kind of embarrassing for the writer (looking at you, Tom King).

Also Scott falls in love with and eventually marries Big Barda, one of Darkseid's fiercest warriors, who was born on Apokalips and raised on Apokalips and chooses good anyway. LOVE WINS AGAIN! BARDA TOPS HER TINY HUSBAND IN THE NAME OF PEACE AND COMPASSION!

Sadly DC canceled New Gods and Forever People after only 11 issues, which kind of killed Kirby's whole vision. Mister Miracle limped along until #18, but as a really pale shadow of itself. So we never really got the full scope of Kirby's original plans.

ANYWAY. That's the background. Now thoughts on the actual comics:

Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen: I love Jimmy, I love Superman, I love the Newsboy Legion, but this book feels very tangential to the whole Fourth World experiment and I think we can safely set it to the side. However, if you love the 90s Superboy series, I recommend dipping into this because it's the source material for a lot of Kon's worldbuilding (Cadmus, Dubbilex, clone Guardian, etc.).

The Forever People (1971): So I originally read all the Jack Kirby Fourth World stuff like...at least 15 years ago, when I was still relatively new to comics, and I'll be honest: I didn't get it. Kirby is sort of an acquired taste, and I didn't really have any context for what he was doing. I understood the metaphors, but I didn't get why people found the work appealing. And Forever People in particular was the book where I was like "Why. What is the point of this" the most.

Rereading it many years later, I find it to be a lot more moving and profound - like, the Happyland issue alone is a knockout. That said, Kirby is, uhhhh...not great at ensemble characterization without Lee, and the Forever People themselves are unforgivably bland. Default Guy! Big Guy! Black Guy! Girl! Kid! Props to Kirby for making it a not all-white group - and for introducing five out of seven of DC's first Black characters in the space of, like, two years - but it would have been nice if he gave them personalities, too.

New Gods (1971): This is Orion's book and the heart of the Fourth World. At its best, it's the pinnacle of "Makes no sense...compels me, though." Like, "Glory Boat?" I don't understand a single thing that happened in that comic but it's so fucking good. I just want to read thousands of words of comics scholars over the past 50 years going "????" in collective confused admiration.

Mister Miracle (1971): This was the book I was most invested in when I read the Fourth World years ago, because I already loved Scott and Barda from JLI, but now I think it's weaker than New Gods and arguably even than Forever People. Kirby doesn't seem as invested in going all in on Big Concepts here, and Scott escaping endless weird deathtraps is only compelling for so long. The later issues, after the other books were canceled and DC made Kirby pivot away from the Apokalips/New Genesis war, are nothing. But Scott and Barda (and Oberon and Shilo) are everything, so I guess it balances out. Anyway Scott clearly already knows a lot about Earth by the time he meets Oberon and Thaddeus Brown, so DC please feel free to hire me to write a Mister Miracle: Year One miniseries about Scott's arrival on Earth, thank you.

Okay, now for the post-Kirby (or really, intra-Kirby) stuff:

Mister Miracle (1977): This picks up the numbering from the Kirby series, running from #19-25, and was written by Steve Englehart and then Steve Gerber, and it sucks so bad. For three reasons, in escalating importance:

Riddled with continuity holes and factual errors that don't match what Kirby established. Himon is shown on New Genesis - how did he get there? Metron is depicted as subservient to Highfather when Kirby showed him as a neutral, independent agent. Etc.

The treatment of non-Scott characters is largely terrible. Oberon is written really condescendingly (Scott's like "Ride on my shoulders like you used to!" even though they definitely did not ever do that before, because Oberon is not a child). When Scott feels guilty that he's not actively fighting the war, Highfather's like "I don't want you to fight because I feel bad that I traded you to Darkseid, let Orion do it" as if that isn't the root of Orion's severe emotional trauma TOO. And worst of all is Barda, who is knocked out and captured in the first issue and spends pretty much the entire rest of the series unconscious, waiting for Scott to rescue her - except for the brief scene where she wakes up brainwashed, requiring Scott to beat the shit out of her. Lovely.

The series is reeeally fixated on the notion that Scott is a god, and extrapolates that to Scott deciding he's the messiah. Now, I'm not going to say that the Fourth World can't be used to explore Christian themes just because Kirby is Jewish, because Kirby was very definitely exploring biblical themes extensively and frankly I don't know enough about the Bible to say whether he was sticking religiously (ha) to the Old Testament. But I do think taking one of the central characters of a Jewish man's magnum opus and making him the messiah is, uh, pushing it. And there's no way to argue he's not a Christian messiah because, uh, he T-poses a lot in this series and Granny also specifically states that if Scott is the messiah, she'll find an anti-Christ to combat him (which...wouldn't that sort of by default be Orion? which just further proves that the idea of a messiah really doesn't work in the Fourth World framework). Anyway it's gross and I hate it.

New Gods (1977): I'm kind of using this as a catchall to cover all of Gerry Conway's New Gods work, which includes the actual 1977 New Gods series (which picks up the numbering from Kirby, so it's #12-19), the conclusion of the story in Adventure Comics, and the Justice League of America crossover with the Fourth World. (Also there's one issue of Super-Team Family where Lightray and Metron team up with the Flash to save Orion, who has grown really really big, but that doesn't fit with the rest of Conway's continuity so I guess we can ignore it.)

Anyway this stuff is not as infuriating as Mister Miracle, but it's also not...good. The central concept is that Darkseid has discovered that the Anti-Life Equation is contained within the brains of six humans, so Highfather sends six New Gods to protect said humans: Orion, Lightray, Metron (he doesn't work for you, Highfather), Forager (also does not work for you), Lonar, and Sensational Character Find of 1977, Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes (Original Character Do Not Steal).

Mostly this series is frustrating because all the New Gods are wildly incompetent and fail completely at their tasks. Orion is dumbed down to The World's Most Basic Superhero (he has a big O on his chest now!). I spent the whole time yelling "HE CAN'T FLY, GERRY!" at the comics. Forager is lumped in with no mention of that whole thing where...he's a New God who was raised among the Bugs, who are being persecuted by the New Gods? I feel like that should be explained or at least addressed? (Presumably Kirby would have gotten around to it eventually.) Forager also should not be flying but here he does. I guess. Lonar flies too but mostly on his horse, which bothers me less for some reason, I'll accept a flying horse. (Also Lonar's human he's supposed to protect is Inuit and hoo boy is this comic racist. The poor guy wears a fur diaper the whole time and speaks a completely made up language.)

And then there's Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes. Who is blue, for reasons that are never explained, and wears a bikini and fishnets because it's 1977, and mentions her fiery eyes (heat vision) every time she speaks. She's from Apokalips, but defected to New Genesis during battle. Which, like...I appreciate that Conway recognized that this team should have a female character, but what with Orion, Scott, Barda, and Inexplicably Present Himon, it feels like we have enough characters who have defected from Apokalips in some way? And it's just super weird that the ONLY female characters we have seen from New Genesis are Beautiful Dreamer of the Forever People (trapped in another dimension indefinitely) and Scott's dead mom. Like, what's the implication here? Heaven doesn't have women? Also, I know Conway was going for biblical names to match New Genesis and Izaya (he also introduces a Lucifar), but, like...Jezebelle? JEZEBELLE. Your only female New God and you named her "whore." Amazing.

And with that, we have covered the New Gods in the 70s (minus some Mister Miracle/Batman teamups). Next time: the 80s, and Kirby tries so so hard to kill Orion but DC won't let him.

[rampantram]

How did Helob fell in love with Lenn?

Helob smirked; she was back again.

He glanced down at the small silver watch sitting on the crate in front of him, still strung on its original chain and tick, tick, ticking away. The pincers on his chin twitched as the enticing sound of rustling leaves stirred somewhere behind him. It took everything he had to quell the chuckle that rumbled deep in his throat, thoroughly amused by the image of her crouching down in her hiding place, green eyes squinting at him through the foliage.

The spider hummed to himself, carrying on with his to-do list as he sharpened a garish-looking knife on a whetstone that had seen far too much use. Raising the blade, he turned it over for inspection, licking at his fangs as he tapped the tip of his tarsus against its side, admiring the shine it took on in the lantern light. He could taste the subtle scent of fear on his tongue, making him drool.

Suddenly, the sound of something smacking into a tree trunk and falling to the ground caught his attention. Pincers tittering curiously, he could tell it wasn’t living - a rock, probably, based on its impact - and his lips twisted into a smile as he quickly pieced her plan together: she’d meant to distract him, draw him from his post, thus leaving the watch unguarded. He hummed, setting the knife down tenderly in front of him, then made a lackadaisical strut into the dense woods, feigning his eager interest in the source of the “unknown” racket. ______________________________________________________________

It worked, Lenn thought to herself, quick to her feet as she sprang into the clearing, the soft soles of her feet making little noise as she quickly closed the gap to her stolen necklace. She couldn’t believe it; this was the closest she had gotten to getting it back, the relief she felt making her shoulders slump. Carefully, she cradled the heirloom in her hands, feeling her brow furrow as she traced over the engraving of a rabbit sitting on a crescent moon on the watch’s cover. She knew her distraction wouldn’t keep Helob away long, so she quickly stuffed the necklace in her bag and-

The yelp fell from her throat before she even realized she was being pulled up, head quickly swapping places with her feet as she was hung upside-down by the waist, her hands batting at a nearby branch to steady herself with. Vertigo blurred her vision, delaying her reaction to the set of glowing purple eyes staring at her from the dark shroud of leaves she now found herself in. Already panting for breath, she felt her heart thumping against her ribs, throat instantly feeling dry as she tried to gulp.

The grin on Helob’s face as he emerged into the dim lantern light was smug and amused, clearly satisfied with his ruse. Lenn’s mouth would twist into a frown if she weren’t feeling so terrified.

“Sneaky, sneaky bunny, coming into my lair,” he tutted playfully while effortlessly relieving her of her bag, “Stealing my things.”

“It’s not yours!” she shouted shakily, face burning red as the bottom hem of her shirt drooped closer to her neck. Helob looked her up and down with that same grin, brow raised, as she pulled it back down - or up, in this case - to her legs, her other hand still grazing desperately at her branch. “Stop messing with me and give it back!”

The spider tilted his head, clearly having all the fun in this scenario. “But then I won’t sees you anymore if you have your little watch back.”

Now Lenn was frowning, heart pounding in her ears as she seethed. “Wh-why don’t I trade you something for it?”

Helob hummed, swinging the bag on his spindly arm by its sash. “Too boring.”

Lenn’s face scrunched from the intensity of her frown and the deep furrow of her brows. “What about gold? Will you take gold?”

Helob didn’t even respond this time, only watching the bag spin while humming an unfamiliar tune. Lenn squeezed her eyes shut, the headache from all the blood rushing to her head making it feel like her skull was going to pop.

“Okay, okay!” she finally gave, catching Helob’s attention, her green eyes peeking open to send him a pained stare. “I was going to ask the lamb if I could go on missions to get out of the cult grounds every now and then, so…” She bit at her lip, as if subconsciously trying to stop her next words. “So I’ll come see you then! If you give my necklace back!”

Having stopped swinging the bag, Helob stared at her with a surprisingly stone-faced expression. His two face pincers clicked once, then twice, and suddenly Lenn was gently spun right-side-up and lowered to the ground, her feet slowly touching to the grass, toe to heel. She backed up a step as Helob lowered in front of her, still strung by his silk and giving her that same stoney, unreadable expression from before.

“How do I knows you’re not lying?”

The graveness of his voice made her fur stand on end, something he clearly noticed. Taking a quick breath, though, she stood with her shoulders back and head high. Helob shrunk back a little as she put out her hand, pinky extended outwards.

“I promise I’m not.”

Helob eyed her and her extended digit strangely, the look of confusion on his face borderline comical given how intimidating he usually was.

“It’s a pinky promise: you wrap pinkies and swear you’ll do what you promised.”

Helob eyed her a bit blankly as he clicked his two front-most tarsi together. Lenn’s ears drooped in embarrassment.

“But I guess we can’t really do that since…” Just as she began to retract her hand, one of his knife-like arms hooked its end appendage around her pinky, dwarfing her hand by comparison.

“It is a ‘pinky promise’ then.” Helob had returned to his mischievous self, smiling at her with narrowed eyes as he dropped her bag back into her hand. Rising back into the treetops, the spider sent her one last cheeky look. “Do not disappoint me, little bunny…”

Lenn blinked as she watched him disappear into the shadows. 

She couldn’t believe that worked…

Feeling the frigid prison of shock melt away from her body, she hurriedly rushed out of the clearing and back into the thinner woods she’d come from, hastily putting her bag over her shoulder as she jumped over hedges and fallen trees, hardly even thinking about the deal she’d made with Helob, surprised to have gotten out with her necklace and her life. ______________________________________________________________

Settling into the trees, Helob watched as Lenn stared up in shock, obviously not able to see him, but the look on her face still made him chuckle. He smiled to himself as she made a quick exit from his clearing, wondering to himself if she’d uphold her end of their deal - their “pinky promise.”

With a tired hum, Helob rested his chin on his crossed arms, staring down at the spot she’d been standing. Despite the fire still burning strong at the center of his little makeshift camp, it felt chillier now that she was gone, his blood having gone back to cold and tepid rather than the bold, rushing feeling he felt while watching her attempted infiltrations of his space. He came and went from different spots, as he’d always done, but still she always managed to find him. At first he only wanted to test her, to see if she’d match her fiery words with action, then he soon began to look forward to their little “playtimes,” as he’d come to see them.

With a huff, Helob’s eyes fell closed, a strange fluttering feeling in his chest as he pictured all the games of chase they could play, suddenly feeling hopeful that all of that “pinky promise” nonsense she’d brought up wasn’t so nonsensical after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, a writing! 😀✨

I imagine Helob's feelings for Lenn as a "fascination to infatuation" kind of deal, so I hope I captured that here. I also haven't written that much in a while, so I hope this came out decent. 😅

Anyway, thank you for your question, and I hope you all enjoy~! 💕

[imtrashraccoon]

I was suddenly hit with a burst of inspiration for this one. Like, my original idea was maybe three sentences long and then I looked into how to remove grass stains before modern laundry. That was a surprisingly interesting rabbit hole to go down.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Horror - Stained

Word Count: 1,020

In the morning, Maul busied himself with general chores around the camp, like replenishing the firewood supply and checking the traps he'd set up a couple days ago for small game. Your mobility was still pretty limited, so you mostly stayed put, doing smaller but still important tasks like cutting up kindling. You also offered to monitor the fire when Maul decided to make a stew for later.

There had been a bit of tension in the air when you woke up that morning. With nearly dying by your teammate's hand and then having a heart to heart chat afterwards, you weren't really sure if you should acknowledge what had happened. Maul seemed equally as clueless, but talking had never seemed to be his strong point since you met him. There wasn't anything more to discuss anyways since neither of you had any answers to the obvious questions and weren't keen to go find them either.

Between Maul's trips of carrying firewood and stacking it near the fire pit, you requested a basin of water with the intention to do some cleaning. He was more than happy to help and soon brought you a bucket of water from a nearby stream.

You had noticed a grass stain on the back of your shirt when you got up, likely from getting pinned to the ground last night, and had decided to try getting it out. Now, you weren't an expert on stain removal, but you were confident that with a bit of elbow grease, you would get it out in no time.

How wrong you were. Not only had the stain already set into the fabric, but also no amount of scrubbing could remove it. You tried soap, you tried beating the stain with a stick, and you tried rubbing the fabric against a coarse stone. The trouble was you had limited supplies in the wilderness. Your mother probably would have known what to do in a heartbeat, but you really only knew what to do for blood and basic grime.

Maul returned with a pot of water and set it near the fire to boil. After checking how the stew was coming along, he glanced over at you curiously. "...havin' some trouble?" he asked.

You sighed and dropped the shirt into the bucket. "I guess, I now know why my mom would get upset when I came home with grass stains."

The giant of a skeleton let out a soft chuckle, eyeing the shirt with an amused glimmer in his eyelight. "there's a better way than what you're doin'."

"Oh? Do enlighten me then," you grumbled, crossing your arms with a huff.

He held up a clawed phalanx and went to go retrieve something from the supplies cache. When he returned with a metal banded cask, you raised an eyebrow. What could he possibly know about getting out stains? The whole time you had known him, he hadn't seemed to care if his clothing was stained and, beyond maintaining his armour, you had never seen him do anything remotely similar to laundry.

He poured out the water you had been using, leaving the shirt in the bottom of the pail. As you watched, he opened the cask and poured just enough of the surprisingly clear liquid to cover the stain. Your nose twitched as you caught the distinct scent of strong alcohol.

"let it soak for a while," Maul said as he closed the cask.

"You think that will actually work? Where did you even get spirits that strong?" You wrinkled your snout before adding, "Even if it does get the stain out, the whole garment will stink of alcohol."

He shrugged and motioned to the pot of water. " 's only to get the stain out. clean it again afterwards." He glanced down at the small cask and then shrugged, "bought it last time i was in the undercity."

Your mouth dropped open in shock. "Wait, you've been to The Undercity? And got out without being robbed or murdered?"

His permanent grin widened and he motioned to the crack in his skull. "not many are foolish enough to bother someone like me. i usually make the trip once or twice a year to buy stuff ya can't get anywhere else."

"I guess that makes sense." You eyed his sharp claws and chuckled. "With all the gang violence that goes on, I don't think I would last a second if I went there. I'd probably offend someone and get shanked, if I didn't get kidnapped by one of the local dons for being illegally adorable that is..."

Maul let out a sudden bark of laughter. It actually startled you for a second since he wasn't normally a loud person. He nearly had to brace his hands on his knees to keep from losing his balance.

"...boss would hate that," he managed to say between lingering chuckles. " 'specially cause it's true..."

You felt your cheeks grow unnaturally warm and quickly looked away to hide your blush. Since when was he so smooth with his words? You hadn't been expecting him to find your admittedly awful joke funny, as he usually only responded to your attempts at humour with a grunt or a huff.

"True, he'd tear the whole city apart if someone did that," you murmured.

"hey."

You turned to look at Maul again.

"promise ya won't tell either reven or dirk about this," he said quietly, motioning to the metal banded cask he was holding. "i mostly keep it for sterilizing bandages and they might steal it if they find out."

You pressed your paw against your chest and nodded. "I promise I won't breathe a word of it to them. They can find their own liquor to drown their sorrows in."

He gave you a stiff nod and went to put the cask away, leaving you wondering how he had figured out to use that specific alcohol for removing stains. There seemed to be a lot about him that didn't make sense, but it was fun to think about. Maybe you would ask him about his travels sometime.

[nica-my-beloved]

Ikemen Men In Ikemen Series

(Ikepri, Ikevil, Ikegen)

Businessmen

Sueharu: "I love women."

Silvio: "Women are bitches."

Jude: "Women should be respected!"

The Kings

Gilbert: "I'm a King."

Akihito: "Me too."

William and Elbert: "So are we"

Poster bois

Leon: "Ofc that's me."

Yoritomo: "Originally it's me, but my brother gets more spotlight from fans."

William: "I'm a poster boi as well."

Leon and Yoritomo: (Why does he have white hair?)

Tsun Tsun bois

Yves: "Want some cake?"

Shigehira: *Ahem* "Not like I'm dying to eat it or anything. But since you asked, as a decent person I'll have some.......Mm....Ahhh, it's so delicious"*starry eyed*

Yves: *blushes* "Hey! Stop making that face! As if you're enjoying my cooking!"

The ZzzzzzZ

Luke: ".....zzz....Honey...."

Yoichi: "....zzz..Young..zzz...master..."

Harrison: ".....zzz....Liam...."

That guy

Nokto: "Hey, how is that girl!?"

Jin: "Yeah. She's cute but the boobs aren't big enough."

Sueharu: (At least I'm decent than these two-----Ah! Yoshino's boobs!)

Best big brothers

Luke: "I'm younger than Emma but I still treat her like my younger sister."

Harrison: "I'm not even a big brother type. I simply got added here because Kate thinks I am one.

Morinaga: "I want to see Yoshino as my little sister but I can't help it. I get these indecent thoughts about her sometimes."

Luke and Harrison: "You need help."

The most beautiful ones

Azel: "Hah. I'm a god. Of course I'm the most beautiful."

Tamamo: *flips his hair* "Hmph. Well I lived here for more than 800 years. I'm the most beautiful one."

Elbert: "..............................."

Alfons: "Lord Elbert. No." <- not included in this category, just came here to avoid potential murder.

The babies

Luke: "Believe it or not, I'm the youngest prince."

Ellis: "Nice to meet you guys too. I'm the youngest villain."

Shigehira: (Wow...they are so tall and...those muscles...)

Someone from the audience: "Don't worry Shigehira, Yoshino still loves you."

Shigehira: *blushes* "Shut up!"

The unreasonable brats

Kurama: *points his fan* "Hey! Give me everything you're wearing right now. Yes, those shiny necklaces, bracelet, rings and also the shiny items in this room. Actually, give me your whole palace. Give it all."

Silvio: "Huh!? Who the hell are you? A thief?"

Kurama: "How dare you call me a thief. Do you wanna die you bling bling covered sleazeball?"

Silvio: "Who the fuck told you that name!!?"

Kurama: "Hm? A girl looking like a brown rabbit."

Silvio: "That bitch! I'm gonna kill her for sure!"

The most loved ones

Yoshitsune: "I don't know why everyone loves me. They say I have a very innocent personality but I don't understand."*cutely tilts his head*

Jude: "I'm most popular because everyone here likes to be choked for some reason." *rests his head on his fists looking bored*

Gilbert: "Well, I'm here because I'm so handsome and everyone falls down on their knees as soon as they see me."

Yoshitsune: "Why is that?"

Jude: "Obviously because-----forget it. I was paid by a blonde guy to not taint your mind."

Chevalier: *ignoring all of them because he's listening to an audiobook*

The villains

Ibuki: "I heard you love manipulating people for fun."

Gilbert: "I heard that about you too. Looks like we're...."

Ibuki and Gilbert: "Kindred spirits" *fist bumps*

Ibuki: "I have a kid."

Gilbert: "I have raised a kid too."

Ibuki: "I have tried manipulating the evil fox princess to break her heart."

Gilbert: "I too have tried tainting little rabbit's heart."

Ibuki and Gilbert: "But I failed."

Ibuki and Gilbert: "........!"

Ibuki and Gilbert: "Hahahahaha!"

[explodingquails]

BG3 Origin Characters and the Florence & the Machine Songs that remind me of them

I gave in and am sharing this list now. Potentially long post below.

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Astarion

Between Two Lungs

And my running feet could fly Each breath screaming "We are all too young to die" ...

Gone are the days of begging, the days of theft No more gasping for a breath The air has filled me head-to-toe And I can see the ground far below I have this breath and I hold it tight And I keep it in my chest with all my might

Gale

Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)

*for best listening experience please substitute Midas for Mystra in your head

The looking glass, so shiny and new How quickly the glamour fades I start spinning, slipping out of time Was that the wrong pill to take? ...

This is a gift, it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife? Midas is king and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Karlach

Seven Devils

Seven devils all around me Seven devils in my house See, they were there when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done ...

They can keep me out 'Til I tear the walls 'Til I save your heart And to take your soul And what has been done Cannot be undone

Lae'zel

Queen of Peace

*my favorite F&TM song ever for my favorite origin character :)

Like the stars chase the sun Over the glowing hill, I will conquer Blood is running deep Some things never sleep Suddenly I'm overcome Dissolving like the setting sun Like a boat into oblivion 'Cause you're driving me away Now you have me on the run The damage is already done Come on, is this what you want? 'Cause you're driving me away

Shadowheart

Which Witch

*this is just the universal song for religiously traumatized characters

And it's my whole heart Weighed and measured inside And it's an old scar Trying to bleach it out And it's my whole heart Deemed and delivered a crime I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out ...

And it's my whole heart While tried and tested, it's mine And it's my whole heart Trying to reach it out And it's my whole heart Burned but not buried this time I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out

Wyll

Shake it Out

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back And given half the chance would I take any of it back? It's a fine romance, but it's left me so undone It's always darkest before the dawn And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat 'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me Looking for heaven, for the devil in me  But what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen to me, yeah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's all! I might do a second part for some none-origin characters if I find the inspiration. Thank you for bearing with me if you made it this far :)

[daisies-daydreams]

Confession (Hobie Brown x F!Civilian!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x F!Civilian!Reader Category: Angst/Smut Warnings: Angsty Beginning, Emotionally Vulnerable Moments, Love Confession(s), FWB to Lovers, Making Out, Hickeys/Marking, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie Word Count: 4.2k+

Summary: You come to realize that your "friend with benefits" is starting to mean much more to you. However, he's made a decision that may change the course of your relationship forever.

Song Rec: Linger (The Cranberries)

A/N: Based on an original request from @maybethatfanfictionwriter (sorry it took so long!). I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Pt. 2

You remembered the way Hobie first looked at you with those deep pools of hickory, his gaze piercing through the thick cloud of fog and straight into your soul. You were in the front row at one of his shows, your heart racing as the two of you locked eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your hand tugged you forward, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he kissed your cheek.

“Why don’t you meet me backstage after the show, yeah?” he husked into your ear.  

It quickly became a routine after that: you’d show up to his shows before the two of you stowed away somewhere and fuck like rabbits for hours. Hobie was your drug of choice: the silky sound of his deep voice, the feeling of his hands wandering across your trembling form, the way his cock would perfectly rub against all the right spots inside you. 

And despite how intoxicated you felt after your encounters…he always left for a few days (or even weeks) at a time. You figured it was because he was always playing with his band, but the knot of worry inside your chest grew tighter each time he returned covered in scrapes and bruises.

"Just a little tiff, nothin' to worry about," he'd reassure you with his lopsided grin. You bit the inside of your cheek as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror.

It's been about a month since he's said that to you, a month of you looking into when his next show would be…only to find out that he stopped playing two weeks ago. You winced as you felt a slight pang inside your chest as you spit some toothpaste into your sink.

Why the hell did you care so much all of the sudden?

"It's not like he's your boyfriend," you chastise yourself. You shake your head as you rinse out your mouth. Your eyes widen when it suddenly hits you.

Oh my God…you loved him.

The realization made you nearly choke on your own spit as you gripped the side of the sink. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Holy shit,” you murmured. How could you have not seen it sooner? It's always been just sex - two people who needed to find relief from the stress of their lives. Nothing complicated. But now...now you weren't so sure. And yet, that uncertainty made a heavy weight quickly roll off your shoulders. A feeling of relief washed over you as you sighed and steadied yourself against the sink.

"I love you," you thought as he appeared in your mind. You gasped as the words seemed to flow naturally in your mind as you thought of him. A small smile crept onto your face as you repeated it like a mantra.

"I love you, I love you, I-"

You flinched when you heard three quiet taps on your window, only to lower your shoulders when you saw a familiar silhouette linger outside. 

You hesitantly adjusted your shorts over your hips before padding over to the window. Your hands shook a little as you slowly opened your window, Hobie’s thick hair tossing side to side in the wind as he gazed down at you. 

“Evenin’,” Hobie drawled as he ducked his head and squeezed himself inside.

"H-Hi," you stammered, your heart racing as you watched him plant his feet on your bedroom floor. You walked up and laid your hands on his chest, only for him to take a step back. You furrowed your brows.

"Are you okay?" you asked him. Despite his calm expression, the man before you was tense; his shoulders raised and thumbs hooked inside his jean pockets.

"I just came by to tell you somethin'," he said in a low, hushed tone. Your heart sank a little as you brought your hands back to your side.

"What's going on?" you asked with a slightly strained voice. Hobie took a deep breath as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"(Y/N)...I don't think that we should see each other anymore," he confessed. Your whole world froze right then and there.

"What?" you breathed. Hobie swallowed thickly as his lips curved into a frown.

"I just...I've been comin' and goin' for longer periods of time, and that's just not fair to you," he began. "Even if it's just sex, I-" You shook your head as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"Hold on," you said. Hobie paused and raised his brows as you squeezed your hands into tight fists. "I-I want-need to tell you something," you said, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour. Hobie pursed his lips as he shifted in place. You curled your fists against the bottom of your shirt as you gazed down at your feet.

"I...I love you," you muttered. Hobie hummed as he stepped forward and dipped his head down, his tall, lanky form nearly draped over yours.

"What was that?" he asked. You inhaled sharply before gazing into his eyes.

"I said I love you," you confessed with a shaky voice. Hobie's eyes widened as his breath hitched.

"You...you love me?" he mumbled in disbelief. You bit your lip and nodded as tears streamed down your cheeks. Hobie's shoulders remained tense as he gazed down at you.

"I'm sorry, I just...realized it and I don't know what to do," you sniffed. He remained glued to the same spot as you fell apart in front of him, his gaze unrelentingly boring holes into your soul.

"Don't be sorry. It's...It's okay," he tried to calmly reassure you. You couldn't even look him in the eye as he took a step forward. You sniffed as he gently cupped your chin and tilted your head up. Hobie parted his plump lips as he gazed into your red, puffy eyes.

"(Y/N)...please understand. Me leavin’ is for the best for the both of us," he said as he brushed a tear from your cheek. Your throat tightened as you clenched your jaw.

"So you never loved me?" you asked. His eyes widened as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"No! No, it’s not that. It’s just-" he paused and sighed heavily. "I don't want to hurt you," Hobie confessed as a lump swelled in his throat. You tilted your head as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hobie, you're the kindest person I know. What do you mean you don't want to hurt me?" you asked gently as you slowly slid your hands onto his shoulders. The tall man before you swallowed thickly as his eyes became glossy, his lanky form trembling ever so slightly beneath your gentle touch.

"I'm sorry," he breathed as he started to take a step back. You shook your head as you caught his hand.

"What are you so afraid of, Hobie Brown?" you asked, your tone much sharper than you intended. Hobie quickly turned his head, his nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth.

"I can't lose you, too!" he suddenly raised his voice. You flinched and stepped back, your hand slipping away from his. Hobie's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to shout," he quickly apologized. You stared down at the ground as a heavy silence lingered between the two of you. "(Y/N), everyone who’s ever been close to me ends up gettin' hurt, or broken beyond repair, or..." he trailed off before giving another heavy sigh. "I can’t lose you, too," he choked. Your heart felt like a lead ball that sank into the pit of your stomach. "I can't. I just can't," Hobie muttered as he swallowed thickly.

His breath hitched as you pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around his lean body as you kept him close. You nuzzled your face against his chest as you heard him hiccup quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hobie Brown," you promised him. You felt his large hands rest on your hips as you pulled back. Your heart ached at the broken expression written over his face - one that's usually calm and collected now falling apart at the seams.

"Please, don't make this harder than it has to be," he choked. Your bottom lip poked out a little as you tried to remain steady against him.

"I love you, Hobie, and nothing's ever going to change that. Not your past, not now and definitely not the uncertainty of the future," you tried to reassure him. You brushed your thumbs over his sharp cheeks as you gave him a warm smile. "I don't know what's gonna happen next, but what I do know is that whatever it is...I just want to be with you when it happens,” you grinned. Hobie suddenly began to tremble as he broke down, tears flooding down his face as he grabbed your waist. You cooed and rubbed up and down his back as he wept, staining your shoulder with his hot, heavy tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobbed. You rocked him gently in your arms as he shuddered.

"It's okay, just let it out," you reassured him as you caressed his back. Hobie sniffed and shivered against you for what felt like hours before he finally pulled back. His cheeks were soaked with the remnants of his tears and his lips parted as he caught his breath. "How do you feel?" you asked cautiously. Hobie gave a tired smile and softly kissed the top of your head.

"Better," he replied in a husky voice. You sighed with relief and nodded as you held his hand. "You know I also..." he bit down on his bottom lip as he searched for the right words to say. You patiently smiled up at him before he sighed. "I love you, too," Hobie confessed with a subtle whisper. “As cheeky as it sounds, I felt it the moment our eyes met durin’ my show,” he murmured. Your heart nearly burst inside your chest as you gasped.

"Really?" you breathed. Hobie nodded as he sniffed again.

"Really,” he smiled and sighed. “And seein' you here, decidin' to stay by my side despite what I've told you, just made me fall even harder for you," he grins ear to ear. You smile widely and squeal as you squeeze him even tighter. He grunts at your tight embrace before you gasp and pull back.

"Sorry," you giggled.

"It's alright," he chuckled. The two of you paused for a moment.

"So...what happens now?" you asked while biting your lip. You saw that familiar flicker spark in Hobie's eye as he smoothed his hands over your waist.

"I have a few ideas," he murmured as he kneaded the flesh of your hips. You gasped softly as he pressed his hips against yours, the feeling of his cock hardening beneath his ripped jeans making your walls flutter. "But the one that sticks out to me the most right now is makin’ sure you feel loved and taken care of," Hobie groaned as he dug his fingers into your waist. A small moan left your lips as he gently rocked his hips forward.

“That sound good, sweetheart?” he murmured.

"Yes," you keened as he planted a kiss on your forehead. Hobie smiled as he slid his hands further down and cupped your supple ass.

"Let’s get to the bed, then," he winked while stroking his finger against your jaw. You nodded quickly before scrambling towards your bed. Hobie's boots thudded against your carpet as he kicked them off before pulling down his pants and boxers. Your mouth watered when you saw his long, veiny cock slap against his wild happy trail. His leaking tip smeared a thick bead of precum against his taut lower stomach as he raised his shirt above his head.

"Miss me?" he murmured with a raised brow.

"Mhm," you hummed eagerly. Hobie chuckled as he strolled towards your bed, the frame creaking as he climbed onto the mattress.

“Been missin’ you while I was gone, too,” he murmured lowly as he brushed his calloused thumb over your bottom lip. You swallowed thickly as the corners of his mouth curved into a small grin. “How pretty your voice sounds,” Hobie purred before gently kissing your lips, his other hand resting on your hip. You mewled softly as he led you to the bed, his cock already straining against his dark, ripped jeans. “How you’re gorgeous your eyes are,” Hobie grunted before swiping his warm tongue along your bottom lip. 

You parted your lips before he sank his wet muscle inside your mouth. You moaned and gripped his shoulders as your tongues danced in a heated, passionate embrace. Your pussy began to ache for his touch as those doubtful thoughts quickly began to fade away. You panted when Hobie pulled his head back, his lips slightly glossy with your combined spit. 

“But you know what I also missed?” Hobie lilted. 

“What?” you whispered as you threaded your fingers between his dark, puffy wicks. Hobie smirked before he pressed his mouth against yours, letting his lips linger before he kissed along your jaw. 

“I missed how fuckin’ good your sweet pussy tastes,” he husked. You moaned and gripped his hair as he nipped at the shell of your ear. 

“Fuck me,” you whined as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties. Hobie smirked against your burning skin as he trailed his lips down your cheek. 

“You want that, sweet girl? Want me to fuck you ‘til your legs are shakin’?” he teased. You nodded and tensed as he puckered his lips over your neck, drawing a fresh, dark hickey against your skin. “C’mon love -I need hear you,” Hobie murmured. You slid your hands down to his neck as you took a deep breath. 

“Please Hobie, please fuck me,” you moaned. 

“Mmm good girl,” Hobie purred before suckling over your pulse again. Your toes curled as he pulled your panties down your thighs, his crotch just barely grazing over your exposed, dripping cunt. Your core pulsed with pleasure as he made a trail of hickeys down your neck and over your collar bone, each kiss lingering much longer than the last. You shivered as he rolled your shirt up, your hard nipples rubbing against his chest as he lazily tossed it aside. 

���God, look at you,” Hobie sucked in a sharp breath as he drank in your naked form. The tips of your ears burned as his gaze lingered on your puffy folds. He licked his lips as he laid his hands on either side of your hips, his ragged breaths making your head spin. 

“Please, Hobie…I need to feel you,” you mewled as you played with his dark wicks. The man above you gave you a lopsided grin before dipping his head between your breasts. 

“I’ve got you, doll,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a sweetness you’ve never heard before. Your breath hitched as he planted wet, sloppy kisses down your stomach. He paused as he hovered above your mound, his hot breath fanning over your slick sex. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes flicked up to meet yours while he gently spread your legs apart. 

You shivered as the cool air brushed over your wet folds, the sensation making your walls flutter with anticipation. Hobie smacked his lips as he shifted his gaze back down, his chocolate brown eyes mesmerized by the arousal pooling along your slit. 

“Look so pretty when you’re all wet f’me like this,” he groaned as he gently spread your pussy lips apart with his thick fingers. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as he gazed up at you with half-lidded eyes. You moaned and gripped his dark hair as Hobie flattened his tongue and licked a bold stripe up your juicy slit. 

“God,” you choked as he painted long, sloppy strokes along your needy cunt. Your legs shook as Hobie groaned against your plush sex, his voice deliciously reverberating against your sensitive, puffy clit. 

“Pussy tastes so good, baby,” Hobie grunted before pressing a wet kiss to your bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched as he pressed his chin against your entrance, smearing your warm juices all over his lower face. You threw your head back as Hobie tenderly massaged your dripping sex with his wet muscle, each stroke making your jaw clench and toes curl. 

Your eyes widened when you heard him unzip his pants and snake one of his hands down. 

“Oh my God,” you breathed as he started to stroke himself in time with licking along your dripping slit. You gasped as he slipped the tip of his tongue past the tight seam of your entrance. Your legs trembled as Hobie wiggled his warm muscle in and out of your puckering hole, his breath hitching as he squeezed the base of his long, veiny dick. 

“Fuck, I need you,” Hobie panted. You whined as he shuffled back and kicked his pants off. Your mouth watered as the man before you practically tore his shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Hobie groaned as he continued to pump his length while guiding his leaking tip to your slick folds. “Eyes up here, love,” he beckoned as he gently caressed your knee. You bit your lip and slowly trailed your gaze from his wild happy trail to his soft, half-lidded eyes. 

“Atta girl,” Hobie praised as he smeared your arousal with your bulbous tip. You arched your back as you squeezed his shoulders, your core pulsing and yearning for the delicious drag of his shaft. 

“Hobie, please,” you whined and bucked your hips forward. He chuckled as he rested a hand on the plush of your waist, his fingertips gliding over your curves in a way that made you shiver. 

“I'm here, (Y/N),” he purred as he adjusted his hips. Your jaw went slack as Hobie pushed his cock inside, the thick, swollen head of his cock splitting your hole wide open. You choked and dug your nails into his taut shoulders as he inched his cock inside you. 

“Hobie,” you moaned and ducked your head against his shoulder as you felt every ridge and vein of his dick caress your slick, soft walls. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby girl,” Hobie grunted as your wet pussy fluttered around his length. Tears of pleasure pricked at the corner of your eyes as you felt the mind-numbing fullness overwhelm your senses. Both of you moaned as he bottomed out with a slick squelch. 

“Fuck,” your voice cracked as your thighs trembled. Hobie sighed and gently pecked your lips before he pulled his hips back. You keened as he sank his cock back inside you, his shaft slowly caressing your soft, sensitive walls. 

“Wanna make sure you feel so good tonight,” Hobie grunted as he slowly thrusted into your slick hole. 

“Hobie,” you cooed as you blinked away the tears that lined your eyes. He smiled and cupped your cheek as he rested his forehead against yours. 

You squealed as he gently thrusted his hips forward, driving the tip of his cock to kiss your gummy cervix. 

“Oh God,” you panted as he slowly thrusted into your weeping sex. Hobie groaned as he kneaded the flesh of your hips, his cock throbbing inside your snug pussy. Your bed gently creaked as he rolled his hips, his balls softly slapping against your puffy lower lips. 

“You feel me there, baby?” Hobie rumbled as he pressed his hand against your lower belly. You nearly choked on the lump in your throat as you felt the pressure grow between his palm and the steady drag of his cock. 

“Yes,” you sobbed as you gripped his sharp shoulders. You moaned and threw your head back as Hobie pressed a wet kiss to your throat as he moved his hips a little faster. Your toes curled when his round tip massaged your sensitive g-spot, your pussy soaking his long shaft with your juices. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Hobie moaned, his hot breath fanning over the wet spot on your neck. 

“Fuck Hobie,” you keened as your walls pulsed around his throbbing dick. Shit, you were about to cum already? Your jaw went slack when he snaked one of his hands down your stomach and pressed his thumb against your clit. 

“Where’d you go, lovie?” Hobie mused with a wry grin. You moaned as he began to rub slow, messy circles around your bundle of nerves. 

“Dunno,” was all you could muster, your mind becoming more and more lost in a thick haze of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he pistoned his cock into your tight canal, drawing a loud moan from your parted lips. 

“Please,” you sobbed as he slammed his hips against yours, the wet sound of your sexes colliding making your head spin uncontrollably. A deep rumble rose from his throat as he grabbed your hips and slammed himself all the way inside your warm cunt. You cried out as he pumped his cock in and out of you at a feral pace. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Hobie sucked in a sharp breath as your pussy squeezed his length in a vice grip. 

“Mmm yes, yes, yes yes!” you chanted as you felt the muscles in your core start to tighten. You gazed into each other’s eyes as he held your hand in his. 

“Come on, sweet girl - make a mess on my cock,” Hobie groaned. Your body jolted as your pussy clamped down on his shaft, a sea of white flooding your vision. 

“Hobie!” you moaned loudly as your walls pulsed and gushed around his dick. 

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Hobie purred as he kissed the tears of pleasure that rolled down your burning cheeks. You babbled and thrashed beneath him as your body was overwhelmed with wave after wave of bliss. 

“Yes,” you panted as your pussy deliciously contracted, sending pulses of pleasure from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Hobie’s thrusts began to falter as you slowly drifted back down from your high, your mind still fuzzy with a mind-numbing euphoria. His groans were growing more high-pitched and breathy, his brows scrunched together in deep concentration. 

“I love you, I love you so fucking much,” Hobie grunted before stealing another kiss from you. You moaned against his lips as the bed squealed beneath his feral thrusts. Your nipples rubbed against his chest as he bit on your bottom lip, his heavy balls slapping against your asshole. 

“Love you, too,” you hiccuped as you felt your second orgasm suddenly approach. 

“Where do you want me?” Hobie groaned in a strained voice. 

“I-Inside!” you gasped as you balanced on the edge of your release. Hobie sped up his movements around your clit as he squeezed your hand. You breathed his name a few times before your hips snapped against his. 

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Hobie moaned as his cock twitched inside your slick cunt, filling your canal with ropes of his thick, potent cum. You sobbed and arched your back as you came a second time, your pussy slathering his shaft with your juices as you bucked your hips forward. 

“Mmm, Hobie,” you sighed shakily as you gripped his hand in yours. Hobie tensed above you as he filled you to the brim with his seed. Pearly white beads slipped past the stuffed seam of your entrance as your body glowed with bliss, your pussy still fluttering around his girth. 

The two of you panted wildly as you caught your breath, your eyes half-lidded and glossy lips parted. 

“That was…incredible,” you breathed. Hobie chuckled as he leaned down and pecked your forehead. 

“You were incredible,” he grinned ear to ear. Your cheeks warmed even more as he kissed up and down your face. 

You whimpered quietly as he slowly slid out of your dripping cunt with a loud “pop”. Hobie cooed as you shivered beneath him, your body still overwhelmed with pleasure. 

“You doin’ alright?” he asked as he cupped your cheek. You slowly nodded as you felt his warm palm press against your face. 

“Yeah…just catching my breath,” you said with an exhausted grin. Hobie chuckled as he pecked your forehead. 

“Wanna just lie here then?” he murmured. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed and slowly closed your eyes. Hobie soon slid onto his side before pulling you against him, your back flush with his front. The inside of your thighs were slick with your combined cum, though you paid no mind as Hobie wrapped his lanky arms around you. You smiled as he kissed the back of your head, his lips wandering all the way down to your neck. 

“(Y/N)?” Hobie murmured. You hummed in reply as you wove your fingers between his. “Thank you, for not givin’ up on me,” he whispered. You squeezed his hand before slowly turning towards him.

“You’re welcome, Hobie,” you murmured softly before pressing a warm kiss to his lips. The two of you soon drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, your heart glowing brighter than ever before.

----

Thank you for reading and Happy New Year! 💖

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[dvmm13]

“What the fuck is that thing?!” Teresa roared as her leg muscles were burning, sweat soaking, head frantically turning left and right to scan for the pursuing demon in a giant man’s guise filled with bloodlust and perverted sadism.

“The hell…would I know…” Bobbi’s panting showcased the limitation of her body caused by a large wound on her stomach from the lightning-fast claw attack courtesy of Victor Creed. The new stim shot developed by Richard Parker recently helps numb the pain and keep her going, but the loss of blood is slow but gradually catching up as the chase goes on.

“He’s too fast to be a human!” following her instinct, Teresa shot a valley of ICER rounds into the rustling bushes surrounding them, still having no clue about their destination.

There’s only a singular drive that matters at the moment.

Survive.

They run, and run, but the chance of survival receding significantly with the more Bobbi Morse keeps pushing her limits.

“Run, little rabbits! Make it more fun for me!” the giant man cackled from the woods, like a wraith of vengeance hunting them down. Sounds of trees being pounced upon and launched from chasing their tails like a shadow, deliberately stretching out the inevitable doom for entertainment.

She’s not an expert marksman or godly-accurate like Hawkeye or anything, but she could’ve sworn on her dead mother’s grave that she landed at least five shots of ICER rounds into the inhuman hunter after he almost disemboweled the blonde agent. According to the specs, that much dendrotoxin in someone’s system should introduce a cardiac arrest or even semi-permanent nerve damage already; yet the motherfucker’s still maniacally hunting them down like cattle effortlessly.

Maybe, just maybe, she can sacrifice Morse and get away from here. A slim chance of success, but it’s better than whatever the sadist giant had in mind.

That’s how she lived her life since…

Teresa suddenly stopped in her tracks and ducked down out of instinct, rolled out of the way, and quickly lined the barrel of her ICER at the blur of Victor Creed, aiming at the center of mass. Three consecutive shots rang out, colliding into the savage man’s chest and neck, resulting in his falling limp and careening into a nearby fell tree, the sound of the collision was identical to a speeding truck crashing into a pole. The light of hope is fleeting, as the mass of a furred man slowly rises from the exploded tree with splints of wood piercing into his flesh, yet the animalistic man doesn’t seem too bothered by it at all.

Under the moonlight, Teresa witnessed the most baffling sight she’d ever come across.

Victor Creed casually dislodged all of the splints from his body, even the big one that pierced through his diaphragm had been pulled out like plucking a chicken’s feather, the exposed skin shows the wounds he sustained a mere moment earlier mending themselves like reverse footage, accelerated beyond human comprehension.

His metallic and shiny grin of death illuminated by the cold and uncaring gleam of the moon sowed despair into her heart. Shaken with fear and desperation, Teresa lined the gun again at the slowly approaching monster in front of her and fired another set of shots into his broad chest.

Her fingers kept pulling, her arms locked into a straight line, and her eyes glued to the occasional struggle of her killer.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Click…

Click…

“Damn…that’s annoying,” Victor Creed growled with a sadistic smile, tensing up his arms and extending his Adamantium claws from his fingers “Ya should’ve kept running, little rabbit,” his clawed hand raised above his head, prepped for a deathly swipe, but he went rigid and foaming at his mouth a moment later as a sling of electrode penetrated his side, sending a lethal dose of electric shock through his body.

Teresa’s eyes traced the line back to its origin and met with the pale face of Bobbi Morse leaning against a tree trunk with one of her escrima in hand, her pressing finger violently shaking from exhaustion.

“Get out of there!” the command came in like a dying plea, but it was enough to jumpstart her paralyzed brain. Rolling to the side and running again, Teresa approached her C.O. with confusion and gratitude. “The battery won’t hold much longer…we need to…” she whimpered, almost collapsing on the tree trunk if not for Teresa’s support.

Teresa, with quick thinking, took Bobbi’s gun into her hand and rained another magazine down on Victor Creed, purposefully grouping the shots at his head. “How many spares do you have?” the Chameleon gritted through the fear and reloaded one from her belt into the gun.

“A couple…” Bobbi groaned and leaned heavily on Teresa, her hand still clutching the escrima like a lifeline. “Fury said nothing…about this kind of…monster.” Morse coughs a froth of blood, her internal organs starting to break down.

The effect starts to lessen when the battery is running out of juice, evidently shown in how Victor Creed gets hold of the electrode cable with his massive hand and pulls; the hook tip dislodged forcefully from his side accompanied by a squirt of blood.

“Woah! That’s the stuff! Haven’t been shocked that good since Harbin, makes me kinda missing that fucker Shiro,” Sabretooth yapped on while evading another electrode with ease since he wasn’t caught off guard this time. “Ya got some bite, I’ll give y’all that.” He walked up to them, claws sprung, and metallic fang lined his grinning face. the halo of death formed around his head from the fading moonlight was to be the last sight they would see in this final moment. “But, sadly, bunnies; everything ends.”

[clockwrkcabaret]

Episode 778: Originally Aired on Mad Wasp Radio, 01.19.25

WARNING! This show is for adults. We drink cocktails, have potty mouths and, at least, one of us was raised by wolves.

The Clockwork Cabaret is a production of Agony Aunt Studios. Featuring that darling DJ Duo, Lady Attercop and Emmett Davenport. Our theme music is made especially for us by Kyle O’Door.

This episode aired on Mad Wasp Radio, 01.19.25.

New episodes air on Mad Wasp Radio on Sundays @ 12pm GMT! Listen at www.madwaspradio.com or via TuneIn radio app!

Playlist:

The Handsome FamilyTesla’s Hotel Room

Sufjan Stevens – Futile Devices

Modest Mouse – The Good Times Are Killing Me

Not Waving But Drowning – The Drowned Man’s Bal

Tom Waits – Blow Wind Blow

Harley Poe – It’s Only The End of the World

Nirvana – The Man Who Sold the World

Rock Plaza Central – Anthem for the Already Defeated

Amanda Palmer – Guitar Hero

The Clash – London Calling

The Damned – Neat Neat Neat

 Amyl and the Sniffers – Knifey

The Ettes – Teeth

 Iron & Wine – Freedom Hangs Like Heaven

The Ditty Bops – Ooh La La

The Watson Twins – Just Like Heaven

Nouvelle Vague – Guns of Brixton

Babyshambles – There She Goes

Aurora – Running with the Wolves

Florence + the Machine – Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)

Kate Bush – How to Be Invisible

Alphaville – Big in Japan

Bronski Beat – Smalltown Boy

Duran Duran – Electric Barbarella

Check out this episode!

[griseldabanks]

Comfyvember 7

Story: bartender story (original) Prompts: Eye of the storm — Sleeping on shoulder — First hug

Bob looked up from the potatoes he was peeling. As usual, the others had scattered to collect firewood, scavenge for what they could find in the woods, maybe even see if they could catch a rabbit or pheasant or something. Fresh meat would be nice.

Also as usual, Maolie sat aloof from everyone else's bustling. Once she'd cast her fire spell in the ring of rocks, she considered her share of labor taken care of. While this irritated Leon to no end, Bob had grown used to it. No sense milking a cow when there's milk in the pot about to curdle, as he always said.

But there was something different about her tonight. Instead of sitting prim and proper with her nose in the air, as if looking down upon the whole world and finding it lacking, now Maolie sat on her bedroll with her knees tucked under her chin, staring morosely into her fire.

Ah. The eye of the storm. After the torrent of fury (and thunderbolts and fireballs) she'd poured out over the man who turned out not to be her father, it seemed she had completely spent herself. But he had a shrewd sense there was more of this storm to come.

“A copper for your cogitations,” Bob said, breaking the silence.

Maolie glanced over at him, then sighed and looked up into the sky turning rosy with the sunset. “I'm sure you can imagine.”

Bob shifted to a more comfortable position on his tree stump. “Oh, I learned long ago not to assume anything about what passes through a young maiden's mind,” he said mildly.

With a groan, Maolie ran a hand over her head, ending on the patch of newly shaven skin at the base of her skull. A few hairs were just beginning to cover the mark on her skin that had made her whole life a lie. “You must think me a complete fool now.”

He gave her a warm chuckle and a wink. “Just now?”

Her face fell, her chin trembled...and then all of her poise and restraint crumbled like a cracker in a bowl of soup. She buried her face in her knees again and let out a heartbroken sob.

Bob hesitated. Young women in general, and Maolie in particular, could be as temperamental as a poached egg. He didn't want to say or do the wrong thing, didn't want to hurt her further...but he was pretty sure that continuing to sit here in silence would only make things worse.

Setting down his knife and half-peeled potato, Bob wiped his hands on his apron and crossed over to her, settling himself down on the blanket beside her with a groan of effort. She looked up in surprise, her eyes red and her nose running—very far removed from the demeanor of the elegant princess she'd always thought she was.

With a kindly smile, Bob ducked his head so he could catch her eye. “I'm afraid I can't fix your problems for you, lass, but what I can do is give you a hug. Would you like that?”

Wiping her nose on her sleeve in a very unladylike fashion, Maolie stammered, “Oh, but I don't...I mean, I've never...yes. Yes...I would like that.”

Did she mean she'd never hugged anyone before? Sorrow pricked Bob's heart as he looked into her eyes—the eyes of a child, really. A lonely little girl, raised by servants and tutors in a great big mansion far away from whoever her family truly was, with no friends or father or mother to hold her close on days when she felt as wretched as this. No one but those who held her at arm's length, teaching her to act like a proper young lady...but not like a young girl who was loved.

“Here,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close against his side. For a moment, she stiffened, years of training and propriety warring against the very human need for comfort. But finally she slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting the tears flow again.

“I've...I've treated you terribly,” Maolie sniffled. “I-I thought...maybe you would say...this is what I d-deserve.”

He patted her gently on the back. “Come now, lass. You know me better than that. At least, I certainly hope you would after all this time.”

Maolie drew a great, shuddering breath. “Then...d-do you hate me?”

“Not even a bit.” Bob patted her head, gently smoothing down flyaway bits of her long, dark hair that had come out of her careful braids in their mad dash from her supposed father's castle.

It occurred to him that Maolie was of an age that it wouldn't be so strange to think that she was his daughter. Well, if there was any sort of resemblance between them, and if Bob had ever had a child before Bella had caught fever and died.

Maolie was cantankerous and a handful to take care of on her best days—two handfuls on her worst—but as she settled deeper into his embrace, he only felt fondness for her. She almost looked like she might fall asleep right here on his shoulder, and even though a voice in the back of his mind nagged at him that those potatoes wouldn't peel themselves, Bob couldn't drag himself away.

Maolie needed this...and maybe he did too.

[wenclairfamily]

"The Legend of Long Ago": A Tale From the World of Wednesday Addams

The origin of the ORIGINAL member of the Addams Family is finally told in a special tale based around the earliest surviving art work by Addams Family creator: Charles Addams.

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Links to the Full Story: Wattpad, Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net

-Or just click keep reading to see the full story immediately!

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The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the desolate fields. A blonde teenage girl with braids and a dirty dress ran quickly through the fields, her ragged dress fluttering in the cool breeze. Her heart pounded in her chest like a rabbit's foot in a snare. She had been running for hours, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her eyes darting from side to side in search of any sign of danger. Soon the sun was almost set. The girl soon found herself stumbling into a small clearing and her eyes widened in shock. A barn stood before her, its wooden slats weathered and worn, with a large grinning skeleton painted on the wall of the barn. The girl, startled by the image of the skeleton, stumbled back, tripping over a rogue root that had dared to break through the hardened earth. The impact jolted through the girls' body, sending a sharp pain up her spine, and she let out a shriek that echoed through the stillness.

Before she had the chance to compose herself, a figure emerged from the shadows of the barn, startling the girl further. It was a teenage boy, tall and lanky with a mop of dark hair that fell into his eyes. He took a tentative step towards her, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Easy there," he said, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "It's just a painting." The girls' breath hitched in her throat as she took in the sight of the skeleton, now clearly a two-dimensional drawing rather than the grim reaper she had first feared. The boy offered her a small, crooked smile. "My name is Dudley," he said. "And that," he nodded at the barn, "is my barn."

The teenage boy helped the girl to her feet as he said, "And who might you be young lady?" As the blonde girl stood up, she looked into Dudley's eyes as she said, "My name... is Goody." Dudley smirked as he said, "Well then Goody, perhaps you haven't heard, but they say the winter of 1687 may be the coldest it's ever been in this land. I can't in good conscience let you continue to wander outside if the snow begins to come in tonight. Please come into my home and share a meal with me."

As Goody stepped slowly into Dudley's nearby home, she looked slightly scared though as she asked, "Why do you have such a... macabre picture on your barn?" Dudley kept a smile on his face as he simply said, "To keep the superstitious and cowardly at bay... but also because I find comfort in the reminder that we're all made of bones beneath our skin. I know skeletons are often an image that represents death... but I find comfort in the fact that even after our souls leave this world, a part of ourselves; such as our bones still carry on. It's like our lives still continue in a way on this world even past death. It makes me feel less... afraid of the end. Now come. There is plenty of food in my home."

The warmth of the fire inside the barn washed over Goody as she stepped through the door, the smell of stew and bread wafting from a bubbling cauldron and a stone oven. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since dawn. Dudley set a plate before her filled with food that looked heaven-sent. She devoured it greedily, her eyes never leaving his. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Dudley spoke again. "Where do you come from Goody? What brings you to this land?"

Goody took a deep breath. "I come from the town of Jericho," she said. "My family... they were all witches. They were all recently killed by zealots." She braced herself for his shock or revulsion, but instead, his eyes filled with compassion. "No living being made by God deserves such an end," he said softly. "Especially not by the hands of fearful men." The weight of his words sank in, and Goody felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she had found a place where she could be herself, where she wouldn't be feared or hunted. "Well now your turn kind sir," she said. "What of your family? Surely it is strange that someone as young as you would also be found alone on a night like this."

Dudley's gaze drifted to the floor. "My parents," he began. "They were good hardworking people. But shortly after I helped them finish building this wonderful home, the plague took both of them, leaving me all alone. That was two years ago. I do have an older brother though, but he's off exploring the uncharted west. So I've been living here, keeping to myself, ever since my parents passed on." Goody sat silent for a moment... but then looked determined as she said, "Well as a thank you for your hospitality, perhaps I can help you around this home for some time." Dudley suddenly looked more happy as he said, "Well Miss Goody... if that's what you'd like, you can stay for as long as you believe is necessary to repay me."

The following days passed swiftly as Goody and Dudley settled into a comfortable routine. She helped him with the chores around the farm, her nimble hands adept at mending clothes, tending to the garden, and even helping with the livestock. Dudley watched her work with admiration. Her strength and resilience were unlike any he had seen before, and he found himself drawn to her fiery spirit. Then one day Dudley was having difficultly using his musket to shoot down some wildlife he was trying to kill for dinner. Suddenly Goody came to Dudley's side with his spare musket, and shot down a deer in one shot. Dudley immediately looked at Goody with admiration as he said, "Goody... that was astounding." Goody smirked as she said, "My parents picked up a few skills from Spanish explorers they met long ago, and passed those skills onto me."

Eventually one evening Goody and Dudley sat by the fire, the weight of the day's labor heavy on their shoulders. As they sat near each other, a smiling Dudley said, "You know Goody... you've done more than enough to repay me for my hospitality now." Then Goody, seeming a little nervous now, looked deep into Dudley's eyes as she said, "Actually... I think it may take me a long time to repay you for your hospitality. So I will need to stay here much longer." Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the flames of the fire reflected in Goody's eyes, casting a warm glow across her face. They shared a silent understanding in their eyes, while their words continued a facade as Dudley simply said, "Very well then..."

As the months dragged into winter, Goody began to teach Dudley some of the knowledge her mother had taught her about healing and herbs. Dudley listened intently, his curiosity piqued by her wisdom. He was especially intrigued by her stories of the magical properties of certain plants and the rituals she described. Goody shared her family's secrets with a fierce passion to Dudley, as if by speaking them aloud she could keep their memory alive. Their bond grew stronger as they faced the harsh winter together. The snow fell in thick blankets, and the wind howled like a pack of hungry wolves, but within their home, they had built a sanctuary.

One frigid night, the cold seeped through the cracks in the walls and chilled the floorboards. Dudley, who typically slept on the floor, shivered under his fur blanket. Goody, feeling a pang of sympathy, suggested they share the bed for warmth. She had noticed the way Dudley's eyes had been lingering on her more frequently, the way his cheeks reddened when she caught him staring. The silence grew thick as they began to lay side by side, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Goody's heart fluttered like a caged bird, and she could feel Dudley's eyes on her in the darkness. They had become so close, yet the line between friendship and something more remained uncrossed.

Finally, Goody spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Dudley, I've lost everyone I've ever loved. A part of me doesn't wish to love anymore; for if I love never more, I'll never feel the pain of loss anymore. But now I know... the greater pain would be to never feel love again... or rather in our case... this love." With trembling hands, and before either of them could say another word, Goody leaned in and pressed her lips to Dudley's.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if they were both afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the fragile moment. But as the cold seeped away, replaced by the heat of their passion, the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Dudley pulled away, breathless, and whispered, "We'll stay warmer if our bodies are pressed against one another without anything between them." Without a word, a smiling Goody quickly shed her clothes in the flickering firelight. Dudley immediately followed. Goody and Dudley, now both completely bare embraced one another, sending a jolt through their bodies, and suddenly the fear and doubt that had been holding them back disappeared like snow in the sun.

Their kiss quickly grew more intense, their tongues dancing together in an erotic waltz as their hands began to explore each other's bodies. Goody's soft curves melded against Dudley's firm frame, and his calloused hands felt like sandpaper on her smooth skin. They were like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their match, fitting together perfectly.  Their bodies now moved in harmony, the only sounds in the room their mingled gasps and the slap of skin on skin. The fire crackled in the background, casting shadows across their entwined forms.

And then it hit them both like a thunderbolt from the heavens, their bodies convulsing as they experienced the highest degree of pleasure together. Eventually they lay tangled in the bed, their hearts hammering against each other's chests. The warmth of their bodies kept the cold at bay, and as Goody and Dudley fell asleep in each other's arms: the two finally completely understood what it meant to be in love as they peacefully and comfortably drifted to sleep.

Nine months later though Goody began screaming in pain as her contractions began. Dudley had readied himself for this moment, but nothing could have prepared him for the raw, unbridled power of Goody going through the process of childbirth. He held her hand, whispered comforting words into her ear, and wiped the sweat from her brow. The pain was immense, a storm that raged within Goody's body. But she endured it all, her love for her unborn children acting as a beacon of strength.

With a final, guttural scream, Goody pushed, and life entered the world. A baby boy, squalling and red-faced, followed by a baby girl, equally loud and equally beautiful. Dudley's heart swelled with pride and love as he watched Goody, her face a mask of exhaustion and joy. She looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Looks like I've finally repaid your hospitality," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the effort. "Two souls to one day become free labor on your farm."

Dudley couldn't help but laugh through his tears. He had never felt more complete. He took the babies, one in each arm, and cradled them against his chest. They were perfect in every way, a miracle that had come from their love. As Goody watched him, she asked, "Even though I've paid my debt... may I remain here with you a bit longer?" Dudley smiled as he answered, "Of course you can stay here with me," he said, his voice cracking. "Forever, if that's what you wish."

The next five years passed like pages fluttering in the wind. Goody and Dudley's children grew into bright curious souls who mirrored their parents' strength and kindness. Meanwhile just as the children grew, a small town also grew not far from their farm, which provided them with a community they hadn't had before. Goody would often take the children with her to trade and sell goods, while Dudley tended to the farm. The townsfolk grew to know them as a hardworking family, and they were welcomed with open arms, with nobody aware of Goody's lineage or supernatural abilities (which she chose to keep a secret).

However one sunny afternoon, as Goody was haggling over the price of some fine wool, she heard a voice that sent a shiver down her spine. It was the unmistakable drone of a man preaching. The words grew clearer as she approached the town square. "Beware of the witches that could be in your midst!" the man shouted. "In my hometown of Jericho just over the hills, we have spent years exterminating witches we discovered, but some may have traveled here. They may be hiding in plain sight, pretending to be one of your own, waiting for the perfect moment to strike!"

Goody felt the world tilt on its axis as she recognized the speaker. It was Joseph Crackstone, the man who had killed her family. Goody's eyes immediately searched the crowd, desperately looking for a way to escape before Crackstone potentially spotted her. Goody turned to run, but her legs felt like they were made of lead. She stumbled through the town, her heart racing as she heard his words echoing through the narrow streets. "Do not be deceived by their charms or their smiles," Crackstone's voice grew louder, "for beneath their flesh lies the heart of the devil!" Goody knew she had to get home to Dudley immediately.

Goody's breath came in ragged gasps as she burst into her home. Dudley looked up from his work, concern etched on his face. "Goody, what's wrong?" he asked, setting down his tools. She could barely get the words out. "It's him... Joseph Crackstone. He's here." Dudley's eyes grew wide. He had heard the tales of the witch hunts in Jericho and knew the name of Crackstone all too well. Goody looked frightened as she said, "We need to take the children and flee to where your brother and his wife live. It's too unsafe for us here. If Crackstone discovers me and learns I had children, he will kill us all."

But Dudley was a man of the land, and he had worked hard to build their home. He didn't want to leave without a fight. "We can't just run," he said, his voice firm. "We have roots here. A life. Also, Crackstone must be a man that can be reasoned with. Perhaps we can negotiate with him and his followers some sort of treaty or make boundaries that can keep his people and us separate from one another."

Goody's eyes were wild with fear. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He's a monster. A zealot. He won't stop until he's cleansed the world of anyone different from him." Dudley sighed, his jaw tightening as he said, "I do understand Goody. But we can't live in fear. We have a proper home here. We can't just run at the first sign of adversity." Goody looked at him, her heart heavy as she said, "Very well. However... I won't risk our children. They need to be sent to go live with your brother... at least for the time being until the danger he passes." Dudley stood quiet and still for a moment... and then reluctantly said, "Very well."

With Dudley's reluctant agreement, Goody set to work. She had secretly remained in contact with the daughters of her mother's friends that had survived Crackstone's extermination of witches six years ago. Together, they had formed a secret group known as the Nightshade Society; witches that operated in the shadows, helping fellow witches in need. Goody hoped her long time friends would help protect her children. Carefully, she crafted a message, using the ancient symbols that were recognized only by families of witches. She sent it out with the town crier, who knew nothing of its true meaning.

Days passed, and the tension grew thicker than the snow on the ground. Goody waited with bated breath, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. And then, one night, it came: two sharp finger snaps were heard outside their door. Her heart racing, she threw the bolt open to reveal two female figures in cloaks, their faces obscured by the shadows. They stepped inside, and Goody recognized the sigils on their cloaks. Her fellow members of the Nightshade Society had arrived.

The two women, their faces still hidden, nodded to Goody. "We've come for the children," one said, her voice low and serious. Goody's heart clenched, but she knew this was for the best. She gathered her son and daughter, their eyes wide and scared in the flickering candlelight. "You must go with these ladies," she told them. "They're friends, and they'll take you to live with your uncle and aunt, where you will be safer for the time being." The children clung to her, but Goody was firm. "You have to go," she said, her voice trembling. "Papa and I will come for you soon. I promise." With a final, tearful hug, she handed her children over to her friends. They disappeared into the night, leaving Goody and Dudley in the quiet emptiness of their home. Dudley wrapped his arms around Goody, holding her tight as she wept. "This won't be forever," he murmured into her hair. "We'll find a way to make this right."

The following morning, Dudley approached Goody with a determined look in his eyes. "Today, I am going to pretend to join Crackstone's cause," he said, his voice firm. "I need to understand him better. Perhaps through peaceful conversation, I can even convince him to leave us alone." Goody looked at him in horror as she said, "But what if he discovers your true intentions? What if he learns about us?" Dudley kissed her forehead as he said, "Don't worry. I'll be careful. But we have to know what we're up against... and then maybe... perhaps if we understand Crackstone better, we can find a way to make reason with him."

So with that, Dudley donned his best clothes and ventured into town. The atmosphere was tense, the townsfolk eyeing each other with suspicion. Crackstone's words had taken root, and fear grew like a weed in their hearts. Dudley found the witch hunter in the town square, surrounded by a rapt audience. He listened as the man spoke of the evils of witchcraft, his voice rising and falling with the fervor of a true believer. Dudley's stomach turned, but he forced himself to stay, to learn.

After the meeting, as the townsfolk dispersed, Dudley approached Crackstone with a friendly smile. "A fine speech," he said, trying to keep the revulsion from his voice. "But tell me, why such a vendetta against witches?" Crackstone eyed him warily, his eyes narrowing. "They're unnatural," he spat. "Against the will of God." Dudley tilted his head, playing the part of the curious newcomer. "But is that not a bit harsh?" he asked, his voice steady. "Perhaps witches are merely people with advanced tools we don't understand. I mean, even us farmers with our simple muskets and carriages were once mistaken as creatures with supernatural powers by the native folk when we first came to these lands."

Crackstone's expression quickly grew hard, his eyes cold. "Even if that were true," he said. "These outcasts... they consume. They take the resources and land us true men deserve. We are the ones with the greatest strength given to us by God, and thus we are the only ones that deserve this world." Dudley felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just about religious fervor; it was about power. Crackstone's gaze grew more intense. "You're a smart lad," he said. "But don't let your heart be swayed by the tricks of these outcasts. You'd be surprised how convincing the devil's own can be." Dudley nodded, playing along, even as he seethed inside while departing from Crackstone.

Meanwhile Goody, unable to bear the thought of Dudley facing the monster of her nightmares alone, waited near the edge of the town, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. While doing so, she saw a young boy, about nine years old, kicking a ball around the field by himself. The sight of the lonely child brought a sad smile to her face, and she decided to approach him. The boy looked up as she neared, his eyes lighting up with excitement at the prospect of company. Goody's heart grew warm as she watched him, and she decided to indulge in a brief moment of normalcy amidst the fear. "Would you like to play a game of catch?" she called out to him, her voice kind and inviting. The boy nodded eagerly, his smile wide and innocent. They played for a while, the ball flying back and forth between them, the simple joy of the game bringing a brief respite from the looming shadow of Joseph Crackstone.

However at one point while trying to throw the ball, the boy tripped and fell, the ball rolling away. As Goody helped him to his feet, she asked, "Here, let me help you... what is your name child? I haven't seen you around town before." As Goody reached out to help the boy up, he smiled as he reached out to Goody while saying, "I'm just visiting with my father. My friends call me Joe, but my real name is Joseph Crackstone Junior." As the final words from little Joe's mouth were spoken, it hit Goody like bolt of lightning. The little hand that she had reached out to touch suddenly felt like it was coated in ice. Then suddenly Goody felt a powerful series of images enter her mind, a kaleidoscope of horrors that made her stomach churn. Goody had been warned by her mother long ago this would happen one day. For the first time in her life Goody was experiencing visions.

The images were fleeting, but the emotions they brought were stark and clear: fear, anger, and loss. Goody suddenly saw images of Joe grown into a man, his eyes filled with rage as he screamed for the death of those deemed to be outcasts. She watched in horror as Joe led mobs through the streets, torches held high as they burned the homes of those accused of witchcraft. The cries of innocents including women and children screaming as they were shot hung in Goody's ears, a chorus of despair that she couldn't silence.

Then the visions continued, showing Goody the lineage of Joseph Crackstone that was to come over the next three hundred years. She saw a future filled with Crackstone's descendants, their hearts stained with the blood of those they deemed inferior. And then Goody suddenly saw her own descendant: a dark-haired girl with braids, her face a mirror of Goody's own, standing defiantly before a descendant of the Crackstones: a red haired woman using dark magic like a hypocrite to resurrect Joseph Crackstone from beyond the grave. Goody was horrified as she saw a resurrected Joseph Crackstone use a knife to stab her dark haired descendant. Goody's breath hitched, the weight of the vision crushing her spirit.

When the images faded, she was left staring into the eyes of the innocent child, her hand trembling in his. During what had felt like centuries that just passed for Goody, only a moment had past in reality. Goody felt a cold sweat break out over her body, fear coiling around her heart like a serpent. "I'm... I'm not feeling well," she mumbled, extricating her hand from Joe's grip. She turned and ran, her feet pounding the hard earth, the wind tearing at her clothes as she fled back to the safety of her farm.

As Goody stumbled away, she realized that the battle she faced wasn't just with Joseph Crackstone; but rather with with generations of hate and fear that were to be passed down and lead to the death of countless individuals... including her own dark haired descendant. Goody knew she had to take action now to end the next three hundred years of torture the Crackstones would unleash... even if the cost was her own humanity.

Within an hour, Goody found herself back at the edge of town, where young Joe played innocently by himself in a field. Goody stood behind a set of trees with a musket in her hand. With Joe's back turned to her, Goody positioned the musket as she took aim at Joe's head; knowing that shooting through the head was the only sure way to end his life. Her heart was racing, but her hands were steady. This was the only way she knew how to save the future from the monsters her visions had shown her.

However just as she was ready to shoot, a shadow fell over her. It was Dudley, his eyes wide with confusion and concern as he said, "Goody, I was just heading home and... what are you doing here?" Goody swallowed hard, her finger hovering over the trigger. "I had a vision," she said, her voice strained. "Of that boy. That's Joseph Crackstone's son. When I touched his hand earlier, I experienced visions of the future Dudley. I saw that boy will carry on his father's legacy. Him and his descendants will kill thousands over the next three centuries... including one of our own descendants. However if I kill this boy now, it all ends. The bloodshed, the fear, it all ends with him."

Dudley stared at Goody in horror, the weight of her words sinking in. "But Goody," he pleaded, "He's just a child. Even if the future you saw in your vision is indeed completely certain... right now he is still just an innocent." Goody's hand trembled on her musket, the vision of her dark haired descendant's violent end burned into her mind's eye. "Everyone has the ability to make choices," she said, her voice shaking. "But some choices are destined."

Dudley's expression grew steely as he took in her words. "But the future is still wider and bigger than the vision you saw," Dudley argued. "For even good can still come from evil. Years from now: countless people that would've been enemies, could become allies due to their shared fear of the Crackstones. Friendships could be formed, with bonds made stronger all because of something that started with hate. Do we have the right to take that away?" Goody's eyes searched his, desperation clouding her judgment. "But Dudley, the lives that will be lost..." she whispered. "We can't just stand by and do nothing."

Dudley's voice grew firm. "We're not doing nothing," he said. "We're fighting... by being better than them. I was just listening to Joseph Crackstone talk earlier saying how his kind is superior. However we have to show all that we are superior; by not making decisions based in hate and fear ourselves. For if we kill children simply because of the group of people they were born to... we would find ourselves becoming just like the very hate filled man that killed your own family." Goody felt her resolve wavering as she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. With a heavy sigh, she put her musket down and began to cry. Dudley wrapped her in a warm embrace, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest.

Suddenly their tender moment was abruptly shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching. They pulled apart, and as they turned, they saw a small militia surrounding them with their muskets pointed in their direction. Then stepping forward past the backs of several of the militia men was Joseph Crackstone. "Ah, the little witch," Crackstone sneered. "I knew I'd find you if I kept sharing with every person I came across your facial description. The little girl who scarred my face six years ago. A face I never forgot. You thought you had escaped my wrath you horrid little wench... but you were only delaying your damnation." The militia men moved in, their muskets pointed at Goody and Dudley, who had no choice but to raise their hands in surrender.

Goody and Dudley were then dragged into town towards the local jail, the townsfolk watching with a mix of fear and excitement. The jail was cold and damp, the air thick with the stench of despair and waste. As the bars clanked shut behind them, Goody looked into Dudley's eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry Dudley. I'm sorry for dragging my terrible world into yours." But Dudley just took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he said, "Your world is my world Goody. I would do anything by your side, even go to jail with you. We'll find a way to get out of this problem. I promise."

The following day, Joseph Crackstone came to visit Goody and Dudley in their jail cell, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He stood before Goody, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "Six years," he said, his voice thick with spite. "It's been six long years since you scarred my face and escaped my grasp. But now, you're finally where you belong." Goody looked up at him, her eyes filled with a calm defiance that seemed to unsettle the man. "You've never understood what it means to be different," she said softly. "Us witches, we do indeed have abilities that set us apart. But that doesn't make us evil. If your kind would just accept us, we could be free to explore our abilities, pushing them further to bring about tremendous change for this land. Imagine a world where resources are unlimited, where no one goes hungry or cold. In time, witches with their powers could provide you that." Crackstone's smile grew cruel as he said, "Your kind would corrupt everything that is pure. That's why you must be eradicated."

"But what if you could have that power?" Goody asked, her voice steady. "The power to give every resource your people ever needed. Would you choose that over your crusade to destroy those who don't fit your narrow view of purity?" For a moment, doubt flickered in Crackstone's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a fanatical light as he said, "The power to eliminate the impure is my duty. For I am more than just God's instrument. The power to cast out those that don't belong on this Earth makes me as powerful as God himself! And this evening at your public execution: I will wipe away you and your damned husband from the face of this Earth, and this world will be a better place for it!" The tension in the room was palpable as Goody and Crackstone stared at each other. Then, with a flourish, Crackstone turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots echoing through the stone corridor.

Just as Goody and Dudley were now beginning to lose hope, suddenly several figures in dark cloaks stepped into the jailhouse. Their hoods obscured their faces, but there was something familiar about the way they moved. Goody however felt much relief when she saw the hooded figures snap twice. "The Nightshade Society," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder and relief. The leader stepped forward, and Goody recognized her as Rachel, a close friend of hers. Rachel nodded, confirming Goody's suspicion. "We've been watching you Goody," Rachel said, her voice low and urgent. "We know what happened. We're here to get you and your husband to safety."

The other members of the Nightshade Society moved quickly, unlocking the cell and helping Goody and Dudley to their feet. Dudley looked relieved as he said, "Thank you... but how are we supposed to get out? Everyone in town will certainly notice us if we take to the streets." Rachel then pointed to a wall that had been opened like a revolving door nearby as she said, "We had discovered a secret passageway connected between here and a cave hidden on Crackstone's property. When it's discovered you went missing, we're certain the last place Crackstone will look for you will be on his land."

"But Rachel," Goody added with urgency. "We can't just run. We need to find a way to stop Crackstone before his evil spreads too far." Suddenly without warning, Rachel handed Goody a worn leather-bound book with the title: Codex Umbrarum etched into the cover. Goody's eyes grew wide with shock as she recognized the book. "This... this is my mother's book!" she exclaimed. Rachel nodded gravely. "Yes. We managed to recover the Book of Shadows from your old home before the fires started. We know the power this book holds, and it's clear Crackstone is looking for it too. It's why he's been so obsessed with hunting you down."

The room grew silent as Rachel continued, "We knew we couldn't risk using its spells. It's too powerful, and we also didn't wish to use a book that is your birthright. But now it's time for you to claim what's rightfully yours." Goody took the book with trembling hands, feeling a strange energy pulsing from it, like it was alive. Goody then looked at her fellow Nightshade members as she said, "Thank you. But first, we must leave." The group quickly moved as a shadowy procession through the secret passage as they left the jail. However minutes later, a guard came to check on the cells... only to be horrified when he realized the prisoners he was expecting to see were gone. Suddenly shouting began to spread across the town, as the search for Goody and Dudley began.

As Goody, Dudley, and the Nightshade Society reached the end of the tunnel, the moonlight streamed through the opening, casting eerie shadows across the ground. Goody felt a mix of excitement and fear as she stepped out into the open... only to be greeted by the sight of Joseph Crackstone and his followers, all of them holding swords glinting in the moon's glow. "You think you can escape me so easily, witch?" Crackstone spat, his voice echoing through the night. His men formed a semi-circle around the escapees, leaving no room for retreat. Rachel and the Nightshade members, anticipating this, had already drawn their own swords, a silent promise of protection for Goody and Dudley. Joseph Crackstone looked very happy that there was about to be a battle though as he said, "Good. Everyone carries swords instead of muskets. Let us fight the proper way as I send you outcasts from my world into hell!"

Dudley then stepped forward as he said, "I am no witch Crackstone, but I would gladly defend my wife to the bitter end; for she is far more holy a person than you are." Then an angry Joseph Crackstone pointed his sword forward as he said, "Anyone who lays in bed with a witch, becomes a witch themself. So I accuse you of being an unholy witch as well that must be vanquished!" Dudley then held his sword tightly as he said, "So be it." Then with one motion of his hand, Crackstone's men ran into battle. The battle had commenced, with Dudley and Rachel fighting side by side with the grace of seasoned warriors. The sound of swords clashing filled the air, a symphony of chaos that seemed to dance to the tune of their pounding hearts. Rachel and the other Nightshades' movements were swift and precise, their blades perfectly deflecting each attack by their enemies. Meanwhile Dudley fought with a ferocity that belied his gentle nature, his sword flashing like lightning as he defended himself and Goody.

As Goody stood back from the battle looking overwhelmed, Crackstone tried to run at her with his weapon. However he soon found Dudley getting in his way. Dudley, driven by love and anger, faced the man who had haunted his wife's nightmares for years. Immediately their swords met with a clang that resonated through the night, sparks flying as their blades met. Crackstone's eyes gleamed with malice as he swung his sword, each strike fueled by his unbridled hatred for all things magical. Yet Dudley's movements were surprisingly graceful, his determination to protect Goody giving him strength beyond his years.

The two men circled each other, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they measured their opponent's strengths and weaknesses. Crackstone, tall and powerful, swung his sword in wide arcs that demanded respect. Dudley, smaller in stature but no less fierce, met each blow with a tenacity that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. The ground beneath them was soon trampled as their duel grew more intense. Each step was calculated, each parry and thrust a silent conversation in the language of combat.

The battle raged on, a whirlwind of steel and fury that painted the night crimson with the blood of both sides. Goody meanwhile watched in horror, torn between wanting to fight alongside Dudley and fleeing to safety so that her children would not become orphans like she had six years ago. Rachel, noticing Goody's indecision, called out to her: "Goody, either fight with us, or leave with the book. But please don't remain here any longer out in the open." Goody however simply stood still as she remembered the day her mother told her to run away just before she died. Seeing history beginning to repeat herself was leaving Goody in a state of frozen shock.

Meanwhile the duel between Dudley and Crackstone had become the central focus of the battle. Dudley's blade sang through the air, a silver ribbon weaving in and out of Crackstone's furious attacks. Despite his fear, Dudley felt a strange sense of clarity, as if the very essence of the night itself was guiding his hand. Each clang of their swords seemed to echo through the annals of time, a battle between two opposing forces that would set the stage for a future still unwritten.

But as the moments ticked by, it became clear that Dudley was beginning to tire, his swings growing more desperate. Eventually Crackstone saw his chance when Dudley left himself too open... and then Crackstone quickly lunged, his blade slicing into Dudley like a predator's fang. Upon watching the deadly blow, Goody's scream suddenly pierced the night as Crackstone's sword plunged into Dudley's chest. Dudley staggered back, the light in his eyes fading to a dull ember as he collapsed to the ground. The last movement Dudley made was looking lovingly at Goody before the life in his face was completely gone. Rachel and the Nightshade members redoubled their efforts, fighting with a fury that seemed to shake the very earth. Yet it was Goody's anguished cry that seemed to resonate the loudest. Then just to make everything worse, Joseph Crackstone grabbed a nearby torch he had, threw it on Dudley's body, and gleefully smiled as the body of the young man burned.

Her world now burning before her, Goody clutched the leather-bound book to her chest, her eyes wild with grief and rage. Crackstone approached her, his sword raised for the final blow, a sadistic smile on his face. But Goody was no longer the girl he had scared all those years ago. With a roar that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul, Goody threw the book open and began to chant in an ancient language as she read from the text before her. The very air around her grew thick with dark energy, a palpable force that seemed to coil around Crackstone like a living shadow. As Goody's incantation continued, Crackstone felt himself unable to move. His eyes grew wide with terror as he realized the true extent of the power Goody wielded. The spell grew stronger, and with it Goody's anger grew. She pointed her hand at Crackstone, and a bolt of shadowy energy shot forth, enveloping him completely. His screams were cut short as the magic took hold. And then, as suddenly as it had started, the energy retreated into the book, leaving behind the figure of a man that lay motionless on the ground.

In fear, all of Crackstone's followers immediately ran away. As Rachel approached Goody, she asked, "What did you do?" With her hands shaking, Goody said, "I... I sent Crackstone into an eternal purgatory. He is neither alive or dead. His soul is trapped in a plain of existence where he shall be alone indefinitely." Rachel looked relieved as she said, "Well, I don't care how you did it. The point is you stopped Joseph Crackstone. Well done Goody." But Goody's eyes remained fixed on Dudley's body which was still burning, tears streaming down her face. "But at what cost?" she murmured, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own heart breaking.

But then suddenly a new sound pierced the air: the anguished cry of a boy in pain. Everyone turned their heads and saw a young scared child step into the area. It was Joseph Crackstone's son: Joe, who was looking horrified at the body of his father laying lifeless on the ground. Joe immediately ran to his father's body grabbing a hold of it, and crying in great agony; with his screams sounding almost identical to the screams Goody had just made a short time ago when Dudley was killed. Then Joe turned to look at Goody, his eyes wild with grief and anger. In his hand, he clutched a dagger, his intention clear. "You will pay for this!" he shrieked, lunging at her with the weapon.

Two of the Nightshade members though quickly stepped forward, each grabbing one of Joe's arms and disarming the boy with quick ease. He struggled against them, his face a twisted mask of rage and despair. Rachel then looked at Goody as she said, "He is of the Crackstone lineage. Should we dispose of him too?" Goody then took a moment to look into Joe's hate filled eyes. A saddened Goody, while still keeping her eyes on Joe then said, "My vengeance has already pushed me too far on this night. I have taken a father from his son, and I cannot atone for that. I must do what Dudley would have wanted and spare this child."

Then one of the members of the Nightshade Society stepped towards Goody as she said, "But his father took your husband. There must be justice." Then Goody, complete with certainty in her voice said, "And it was was my husband who reminded me that if we kill children simply because of the group of people they were born to... we would find ourselves becoming just like the very people who hate us. Dudley may be gone, but I refuse to let what he taught me leave this world, and instead let his wisdom carry on past death."

Goody then looked at the other members of the Nightshade Society as she said, "Take the boy away. Find him a good orphanage far from here where no one has ever heard the name Crackstone before, so he can truly start his life anew." Rachel nodded, understanding the gravity of Goody's words. As Joe was dragged away, he looked back at Goody as he screamed, "I hate you! My family will get vengeance on what you have done this night, even if it takes centuries! On this I vow!" Goody stood silently as she saw Joe be taken away. After several minutes passed, Goody then walked towards Dudley's body. The fire that had burned his body had recently been taken out, and now all that remained was a figure Goody barely recognized. After looking at the burnt body for a long moment of silence... Goody fell to the ground and then began to sob.

A week later, Rachel and Goody sat silently in Goody's home, the scent of burnt wood lingering in the air. After a long period of silence, Rachel spoke, "Your husband was a brave soul. His memory will live on in the hearts of the Nightshade Society." Goody nodded, her eyes red from a week's worth of crying. Rachel tried to offer Goody some comfort as she said, "The town has been told that there never were any witches. They believe it was all a horrific lie conjured by fear and misunderstanding. Crackstone's followers meanwhile are too afraid to admit the magic they saw you wield out of fear for their lives. The leaders of the town have sworn an oath to protect those accused and to never again harm the innocent." Goody nodded, showing a small level of relief. However Rachel added, "But you know as well as I do that whispers remain. There are always those who will doubt, suspect, and hate. But for now, the hunt is over." Goody nodded her head as she said, "Yes... and so is my time with this book."

Goody the handed Rachel the leather-bound magic book she had used to defeat Crackstone, feeling the weight of its dark power in her hands one last time. "You must hide this," she said firmly. "Its power is too great for any one witch to wield. It can only bring destruction." Rachel took the book with a solemn nod. However as Rachel tucked the book away in her cloak, she curiously asked, "What of Crackstone's land? Who owns it now that he has gone and his son has been sent away?" Goody took a deep breath and then said, "The land now belongs to all types of outcasts. To those who have nowhere else to go. I've had a vision Rachel. A vision that showed me one day a great school will be built on that land. A school where outcasts of all types will learn to grow in their abilities. But until that time comes, we must keep our gifts hidden. We must pretend that witches are only whispers in the wind. As for now though... I wish to be reunited with my children, and make a better life for them... and the many generations that are to come..."

The Future:

An adult Wednesday Addams was walking into a small museum alongside her wife Enid. As Enid had her arm wrapped around Wednesday's, she said, "OMG. Addams Fest has been amazing! It was so much fun to see all those kids dancing to that song from Descendants 2, along with watching all those teenage rock bands perform." Wednesday however kept a simple straight face as she said, "While I was disappointed to not see enough people dressed in appropriately gothic attire for this festival, I will admit it was quite inspiring to see children singing about the joys of finding so many ways to be wicked, along with the blood that one teenage rock band was covered in." Then as Wednesday and Enid's daughters: Harmony and Ana trailed into the museum behind the two, Harmony looked a little puzzled as she said, "Mother, I think that band was covered in fake blood." Then Ana quickly whispered to Harmony: "Shh. Don't ruin the moment for her."

Then Gomez and Morticia stepped into the small museum, as a smiling Morticia said, "Actually you all haven't seen the highlight of Addams Fest yet. It's right over here at the end of this gallery." The family then walked to the end of a long room where they saw framed on a wall was a piece of a barn wall that had a picture of a skeleton drawing on it. An interested looking Harmony then said, "Cool drawing. Who's the skeleton supposed to be?" Then a proud looking Gomez said, "That is your ancestor: Dudley Addams." Ana then raised one eyebrow as she said, "Wait. Did someone draw a picture of his skeleton after he died? Man, this family is more creepy and kooky than I realized."

Morticia however made a smile as she said, "No. This is a drawing your ancestor drew when he was still alive. However since there are no surviving pictures of him, the Addams Family has long accepted that this drawing here is a rough approximation of how his skeletal structure looked." Then a proud Gomez looked at the picture as he said, "This piece of our family history is actually quite priceless, since Dudley Addams is the earliest known ancestor of ours that anyone can find any record of. Thus, Dudley Addams is the original member of the Addams Family as far as anyone knows." As Wednesday stepped towards the drawing, she looked at it with almost awe as she said, "I've read about him. Dudley was Goody Addams' husband. As the story goes, when on her death bed: Goody said she didn't fear passing on... for her late husband Dudley taught her that even after our souls leave this world, a part of ourselves will still carry on through our bones... and much more."

Everyone in the family stood for a moment looking quietly at the skeleton picture. Slowly: Gomez, Morticia, Harmony, and Ana walked away. Soon it was just Wednesday and Enid standing in front of the picture. Enid then gently held Wednesday's hand and looked at her with a smile. As Wednesday kept her eyes focused on the picture, she said, "Goody saved my life... and history says Dudley saved Goody. Without Dudley, I..." Wednesday found herself unable to continue her sentence. Then Enid squeezed Wednesday's hand for a moment, and made a warm smile as she said, "It sounds like Goody was really blessed to have been married to one of the greatest members of the Addams Family... and I can definitely relate." Then Wednesday closed her eyes... and squeezed Enid's hand back...

THE END

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A Brand New Story In Two Weeks: Harmony and Anxiety

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Trivia:

-Dudley Addams is indeed the lost original member of the Addams Family. In reality, he is the oldest surviving character ever drawn by Addams Family creator: Charles Addams, and was actually drawn on a barn wall in his hometown. The wall he drew Dudley on is now a museum piece. While the fictional history behind the character of Dudley in this chapter was solely manufactured by myself, Charles Addams' original drawing of Dudley (as pictured above) can be seen every year now at Addams Fest in Westfield, New Jersey.

-This chapter starts shortly after the flashback scene of Goody's mother and other outcasts being killed, as seen in Wednesday Episode 3: Friend of Woe.

-Goody's vision of Wednesday in the future is meant to be the moment that a resurrected Joseph Crackstone stabs her in Wednesday Episode 8: A Murder of Woes.

-Goody's defeat of Crackstone and how that defeat pushed her too far was first hinted at by information Morticia shared with Wednesday in Wednesday Episode 5: You Reap What You Woe.

-Events that would occur to Goody after the main flashback story in this chapter, are revealed in Chapter 13 of this series: Long Ago.

-The present day scene at the end of this chapter is meant to take place just a short time after to the second to last scene in the last chapter of this series: Wednesday's Acceptance.

-The events that Enid mentions happening at Addams Fest in the final scene of this chapter... real things that happened during my trip there. :)