#my poor kids have no idea what awaits them

[igotanidea]

Family rules: Damian Wayne x reader

Christmas bingo day 23 : midnight kiss

The first time she truly understood the meaning of the proverb heart over mind was on a school trip in September.

He was just standing by the wall, doing nothing except staring into space with those piercing green eyes.

Such pretty eyes

Such devilish, snake eyes.

Acting like he was who knows who.

Arrogant, cold, keeping his distant, rough, self-absorbed, not caring about anything or anyone.

Just like his father.

Damian Wayne.

***

Y/N had the misfortune of being born into a technological company family. Obviously she didn’t know it when she was a kid, but the word Wayne was inflected in her home on all occasions.

Wayne this, Wayne that...

 sort of spell or- more likely - a curse.

Damn it!

She was 12 when she gathered enough courage to ask her father what this was about. A mistake she only made once, cause even the mention of the Bruce Wayne and his famous, profitable company made her father see red.

That's how she found about the on-going competition between her father and Damian's one.

Obviously it was not like she was excluded from family rules and allowed to live in a bubble. Y/N was supposed to hate the entire Wayne family, the progenitor, his adopted kids and everyone who even came close to them. The only blood son included.

The only problem?

Said blood son was attending the same school, the same class as Y/N was. Which meant a lot of time spend together.

And you just command a teenager to do something and hope they'll listen. It's pretty much impossible, if not foolish belief.

***

In her defence - she tried.

She really tried to hate Damian.

But for five years, his name has been coming to her from every way on every occasion.

Wayne this, Wayne that.

Damn it!!

She could tear her hair out in utter desperation. How was she supposed to not think about him when all the world seemed to be dead set to remind her of his existence.

Of his stupid, unnecessary existence.

With his stupid, idiotic smile and his ridiculous handsome face and infuriating behaviour and the tendency to just be mean all the fucking time.

The internal fight between what she felt and how she acted made her clench her fist and grit her teeth every time Damian came into her view. The little bastard has been doing it on purpose just to see her flustered and enraged. It was like he was trying this best to show his superiority and just rub it into her face.

„L/N.”

„The hell you want Wayne?”

„Will you be attending this year’s New Year's Eve?”

„Will I what now?” she raised her gaze, unable to hide the confusion.

„want me to spell it out for you or something”?”

„Hm.” she muttered „I had no idea you knew how to do that Wayne.”

„I;m only telling you because I know you have problems with reading.”

„Clearly you have a problem with understanding simple things.”

„What I understand is that your father was left out when the invitations were being send. Are you finally going bankrupt”

„You little piece of-!” before she could stop herself her palm met with his cheek with a loud slap.

Shit.

He got exactly what he wanted. Provoked her and got the awaited reaction. She exposed herself, cause acting so dramatically only proved her contradictory, violent emotions he evoked in her.

„Nice one. Didn’t think you had it in you.” he wiped the little drop of blood she drew with her nails.

„Trust me I had it in me ever since you invaded the class.”

„I’ll let you make it even when you invade Wayne Manor for the party.”

„Though you said my family wasn’t invited?”

„It’s a charitable thing to open the door for the poor. I’ll see to it personally.”

„Such a generosity on your part, Mr. Wayne.” she rolled her eyes. „You can take your fake bounty and shove it up-”

„I can’t wait till you meet Todd. You two have so much in common.”

„Your older brother? Yeah, from what I heard you two have quite a rocky relationship. Maybe we’ll gang up on you.”

„Can’t wait.” Damian laughed dryly and with a mischievious glint in his eyes walked away not bothering to say another word.

***

„I;m not going.”

„You;re going.”

„I am so not going!”

„You don’t have a say in the matter!”

„Last year you said that new year’s party is not a place for kids!”

„You’re not a kid!”

„I’m 17! I;m a kid!”

„You ran away from home few months ago. You’re not a kid. You’re going. End of discussion.”

„If I’m not a kid then how come I can’t make a decision on this?” she smiled at her father with absolutely innocent eyes, pointing out all the holes in his logic.

Well-

He didn’t take her defiance in a good way.

Almost dragging her to the wayne manor, but dragging nevertheless.

***

Vomiting.

That’s how she felt entering the place,

Running away.

That’s how she felt walking up the steps and being thrown to the sharks when all the gazes landed on her and her father.

Hiding.

That’s how she felt when the gravity of being judged only based on her clothes and outlook sunk in.

Instead Y/N was forced to fake a smile, dance and do the rounds pretending to have fun.

All for the glory and good publicity of her father’s company.

Worst part?

He has been watching.

Like a predator in the darkness, waiting to strike when she was least suspecting it.

„Mr L/N.” Damian crept behind the girl and her father and she was sure he only did it on purpose to startle her. „Would you mind if I steal your daughter for a dance.

The tragicomic of the situation was truly poetic.

Her father went pale. Then red. His jaw got tense. Then loose. And then he smiled forcefully nodding his head, unable to say the dreaded yes. Apparently being torn between the devil (his daughter dancing with the son of his archenemy) and the deep blue sea (offending the host) was too much to handle.,

Too bad, Y/N had no chance to object or get away before Damian led her to the dancefloor.

„It’s not XVIth century Wayne, women can make their own decisions.” she hissed not really happy about his hands circling around her waist.

„Then run away if that’s what you want. I dare you.”

„I’m not going to make a scene here!”

„thought so.” he chuckled, capably leading her in the dance.

„what the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

„absolutely nothing.”

„I’ve known you for five years. There’s never nothing with you Damian.”

‘You used my name, Y/N.”

‘And you repeated my mistake.”

„Maybe it’s not a mistake?” he pulled her slightly closer, causing her to let out an involuntarily gasp. „I’m just saying-”

„I’m supposed to hate you.” she whispered making a turn and then a swirl

„So you don’t.” this was not a question but a statement, his hands trembling slightly. It was hard for him to keep the attitude while dealing with a whirlwind inside. He was 17 and liked a girl, having no idea how to behave to not make a fool out of himself, get embarrassed and lose in her eyes.

„don’t let it get into your head.” she whispered pressing herself closer to his body. They were dancing and it was only because of that.

„Me?” Damian smiled but it came unnoticed due to her head leaning on his shoulder „I think you’re the one who’s fantasising.”

„You sure you’re not hoping for a midnight kiss?” she mocked

„Are you?”

„no.”

„me neither.”

Bruce and f/n were carefully watching their kids.

Damian and Y/n couldn’t care less.

Family drama and conflicts seemed light years away at that moment.

 Future could be figured out later.

Part 2: moment of weakness

[teamchillidogs]

Oï!!

First, I want to say, I love this comic and genuinely can’t wait to see what awaits for us next ♡♡♡

The premise is such an interesting concept– And the art is to die for, hello?? (all my ♡ to you guys, and I mean ALL of you!)

I just had two tiny questions, if it haven’t been already answered:

If it doesn’t spoil anything, is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited? I can’t imagine my poor baby stuck with average speed, but I’m not really sure that this leg is capable of supporting his sonic speed.

And second, mostly adressed to others fans... WHY IS EVERYBODY BLAMING MAH BOI TAILS FOR EVERYTHING?? Like, yeah sure he’s technically responsible but–

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?!

Both Sonic and Amy told Tails to come back to the ARK and let Sonic&Shadow handle things, and I think we can safely say he would have (even reluctantly) obeyed and gone back to the ship.

But noooooo, Knuckles had to chime him and told him to make himself useful.

Useful.

To the boy who literally just witnessed his BigBroTM (fake) death in an explosion without being able to do anything abt it.

The kid who just had an entire arc abt gaining confidence and learning to step out of Sonic’s shadow (pun not intented), to be his own person with his own purpose and all that jazz.

The child who’s probably still pump up on the adrealine from his fight with Eggman (which he won if I remember my SA2 correctly).

Knuckles, mah bro, best hot-headed himbo of the franchise. You could not have chosen a worst time to utter these words.

Of course Tails was going to take him up on that and try to ”MaKe HiMsElf UsEfUl”, why wouldn’t he?? He defeated Eggman in battle (Left-over adrealine and possibly cockiness?), and didn’t seem to trust Shadow with Sonic (who, again, was thought Dead literaly less than half an hour ago bc of the Team Shadow was on– Seriously, I can see why he’d like to be by his side when Sonic is again risking his life out there for them)

And franckly, how was he supposed to realize how bad his intervention would turn out to be? It never got that bad before, why now?

#StoptheTailshate #HoldKnucklesaccountable

Sorry for the rambling and the terrible english, but it had to be said, bruh. Tails ain’t even in my Top-5 favorites character, but everyones’ so harsh on the baby, he needed some backup 🥺😭

Hii @sookilini here answering as per usual!

this is the best ask we have ever received and it's honestly my favorite, thank you so much for sending this.

I always get to excited and emotional when i read these things, thank you so much for your kind words <333

ALSO THANK YOU FOR NOT ATTACKING TAILS, he has been DRAGGED TO FILTH I CAN´T TAKE IT /j

So first: is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited?

Unfortunately, the people of Marmolim (the planet he landed on) as you may have been able to tell, don't know who Sonic is and are unaware of his speed and abilities. So, the prosthetic leg isn´t capable of withstanding his speed...

Secondly

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?

I honestly have no idea why most people commenting did not catch onto Knuckles provoking Tails by poking at his insecurities, I'd even dare to say his ego more so... Tails got into his head "oh I don't need Sonic to get things done. I can do anything, I'm more than just the brains, I can do the action too" at least this is my intention with his actions.

We have to remember, Tails is literally just a child at the end of the day, yes he is incredibly smart but can you really expect a 12-year-old-ish kid to act rationally when put in a stressful life or death situation while getting yelled at by everyone for just trying to help?

Nobody would ever expect a kid to even be in that situation to begin with right? at least that´s what I think.

We all know Knux isn´t the smartest in hindsight...he isn't stupid by any means, but he will say what comes to his mind without second guessing for sure.

But oh well...Knuckles isn´t here to defend himself....anymore...

But there is still hope

[greensword101]

Connor Adopted AU

Okay, this idea came to me a few weeks ago with a little idea for a one shot that has now developed into a large idea.

So, we all know what happens in "Sleep Tight" in Angel, Season 3, right? Wesley decides to not tell anyone about the prophesy involving Angel potentially committing filicide and tries to kidnap Connor for his safety. What happens as consequence is Connor getting kidnapped by Holtz, growing up in the worst hell dimension possible, and Connor returning as a teen and ultimately becoming (in my opinion) the most tragic character in the Buffyverse.

Instead of doing the good old fashioned Poor Communication Kills route here, Wesley decides that Angel has a right to know about the dreaded last line: The Father Will Kill The Son.

Angel...does not handle it well. He insists that Wesley could have mistranslated, is pulling a prank, that he was reading the wrong scroll. In the end, he is forced to accept that it is true. Connor is just a baby. He has only begun to taste life and there are so many things Angel had wanted to do, so many steps he was eagerly looking forward to.

All of it gone in an instant.

"Not quite," Wesley says with a determined light. Angel is despairing that his son will die by his hand. But Wesley has already decided that it will not happen. You don't get half a miracle.

The biggest threats to the baby's safety are Holtz, Wolfram and Hart, and all of the cults obsessed with 'The Miracle Child.' They have to take priority.

"And Connor?" Angel dreads the answer.

Wesley looks close to crying. "We can't keep him..."

No one is happy with this decision. No one. But no one is happy with Connor dying, either, and so they begin making plans to find a home for him. Wesley and Cordelia work on creating a new identity for the baby and finding a foster family. Fred buries her grief in packing up what the baby is going to take to his new forever home. Gunn and Angel channel their rage and own despair into hunting down every last threat to their son/nephew. Lorne is working with the Furies on getting the best protective spells available to hide Connor from enemies and hide him under the radar.

Holtz realizes that he can't move forward with his revenge plan as word of Angel's rampage spreads throughout the underworld. His followers slowly abandon him as their fear for their lives overpowers their lust for blood. Even Justine leaves him, seeing it as a lost cause and there's nothing to be gained from fighting a losing battle.

A family is found, Cordelia fills them in on only what is essential: the baby is in an unsafe environment, the baby's father wants him put into a safe and loving home. Lawrence and Colleen Reilly already have a daughter that is ten years old, and they're too old to try passing the kid off as their own. But all it takes is one picture of little Connor for them to fall in love instantly.

And so, the day the Fang Gang had been expecting and dreading arrives. Angel kisses his son on the forehead one last time before disappearing into the night, unable to bear watching his son be taken away.

"Sleep tight, son. Daddy will always love you..."

Cordelia makes the journey to the Reilly's home with Wesley acting as the decoy in case Wolfram and Hart try anything. She's holding back tears as she hands Connor off to his new family, wishing them well while Lorne is in the car finishing the last of the spellwork to protect Connor and the Reillys. Wesley gets his throat slit when one of Lilah's security team thinks he has the baby. She's furious at being made a fool, but still ensures that Wesley is taken to the hospital because s̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶o̶f̶t̶ ̶s̶p̶o̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ she wants to send a message to Angel.

Angel is the first to see Wesley in his hospital bed, unable to speak and unable to move from his spot. He awaits judgement several feet away.

Angel is quiet. "Did you really think I had it in me to kill Connor?"

Wesley looks at him hard, silently saying You could have become Angelus.

Angel nods. "Do you think I'm Angelus now?"

Wesley doesn't blink.

"Well, I'm not. You believe me, don't you?"

Slowly, Wesley nods.

"Good." Angel stands up and moves to the bed. His hand reaches for the pillow underneath Wesley's head...and gently fluffs it. Then, Angel readjusts his chair so it is right next to Wesley's bed.

"I'm staying here all night whether you want me to or not. That's the least I can do for you."

Wesley reaches out to Angel's hand and squeezes it tight. Gunn is waiting outside with Fred, who is sobbing into her coffee. Every last trace of Connor is out of the hotel, as if he were never there. They stay there the entire night, later joined by Cordelia and Lorne a few hours later.

While one family mourns the loss of one child, another family welcomes the introduction of another into their home. Connor Francis Reilly kept only several things from his old home: his name (including his middle name), a few teddy bears and a duck-printed blanket. Thanks to the efforts of the Furies and Lorne, no supernatural forces come near him. He grows up understanding that he was adopted, that Lawrence and Colleen are not his biological parents...and not thinking any less of them.

Of course, he wants to find his bio family. But only out of curiosity. His mom and dad (his parents) only told him that his mother (or who they think is his mom) worked hard to find a good home for him. He doesn't feel abandoned. He doesn't have any traumatic experiences (other than the one time he got lost in the store when he was five). Connor grows up relatively normal.

He watches Charmed with his big sister when he's a toddler (and connecting with the fourth sister, Paige, cause she was adopted too and loved her parents too), goes camping with his friends, is drawn to a lot of fantasy books like the Anna Rice novels. Mainly the ones that have vampires, for some reason. But never Stephanie Meyers, though. He gives up before he gets halfway through the first chapter in that series. That Bella girl is such an ungrateful brat!

His family goes out camping a lot, which was something Connor loved! He could almost imagine living off in the wild like Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe. Larence laughed at this and said. "You might just become the local menace in the woods."

He also loves to dance. Connor doesn't realize that he is just as artistic as his father and mother (well, Darla could sing well, and Angelus saw murder as an art form, but that's another story). It's mainly because he used to do boxing until he was 8 and punched a bag so hard that sand spilled out.

So, his dad suggested dancing instead. He could be like Billy Elliot and the chances of him punching someone's head clean off their shoulders would drastically decrease. Plus, dancing was fun! He didn't have to wear a tutu (thank God, his sister would never have let him live it down), and his instructors were amazed at how effortlessly he moved on the stage.

That's also how he met his future boyfriend (he's bi, his parents accepted that when he came out), Marcus. Marcus is on the football team and loves watching his boyfriend dance. He can't get over how graceful he is, it's almost inhuman.

Connor Reilly has an amazing life, and he can't think of how it could get any better than that.

About two weeks after he thinks this, the protection spells that were cast to protect him from the supernatural realm and hide him from enemies finally breaks. Connor gets hit by a car and crashes into the garage of his family's home without a scratch on him. His parents, now well into their fifties, get an anonymous tip that they might find answers with a certain investigations company.

They trekked to L.A. and get accosted by a vampire cult. Connor is too stunned to do anything as they pull him away from his parents, screaming their heads off in terror as their only son is ripped away.

Vampires are real. He thinks over and over again as he's dragged underground into what he suspects is connected to the sewers. Vampires are real and I'm going to die.

He's stripped naked save for a loincloth. The man (or vampire) that he suspects in their leader looks euphoric as he looks Connor over in his cell.

"At long last, the Miracle Child is among us once more."

Connor doesn't understand how he could be a miracle. Well, other than how it was a miracle that he wasn't killed by that car. And the other stuff in his life that he is conveniently ignoring for the sake of his own sanity.

"You shall be freed from this human prison and be worshipped among your kind."

Connor doesn't like the way the creep looks close to kissing him just then. He's a minor and already has a boyfriend, thank you very much!

Too soon, he's dragged out and tied to an alter where the Head Creep suddenly changes his face and bares his sharp teeth. Connor tries fighting, but the bindings are too strong and he's frozen with fear.

And then the Head Creep is dust. Literal dust. One of the other creeps is behind him wearing that same Scary Face, but for some reason, Connor isn't afraid of that one. The sword in his (savior?)'s hand shines in the torchlight and slash at the bindings. Before Connor can react, he's swaddled in the robe the Scary-But-Not-Scary Guy was wearing and witnesses all of the other vampires being hacked and staked until there's no one left but him and the other guy.

Then, the face goes back to normal and Connor finds it funny that the guy looks like he's brooding. Well, he would if he weren't half naked and still possibly awaiting death by fanage. Suddenly, a bundle is tossed his way and Connor realizes that it's his own clothes. His savior has the decency to look away while Connor changes, which pushes him further up the Guess You're Not Really A Bad Guy bar in Connor's book.

"Are you hurt?" His savior asks.

"No." Connor says honestly. Then, he realizes that there's a scratch on his cheek (probably from when the sword was cutting off the rope).

For some reason, this seems to get his savior upset. "Oh God, Connor, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking! I wasn't trying to hurt you and" -

Connor cuts him off before he continues to ramble. "How did you know my name?!"

Then, he sees the guy's face. It looks so much like his own, except...broodier and his hair is short. Connor lost his hair band keeping his man bun in check and he has to brush away the bangs going over his eyes.

Connor then realizes that he's meeting his biological father for the first time ever.

[philosophika]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Hi @inkovert! Thank you, as always, for the tag. Just a quick shout-out; if you don't know Inkovert yet, please please please go check out their WIP, My Dearest Enemy. Also, do you like having in-depth discussions about writing with other up-and-coming authors? Participate in @inkovert's Spilled Ink Saturdays. The first session (on book-to-screen adaptations) was a lot of fun!

✦ What motivates you to write?

I agree with @inkovert. It's not that I'm motivated to write, exactly... It's more that I feel I... have to? There's a sort of internal inertia that keeps pulling me back to fiction. Maybe it's obsession? Maybe it's Maybelline? 💃😉 No, but seriously, I think it may be connected to this weird instinct I have to document things? To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, when I was in my mid-twenties, I went through a terrifying break-in. I kid you not; there was a literal man with a balaclava crouched in my shower in the middle of the night. How did I respond? By screaming, obviously. But after the screaming? I called up my boyfriend and narrated every single detail of what I saw and heard while trying to escape the house with my family. In my mind, I felt it was critical to tell him what was going on, not because I thought it would help catch the culprit(s) (we didn't know if there were more), save us from whatever bitter fate awaited, etc., but kind of in the same way people carve "I was here" into walls? If I was going to die (which was a possibility; a friend's father died in similar circumstances at around the same time), I needed someone to know what I'd seen, to know that I'd seen... So, do I write because I'd die if I didn't? No. I write because I'm going to die anyway. Because I know I'm going to die.

✦ A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud of/happy with. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

I can do you one better! Because @inkovert kindly tagged me, I'd like to return the favour by referring you to their Wattpad page, where you can read their current WIP, My Dearest Enemy

✦ Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

Haha, I don't know if any of the OCs in The Sorcerer's Apprentice make me smile. They all worry me a lot. By accepting an apprenticeship with the sorcerer Valeriano, Altaluna is heading straight into a nest of venomous vipers, and they are going to maim her; they are going to maim her for life. Every time she feels optimistic or wow-ed by the glitz and the glam of her new environment, I cringe internally. My poor, sweet summer child! Valeriano, on the other hand, is a monster, so it's hard to smile when thinking of him. Hmm... maybe the only character I genuinely smile around is Cucufate, the talking monkey. He's the only character whose behaviour and snide comments can be underplayed as just 'animal antics,' which means he's the only character who can get away with giving people a little of what they truly deserve. It's hard not to love him for it.

✦ What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Again, I have to agree with @inkovert. The editing process means no blank page, and no blank page means (rejoice!) no existential suffering. My first drafts are always shit and a disappointment. But my second drafts? Dost thou want to live deliciously? With the second draft, I know where I'm going, what's happening, where to trim the fat and everything I need to make the story what I wanted it to be in the first place. Usually, I downright discard the first draft and write the entire story from scratch, but better, so much better. And editing the second (or sometimes, third) draft? Pure, unadulterated bliss. Goodbye, low self-esteem, goodbye doubts; cue me some Nina Simone, why don't you?

✦ What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Editing, re-drafting. I'm good at figuring out what's wrong and have no trouble whatsoever massacring my darlings.

✦ What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

The community! I love participating in tag & ask games, reading people's work, celebrating my mutual's triumphs, and sharing my progress. I don't have any writer friends outside of Tumblr (apart from academic writer friends, though they're a very different kettle of fish), so I really appreciate being able to log on and be met with all this creativity.

✦ A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Okay, so first thing first: I have ADHD. Any thought I have is an explosion that simultaneously sends spin-off thoughts in every imaginable direction, which, in turn, send spin-off thoughts in every imaginable direction, and so on and so forth, and on and on, until some of the spin-offs reach a dead end and their line withers, and/or I reach the limits of my capacity to hold all these thoughts in my mind and spontaneously combust. Instead of trying to fight this multi-generative tendency (this leads to a state of paralysis where I can't do anything), I've found a way to let the 'explosions' take the lead without overloading my systems, so to speak. Basically, I figured that if I stored every direction my mind went in somewhere other than my mind, I could let it do its thing without risking burnout. For that, I use MindNode, a visual brainstorming software. And let me tell you, it's been a life-saver. Now, when considering a scene, I document every possible route available to the characters and/or the setting, assign each ramification a score (for example, +1 Worldbuilding, +1 Foreshadowing, +1 Symbolism, +1 Character Development, -1 Cliché, -1 Undermines Tension, -1 Repetitive, etc.), and then choose the one with the highest score to write out. This method is obviously quite time-consuming, but it does have some unique strengths beyond helping me deal with my ADHD: (1) it ensures that there are no superfluous scenes in the grand design, (2) it ensures that all scenes are layered and fulfil multiple story functions at once, (3) it discourages going with the first option that presents itself (usually cliché, in my case), (4) it encourages out-of-the-box creative thinking, (5) and, finally, it's likely to lead to scenes that surprise you, the writer (for example, I was shocked by how many routes led to my character's death, lol). So, yeah, MindNode has been very helpful to me.

✦ A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

I love the magic system, but I'm not sure I'll reveal anything more about it before publication than I already have in this post. You're just going to have to wait and see ;)

✦ Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

I follow TONS of talented writers on this site, among them: @inkovert, @that-chibi-writer, @tate-lin, @kingkendrick7, @ettawritesnstudies, @blind-the-winds, @aquadestinyswriting, @avrablake, @alinacapellabooks, @lordfenric-writes, @moonscribbler, @cee-grice, @sender-paulson, @sarah-sandwich, @liv-is, @athenswrites, @junypr-camus, @rubywrite, @winterandwords, @salmonandfox, @merlina87, @songsofsomnia, @words-after-midnight, @lucianinsanity, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @nanashi23, @sam-glade, @at-thezenith, @kestalsblog, @kaatiba, @theunboundwriter, and so many more!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Farmer has a kid with Jio or Daia and introduces them to Kiwi 🥺🥺 Kiwi thinks babies are weird but they're her friends' family so she vows to protect the child. Baby can see Kiwi as the junimo she is and they become friends as the kid grows older.

Alternatively, the farmer has married Corine and had a child, they secretly take the baby and introduce them to grandmama Helen.

I'm so sorry these ninjas have taken over my brain and are living there rent free 😩 I'm already holding back on half the hcs and shit I have for them, if I don't talk about them my head will explode like a pressure pot

Omg all this ideas is so cute 🥺❤️

Here are a short stories about these sweetest moments, thanks for the ask! 💕

_________________________________________

The Farmer feels guilty and a liar that they can't tell their dearest spouse the truth. That this is no ordinary walk with their shared child, their precious little one, through the spring woods. But it's not just Farmer's secret.

It is Helen's long-awaited meeting with her grandchild, a child she will not be able to pamper and cherish, sew warm baby clothes and give toys to like an ordinary loving grandmother. The duty to the Lady and the safety of her family for a high-ranking member of the Cult of the Lady with the red tail is worth much more than her own happiness. Still, she is grateful to fate that her daughter's partner turned out to be a kind and patient person who knows both for the Cult and everything else that is hidden from human eyes.

She is grateful, that Grandpa's grandchild realizes how heavy the burden of being a follower of the Lady's cult is.

Helen thanks Yoba that the Farmer respected her secret by not telling either Corine or Ezekiel about her staged death. Grateful that they arrived on time at the meeting place.

The moment had come. So much worry in Helen's ever-quiet mind.

"Thank you for coming," coming out of her disguise, she stood before a slightly smiling Farmer with a baby in their arms. Helen's heart was pounding so fast it was about to jump out of her chest. She stepped closer, peering into the baby's eyes.

Helen expected frightened look, but she was greeted by the baby's ringing laughter. Joy and curiosity on the child's face, but not fear.

Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks.

"Ah, the baby looks like her mother," Helen's voice quivered, and her hands began to shake a little. She was ready for anything, but she didn't know what to do with the overwhelming feelings of happiness and joy.

She didn't think she would live long enough to see her grandchildren.

_________________________________________

"Well, Kiwi," announced the Farmer cheerfully, "it's time for introductions."

An excited Junino jumped in anticipation of finally seeing the little one that Jio, Daia, even Lady and Blair had talked about so often. Everyone got to see the little child, and only poor Kiwi wasn't called. Unfair!

Finally, today, justice would be served and the ninja-junimo would see with her own eyes the reason for such a frenzy.

The farmer, holding their adorable baby in their arms, dropped to one knee carefully so Kiwi could get a better look. The baby gazed up at Junimo, and Kiwi realized that magic flowed in Farmer's offspring as well. The child's curiosity, the little hands that reached for the startled Junimo.

"Oh! Kiwi is not a toy! Kiwi is an assassin!" She was still stunned.

"Why is the little man so small? Humans are tall, like Jio or Scary Lady. And this little man is as small as Kiwi!"

The child didn't seem at all frightened by the incomprehensible talking fruit, but only laughed, still holding out their hands to the new acquaintance.

"The little one.... wants to be friends?" For a moment, she wondered. "Kiwi's friend! Yes!''

Jio's relief, Daia and Farmer's smiles, Kiwi bouncing, the laughing child - neither of them remembered their gatherings being so wholesome, like a reunion of relatives.

"Kiwi will teach the little friend to throw knives!"

"No!" Oh, these two are sure to be best friends and daredevils at Ridgeside Village for sure.

[hanakihan]

to follow @i-bring-crack, here i present you all

Sung Jin-Woo / Woo Jin-Chil Weird AU WIPs Bingo (because my fantasy runs wild)

Fatal Frame AU: Jin-Chul disappears on assignement to investigate disappearance of people near small village. Jin-Woo, worried, plagued by nightmares and paranoid over moving shadows in their shared apartment, goes to find Jin-Chul himself. He had no idea that he’s Abyss’ creation that helped It to find and seek back what belongs to It. Jin-Chul was the only survivor in sacrificial night because his mother helped him to escape and ritual failed, entire village consumed in eternal darkness that froze this place in time. Jin-Woo, fighting with his nature as Abyss’ creation, arrives at sacrificial altar, where remaining piece awaits, clad in white and reds. The question is, will he succumb to shadows and finish ritual that failed or will defy his fate.

Houseki no Kuni AU: Clinohumite (Jin-Woo) is a right hand for Gray Diamond (Go Gun-Hee), not the hardest yet not the most fragile of gemstones. Being the one to keep track of all gemstones and their schedules, it falls on him to find always sneaking Alexandrite (Jin-Woo) and finally assign him a proper task. Game of hide and seek results in first proper meeting, the best fighter among them all that catches Clinohumite from falling and breaking, while shining purple eyes laugh at him. Since Clinohumite won by finding him, Alexadrite arrives next day at meeting in clear blue glory, under different light he changes his color and slightly personality. Clinohumite once was on Moon and returned from it barely whole but has no memories of it, because Alexandrite was his initial partner on patrol duty until he failed to save Clinohumite from abduction and that’s why he avoids him, ashamed of his previous weakness.  Clinohumite’s abduction resulted in appearance of other self in Alexandrite (basically pre Monarch awakening Jin-Woo as blue hue Alexandrite at day and Shadow Monarch Jin-Woo as purple hue Alexandrite at night).

Idol AU: Jin-Chul wanted to be a normal office clerk, not to work as an idol manager. He lacks enthusiasm but he gets the job done, but even then he decides that he’ll quit after his final assignment. Final assignment happened to be the most popular Idol in South Korea - Sung Jin-Woo, who, compared to other Idols, is actually nice and easy to manage. Poor Jin-Chul has no idea what a disaster Jin-Woo is, especially after Jin-Chul caught his eyes.  ‘After our contract ends i’m going to retire’ ‘Oh great i plan to graduate from idol industry and take a vacation with you’ ‘Congratulatio-- WAIT WHAT’ And Jin-Woo’s graduation alnum was full of love songs that broke top charts in less than a day.

Absolute Being Incarnation AU: No matter what, Shadow Monarch seeks his God, while God seeks familiar presence. They both awakened through pain and suffering, but in the end they’re together after lifetimes of separation. They’re Origin and Finality of everything, but most of all, they’re two pieces that perfectly match. 

Gacha AU: Jin-Woo was a prime example of pop-culture illiterate. And then apparently Jin-Ah drags him into gacha hell where in addition to his Shadow Monarch title he earns The Supreme Whale title and he absolutely doesn’t regret speding money on 2D husbando when in theory he can have 3D one. Two pining dorks whaling the hell out of game for each other’s content because they’re afraid to speak about their feelings in real life.

Childhood sweethearts AU: Jin-Chul was a white crow that other kids avoided. That is until a really cute boy approached him and asked if he wants to play. Jin-Chul had a thought to be rude so other boy will leave him alone but honestly it won’t hurt to play with a child who’s younger by some years? After that they were playmates for some time because Jin-Chul’s orphanage took kids out to play in park, and one day this boy gifted Jin-Chul really cute but clearly child made plushies of himself and that boy, and Jin-Chul almost cried because no one gifted something directly to him and for him. And boy had courage to propose to him despite being at least head shorter and younger, and Jin-Chul told him to grow up first. That was their last meeting, but Jin-Chul still held those plushie dolls dear to his heart, caring and repairing them when time came. Jin-Woo never forgotten that lonely but pretty boy from childhood to whom he promised to marry once he grows up, and deducted it was Jin-Chul after seeing those old plushies that are clearly taken good care of.  ‘If that boy from years ago to propose to you again, will you accept?’ And Jin-Chul silently drops plushies he was holding, seeing a fine man that still look at him with same admiration and affection just like that pure boy on playground.

Howl’s Moving Castle AU: Jin-Chul is a workaholic who rarely rests, but he still finds time to be kind to people. After unknowingly helping a Shadow Monarch in disguise, he gets cursed by other Monarchs for contacting with exiled one. Now it’s up to Shadow Monarch to return a kindness favor to human who got caught in this mess and fall in love with warmth and brightness of his soul despite his eldery appearance. Also there’s definitely a scene of Jin-Woo lovingly stroking Jin-Chul’s golden locks as man becomes youthful in his sleep again wrapped in blankets near fireplace.

Hades and Persephone AU: Under request of Gun-Hee (Demeter), Jin-Chul (Persephone) visits Underworld to welcome and help new God - Jin-Woo (Hades), since Jin-Chul knew previous Shadow Monarch and helped him from time to time to run things in Underworld. Because Jin-Woo had no idea, he accidentially fed Jin-Chul food from Underworld. Jin-Chul found a solution, thus creating seasonal cycle. Jin-Woo feels bad about his mistake and doesn’t notice how he fell in love with god of spring and nature.

Frog Prince AU: Jin-Woo is a soon to be heir to a kingdom, and he needs a spouse. Unfortunately, he’s not interested in getting married when whole country is open for explaration. In the end, his parents make him to shot an arrow - where it lands, there will be his spouse. Jin-Woo finds his arrow in swamps and near his arrow is an ordinary looking frog. Ashamed to lie to his parents, he brings frog back to palace, where he becomes an object of laughter. Heir’s spouse shall go through trials to show their skills, but seeing that heir brought a frog with him, no one took it seriously. But surprisingly, each morning Jin-Woo found each required item made with utmost care. Jin-Woo goes to bed ready to be a laughterstock next evening because there will be a ball to congratulate him on his engagement on swamp frog, but before falling asleep he feels someone stroking his head and whispering to wait for him at ball night. At that same night instead of a frog a beautiful man enters the room, a shining brilliance that adresses Jin-Woo as his future husband who took a good care of him while he was small and weak. Jin-Woo later finds and burns frog skin making things worse, because Jin-Chul was a cursed missing adopted prince that king Gun-Hee tried to find for years. Now it’s up to Jin-Woo to lift the curse and fix his mistakes.

Palace intrigue AU (Heavily inspired by Kusuriya no Hitorigoto and Cinderella): Jin-Chul’s parents were high ranked prostitutes in red light district that raised him in brothel. By sheer luck and because brothel owner knew General Go Gun-Hee by old friendship, he ended up in his care as a right hand man. By no mans Jin-Chul was a best educated man, but he knew basics enough to preform taks given to him. Who would’ve known that during his visit to palace with Gun-Hee he’ll manage to save princess Jin-Ah from being poisoned? Apparently brothel knowledge comes in handy when someone tries to assassinate someone. And just like that a faceless soldier with no name behind him and no education gains a favor of the Emperor, whom almost no one saw. And on top of that some palace minister, who happens to be Gun-Hee’s friend, has a tendency to drag Jin-Chul into problems while Gun-Hee laughs on background because while Emperor Jin-Woo is in disguise to escape his obligations as a ruler of a nation, it’s still hilarious to see that sparkle in Emperor’s eyes when your adopted son scolds the Emperor for doing something dumb.

IB-inspired AU: Jin-Chul is a busy salaryman, but when given free tickets to attend an art gallery dedicated to famous missing painter Sung Jin-Woo who had a very distinct style focusing on blues and purples, he attended. Too caught up in admiring art pieces, Jin-Chul doesn’t notice changes in gallery and accidentially falls into one of paintings. Ending up in reverse gallery with nothing but a vibrant yet dead looking yellow rose he wanders around and tries to avoid hostile Shadow series paintings that came to life. In the end Jin-Chul finds missing painter - albeit he has some memory issues. But then also he finds that Jin-Woo made a themed self portrait for Shadow Series before his disappearance titled ‘Shadow Monarch’. Now Jin-Chul questions who’s real and who’s impostor while questioning if the person he bonded with is the real Sung Jin-Woo or a pretending Shadow Monarch.

Genderswap AU: Jin-Chul never understood what Hunter Sung found in her - he got the looks, the power, everything he can desire at this point, he’s surrounded by best looking hunters out there, yet despite it all he follows her around, a workaholic, constantly tired and not best looking person out there. She’s tall and too sharp for a dream girl, no curves and softness, only sharp angles and muscle, no skirts and heels, only suits and occasional loafers. She even gets confused for a man most of the times so yes, what Hunter Sung potenially could’ve found in her is a complete mystery for her.  On side note if both are women, Jin-Woo domineering the fuck out of men but chosing bae over hoes because she has her lesbian priorities okay and because chairman’s right hand lady is so fun to tease

Nier AU: After fall of humanity, two Androids - B1 (Jin-Woo) and A8 (Jin-Chul) - continue to wander on Earth trying to fulfill their mission despite no need. B1, who in reality happened to be E1 type Android and A8 - an old model - locate and destroy Monarchs - signle A.I. units that stop Earth from self regenerating. They succeed, but in the end, nothing is left on them, empty falling apart shells that want to meet their end together, because maybe they found humanity while it ceased to exist? /whoever gets why there’s numbers 1 and 8 ilu

Titanic (kinda?) AU: a rich class young master and an ordinary overworked coal covered engineer meet on luxurious cruise ship even though they were never supposed to. What can go wrong on nighttime when both of them meet and talk without social boundaries surrounded by lull of waves? As a part of engineering team Jin-Chul stays on sinking ship and after securing his family Jin-Woo having none of this self sacrificial shit because Jin-Chul has people he cares about too.

Gambler/Organized crime AU: Investigator Jin-Chul having a cold case on his hands - and potentially, the Shadow Monarch, one of Monarchs that rule underground criminal world in Korea, has needed leads to finally solve it, so killing spree can be ended. Once a month his syndicate organizes gambling night - a type of gambling battle royale between participants and Shadow Generals for winning and having a chance to have an audience with unreacheable Shadow Monarch. Jin-Chul, desperate to find a lead, signs in as a participant and slowly climbs him way towards victory, avoiding death along the way. Surprisingly, he gets small aid from ‘benefactor’ who seems benevolent enough. Jin-Chul survives the night and has a meeting with a mysterious Shadow Monarch, who’s curious what a government dog (heh--) is doing in such place and why going to such lenghts. Jin-Chul saw Monarch’s face and learned his name over a cup of herbal tea and didn’t even thought how he’ll walk out of here alive after that. It was written all over his face and Jin-Woo had best laugh in years because of that and after drugs kicked in and exhausted Jin-Chul fell asleep, Jin-Woo spared him, curious of what Mister Investigator will do and will his actions shake Monarchs balance in underground world. 

Benelovent God AU (Crane's Return of a Favor inspired): Jin-Chul led a simple life as a peasant - there was food on his table and his adopted father was well, and that was enough for him. One night he got lost and stumbled upon a butterfly field, pleace clad in darkness yet luminated by flapping wings of blue butterflies. In middle of it grew an old majestic tree and right under it was almost destroyed altar. Jin-Chul, feeling tired after field work, tidied place a little and prayed to unknown god, asking for forgiveness and a chance to sleep near tree. Next day he wakes up covered by expensive looking robe and with butterflies sitting on him, but instead of taking anything, he draps it over altar and even leves small offering from remaining food he had. Jin-Chul continues to visit that altar and take care of it, eventually sharing how his day went or his troubles while doing work here, and when that happened, one of butterflies always ended up following him back home only to disappear later. With time his household started to flourish and life in village became so much better, and Jin-Chul one day asked if unknown god wants something in return for shown kindness and unknown god finally manifests, replying that Jin-Chul showed kindness first even though he had no idea to whom he prayed. It was kindness of a stray human that awakened a sleeping god that fell in love.

Fashion industry AU: Who would’ve thought that an average looking manager will catch worldwide known fashion designer’s eye? Jin-Woo was having a slump of ideas, none of best models inspired him, he had no one to model for his recently released collection photoshot. Enter Jin-Chul who was just accompanying one of models to end up dressed up and groomed for a photoshot under careful eye of essentric fashiom designer Jin-Woo. And then he gets an offer to be Jin-Woo’s personal model for next collection? Cue sexual tension during a simple measurements taking scene--

Blind and Mute AU: Jin-Chul was born blind. Jin-Woo became mute because of trauma. Two of them meet in a park, awkwardly sitting on a bench. Jin-Woo helps Jin-Chul to navigate around new places while Jin-Chul talks with Jin-Woo without demanding answering back. They grow comfortable around each other and their communication method is touch, two become function as one, comfortble and complete.

Villain/Hero AU: Jin-Chul was absolutely unfortunate enough to be selected as a Hero that will go and slay Shadow Monarch. Turns out Shadow Monarch is a bored shut-in who didn’t even leave his lands and has no idea that someone does crimes under his name. Entire misunderstanding gets resolved with a good cup of tea and Shadow Monarch decides it is time to socialize after being a shut-in for 1000 years. Jin-Chul thinks it was a bad idea. Jin-Woo says that hero now can rest since Shadow Monarch was slayed - his heart now belongs to a tired man who unceremoniously entered his palace to slay him.

Soulmates AU: with appearance of Gates and Mana, in rare cases hunters can become Soulmates - those who have a connection through which their mana reaches other. Jin-Woo was weak, but he felt much stronger mana trying to keep him somewhat safe, while Jin-Chul felt a weak flicker of someone’s mana shyly touching his own. The stronger Jin-Woo becomes, the more Jin-Chul knows and feels it, and eventually Jin-Woo’s mana starts to terrify and hurt him. Jin-Woo has no idea that Jin-Chul is his soulmate since his own mana started to eat other’s. Weak warm touch of other’s mana is what reminds Jin-Woo of who he is and that he mustn’t lose himself in his own power.

Omegaverse AU: Jin-Woo is a weakest hunter but also a completely ordinary beta. Then he gets hit with Ashborn’s yassification and changes to alpha that demands to domineer to claim to own. And then there’s Jin-Chul who’s also a normal beta and has no idea that Jin-Woo is an alpha because betas literally cannot smell others or feel. Despite Jin-chul being a beta, Jin-Woo still finds his smell rather nice and soothing, not annoying like alpha’s or sickeningly sweet like omegas. Cue alpha’s courting that an ordinary beta completely doesn’t understand. Alpha in Jin-Woo is completely overjoyed when Jin-Chul allows him to mark his neck with a bite even though it does nothing to beta and it’s a literal pain in neck but oh well, he can survive this (he has no idea it will become worse once it’s rut period someone save him).

That’s some weird ass AUs okay but those are at least fun sounding (i hope) because i have additional 30 in my safe but G O D they need brushing because they’re an overall idea mess WHEEEEEEEEEEZE)

[joz-yyh]

Blighted Hearts - Ch. 12

SUMMARY: *Flashback chapter!* In order to make amends, Bigby returns to the witch’s house. Damian insists on coming with him. Will they be able to bury the hatchet or does a worse fate await them? No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T ((for this chapter ONLY!!))

PAIRING: Abomination x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 6,503

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Wouldn't it be funny if they became Para's dungeon slaves? Just kidding.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

The flagellant swings open the door to Bigby's room, so keen on dissuading him that he forgets to knock.

“Tell me, you’re not thinking of going.”

Bigby jolts, not expecting the intrusion or the splurge of words. Sure enough, the abomination had been pacing, wearing out the floor of his room, almost manic.

“I have to,” he remarks, countering with cynicism, “Look at what happened to you and Junia.”

His green eyes settle on the flagellant’s abdomen, the knife wound fitting right in with the rest of scars, hardly noticeable if Bigby didn’t know the exact shape of it, still feeling at fault.

“We all turned out fine,” the other assures him, putting a hand on his shoulder, pausing his friend’s anxious mannerisms.

“Your intestines were practically falling out,” Bigby deadpans, gawking at him.

“They didn't though.”

Bigby clicks his tongue, gritting his teeth, hugging his elbows tighter. Even if his friend didn't see the harm in what they'd done, others did.

“You heard what Reynauld said,” the shapeshifter reminds him, “I have to make sure the church is safe and I wouldn’t put it past her to try something else if I ignore her invitation.”

“Then, I am going with you.”

Bigby squeaks at this declaration, never expecting Damian to tag along, resolving to handle the situation alone.

“It was my fault we went in the first place,” Damian explains, “I must take part of the responsibility.”

“I could have stopped you,” Bigby says, putting the blame all on himself, “refused to go.”

“You tried. I pushed. Besides, I don’t trust she won’t try something underhanded. She was quite … smitten with you.”

Bigby prefers not to admit that's the case, turning a phrase. “She was … academically fascinated by my genetics.”

“I am not so sure that’s all it was.”

Damian reaches out, retracing the same path the witch had made on the poor vagabond’s face, reclaiming it as his own. “I think she wants to keep you all to herself.”

Bigby feels the heat rise in his cheeks, his stomach doing somersaults. He pulls away, just enough to escape the liberal touch, unable to withstand skin on skin contact.

It seems Damian might have overstepped his bounds a bit, acting on instinct, protective of the abomination's kind but vulnerable heart.

“Forgive me, but what am I to do if she locks you away in her basement? I only wish to keep you safe.”

“I don't think she'd go that far,” he says, ghosting a hand over where the holy man had touched, his flesh still tingling.

“I would.”

Damian says it so bluntly, as if there were never any doubt and while Bigby couldn't completely rule out the possibility (the witch did wield a syringe and speak of sedation), he likes to think he could hold his own if the situation came to it.

“We should come prepared, just in case,” the flagellant cautions, “Expect the worst, but hope for the best.”

Bigby nods, playing with his padlock, tracing the path of engravings, this helping him to think.

“Maybe we should bring a gift? Make sure there’s no hard feelings?”

The masochist beams at his suggestion.

“Yes, that's exactly what we should do, but I wonder, what kind of a gift would a woman like that want?”

“Good question,” the lycan mutters, having not much of an idea himself.

He recalls the contents of the hex bag she gave him: a baby vulture's skull, lampblack powder and anise, trying to find a clue there.

Aside from getting her a spice rack or more animal bones, there's a lack of panache, a 'je ne sais quoi’ that will win her forgiveness.

Strapped of inspiration, the boys decide to ask their fellow church mates for advice, enlisting Junia to the cause since who would know the fairer sex better than her?

“Oh, well, every girl loves flowers,” the vestal giggles, honored to be confided in, “How about a bouquet?”

Both men nod in humble agreement, especially after seeing how receptive Junia was to the thought. A simple, logical solution that would cost nothing but their time to make.

“If I may so,” she adds with a hushed tone, “most girls would be happy with a single bloom, but I think in this case, lots of big pretty ones would be best. You could pick them out right here in the garden.”

The boys thank her for the recommendation, off to do just that, the nun bidding them good luck.

As they walk further out of earshot, Bigby reconsiders their gift, picking apart the flaws, needing something better to match the personality of the receiver.

“Something tells me she won't be satisfied with flowers,” he mumbles, head crestfallen.

“Worth a try,” Damian reminds him, giving a shrug, an encouraging smile, “She did have lavender and sage hanging in her house.”

Bigby is impressed he could discern such details, adding his own take to it.

“They're more likely ingredients than aesthetic.”

“Then, let us ask Baldwin. He is the wisest of us. Surely, his judgment will be sound.”

Bigby agrees, the two finding their allied charge in the library.

“A gift will ease the tension, but it's better paired with an apology letter,” the monarch lectures, “Be sure to speak it with sincerity, both of you.”

His baritone is aimed at Damian in particular, knowing how frivolous and flamboyant he could get.

“Would you mind looking over it when we're done?”

The wolfchilde's constant shyness would usually prevent him from asking, but this would be their second chance at making a good impression and he wanted no mistakes.

“Certainly, come sit.”

Bigby is once more relieved as Baldwin offers them spare parchment and quills, leaving the two men to discuss it at the far end of the table.

Idly, the leper will hear their thoughtful discussion mingling with his own work, smiling at how hard they toil with finding the right words, a painful undertaking that they strive to fulfill.

When it's ready, Baldwin looks over their efforts, leaflets of discombobulated chicken scratch, tutoring them to be concise, but compassionate in their delivery.

“There,” the leper announces, having scrawled their messy collaboration into a proper letter, “and they say scribes have all the fun.”

“If only my handwriting was as good as yours,” Bigby praises, still in awe of how smoothly black ink had transformed into a beautiful, looping script right before his eyes.

“I transcribe manuscripts in my free time,” the leper chuckles, endeared by the compliments given to an art that is often overlooked and undervalued, “Would you like to stamp it?”

“Can I,” the abomination asks, excitement dancing in his eyes.

Baldwin nods, removing his signet ring, handing it to the eager soul.

“It's beautiful,” he fawns, turning the jewelry around in his dismal hand, feeling under qualified to even touch it.

“It's old,” the leper teases, “no need to be delicate with it.”

He grabs a nearby candle, letting hot wax drip onto the envelope, urging the lad to press the seal against the flap, giving the embellishment an official looking flare.

“You seem awfully pleased with it,” Damian remarks as they return to the hallway.

“I am,” Bigby smiles, holding up the letter again, admiring it.

Just ahead lies Reynauld, the click clack of his plate mail interjecting them as he makes his rounds.

“What are you up to now,” the crusader snaps, suspicious of the two troublemakers, “And what's that in your hand?”

Before Bigby can even blink, the crusader pilfers the parcel from him, examining it for himself, recognizing the leper's crest.

“It's a letter,” Damian sneers, stating the obvious, “or does your armet need adjusting?”

Deep blue eyes glare behind his visor, punishing Damian for that derogatory quip, fully aware of what it is.

“I meant to whom,” he presses, keeping the correspondence out of reach, dangling it above the abomination's head.

“To the witch,” Bigby growls, swatting at his studded gauntlets, unable to reach, “It's our apology letter.”

The knight laughs, loud, boisterous, voice echoing off the surrounding stone.

“Imagine, an eldritch beast appeased by mere mortal scrawlings!”

“What would you suggest,” Bigby barks, their hard work being unjustly insulted.

The knight seems pleased that he's asking while simultaneously inconvenienced by it, hard-pressed to explain why such naivety was powerless against the cold hard bribe of wealth.

“Something valuable, shiny. A trinket or gold should suffice.”

“Where would we find something like that,” Bigby snarls, jumping up, still too short.

They had no money to shop nor the daylight left to pursue expensive tokens, this sounding more like a present the knight would favor rather than a decision made on behalf of the witch's tastes.

“I advise you check the old well. Might be something there.”

Reynauld finally allows the wolfboy to snatch the mail from him, making it easy, having had his fill of fun with his superior height.

Accomplished, the knight continues onwards, finding a better way to spend his time, Damian and Bigby staring at a gilded back as he goes.

“Do not let him rattle you,” the flagellant says, sympathetic, keeping his voice low, “the more you react, the more he will tease you.”

Bigby appreciates the advice, but he’s too focused on the frail letter in his hands, angered that it’s four-corners had been bent over childish nonsense, trying to iron out the crease of wrinkles.

“Do you think we should listen to him,” the lycan asks, second-guessing himself yet again.

“I can tell a part of you wants to,” the flagellant says, consoling, “there's no harm in looking for ourselves, but we don't have to abide by his words. The intent of our letter remains untouched.”

Bigby smiles at that, putting the envelope away in his pocket for safe keeping. “A quick peek at the well, just to be sure.”

—-

They're outside the abbey, near the old well that Reynauld had referred them to, hovering around its shape, Bigby's scruffy hands curled over the dusty rim, trying to see the bottom.

Damian takes up the bucket resting on the tired ledge, steadily lowering it down with the frayed rope it’s attached to, wood hitting the stagnant pool with a solid ‘kerplunk.’ He steers the vessel around by it’s tether, scraping the depths to kick up whatever treasure may be hiding within.

“Is it really OK to do this,” Bigby frets, questioning the morality of such an act.

��Let's just see if there's anything down there first.”

Fair enough.

The bucket is reeled up, the exhilaration of what could or wouldn’t be there tickling the abomination’s insides. At first glance, their haul looks empty, a pitcher of dark water, but upon closer inspection, the glimmer of tarnished loot lies inside.

“We got something,” Damian says, kneeling down, gently pouring the water out onto the withered grass, giving it a drink.

The heavier contents are left behind: a few copper ha’pennies and a golden broach.

The flagellant retrieves them from the damp reservoir, holding them out upon his hand for the other man to behold.

“What do you wish to do?”

Bigby hesitates, wondering if he should voice his worries, knowing they were fatuous, whimsical, but unwilling to sacrifice others for his own gain, no matter how small.

“If we take the coins from the well, what will happen to the wishes of the people who made them?”

“There's no way of knowing for sure, but I imagine these tokens came to us because their wishes have already been fulfilled.”

It's a pleasant thought, the shapeshifter taking up the ornamental pin, examining it more closely. The scuffed gold plating depicts a diploma and graduation cap, perhaps given as a scholarly achievement.

“Could’ve been dropped in by accident,” Damian supplies, “perhaps this is our chance to reunite it with its owner.”

Bigby nods, closing his fist around it, “Alright, we’ll keep the broach then.”

“What are two you imbeciles doing out here?”

The pair look up, seeing Sarmenti hanging off the side of the church, nearly a hundred feet off the ground, his sickle holding his weight, voice calling out from above.

The red daredevil repels the rest of the way down, his weapon hooking onto the gothic architecture with a thrilling, death-defying elegance as he flips and turns, sticking his landing with exquisite perfection.

Neither of the two spectators give him applause for this impressive stunt, not even when he bows at the end, scoffing at such an uncultured crowd.

“Some audience you are,” Sarmenti spits, approaching them so he can get a better look at what they found, “could at least have the decency to tell me what you've got there.”

“We're checking the well for trinkets,” Bigby says, on his guard after the debacle at the diner table last night.

“Oh, and whatever for,” he tuts, over-invested in their personal business.

“Our recompense for the witch,” Damian adds.

“Well, if you ask me,” the jester drawls, tapping the broad side of his sickle against his lips, walking around with a militant march, “you should get her knives. Lots of knives.”

If gazes could kill, Sarmenti’s was surely sharp enough to cut him apart.

"I don't know if we should give her more weapons to use against us,” the wolfboy contests, keeping his eyes trained on the unpredictable trickster.

The red suited man cackles, “You know what they say, high risk, high reward and judging by what I heard, something tells me a blade is just what the doctor ordered.”

The jester sheathes his sickle, pulling out a dagger in its place, balancing the point on an index finger, “I could sell you one of mine for a price.”

The two vagabonds look between them, having not a cent to spend aside from the spare change they fished up from the well.

“How could I forget? You two are broke,” the jester sighs, a hand to his cap with weary dramatics, “But I can negotiate. You'd just owe me a couple of favors.”

“Done.”

“No, not done,” Bigby protests, pulling the reckless flagellant aside, “Excuse us a moment.”

“Sure, sure, take all the time you want on this super limited time offer,” the jester grouses, hand flapping through the air, brushing them off, “I'll just be over here, counting to 10 until you're done.”

As the fool plays catch with his dagger, sounding off each throw, the werewolf drags his companion a short distance away, affording them some privacy to discuss their decision.

“Think about it for a second. We have no idea what he'll ask us to do or when and we have plenty of gifts already. We don't need another. Trading with him could be very bad for us.”

“Of course, I do not dispute any of that, but while I cannot describe it, I feel this is a burden we must accept.”

The abomination blinks at him, taken aback, asking him, “Why?”

“The Light tells me denying his help will cause even greater problems for us.”

Bigby seems at a loss, having no words that wouldn't outright call his friend's faith into question, choosing to say nothing in return.

“Let me talk to him,” facilitates the flagellant, “I may have a solution.”

The masochist unravels from their huddle, stepping up to the jester, submitting a counter offer. “Could I be the sole inheritor of the debt?”

“You deliberated for a full minute and that's the best you can come up with,” the jester shakes his head, enunciating his terms, “One favor of my choosing from each. of. you. or no deal.”

“It can't be anything too extreme,” Bigby declares, getting defensive, sensing manipulation, “I am not about to hurt anyone.”

The jester laughs, head slanted at a near 90 degree angle, one eye pitched into a humorous crescent, the other wide open like a void, “Oh, that would be fun, now wouldn't it?”

The werewolf doesn't think so.

“Don't worry wolfie, you won't have to kiss, kill or fuck anyone.”

He doesn’t like the way Sarmenti chose to phrase it nor the way his black eyes bore holes into his.

“Fine, hand over the knife.”

“Let's say we shake on it first.”

The jester extends his hand, Damian the first to oblige, the formality going off without a hitch.

Bigby is next, reluctant to accept the task, startled when a shock of vibrations spread throughout his palm, the abomination pulling back with spastic fright.

A quick once over and it seems no damage had been done, this a cleverly concocted prank meant to sleight and mortify him, his heart racing with false panic.

“Hehehe,” Sarmenti laughs, revealing a trick buzzer that was not there before, “gotcha!”

Spited, the werewolf snatches up their bartered for dagger, the scheming peddler releasing it into his care with a flourish of open hands, watching as his disgruntled patron storms off, avoiding further interaction, Damian at his heel.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the fool calls out, still cackling at the two gullible schmucks, “learn to take a joke!”

“Must he be so rude,” the abomination huffs, struck with humiliation, “I've done nothing to him.”

“Such is his nature,” the flagellant explains, this the unfortunate truth, “better just to accept it.”

“He should accept a better personality.”

“I am not so sure that's possible,” Damian chuckles, pessimistic, “a scorpion will always sting, even at the threat of drowning itself.”

Secretly, the holy man delights in this version of Bigby, his fuming face puffing with anger, a rare treat just as cute as the sweet selfless side he usually dons.

“Oh,” the lycan exclaims, as if realizing something for the first time, stopping their progress.

“What's wrong,” the priest asks with a curious head tilt.

“What about Nephthys?”

“You mean the crow,” Damian muses, having to search his memory, “What about it?”

“I hit him with my chain.”

“So you did. I imagine the creature must still be in a daze.”

The wolfboy deflates at this, but the priest meant it as a compliment, just a bit envious that he wasn't the one on the receiving end of Bigby's stunning whip, wanting to experience the sensation for himself.

“You’re thinking we should bring it a gift as well?”

Bigby nods at this prediction, feeling guilty.

“We could gather seeds from the garden,” the holy man suggests, “since we must pick blooms from there as well.”

Partial to that idea, the abomination expresses how perfect it sounds, making it their next destination.

—-

The dagger comes in handy for cutting away the flower stems, leaving them with a vast bounty of pink carnations, blue hydrangea, yellow sunflowers, and white lily of the valley, all symbolic for an apology.

The boys take their freshly picked produce to the kitchen, the pantry bound to have some muslin sacks to dress their spoils in.

They find Baldwin there, stirring away at a bowl full of sticky bread dough.

“That's quite the repertoire,” says the monarch, noting the severed plant heads in their basket, oddities amongst the other beauties preened for a bouquet.

“We decided to harvest some seeds too,” the flagellant supplies, sorting out the two.

“Oh,” the leper exclaims, a probing inquisition.

“I may have struck the witch's familiar,” the abomination confesses, rubbing the back of his head, wilting to the side, “and I want to make amends.”

“Ah,” the king chuckles, amused by the thought of Bigby with his hands out, playing a human bird feeder, “Now that you mention it, I could use the seeds to make some suet for you.”

“But you've helped us so much already,” the abomination protests, not wanting to take advantage of his generosity.

“I plan on finishing this batch of wafers first. Light help us if we run out during communion, but I could teach you how to make it afterwards. You could cull the seeds in the meantime.”

The abomination isn't wholly convinced that they should, teetering with indecision.

“He’s offering,” Damian says, close to Bigby's side, an angel in his ear, “How can we refuse?”

“We’d be happy to help too if you'd like,” replies the wolfboy, hoping to even things out.

“I may steal Damian to cut the dough when it's ready. He makes the most perfect circles.”

“Does he,” Bigby says, giving the flagellant a coy eyebrow-raise in regards to this secret talent.

“It's nothing,” the bloody priest insists, “Just something I do.”

“I am sure he will show you,” Baldwin teases.

“Yes, until then, shall we get started,” the flagellant urges, wanting to move away from any more embarrassing tales involving his dexterity.

To his relief, the wolfboy nods, the two busying themselves with shucking the seeds from their pods, placing them in a separate bowl while Baldwin rolls the dough out onto the counter.

Once the squishy canvas is even, flattened out, the veiled cook calls for Damian, the abomination watching as his friend draws a grid of squares in the yeast, this helping him to craft a round medallion inside each section.

“See, it's just repetition, muscle memory,” the flagellant remarks, writing off his remedial skill as nothing special.

“Still better than what I could do.”

“Give it a try. I left a few squares open for you.”

Damian made it look so easy, and yet Bigby is still apprehensive of his performance. As expected, the knife gets caught, making the edge tear, the outside a rough serration unlike the smooth wheel his friend made.

“Not too bad.”

“It's horrible,” Bigby swiftly corrects him.

“It looks like pie to me,” Damian smirks, considerate of his feelings, “you probably just needed more flour on the blade.”

“Baldwin, let's see you try,” the vagabond inclines, eagerly handing the lame to the larger man so he wouldn't have to try slicing it again.

“Prepare to be underwhelmed,” the leper declares, his cuts rigid, blocky like a hexagon, “This is why I have a biscuit cutter for when Damian or Sarmenti aren't around.”

The men share a laugh, any extra dough molded and reshaped, yielding as many servings as possible so nothing goes to waste.

The wafers are put in the oven, leaving them to bake while Baldwin retrieves the jars that house the peanut butter and oatmeal, finding a pan to melt the two together over the stove.

“You need a fatty base like lard or peanut butter for the other ingredients to adhere to. Once you choose a base, melt it over heat, stirring often so it doesn't burn.”

Damian occupies his left side, while Bigby is on the right, the two watching the process intently.

Soon enough, the mixture reduces to a smooth, creamy batter, the leper instructing his students to add in the hulled seeds and dried oats, his spoon incorporating their blend into a homogenized soup.

“Now we pour it into a baking sheet to let it cool. Once it's solidified, we can divide it up into bricks.”

“How did you learn all this,” the werewolf asks.

“I enjoy bird watching and having a little treat to hang nearby draws the flock.”

Baldwin suddenly sees a striking resemblance between the hungry birds of Hamlet and the two men that occupy the immediate space around him.

“This gives me an idea.”

“What kind of an idea,” asks Bigby.

“I could use the leftovers to make cookies.”

“Cookies,” the abomination cheeps, salivating at the thought, “it's been ages since I've had one. I almost forgot they exist.”

“Baldwin's cookies are quite famous around here,” the flagellant warns, divulging the lore behind it, “We normally only get them on holidays or yuletide.”

The monarch sighs, a dejected hang of his head, “No matter how many I make, they never last very long.”

“Everyone fights over them,” Damian explains, educating the branded boy, “Junia will hoard as much as her skirt will carry, but Reynauld and Sarmenti prefer to brawl until one or the other loses, the victor taking the pot.”

Baldwin remembers many a festive holiday reduced to petty violence, energy that should be put toward celebrating the birth of the holy Light given to competition and decadence.

“Yes, I may start dividing them up into equal shares from now on. I am tired of repairing the furniture.” A gloved hand has come to hold the weight of his headache, having to sort through the aftermath by himself.

“But Baldy,” the flagellant protests, moping at such a spectacle being taken away, “it's tradition.”

“By all means, you're welcome to it so long as you fix the damage next time.”

Damian seems at a loss, not as well equipped for chopping down trees and lugging them inside the church for spare timber.

“What about you,” the vagabond asks, gazing into the leper’s golden mask, “Don’t you keep any for yourself?”

“I'll have one or two,” he confirms, “I mostly make them for my parish to enjoy.”

Damian is the next to chime in.

“I always take 8 in honor of the holy Light that burned inside the great temple, but I still like to join in the brawl for fun.”

“Sounds like it,” Bigby says, flabbergasted that a cookie held such history, “I am almost afraid to try them now.”

—-

As the last of the cookies rise in the oven, the trio sits down to share a plate, a cup of freshly churned milk beside each of them.

“So, are they as good as you hoped they’d be,” asks the leper, waiting for Bigby’s review.

“Better,” the shapeshifter chirps, still munching away, this his third one.

Baldwin smiles, pleased to see such joy brought to the vagabond face with every passing bite, voracious crumbs all around his mouth.

The flagellant breaks his biscuit in half, giving the other piece to Bigby.

“Are you sure,” he muffles, knowing just how rare a delicacy these treats were.

Damian nods, “half is enough for me.”

Their fingers touch, just as they did the night Bigby shared his tart, the flagellant grinning as he watches his friend devour it in much the same way.

Stomach protesting, Bigby finally reigns in his appetite, the half moon piece filling him up even if he wanted to eat more.

“There's something I wanted to ask you,” he begins, addressing Baldwin, looking somber despite all the invigorating sugar.

He speaks of their deal with Sarmenti, knowing what a prominent figure the leper was not just in the church, but to the jester as well.

“Don't worry, I will make sure Sarmenti is reasonable.”

“Thank you,” the wolfboy says, the tension bleeding out of him.

Notorious as they were, it's no wonder the aroma of freshly baked peanut butter oatmeal cookies draws in the other church folk, Reynauld showing up to partake in this serendipitous gathering.

He halts upon seeing the motley crowd he's walked into, deliberating his next move.

“I can come back later.”

Just as he says this, another soul enters at the behest of coveted baked goods, the knight backing into Sarmenti, stepping a booted heel on his clothed foot.

“Watch it clodhopper, I am walking here!”

This proved that the two could start a fight regardless of what day it was as long as Baldwin's cooking was involved.

“There's plenty left, you can both have some,” the leper offers, hoping to diffuse the combatant's aggressive pushing and shoving.

Reynauld and Sarmenti pause to consider this, both grasping at the other's clothes, a gloved fist curled around a scalloped collar, a dagger pulled back in retaliation.

“I should turn in anyways,” the abomination sighs, getting up from his seat while he can, “thanks again, Baldwin.”

He downs the rest of his milk, gathering his plate to rinse it off in the sink.

“Best I go too,” the flagellant says, gathering their things, “prepare for tomorrow.”

“Yes of course. Best of luck,” the leper says, seeing them off.

“We'll both be needing it,” Damian nods, sympathetic of the leper’s situation, noticing Junia's frightened form hovering just outside of the archway, witnessing the squabble taking place, the last to arrive.

—-

The next morning, all their planning seems to have paid off, Bigby feeling confident that there will be at least one gift that the crow witch will fancy.

Their assembled goodies are wrapped in a handkerchief, the bundle tied to a stick for easy transport, the vagabond letting it bob over his shoulder as they set off.

The weather is not quite as gloomy as it was, the clouds clearing up, a seemingly good omen, the two men enjoying the walk to the witch's house.

They find the cottage gate left open, announcing their presence, Paracelsus greeting his arrival immediately after he knocks, waiting for this exact moment.

“Oh, you brought your friend,” she says, a little less thrilled to see the flagellant tagging along, “Very well, do come in.”

She leads them to the table, her house a bit more tidied up, less molted feathers and layers of dust laying about, the dark space appearing bigger and brighter thanks to a spot of housekeeping.

“Take a seat, I'll get the tea ready,” she ushers, heading for the stove, Nephthys devoutly perched upon her shoulder, giving a mellow caw at them.

“Thank you,” Bigby says, setting the gifts out on the tabletop, Damian joining him, doing the same with the flowers.

“I was wondering if you’d come. Not that you had much choice,” the sorceress continues, grabbing a pair of teacups from the cabinet, “but you get points for being on time.”

“We were hoping that maybe we could start over, be friends,” the wolfboy intones, pleased to be getting along, acting as civil adults should.

“Oh,” Para says, pausing in her task to hear more, intrigued by his congeniality.

“We brought some gifts hoping to make it up to you. No hard feelings.”

Para says nothing as she drops in the tea leaves, hot water pouring in from the kettle, leaving enough room at the top for her secret ingredient.

Back facing them, wing covering her nefarious actions, her unsuspecting visitors wouldn't be able to tell the difference, the concoction dissolved into cozy amber.

She brings them each a hot cup, letting the brew steep and steam as she sets their drinks down in a gentle clamor.

As the boys preoccupy themselves with their refreshments, the scholarly witch appraises their so-called gifts.

The first thing she addresses are the flowers, capacious as they take up too much space, fragile pretty things that serve no higher purpose other than petty decoration.

She's tempted to toss them into the fire, watch the flame erupt, but chooses to play nice (for now), taking up their bound stems, seeking a vessel.

“I'll have to find a vase,” she muses, settling for an empty jar to plop them in.

“We wrote you an apology letter. We can read it for you if you'd like.”

“That's alright, I'll manage.”

She rips the envelope down the side, unfolding the parchment, her many eyed familiar scanning the text along with her.

“To our dearest neighbor,

Please accept this, our sincerest apologies for whatever hurt or inconvenience we may have caused you.

Know that it was not our intention and we hope that in time you may forgive our trespass so that we may begin again.

In the meantime, please accept these tokens in good faith of your understanding.

Your friends, Damian and Bigby”

Judging by the wax seal and sophisticated composition, Para suspects that they must've had help writing it, this parable being beyond their scope of intellect.

An awkward silence fills the air, Bigby hoping to break it instead of sipping aimlessly at his tea.

“So, what do you think? Friends?”

Paracelsus doesn't get to answer, the flagellant interjecting with overwhelming acclaim.

“Wow, this tea is delicious. I've never tasted anything like it. What’s it called?”

“Arsenic,” she deadpans, staring straight at the hooded man with a nadir of reflective lenses.

Damian laughs, downing the rest of it, about to ask for more when he conks out, face slamming down onto the table with an abrupt clatter.

The sly scientist takes a seat, lacing her fingers together, leaning forward on elbows, “Now then, our business can truly begin.”

The werewolf is too preoccupied with his friend's precipitated illness to hear her, missing the sadistic glint in her eye, the humble atmosphere changing to a sinister trap.

“Damian,” Bigby shouts, shaking him, “Hey, Damian are you OK?!”

Even his most vigorous attempts fail, warranting no response, Bigby turning to Para, gobsmacked as he asks, “Did you really put arsenic in his drink?”

“Maybe.”

The woman doesn't flinch, a cold, nonchalant success.

“Take it back. Fix him right now.”

He's angry, his face cringing into a dark wrinkle of something beastly while simultaneously holding the title for the saddest creature in existence.

Bigby considers reaching for the knife, not that he would need it with teeth and claw at his disposal, but it may be faster, more intimidating if he threatened her with it.

Before things can escalate further, both parties are understandably surprised when the holy man pops up a few seconds later, rising from the brink of death as if it were just another Tuesday.

"What was I doing," he asks, having no sense of where he is or what just happened.

“She spiked your drink,” Bigby shudders in disbelief, blinking at him, “I thought you were dead.”

He touches over Damian’s face, limbs fraught with dread as he does, a single tear falling as he proves to himself that this man was not taken to the astral plane, but still whole, made of flesh and blood.

The priest's body is solid and real against his fingertips, the werewolf wrapping arms around him, pulling the flagellant into a hug, too astounded for words.

“Yes, what a pity you've rejoined us,” the witch says, giving a jaded roll of her eyes, this development putting a snag in her plans, “I hate setbacks.”

Damian is still too drugged to play much more than a permissive rag doll, Bigby pulling back, eyes carved into predatory slits at her stoic value of life.

“We were nice to you,” he snarls, not understanding why she would do this to them, “we wanted to be your friends.”

“Friends or not, I spiked yours too, but as expected, you're immune. I was just curious about your reaction.”

Bigby can't believe it. He hadn't felt or tasted a thing.

Nephthys hops off his master's shoulder to inspect the bag of gifts, lured by the smell of seeds, knocking the gold pin out onto the table in the process.

The witch's oily wings startle, flapping as she gazes upon it, the tip of a dagger's point shining beside it's gruesome accomplice.

“Where did you get this,” she asks, cryptic, devastated, as if recognizing her own demise.

“Inside a well,” Bigby says, “what's it matter?”

The exiled scholar is flooded with memories of her professor, parts of him anyway, all neatly chopped into a buffet of sections across her laboratory.

“Hmmm, perhaps I underestimated you,” she muses, taking the evidence of her deed and putting it away into her robe.

Her faithful raven squawks, unable to spare a thought that wasn't dedicated to eating until now, a lump of suet dragged into view.

“Just like that you forgive them,” asks the winged woman, watching as her familiar pecks away at the grainy hunk of lard.

The small eldritch entity gives another crunchy drone, pulling out a neatly wrapped pouch that was forgotten at the bottom, offering it up to it's master.

“What's this,” she asks, opening it up.

“Baldwin's world famous cookies,” Damian says, recovering enough to talk them up because they truly deserved to be.

“Famous,” she scoffs, “I've never heard of them.”

“You have now.”

Indeed.

She wonders if they would be so bold as to employ the same trick, poison the batch, but Nephthys had yet to show any adverse side effects from ingesting generous amounts of suet; odds are she would be unscathed as well.

Besides, what goes better with tea than cookies? An utterly perfect combination.

Putting her hypothesis to the test, Paracelsus tastes one, the boys struck with disconcerted awe when her beak cracks open, a hinge of her maw, not just a mask but an intrinsic part of her face.

The flavor is undeniably delicious, nibbling over each crumble, letting it melt over her tongue.

“Hmm yes, I see what you mean,” she remarks, agreeing with her pet, taking another cookie, dunking it into her tea.

The next bite is moist, soft and warm, the solute of liquid only enhancing the experience.

“We may be closer to reconciliation than I thought,” clucks the avian hybrid, swirling a scrumptious biscuit around in her cup, “By the way, my name's Paracelsus. What's yours?”

Did she only pretend to read the letter? Surely, the witch couldn't have forgotten their names were signed on it, the pair speaking their epithet aloud.

“Damian.”

“Bigby.”

She makes a noise, noncommittal, a motion similar to a nod in acknowledgment.

“Uh,” the werewolf starts, nervous of the answer, squirming in his seat, “Why didn't you introduce yourself before?”

“I didn't think you'd live long enough for it to matter.”

The boys simply stare at this revelation, bewildered into silence, accepting this interlude, the woman in a placated stupor.

Saved by Baldwin's cooking, who would have thought?

Bigby works up the gall to speak again, taking advantage of her contentment while it lasts.

“So, does this mean you forgive us? The church is safe?”

“Hmm, I’ll spare you and your church if you bring me more of these.”

The witch holds up her dripping, half finished quarter in emphasis, Nephthys sputtering around on sleek talons to admonish her for leaving out a very important detail.

“Oh, and suet for Nephthys. And maybe a sample of your blight.”

The scientist watches her prospective lab rat huff from across the table.

“And just how am I supposed to do that?”

“In my lab of course. All my tools are down there. And I didn't think your friend's blood was all that remarkable, but now I shall have to reconsider. He may join us as well.”

“How do we know we can trust you,” Damian asks, more so worried about his friend, being too incapacitated to protect him.

“Why, if I did anything unsavory, then who would bring me more treats?”

She sounds wrongfully accused, recruiting them for a harmless little experiment.

Somehow, Bigby severely doubts that, but they were resistant to her drugs, perhaps they would be resistant to her other machinations as well, taking this hard earned truce in the name of peace.

By the time they return to the abbey, Damian and Bigby have a firm understanding of why her underground bestiary consisted of so many listless zombies. She didn't stop at one sample, not even two, but many vials of plasma taken from each of them, the two shambling husks in need of food and rest.

[luxlightly]

Another Bob's Burgers episode idea. Bob gets an unexpected call from Mr. Fischoeder's lawyer who has to reassure him that Mr.Fischoeder has not decided to finally take legal action against all their late and unpaid rent payments, but in fact, is DEAD! And left Bob something in the will.

They get to the reading of the will, where Felix is excitedly awaiting inheriting Calvin's money and clearly trying to pretend he's not at all emotionally affected by his brother's death. Bob ends up being left something small and silly like an old spatula while and requested to cater the funeral in one week's time, to everyone's enormous surprise, the wharf, his estate, and all his real estate properties, are all left to LOUISE.

Louise takes her new role as landlord of half the town very seriously. At first she's just excited about all the money, but as she is introduced to more of the business side of things, she discovers just how inefficient Fischoeder's business practices have been. So many of his rental properties go to businesses that quickly fail or never really earn him back much money. And the Wharf itself often barely breaks even.

She becomes obsessed with fixing these losses and maximizing efficiency, becoming paranoid about any lost profit. Meanwhile tensions rise between her and Bob as she makes a big show of never letting him pay for anything and nit picking him about the restaurant's efficiency. She also makes plans to essentially gentrify the neighborhood with chain stores and restaurants, all while becoming more overwhelmed by the idea of perfecting her earnings.

Things come to a head at the funeral when she breaks the news to Bob that she won't be renewing his lease and they get in a shouting match.

Bob accuses Louise of blaming him for the fact that the family is poor. That she thinks it's his fault for being a bad businessman.

"No! Don't you get it? It's not your fault! It's mine!"

"…What? Louise, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid, dad! I know kids cost a lot and I know you didn't plan to have me. Mom always tells that story about how you just kept screaming when you found out she was pregnant with me. If it wasn't for me, you'd have the money to pay the rent on time and you'd be able to do stuff like go on vacations and have nicer things."

"That's what this is about? Is that why you're always doing all those crazy money making schemes? Because you think you owe me and your mother for being expensive?"

"Well…yeah. I guess."

"Louise, if I cared about stuff like having a steady income or a lot of money, I would work as a line cook somewhere, or at a desk job. But I don't. I have the restaurant because it makes me happy. And nothing makes me happier than you kids. I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world, Louise. Yes, it's true I was worried about money when I found out we were having another kid but that doesn't mean I didn't want you or that you're responsible for our money problems and I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way."

"But, doesn't it bother you to have to worry all the time about money?"

"Sure, but if I just worried about what would make the most money, the restaurant would be like any other boring chain restaurant. I'd rather it be unique and my own than be the most profitable it could be. I think that's how Mr.Fishoeder felt, too. He didn't care about having tenants with the most efficient businesses. He cared about having unique and interesting places run by unique and interesting people. And…I think maybe that's why he left them all to you."

"Huh?"

"Well, you're a unique and interesting person for sure. And you love the Wharf more than anyone. I think maybe Fischoeder felt like you were the most likely to keep the Wharf and the town as weird and one of a kind as he liked it."

"And then I almost ruined it. I almost threw away everything that makes the town great. Thank you, dad. I guess maybe I can renew your lease after all."

"Thanks, Louise."

"But it'll have to be month to month."

"Hm."

"And I'll have to raise your rent."

"Louise."

"Ahh! Just kidding!"

Then, just before the service begins, Felix finally breaks down and tearfully admits he's devastated by his brother's death and tells his coffin that it was him who farted two weeks ago and blamed it on their butler. At which point Calvin pops up out of the closed coffin yelling "I knew it!" and reveals the whole thing was a hoax to get his brother to admit his guilt.

Louise talks to Fishoeder afterwards.

"I guess we should have known it was a hoax, since you left everything to a kid."

"Oh no, that was my real will. You think I'm going to write a whole 'nother will just to prank my brother? That would be ridiculous!"

"Wait so I really will get the Wharf and stuff when you die?"

"If they haven't figured out how to put my brain into a robot body at that point, yes."

"But why?"

"You remind me of myself, Louise Belcher. Always up to some scheme. Always looking for an angle. And you're the only person I've ever met who has been able to beat me at my own game on multiple occasions. You won my Wheelie Mammoth. You ran a brief but profitable underground casino. You keep my on my toes. And that's the exact kind of person I want running this show when I'm gone."

"But I almost ruined it! I almost made the whole town into a bland, boring, profit machine!"

"So did I! Back when my father first left this all to me. And several times after that. But then people like your family remind me why I take chances on wild dreamers like your father. All the money in the world can't buy people like your family. Believe me, I've tried. So, unless there's some major advancements in robotics technology in the next few decades, I'll die reassured that the place is in good hands."

"It's a bet, then!"

[angelcloves]

Just read the latest chapter of S&S! Lol at the "safe house" being the CATs HQ. Of course it is, I have no idea why I was expecting an actual house. I'm with Hunter on it not being very homey, he now has less privacy and fewer possessions then when he was still under Belos's thumb! No wonder he's so anxious. Raine's getting a bit ahead of themselves, to the point it set off a lover spat with Eda! Raine, I love you, but please brush up on your communication skills. Manipulation isn't a good way

Pt. 2) rekindle a previous relationship! The confirmation that Belos doesn't know that Camilla is back on the Isles is very nice and supremely interesting though! I can't wait to see where that plot thread leads, XD. I like (Actually, love) Camilla and Darius's back and forth with each other. She's very open with him... I definitely sense some big unresolved emotions between them though, from both sides. I look forward to light being shone on them going forward and not just because I want to see

Pt.3) if any of my theories regarding Camilla's palisman are right, XD. Oh sure Camilla, keep telling yourself that Eda is going to be the one adopting Hunter at the end of the story, not you. You're definitely not super attached and separating from him wouldn't be as traumatizing for you as it would be for him. /s Hunter spying on Camilla and Darius's conversation? Well, perhaps not deliberately, I got the sense he sort of just walked in on them and got caught up in what they were discussing.

Pt. 4) :( Poor buddy, he's afraid to show himself being vulnerable with Darius around. I really don't like how he still refers to Hunter's previous loyalty to Belos as being a "lapdog". Hunter was born into what was effectively a cult, raised by the Leader of said cult to be his perfect little boy soldier and was severely punished every time he so much as stepped an inch out of line. Of course an abused child is going to be "loyal" to their abuser and eager to please them, that's how they

Pt. 5) survive! I get that he was looking out for Hunter and was trying to keep him safe while they were both within the Emperor's Castle, but he the way he went about it was terrible. He actively antagonized Hunter on multiple occasions, obviously he couldn't get all buddy-buddy with the kid because Belos had eyes and ears everywhere, but the least he could've done was be civil to him. It's something that I feel like the TOH fandom deliberately overlooks because it's an uncomfortable subject.

Pt. 6) So I'm bemused that Hunter thinks that Camilla has managed to "declaw" Darius, I have to wonder if how he's acting around her and the other CATs is closer to his actual personality than how he acted in the Castle. And yes, the pressure is mounting as the Day of Unity draws every closer... Still curious about King's status as a Titan and what impact it will have on the story. You did draw some attention to it and it's roughly the right time in the Canon timeline for it to be revealed...

Pt. 7) Plus I eagerly await to see how Camilla's presence during the Day of Unity affects it! I have a feeling her plans to head home after it are going to get derailed, courtesy of The Collector... Or maybe not! Maybe you don't intend to bring The Collector in, after all, why write an Alternate Universe fic if you aren't going to turn Canon on it head? Lol.

oh man i missed getting mile long comments on s&s!!!!! lets address some of this. raine is really enthusiastic about camilla arent they! reunions with eda aside they were absolutely brimming with excitement to have camilla on their side. theyve got plans that are being set in motion and now they finally have their trump card. looks like were going to be holding our breaths on this plot thread.

camilla and darius are still sorting through a lot right now. darius has a rebellion to lead and camilla has a grimwalker to get into an adopted home. but theres something there between the two of them. an uncomfortable past? a bitter fallout? who knows.

as for darius and his interactions with hunter. i took some care to tone him down all the way back in chapter 6 when he was willing to concede and let hunter go spend some time with his new friends but he was never the greatest to him prior to that moment. he just doesnt know how to handle himself around a traumatized child for the most part. everything about working under the emperor is cutthroat and nasty and theres just no room for even the tiniest sliver of kindness. hes making an attempt here but he just hasnt had to use a light touch in so long. theres a learning curve here. i wanted to emphasize the fact that hes not going to be perfect with hunter but that he really does care even if he isnt currently equipped to do so. darius is part of hunters support system right now. hes got lots of hands to help him up but theres multiple outlets there because nobody can give him everything he needs and thats okay.

but its funny you bring up the collector

[anotherbluesunday]

I've currently been toying with the idea of abandoning all my stories and WIPS and leaving writing altogether because the fact of the matter is that readers treat writers one of two ways--they either worship you if you are part of the popular inner ring in the fandom you belong to *or* they treat you like a content farm and will ghost read your stories but never like, comment, or engage with you on your plugged socials. The writer then becomes horribly depressed because the work they put their heart and soul into is ignored. The posts they make on their socials are ignored. The writer tries to encourage engagement through little A/N at the beginning or end of their stories like "hey, just to let you guys know that your feedback and words mean a lot so be sure to leave a like or comment" but this doesn't work either. If a writer dares speak up about it though they're called greedy, manipulative, and inconsiderate of the readers by both writers and readers. They're called whiny and annoying and attention seekers that can't handle not being popular.

All because they just wanted a little bit of engagement with their readers and to know that what they are doing means something.

The way readers treat writers has changed significantly especially since the advent of TikTok and IG Reels with content that can be mindlessly consumed and scrolled through. People take for granted the painstaking time and attention to detail. The work that goes into storytelling and world-building. The thoughtfulness and vulnerability that comes when creating original stories outside of the canon that involve original characters. No one thinks or cares about how writers sit there eagerly awaiting and praying for engagement and for people to care. And when we talk about how sad and depressed and low it makes us feel when readers either ghost read and say nothing or tell us the reason we're not getting clicks/comments is because we aren't writing for their tastes, we (the writers) are told to suck it up and shut up and be grateful and that we should abandon what we want to do and write for the mainstream if we care that much.

And this mentality has spread throughout all of media--original works, fanfics, movies, and shows. And it's not the flex viewers/readers think it is. You aren't winning anything by treating writers like crap. You're destroying human beings because we're more than a user handle online. There's more to us than just a profile picture and a catchy summary in our bio. WE'RE PEOPLE! And we produce amazing quality stories that are as long as books FOR FREE. We don't charge you $30 to read the way you'd be slammed with a fee to read a book online or when you buy it in store. We give you all of this for free and yet writers are constantly stepped on and looked down upon and told to be grateful for the scraps readers occassionally toss their way and it's soul crushing!

That's why writers stop writing. That's why they abandon their works.

It's not a big mystery, it's pretty straight forward. The only reason why everyone says it's a mystery is because they don't want to look in the mirror and see that their piss poor behavior and approach to fanfiction as a true form of literary writing is misled and needs to change. That's the long and short of it and anyone that says I'm wrong is kidding themselves. And if you want to throw the line at me that "some people are really shy and don't know how to engage" I call bullshit because that was me when I first started reading fanfiction but I still commented because I wanted the writers to know that I was thankful and grateful for their hardwork and for the stories they told. I was so worried that my comments would be cringe or come across the wrong way but I left them anyways because I knew that for some writers, that one comment could make their day.

Fucking times have changed though and now people will fawn over and worship one group and ignore the others. They'll criticize you for trying to break away and do something a little different. They'll ignore your story and not even give it the time of day just because they had a bad experience with a certain pov in the past (apparently only toddlers write in first-person which is the most bullshit thing I've ever heard and I can't believe people think this is a valid argument for being prejudice about stories they haven't even read).

I'm so sick of this new age of fanfiction and wished I was part of the community before it evolved into this because people would actually engage with their writers and show support. They would give creativity a chance and different ways/methods of storytelling a chance. But now people want the same copy-and-paste formula and continuation stories, one right after the next.

Call me bitter. Call me a joke or whiny. I don't fucking care.

This is how I see things and I doubt I'm the only one that feels this way.

[allforafro]

the continuation of season 3 or, if you prefer, volume 4

this time all 12 episodes because I didn't have time to deal with it earlier

3.14

I see that Nathan's political career is gaining momentum

who are these masked guys?

Hiro tries to make Ando a hero

I hope they won't argue again

peter got paramedic, this guy really likes helping people

claire still lives in fear of sylar, poor girl

Sylar is dead? I wouldn't be so sure about that, I mean, this guy came close to death 3-4 times, he's a real cockroach

I understand them but they could stop treating her like a child

I told you he's alive, he's like a cockroach

I don't know why, but I was speechless when Sylar was talking to his dad

I see you haven't changed much, Daphne

this African (do you know what his name is) haunts Matt in visions, reminding him of the inevitable fate that awaits him

too late daddy

don't kill him, phew good thing he didn't kill him

This is getting interesting, I mean kidnapping people is bad

I wanted to comment on the idea of "camps for people with abilities", but I think everyone knows what thoughts immediately come to mind

nice to see peter and mohinder seem to have a good relationship

a group of kidnappers and there is a bald man among them - yes

such actions during the day

ouch! it must hurt

why does noah always have to be like this - facepalm

really nathan?

You didn't think peter would agree to this

Matt sees the future? ok

they kidnapped hiro, Ando, go to save him

it's quite cool, he can't draw but when he gained this ability he learned it, not bad

why do they have to have such a difficult relationship

you haven't watched doctor who peter you shouldn't trust hug

Is that boy in the photo is him? cute

this house is a bit weird

it won't be easy to catch sylar

I thought it was yaeko but it was ando's name, I like their friendship 😊

it's sick

what ability do you really have, Peter?

and there's her dad wow!

no peter!

3.15

what a disaster, why do they do this

run hiro run

I would also be shocked if I saw that my friend had white eyes

Girl, you don't know anything about hiding the truth

okay this part is going to be crazy

danko hehe (sorry to everyone whose name is danko but this name makes me laugh)

Nathan, you really thought that this action would be flowers and rainbows

in these clothes? I doubt; They'll think you've escaped from prison

yes, daphne and ando duo again

oh my, these poor people; sylar acts like a typical crazy killer from the show

well, I don't know if his survival now is that comforting since you have to kill him later

just one power, a bit like a rogue

why no one ever comes up with the idea of helping people with abilities but they always have to act aggressively; I know it's because people are afraid of what is different, but...

this is also your daughter nathan

so what? I honestly doubt he would turn a blind eye to it

why does Sylar have a mommy issue (remembers what happened earlier in the series) oh

he does all these terrible things and drink tea; I don't know why but I somehow like the fact that Sylar drinks tea; or maybe it's coffee? no, I decided it was tea - ignore that part, I don't even know what it is lol

the rest are unlucky

Tracy: I have peter; nathana: damn! (good scene)

I'll surprise you, Sylar, but murder is not solution for everyone

sylar has a bad influence on kid

or that's just what you think

I even liked this kid Luke, I hope he doesn't end badly

It was to be expected that it would not be easy

I wonder who Nathan is talking to

rebel? I wonder who it is

angela is - hand movement - she's scary but I like her

oh nathana, nathana, what are you doing?

3.16

Did Sandra suspect that they were hiding something

why is he lying,?checking him? not afraid?

sylar has parents issue

I'm not surprised he didn't believe her

oh no they are already here

run away

I wonder why they had to cancel the wedding

everything is starting to get out of your control nathan

I have no words

help will come but not that quickly

breathe underwater like a fish

maybe you're getting it wrong, hiro

you could have expected that noah

an ambush in a bar is probably a bit of an exaggeration

what did you expect, kid; It'll be better this way Sylar is not good company unless he finally gets his act together

Well, hiro, it's not only power that makes you a hero

do you believe me now?

the fact that sandra didn't seem surprised by what noah was actually doing says a lot

if nathana really did it? ok, nathan is acting weird

so you decided to save him, oh sylar you're getting softer in your old age (kidding, good thing he helped him; like a sucker for redemption arcs, fingers crossed that sylar will change)

I wonder who this rebel is?

they broke up ouch!

She hid that guy Alex's from comic book store at her place

of course, tell yourself that

Danko is that type of person

they drugged him

it's their business, good

3.17

unfortunately matt is right with noah it might not going easy

but I can't live in other way

angry matt is dangerous

the peaceful day is interrupted by the arrival of the second daddy

everyone, but of course there will be exceptions

and you think that by doing this you will fix anything

nathan has a strange understanding of things

Don't argue, boys

that's right, peter will be able to get there faster

they could have expected that this place would be monitored

Damn I like Danko

but noah can't be fooled that easily

it looks like only matt didn't know anything about it

you weren't supposed to kill each other

classic hostage turns his kidnappers against each other so he can escape

Good entrance peter

he did it because not all of them are bad

Listen to him, Peter, because if you go there, it won't be a one-on-one situation

why does he care so much about catching the special ones?

maybe because he didn't want peter to become a killer

Daphne is alive

They've already caught one

so noah and angela have their own plan

3.18

I'm sorry Alex, sometimes it's necessary

it was funny

this rebel again

honesty probably won't help you at this moment

what if not

you see, alex was right

what did you expect

mind powers

crazy things are happening in the world and lyle is playing games; All jokes aside, he wouldn't be of any use to them anyway, and they would only endanger him unnecessarily

Have I already said that Sandra is the best?

you don't deserve this queen noah

he was a sweet child

alex is right claire marriages aren't that bad but you have to remember not to lie to the other person

she really knows more than everyone thought

especially since you probably can't just search their house (or maybe you can? I don't know, I don't know anything about American law)

that's a pretty good idea

he sold his own son; is this woman his mother? so that's why he cuts people's skulls open

it's sad

and we'll figure out how to help others later

I wonder if they will manage to escape

this had to happen

claire really has a thing for dangerous boys

If Peter had his old powers, they wouldn't stand a chance against him

how is it possible that he flew, he can only have one ability at a time,maybe it was nathan who saved him

yes it was nathan

he used your hug trick on you

her whispering in his ear somehow seems suspicious, I wonder what Angela came up with

you better go home kid

Well, it turned out good, I didn't expect such an ending

3.19

hey barbie lol

I don't know

good question

I wonder if it's true

we don't trust each other

Will matt explode?

trust him matt

uuu Danko is starting to suspect Nathan more and more

what?!

Phew

will they die?

it worked

he hit him 🙄

is this his father's house. why his father has so many weird things. you accidentally end up at his house, it's disturbing, so you leave

I didn't see him in the first take

lionel luthor? that is, whatever his father's name was

you have cancer, you die and you still smoke 🤦

nathan vs danko lol

what are they going to do to her?

wow, this is getting interesting

what did he whisper to her?

I doubt that Danko is interested in such information about Nathan, or maybe he is 😏

she saved your ass, now you have to come up with a good plan that will finally work and undo this madness

the most unusual job interview

you might have expected it

wasn't there anything mentioned about such a situation in the first season, and peter also had a similar ability to arthur

interesting life philosophy

cute bunny

Dude, you have a very weird approach to life

the challenges/trials that life (or God, if you prefer) put in front of you are supposed to make us better people than we are - sorry for these moralizing texts

but he probably doesn't know how to do it

because with Angela it's hard to tell what she's on about at this moment

looks like doyle is really trying to change

angela is 👌

thinking doesn't threaten him

Is it just me or did he really sound proud when he said that

she didn't live in texas

I thought that if he found out that Sylar can healed himself, he would want to kill him

that's the advantage of being intoxicated often, after a while your body gets used to it

because nathan is a badass

so he has changed or not

they were tricked into taking care of the child 🤣

3.20

this time it's more of a summary of the episode than a live commentary, but I was eating a kebab and didn't feel like writing

good episode, the action thickens

I like danko - but I think I've already mentioned it

I liked that there was more Angela in this episode - I like her, do you have a problem with that?

I could guess that rebel was a micah, after all his ability allowed him to do all the things that rebel did

It's a pity that Daphne died 🥲

Janice seems fine than in the first season

so this kid is Matt's son after all, I thought it was the policeman with whom Janice cheated on him - but maybe I remembered it wrong, I have the impression that I watched the first season a long time ago, ah! I would love to watch it again

3.21

he can't arrest them from mexico but he could arrest hiro from japan, international law doesn't work like that, I guess

did you just say you would steal this food

awkwardly

I understand that you are angry because your people didn't work out, but you better listen to Noah, because he has more experience in catching people with ability

o lol

I don't swing that way

how did he disappear so quickly?

danko and sylar hmm, not in that sense of course, it's about the team

noah in thoughts: I caught the sylar once, it shouldn't be difficult to do it again

Gambling is a bad idea

don't exaggerate only partially, you can't forget about arthur's participation

he'll probably lose money

wow, what a plot twist

transformation looks painful

I don't think that's what Peter had in mind

lol claire

what?

peter's praying scene was good

that's why you're making a mess

A moment ago they didn't know each other and now they solve riddles together, go to parties, just like homegirl

sylar and danko's banter is hilarious

Maybe I don't know much about it, but there are more things that influence whether you get drunk or not

drunk nathan 🥹

danko and sylar really make a good team, although I don't know if that's a good thing

so that's how they came up with it, clever

that's what he means

this episode was great, probably my favorite of this season

3.22

Trust me, Sylar won't come to life again - wink

it's likely, the two of you have a long history of hanging out together

Weird

it's because of the baby, it looks like you'll have to help mom first

matt and momo broke up

I wonder why Sandra came?

you have a good feeling noah

I hear you sandra but these two seem to be connected in some way or something

conversation in the toilet

I see that sylar still has hidden jealousy towards noah, i.e. he is angry about what bennet did to him

what kind of hat is that lol

I often forget that he is strong

does he have any relatives?

this will be funny

🥲

wtf? lol 😂

you are bad at taking care of children

hmmm?

You're not like that Matt

I like that Danko is a mysterious character

you still have a lot to learn if you want to trick people into shapeshifting

so it only works on appearance, actually it's good because if you changed more, sooner or later you would have an identity crisis

I wonder what kind of thing they were hiding, experiments?

but it's her - facepalm

it's sad

ex-soldier, I have a feeling he might know something about this mysterious case that Angela is going to tell her family about - or maybe I'm having too much imagination

no matt no

you do it to yourself

In the last moment

Damn, the best thing about this is that you don't know who Sylar might be pretending to be, he might even be this Danko

I had the same reaction as you Matt

it's probably not him

oh mother and daughter, if I were abnormal like Sylar, I wouldn't be able to resist laughing (I wouldn't be fit to be a crazy murderer). Noah will soon go crazy, just like Sylar planned, and Danko will be able to get rid of him because Bennet will lose in everyone's eyes. Then they will be able to work safely together

he played dead - they are crazy

coyote sands I wonder what's hidden there

3.23

me too

memories yey!

Zimmerman is back

I think I have some guesses as to what could have happened in Coyote Sands, but I'm not sure because this series has been surprising more than once

so that's where they all knew each other

angela was such a nice big sister

someone out there

peter is right

peter is most often right on moral issues

I understand that you don't want to scare her, but it will probably turn out that you should have told her earlier because then it will be too late

it's because he's your brother

he...he...he really killed these people?

I'm starting to understand why chandra was the way he was in the future, in the present

She disappeared

noah is right, you shouldn't judge others without knowing the truth

An interesting theme in the series is that our heroes go through similar things as their parents and we watch their struggles so that they do not make the same mistakes as their parents

I told you, Angela

massacre! it was a mistake, an accident and they all died because of it except her, a nightmare

26? hmm? 🤔

that's why she stole socks

I don't like the term necessary evil

sylar pretends to be nathan, I guess it had to happen

I have a bad feeling and I want to cry about it

3.24

what about the real taub?

ouch!

I thought that would happen

it was obvious that hiro wouldn't give up that easily

lol looks like danko is winning on every front

yes, he's crazy

Everyone would prefer to be themselves if the alternative was to lose their own personality

Of course, Ando is always the bait 😆

the scene of Sylar's conversation with his mother was sad, man, you should go to therapy

why do they still have problems with cooperation, or rather hiro does

micah is a good kid

Well, that was it for your plan

he decided to help him yey!

ok, that's weird

I have a feeling this is a trap

Fortunately not

Come on Nathan, haven't you learned anything from this whole situation you two went through?

peter is a saint, it would be hard for me to deal with someone like nathan

good thing you followed him

this makes it difficult

no one can be better than the original pathetic little meow meow sexy nathan - ok, sorry, I got carried away 😆

good thing danko saved him, i will never forgive if they kill nathan

so now he's totally immortal lol

3.25

I wanted to comment on it but then I remembered that this series is over 15 years old, so there were fewer people in the world

I'm sorry Claire but it has to be done

at least noah is trying to rehabilitate himself

wow

I thought the same thing

live by the sword, die by the sword

If you kick him, it will be hard for him to get up

it's not fair this guy is overwhelmingly powerful how are they supposed to stop him

come on claire think, this is obviously weird

It probably won't explode, but it might fry your brain

finally, why did he sleep for so long?

before it was just me and now it's us, oh nathan, nathan

an unwanted but necessary alliance

it's getting bad

they involuntarily helped them

You see, Claire, he's weird

You look worse and worse, hiro

no hiro, please let him live

why did he smell her, creepy

okay, this text was funny, considering how awkward this situation is

finally nathan is growing up 🤣

that's what happens with a low budget, they will never show the most interesting fights 😑

whether they succeeded

hey, not the piano, just a bit of culture, people

no

Telepathy is useful

maybe it wasn't that nathan

good move peter

this is the worst idea in the world

he's gone forever idiots

God, I'm sorry; I don't remember the last time I felt so much about what I was watching

you've already lost him, that's sick

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!

her life has been so fucked up for a long time and she's still be up to, how much things have to get fucked up for her to learn, same thing for noah

so now she controls water in every state of matter

it won't work, you'll end up bad on it, angela

someone in a comment suggested that they could have used claire's blood to revive him; it would be a good idea but angela and noah wouldn't be themselves if they didn't come up with the most crazy idea that would kick them in the ass

oh people, why do the characters I like have to be so stupid and crazy

I don't understand why some people complained season 3 was better than season 2

I can't wait to see what happens next

even though this season was cool, I have the impression that they didn't fully explain Danko's motives, personally I think it's a pity because he was an interesting character

it's a pity that mohinder and sylar didn't have any interaction this season

[the-unspeakable-tsar]

X-Manson - Chapter 3 by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar

We are introduced to an x-character almost Nobody talks about and an avenger, nobody talks about. That's right, everyone Firestar and Vance Astro.

[Shot of a couple in a very high-tech space, also presumably underground. They're both in spandex, and both look very fit and very white in a sort of Middle American kind of way. Somehow, it is also obvious that they're not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.]

*Doctor Benway: These two are the dumbest motherfuckers to ever exist.

[Caption: Vance and Angelica Astrovik, Avengers; New York, NY]

Angelica Jones, Firestar and Vance Astro, Justice. I don't care for Vance. But, curiously, The Avengers are present in some form in this au. You would think that this is a world that cant sustain them and we know very little of their full roster.

VA: We got picked up at the airport by Scott Summers. He picked up Doug from the bus station in White Plains on the way.

Int: Did you sense anything ususal?

AA: Summers kind of weirded us out. He didn't say anything. He was waiting for us, holding up a sign with my name on it as I came off the plane. Vance was there with him. It's how we met.

VA: I was so glad to see you. Summers had met my plane an hour earlier and hadn't said anything to me. I asked him some questions, but he just dismissed everything I said with a Yes or a No until I gave up.

Int: Did you have any idea of what awaited you at the house?

VA: We were pretty nervous, but we had no idea what was coming.

AA: No idea at all.

[Shot: Doug & Marie-Ange Ramsey]

DR: If I had been religious, I'd have said it was like something out of Hell. Going there totally killed off any belief I'd had that there was a God. No God would have allowed that place to exist.

*Dramatic young man.

MAR: But you didn't know that then.

DR: No, not then. Not on that visit.

Int: Did you see anything that disturbed you?

DR: Nothing, at first. On the drive in, I met Vance and Angie, but we were all kind of nervous. Summers kind of projected this weird cone of silence, and I didn't even ask them their names until we got to the School. Xavier and McCoy met with me in this really slick office. Xavier asked me some questions, but he seemed kind of pre-occupied and not really interested. McCoy was the one who really took an interest and asked all the questions.

Int: What kind of questions?

DR: Going-to-the-doctor-type questions. Height, weight, blood type, any loathsome diseases, all that kind of thing. I suppose I should be glad I've still got all my original parts.

*asking questions before removing organs.

Int: Do you think that Xavier tried to take control of your mind?

DR: Someone was sure trying to do something. It felt like a worm was trying to crawl around in my head, but as soon as I'd think that I'd forget it. It was weird.

Int: But you still felt that you were in control.

DR: I still was. I'm resistant. Almost all the survivors were. If you had no innate defenses, there was no protection. I've got protection now. This entire house is a Faraday cage, buried 10 feet below the ground. No psi is ever going to get in here.

Int: You still worry about an attack?

DR: I won't risk it. Never again.

MAR: It won't. I'm sure that our guest would like to know what happened next.

DR: We had a tour of the grounds, which I thought was kind of weird, because I wanted to see what was inside. Computers, science labs, that sort of thing. Instead they showed us the forest and the lake and the boathouse.

Int: Did you meet any of the staff?

DR: Jean Grey, Summers, Logan, McCoy, the Irish guy, the Russian guy and his sister. There were two students there, Sam Guthrie and the one I'll call Psyche. Besides me, there were three other kids visiting. Vance, Angelica and David.

Irish Guy, Sean Cassidy Banshee

Russian Guy, Piotr Rasputin, Colossus

His "sister", Illyana Rasputina(?)

Sam Guthrie, Cannonball

Psyche, Dani Moonstar

David Haller, Legion.

My poor girls and Sam are here in this terrible place.

Int: David Lehnsherr?

DR: Yes.

[7r0773r]

The Hive by Camilo José Cela, translated by James Womack

At the moment he hears his name being called [Martín] is thinking, “Yes, Byron was right: if I ever have a son I’ll make sure he goes into some prosaic job: lawyer or pirate.” (pp. 80-81)

***

The night closes, at about half past one or two o'clock in the morning, around the city's strange heart.

Thousands of men sleep in their wives' arms without thinking of the hard, cruel day that may await them, crouched like a mountain cat, in just a very few hours.

Hundreds, many hundreds of bachelors surrender to the solitary vice: intimate, sublime, and ever so very delicate.

And a few dozen women wait—my God, what do they wait for? Why are they so deceived?—with their minds full of golden dreams . . . (p. 192)

***

In [Don Francisco’s] house, back in the interior room, Doña Soledad, his wife, is darning socks and allowing her mind to wander: a lumbering imagination she has, flustered and motherly as a chicken in flight. Doña Soledad is not happy: she put her whole life into her children, but her children have not known how, or have not wanted, to make her happy. She had eleven children, and all eleven survived, almost all of them now far away, one or two lost completely. The two oldest children, Soledad and Piedad, became nuns a long time ago, when Primo de Rivera fell; a few months ago, reaching out from the convent, they dragged in María Auxiliadora, one of the younger kids, to join them there as well. The oldest of the two boys, Francisco, the third child, was always the apple of his mother's eye: he's a military doctor in Carabanchel now and comes home every now and then to stay the night. Amparo and Asunción are the only ones who have got married. Amparo married her father's assistant, Don Emilio Rodríguez Ronda, and Asunción married Don Fadrique Méndez, who's a surgeon's assistant in Guadalajara, a hardworking and skillful man who can just as easily put his hand to a broken leg as to a hernia, who can give a child an injection or administer an enema to an old society lady, who can fix a radio or mend a punctured rubber bag. Amparo, poor thing, has no children and can't have them now; she's always been sickly, always having turns; she had a miscarriage first of all and then a whole series of collapses of various kinds, and then they ended up taking out her ovaries and everything else that had been causing her trouble, which must have been a lot. Asunción, on the other hand, is stronger than her sister and has three children who are absolute darlings: Pilarín, Fadrique, and Saturnino; the oldest one, the girl, is at school already: she's just turned five years old.

The next one down the list in Don Francisco and Doña Soledad's family is Trini, a spinster, quite ugly, who borrowed money and started a haberdasher's in the Calle de Apodaca.

It's a small shop, but it's clean and well looked after. It's got a tiny shop window filled with skeins of wool, children's clothes, and silk stockings, and its name painted in light blue: large pointy letters reading "Trini" and then underneath, smaller, "Haberdasher's." There's a guy who lives in the area who's a poet and who looks on the young woman with deep tenderness; in vain he tries to explain things to his family over lunch.

"You don't see it, but these little shops, all these lonely people, called Trini... they fill me with such nostalgia."

"The kid's an idiot," his father says. "When I die I have no idea what's going to happen to him."

The neighborhood poet is a longhaired young man, pale, always distracted, never noticing anything in order not to miss out on his inspiration, which is something like a butterfly, deaf and blind but brimming with light, a butterfly that floats about haphazardly, sometimes beating against the walls, sometimes flying higher than the stars. The neighborhood poet has two roses in his cheeks. The neighborhood poet, sometimes, when he's caught up in a fine frenzy of composition, faints in cafés and needs to be taken through to the bathroom, where he comes round under the scent of disinfectant, the block of disinfectant in its little wire cage like a cricket.

After Trini there's Nati, the woman who studied with Martín, a woman who dresses very well, perhaps a little too well, and then theres María Auxiliadora, the one who went off to become a nun with her big sisters a little while back. And to round out the family are three catastrophes: the three youngest children. Socorrito ran off with a friend of her brother Paco, Bartolomé Anguera, a painter; they live a bohemian existence in a studio on the Calle de los Caños, where they must freeze to death half the time, where they'll wake up one morning frozen into lollipops. The girl tells all her friends that she is happy, that all she wants to do is be at Bartolomé's side, helping him with his Work. She says "Work" with a heavy emphasis on the Capital letter, an emphasis that makes her sound like she's on the jury selecting art for national exhibitions.

"They don't have any standards in the national exhibitions," Socorrito says. "They don't have the first clue about what they're on about, But it doesn't matter, sooner or later they'll have no choice but to give Bartolomé a medal."

There were serious ructions in the house when Socorrito eloped.

“If only she'd managed to get out of Madrid!" her brother Paco said, who had a firm geographical sense of honor.

The other remaining daughter, María Angustias, said shortly after all this that she wanted to become a singer and changed her name to Carmen del Oro. She also thought about going for Rosario Giralda or Esperanza de Granada, but a friend of hers, a journalist, said that no, the most suitable name was Carmen del Oro. This was the stage she was at when, without giving her mother a chance to recover from the whole Socorrito business, María Angustias upped and ran off with a banker from Murcia called Don Estanislao Ramírez. Her poor mother was so shocked she didn't even cry.

The youngest, Juan Ramón, is a bit funny, a bit "yon way," and spends all day long looking at himself in the mirror and putting creams on his face.

Round about seven o'clock, in a break between two patients, Don Francisco goes out to make a phone call. It's almost impossible to hear what he says.

"Are you going to be at home?"

“. . .”

"Right, I'll be round at about nine."

“. . .”

"No, don't call anyone.” (pp. 206-08)

[batri-jopa]

SHIT 'N' STUFF NOBODY AWAITS "Movie-night" part 1 of 3

So I'm after my movie-night and I have some conclusions (more than "going to bed at 4:30 is the most stupid idea I don't recommend" - for this I knew already😆)

So the first movie I already knew by heart and longer than I can say, though not rewatching it for few years. If anything new - probably first time watching it alone? Still loving it nevertheless but it feels whole a lot better watching together with someone who loves it too😕

Oh, and first time imagining how it could feel to be a viewer who never was a believer looking at the character speaking, disputing and puting all his hopes... looking into what, the empty sky?😑 Jeez, that would be one of the saddest thing I've ever seen🥺 His faith is all that is left to him when he's losing almost everything else, it's giving sense to all the struggles, making him feel that even if he suffers a lot, it's not completely pointless, that there's a meaning in everything... If anyone - poor and suffering ppl will always need hope.

Also: never before I felt so much for rebellious character (probably never sympathising with him before bc he was leftist?🤔 And everybody keep on saying "He's a little crazy"😅 Anyway I grew up to finally understand his motives🤷)

And since the very beggining I understood the tradition that was meant to make you feel safe in this unsteady world - is the first thing going to be proved so wrong... Like I knew it always but never felt it so intensively

And relation with constable. With "I wish you were Jew". I wonder how did they met for the first time? And how it feels to be not evil man who have to obey orders but thinking "better for them it was me than someone worse"?

Oh, and the dance, always!!!😍 The language of dance! The intercultural dialog of dance!!!🥰 What's more to say, I hope I will never get tired of it🥲

And of course the father figure. Like personification of a nation that tries to hold all the threads: of love and understanding toward his kids and the tradition that he believes is best for them all, even if seems oppressive. Well, it's all just "trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck"...

Main conclusion? Even when knowing something by heart - there's still something new to discover���The film is not changing with time - but you are!

[anoonimthepoorchad]

I would like for tankies and russia sympathizers to watch this video. Maybe it will explain to them what kind of shit russia brings everywhere it goes. Recently during one of christian Easter events pope asked two people to share their experience of the war. One was a kid from Mariupol, forced to escape, leave their home and have it destroyed and their friends killed. The other was a russian, talking about their uncle and dad at the war front. Poor poor russians suffering from the war they began. From coming to our lands with the intent to kill us, torture us, destroy our independency, our culture and our life. And evil evil Ukrainians keep on fighting back, even when everyone else is tired from the war and want it to chill as soon as possible. And videos like these show exactly why we're fighting. Because this is what awaits for us from russians, all of us. You have no idea how real this threat is for us. I've been waking up almost everynight from nightmares that my family would get deported by russians. I can't even think about it, still it's always on my mind. And since I'm away from home, the war ptsd induced paranoia takes any peace I could have. The war doesn't dissapear if you're far away from it, it follows you, spreads consequences of violence through countries and nations. This is important to understand. And for those who refuse to see the truth, I would like to watch this video. To see exactly what russia brings, that it's not just "putin's war", it's a product of generational hate and bigotry, grown for ages, now used to destroy us. But we won't ever stop fighting. So that no Ukrainian ever experiences this horror and has their relatives suffer like this

I can't stand those people who tell DON'T WATCH THIS VIDEO to the non-ukrainians. We - yes, we never should have ever seen that video, because we are traumatized enough, plus, most of us have a relative or a friend who is fighting in this war, we know people who are MIA or POW, so it's fucking terrifying to see this happening to someone who can be our friend or family. It's still enraging as it happened to someone from our people.

But WE NEED TO SHOUT ABOUT IT TO THE WORLD. To those people, who are whining that they are tired of our war. They got tired of us getting beheaded, ruthlessly murdered, tortured, raped. And you are telling us not to show them the evidence of how they beloved "not all ruzzians" slaughter us, abusing the rules of the war? Are you actually helping russians? Huh?

P.S. For those who doesn't know. Today resurfaced the video (from last summer we think) where our soldier is laying under russian swine and yells "It hurts!" as that bastard cuts through his neck, the soldier's scream slowly gets cut off, as the other ruzzians jeer and laugh and say "what, didn't you ever do this before?" and then they show us the bloodied head of our soldier, telling they will send it to the commander. Also, they go through our ammunition and decide what to take.

This is sickening. I saw the unblurred video. I saw all of it. I don't know how I will sleep tonight, but I am plenty angry to go find some russian and tear his or her head off right now. I don't fucking care about consequences. I want all of them dead, burned alive, their children slaughtered in front of them. Hell will be too kind for those swines.

[imdoingwhateverisnext]

Nights of the Roosters

The past two nights, the door in which I normally enter and leave my home through have had 2 giant roosters sitting on the porch. I tried to shew them away, but they seemed almost sedated. I called every one I knew with livestock knowledge to no avail. I was concerned for the birds because my pit bull murders chickens if she sees one on our property. I did not want to have to clean up the carcasses. My son usually does that if he is home, but this time he wasn't.

The birds weren't being harmful or aggressive, they were a little loud at times, but they were mostly just sitting there. It had been raining a lot the past two days, so maybe they just wanted shelter and this was all they could find, I thought to myself.

I left to go to the store from my back porch through the sliding glass door. When I came back home I honked my horn multiple times as I drove past the side porch to see if the noise would scare them off. It did not. Neither rooster even flinched or fluttered a feather. They both just looked at me as if to say, "Lady, we are just sitting here, what is all of this noise for?"

I'll admit, I do not like birds that much (thanks Alfred Hitchcock). I appreciate the beauty, and I really love to look at them flying and hear their songs. I do not like any bird to come flying toward my face, nor do I like being chased by them. I fear the beaks and talons. My grandma had huge geese that used to chase me to my car with their wings outstretched. I don't know what I thought they were going to do to me, but their heads came up to just below my breasts, which is too tall for a bird to come running towards me, and I did not like it. I ran every time.

These two guys were large for roosters. They looked almost like twins. As far as chickens/roosters go, they were very beautiful. The feathers, brown and red and shiny as if they had just gone to a spa. They looked like someone had left them on my porch as some sort of peace offering. I suddenly thought back to the poor goat from the original Jurassic Park movie. Sitting there waiting, oblivious to it's inevitable fate. My pit bull would be the T Rex in this story.

They obviously knew not, the horrors that would surely await them less than 6 feet away behind a closed door. When it comes to chickens make no mistake, this dog is a killing machine. She is fast, strong and kills efficiently. She doesn't want to eat them, she just wants to kill them (if they are on our property). I don't like it. I keep her inside or fenced in with an electric wire at the bottom of the chain link (the only solution we could find to keep her from digging out and attacking birds and rabbits). Occasionally the fence fails, and like the raptors of Jurassic Park, she will test them from time to time. When the fence fails, she is gone. She is an escape expert. I once thought about trying to make a living just letting her test other peoples fences for weakness (like a computer hacker finding the chinks in your digital armor. Sometimes she will return home covered in blood, but most of the time just mud. She loves people and I have never seen this dog harm a kid or human (not ever). She is very timid and loving when she is around people (rambunctiously lovable at times). I retrieved her from a kill shelter. She was on doggy death row. She is blind in her left eye. She was approximately 3 years old when we got her (so they thought).

I felt bad for the roosters because they had no idea how close they were to their own demise. If she were to see or catch a whiff of them, she might try to run past me to get to them, then...bad news for all of us. Them for getting slaughtered, and me for having to carry the corpses to the end of my property near the creek. I have only had to do it once. It was a large chicken, it was still warm. I had just seen it near the front door, in less than 2 minutes it was a warm bird carcass with a few loose feathers lying around a pool of blood, right next to my car in my driveway. I knew if I tripped over it in the dark wearing flip-flops it would be way worse than if I just carried it away by its warm bloody foot, hanging upside down as I squealed, screeched, and and tiptoed through the tall grass like a grossed out little girl.

At 2 am I heard the loud rooster crow. It was so loud because they were 6 feet away from me behind a door and thin window pane.

Added bonus when I looked outside, I thought I had never seen chicken shit as large as this before. There was so much of it too! Maybe I was biased because it was in my daily path of walking? I remember going to the zoo and seeing an eagle shit, and I thought to myself, 'Oh my God, what if that hit my windshield as I was driving? It would break through it!' These rooster turds were not windshield shattering in size, but they were definitely slip in shit and break my leg sized.

The next day, after daylight around 8 or 9, they wandered off (I suppose looking for food). When my son came home the birds had returned. He tried his best to scare them away kindly.

Later after dark, my daughter came home. She tried shoving one off the porch with her foot, it wouldn't budge, but just looked at her. They are either sedated or beyond domesticated. I am not sure which.

My son, as soft-hearted as he is, said he felt bad to chase them off the porch with a broom. He did it three different times. The last time was more aggressive than before. However, he was the one who washed the shit off of the porch, so he was pretty highly motivated I assume.

I must say that I have never been so stealthily and completely double cock-blocked before. I suppose all I can say right now is touche to these birds and whom ever brought them to my house. Well played and please stop shitting on my porch, thank you.

***They have returned two nights in a row. I don't know if they will return tonight, but I will be looking and listening for them; for their safety and my convenience.

How these strange things continually happen to me is outside of my realm of total understanding. I suppose I should just be thankful for the continuous stream of weird and funny material to write about (considering how boring my life actually is).