#Create pay stubs

[paystubusa]

Why Every Business Needs a Reliable Pay Stub Generator

A reliable Pay Stub Generator is essential for every business to ensure accurate payroll, maintain financial records, and stay compliant with tax regulations. With Paystub Generator, you can create professional pay stubs in minutes. Simplify your payroll process today with trusted Pay Stub Generators.

[onlinepaystubmaker]

Why Every Small Business Needs a Paystub Generator

In today’s fast-paced business environment, efficiency and accuracy in financial management are crucial, especially for small businesses. One of the most critical aspects of financial management is payroll processing. This task, if done manually, can be time-consuming, prone to errors, and challenging to manage as the business grows. This is where a paystub generator becomes an invaluable tool. In this blog, we will explore why every small business needs a paystub generator and how it can benefit from free paystub generator options, check stub makers, and pay stub creators available in the market.

Streamlining Payroll Processing

Manual payroll processing involves calculating employee wages, deducting taxes, and generating paystubs—a task that can be quite labor-intensive. A paystub generator simplifies this process by automating calculations and generating accurate paystubs within minutes. This not only saves time but also minimizes the risk of human error, ensuring that employees receive the correct amount of pay and deductions.

Using a Free Paystub Generator

One of the primary concerns for small businesses is cost. Investing in expensive payroll software might not be feasible for every small business. Thankfully, there are free paystub generator options available that offer robust features without the hefty price tag. These tools allow businesses to create professional paystubs quickly and efficiently, without incurring additional expenses.

Enhancing Accuracy and Compliance

Accurate payroll processing is essential for maintaining compliance with labor laws and tax regulations. Errors in payroll can lead to significant legal issues, fines, and penalties. A paystub generator ensures accuracy by automatically performing complex calculations and generating detailed paystubs that include all necessary information such as gross pay, deductions, taxes, and net pay.

Check Stub Maker for Accuracy

A check stub maker is a specialized tool designed to create detailed and accurate paystubs. These tools often come with templates that comply with legal requirements, ensuring that all necessary details are included. By using a check stub maker, small businesses can avoid costly mistakes and ensure compliance with regulatory standards.

Improving Employee Satisfaction

Employees rely on their paystubs to understand their earnings and deductions. Providing clear, accurate, and timely paystubs enhances transparency and trust between employers and employees. When employees can easily verify their pay and understand their deductions, it fosters a sense of security and satisfaction.

Paystub Generator Free Options

Offering employees detailed and professional paystubs doesn’t have to be expensive. There are paystub generator free options available that allow small businesses to produce high-quality paystubs without incurring additional costs. These free tools can generate paystubs that look professional and include all necessary details, contributing to employee satisfaction.

Facilitating Financial Planning and Record-Keeping

Paystubs serve as essential documents for both employers and employees. They provide a detailed record of earnings, deductions, and taxes paid, which is crucial for financial planning and record-keeping. For employers, maintaining accurate payroll records is vital for tax reporting and audits. For employees, paystubs are necessary for personal financial planning, applying for loans, and other financial transactions.

Free Pay Stub Generator for Record-Keeping

A free pay stub generator can help small businesses maintain accurate payroll records without additional expenses. These tools often allow users to save and export paystubs in various formats, making it easy to keep organized records for future reference.

Simplifying Tax Filing

Accurate and detailed paystubs are essential for tax filing. They provide the necessary information for both employers and employees to accurately report income and deductions. A paystub generator simplifies the tax filing process by ensuring that all payroll information is correctly calculated and documented.

Pay Stub Creator Free for Tax Preparation

Using a pay stub creator free tool can significantly simplify tax preparation for small businesses. These tools generate paystubs that include all necessary tax information, making it easier to prepare and file accurate tax returns. This not only saves time but also reduces the risk of errors and potential penalties.

Customization and Professionalism

A paystub generator allows small businesses to customize paystubs to reflect their brand and meet specific needs. Customizable templates enable businesses to add logos, choose different designs, and include specific information relevant to their industry or business model. This level of customization enhances the professionalism of the business and ensures that paystubs are tailored to meet the unique requirements of the company.

Using Free Paystub Generator Tools for Customization

Many free paystub generator tools offer a variety of customization options, allowing small businesses to create professional and branded paystubs without additional costs. These tools typically provide user-friendly interfaces that make it easy to customize paystubs according to the business’s needs.

Conclusion

In conclusion, a paystub generator is an essential tool for every small business. It streamlines payroll processing, enhances accuracy and compliance, improves employee satisfaction, facilitates financial planning and record-keeping, simplifies tax filing, and allows for customization and professionalism. With the availability of free paystub generator options, check stub makers, and pay stub creators, small businesses can access these benefits without incurring additional costs. By leveraging these tools, small businesses can ensure efficient and accurate payroll management, ultimately contributing to their overall success and growth.

FAQs

What is a paystub generator?

A paystub generator is an online tool or software that automates the creation of paystubs for employees. It calculates earnings, deductions, and taxes, and generates detailed paystubs that can be printed or shared electronically.

Why is a paystub generator important for small businesses?

A paystub generator is important for small businesses because it streamlines payroll processing, reduces the risk of errors, ensures compliance with legal requirements, and enhances employee satisfaction by providing accurate and professional paystubs.

Are there free paystub generators available?

Yes, there are several free paystub generators available online. These tools offer basic functionalities to create professional paystubs without any cost, making them ideal for small businesses with limited budgets.

How does a check stub maker differ from a paystub generator?

A check stub maker is essentially the same as a paystub generator. Both terms refer to tools that create detailed and accurate paystubs or check stubs for employees. The terms are often used interchangeably.

What features should I look for in a paystub generator?

When choosing a paystub generator, look for features such as user-friendly interfaces, customizable templates, secure data handling, integration with payroll systems, and the ability to save and export paystubs in various formats.

[eformscreators]

Welcome to eFormsCreator, your go-to place for creating professional and accurate paystubs online. Our free paystub generator makes payroll easy and hassle-free. Whether you need to create a paystub, generate a paycheck, or produce detailed pay records, our platform has you covered. Our user-friendly paystub creator lets you make precise, professional-quality pay stubs in just a few steps. Enjoy our service without any hidden fees—ideal for small businesses and freelancers. Instantly download your pay stubs in PDF format for printing or sharing. Use our customizable templates to reflect your business branding. With eFormsCreator, you can enter employee and employer details, add pay information, include deductions, and generate your paystubs quickly. Save time and money while delivering professional results, all with secure and confidential handling of your data. Join thousands of satisfied users and visit eFormsCreator to start using our free paystub generator today!

[hoe4hotchner]

Drawer | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Gn!reader CW: Fluff. Haley is still alive in this one… but they're divorced and she's not mentioned, so don't worry about her. WC: 0.8k

This is part of #Teddy-ber hosted by @angellsell

           The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of plates as you set the table. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, making everything feel cozy and safe. You glanced over at the small drawer beside the fridge, the one neither of you opened often, yet always ended up filling with random things. You smiled, shaking your head. The infamous junk drawer - every home had one, but yours and Aaron's had its own kind of charm.

           It all started off simple, as these things often do. A place for the odd rubber band, a spare battery, maybe a pen or two. But over time, it grew, much like your relationship with him, becoming a repository for memories, a snapshot of your life together in the most ordinary and yet extraordinary way.

           You wandered over to the drawer, giving in to the curiosity, and pulled it open. The first thing that caught your eye was a tiny, half-used notepad. You chuckled, remembering how Aaron had tried to create a system and used it to make a grocery list - once. His tidy handwriting took up the first half of the page: Apples, cereal, milk, eggs. The essentials. Then came your scribbles, messier but full of character: Chocolate, wine, ice cream. It was a small, unspoken dance between the two of you, his practicality meeting your indulgence. He’d teased you about your sweet tooth but always made sure to grab a bar of your favorite chocolate when he went to the store.

           Underneath the notepad was an old, crinkled paperclip. Nothing special at first glance, but you knew better. This particular clip had been straightened and twisted into some sort of abstract shape during one of Aaron’s late-night phone calls with the director. He had a habit of fiddling with things when he was deep in thought or conversation, his mind constantly running through strategies, cases, and plans. The paperclip had against all odds survived that night and ended up in the drawer, tossed in with the rest of the forgotten oddities.

           There was a small collection of mismatched pens, each one with a different origin story. One from the BAU, with the FBI logo fading from years of use. Another, much nicer, one with Rossi’s name engraved on the side - a Christmas gift that had mysteriously disappeared from Aaron’s desk only to reappear here. You smiled, remembering how Rossi had teased Aaron about it, accusing him of misplacing gifts as though they were case files.

           Digging a little deeper, you found a crumpled-up ticket stub. It was from a movie you and Aaron had seen early on in your relationship, on one of your rare date nights - some action thriller that neither of you had really been paying attention to. You had been too busy watching him try to relax and stop worrying about work. His arm curled around your shoulders as the tension slowly left his body. It was one of those evenings where he let himself enjoy life, and in that dark theater, you’d felt closer to him than ever. The ticket had ended up in his pocket, and then, eventually, in the drawer.

           You picked up an old keychain, shaped like a miniature Swiss Army knife. It was a gag gift from Morgan after a particularly tough case where Aaron somehow had managed to improvise his way out of a tricky situation (or so you'd been told) with nothing but a pen and a piece of string. Morgan had joked about Aaron being the new MacGyver, and the keychain had become a running joke between the two - until it, too, found its way into the drawer, no longer needed but still a significant memory.

           Near the back, half-buried under a mess of receipts and old to-do lists, you found something that made your heart swell - a small, child-sized sock. You chuckled softly, knowing exactly whose it was. Jack had spent the night a few weeks ago, and somehow, one of his socks had gone missing. You’d found it in the laundry and tossed it in the drawer, intending to return it but never getting around to it. The little sock was a reminder of the nights when Jack slept over, filling the house with his laughter and questions. Aaron was always softer when Jack was around, his face lighting up in ways that were rare for the composed man you knew.

           As you looked over the contents of the drawer, you realized that it was more than just a place for random objects. It was a reflection of your life with Aaron - the little moments that made up your days together, the way your personalities meshed in the most unexpected ways. His neatness contrasted with your occasional chaos, his seriousness balanced by your lightheartedness. And in the middle of it all, this drawer - a quiet testament to the life you were building together, one forgotten pen and grocery list at a time.

           You smiled, closing the drawer with a soft click, knowing that someday it would fill up even more. But for now, it was a comforting, endearing mess - much like love itself.

[splatashahowlett]

outcasts

logan howlett x reader

you've always been on your own wavelength. always on another planet; in your own little world. you couldn't help it, what you could create in your head was far more interesting than whatever people around you could say or do.

your favorite hobby was to try and find poetry in everything you could see: a willow tree? Do you mean the reincarnation of zeus's nurse? the same one ophelia died under when she realized hamlet could never give her the love she needed?

seeing life this way was way more fun, and if being made fun of was the price to pay to keep your internal peace intact then it was worth it. kids weren't really kind or comprehensive toward your unique mindset. now that you were a grown-up; nothing really changed. you were still enjoying what life gave you with your own approach and people still made fun of you.

except for one person: logan.

which was quite paradoxical because he was known for his judgmental stares and mocking scoffs. he never grew any soft spot for anybody and then you came around, and he fell down the rabbit hole quicker than ever. he was completely mesmerized by you and threatened anybody who dared to even think about mocking your... behavior. at first, you didn't even notice him but you started enjoying his presence more and more. and you finally joined him in the love spiral he was a prisoner of.

logan was standing on the school's porch, cigar in his mouth, watching the students run inside as the rain came pouring down.

the storm was near.

but you didn't care; you stayed still.

"come inside," he called over his shoulder. "get outta the rain." logan called out.

you stayed silent, not even paying attention to him. you were looking at the sky.

"you're gettin' soaked." he grunted. everybody else could have heard a flicker of annoyance in his voice but you knew it was concern and care.

logan glared at you, the annoyance on his face growing. he knew you could be stubborn, which he loved about you, but he didn't want you to catch a cold.

"stop bein' so damn stubborn and get yer ass inside." he growled, his voice commanding but still gentle.

you finally turned around and acknowledged his presence. "I like the rain" you simply answered.

logan frowned, his brow furrowing. he didn't like the fact that you were willingly getting drenched in the downpour.

"you're gonna catch a cold." he grumbled, the gruffness in his voice masked his worry.

"I'll heal"

logan couldn't help but smile softly; he fell harder for you each day. "come with me" you added

the wolverine sighed, his annoyance faded slightly at your request. he can never say no to you, despite his gruff demeanor.

"fine. but we ain't gonna be out here long." he grumbled, stubbing out his cigar on the porch before walking over to you.

he walked down the steps and stopped beside you, his broad frame blocked part of the rain. his arms folded over his chest, and his yellow eyes surveyed the storm.

"I thought you'd be inside, dry and warm." he commented; knowing you liked to stay under the covers, safe from the harsh reality of a world against mutants.

"Isn't it soothing? standing under the rain. knowing you cannot escape it; feeling like it washes you clean?" you said, still in your own bubble.

"guess I hadn't thought of it like that." he admits gruffly. he listens to your words, actually pausing to consider what you say. his eyes roam over your face, studying your expression as you speak. his thoughts wander, remembering how he found your ability to detach from reality strangely comforting. It made you seem almost ethereal.

"you're different from anyone I've ever met before." he spoke up, his deep voice barely above a whisper, almost lost in the howling of the wind.

"you're different from anyone I've ever met before" you said back, looking at him lovingly. he smiled, a rare sight if anybody asked him but something quite common if they asked you. he was still struggling to get used to the softer side of himself that you seemed to bring out, even after all this time.

the storm was raging around you but seemed to fade into the background as he looked into your eyes.

his heart quickened, the gruff exterior faltering as he held your gaze.

"thank you for not making fun of me"

his expression softened even further, his rough exterior crumbling even more. He knew that you've been ridiculed for who you are, and he hated that.

"of course, I won't make fun of ya." he replied "I like you the way you are."

you wrap your hands around his middle; burying your face in his chest.

caught off guard by your unexpected embrace, it took logan a moment to reciprocate. hesitantly, he wraped his arms around you, holding you against him.

he could feel your head resting on his chest, his heart rate increased as he realized how intimate this moment was. the rain continued to fall around you, each drop adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment. It created a strange sense of intimacy, the cool water running over your bodies while you held each other. he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

"could you stay with me?" you pleaded

he hesitated for a moment, not because he didn't want to, but because he wasn't used to being asked to stay.

"Yeah." He said gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I'll stay."

"no, I mean, forever." you raised your head, looking at him. "I don't think I can live without you anymore" you confessed.

logan's heart thunders in his chest, the unexpected declaration taking him completely by surprise. his eyes widened slightly, revealing the depth of his emotions.

"forever...?" he repeated, his voice soft and almost unsure. he never thought you would ask that, but hearing those words from you, it ignited something deep within him. he looked down at you, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek.

you slowly nodded. "now that I know what it's like to be loved by you and to love you in return I don't think I can manage not to"

your words hit logan like a ton of bricks. he's never heard anyone say something so raw and heartfelt, and it hit him right in the chest. he went speechless, his heart hammered in his chest. but then, his expression softened, and he pulled you even closer against him.

"I feel the same way, darlin'," he muttered. "can't imagine not havin' you in my life anymore."

and you just smiled, because in your world, words weren't required to translate a soul. and logan wanted more than anything to be part of it, so he stayed silent and held you tightly against him, his fingers gently tracing small patterns on your back. the storm continued to rage around the both of you, but it felt right: being in his arms felt right.

logan honestly had no idea if what you just said meant that you two were an official thing but he couldn't bring himself to care over such a foolish detail. as long as he could hold you as much as he wanted, he was a happy man.

[jukey]

yandere! bachira headcanons

(more like things he would do ^_^|)

• memorize your daily routine. he knows your schedule better than you do, when you wake up, where you go, what time you’ll be at that café, it’s not stalking if it’s love, right?

• leave anonymous notes. short, simple messages like “i saw you today” or “you looked happy” pop up in unexpected places, your locker, your desk, places you’ll find them but can’t quite figure out who left them.

• intercept your messages. somehow texts from your friends get lost, calls go unanswered, he makes sure he’s the one you turn to when you need someone.

• create a scrapbook. it’s filled with photos of you, ticket stubs from places you’ve been, little notes about your likes and dislikes, all to show how much he pays attention.

• sabotage potential relationships. anyone who shows an interest in you ends up facing strange inconveniences, rumors, misunderstandings, maybe even a sudden move.

• mirror your interests. he picks up the hobbies you enjoy, reads your favorite books, watches your preferred shows, everything so he can feel closer to you.

• appear unexpectedly. whether it’s at a late-night study session or a weekend hangout, he always seems to show up and acts like it’s just a coincidence.

• gift personal items. he gives you little things that once belonged to him, a bracelet, a hoodie, a keychain, so you always carry a piece of him.

• express jealousy subtly. he doesn’t say anything, but you notice it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his smile never quite reaches his eyes, the way he watches you when you’re with someone else.

• dream of a shared future. he talks about "someday" with a calm certainty, a house, pets, a life together as if it’s already decided.

• manipulate situations. he arranges things so that you need his help, making sure he’s always there when you want someone to rely on.

• keep tokens. a stray hair, a forgotten earring, a coffee cup you’ve touched, he keeps them all and cherishes every reminder of you.

• monitor your online presence. every post, every like, every comment catches his eye, he studies them to learn more about your mood and thoughts.

• internalize your emotions. when you’re happy, it feels like he’s floating on air, when you’re sad, it’s like his world is crumbling, he feels your emotions even more strongly than his own.

• believe in destiny. every glance and interaction is proof to him that you two were always meant for each other.

A/N: wow two posts in two days that 1 year writers block did me good

[hanaeriin]

MELTiNG SNOW, UNCONDiTiONAL LOVE. kageyama tobio x fem!reader ノ winter holidays , fluff , sfw , established relationship , potential ooc. ノ WC. 1.2k

SYNOPSIS. the coldest season had arrived and the whole nation is on good spirits. On this rare occasion, a simple love story is told under the light snowfall; the heartwarming tale of you and your beloved spending the day away.

NOTE. my submission for @pixelcafe-network 's secret santa event !! a fluffy gift for my dearest little elf, @shouyuus da da dan, hii rain, I'm your secret santa !! surprise? I hope you are because the gift that I've prepared for you is finally here !! it's my first time writing for hq and I'm hoping I get his characteristics right cuz it's been so long since I last watched the anime...>~< also special thanks to my sis for proofreading!!

It was late in the evening in mid-December, one of those unusual days when your boyfriend had the day off. To maximize that precious time, you typically utilize it either by going on dates or relaxing at home based on your mood. At present, you were shopping for groceries when you noticed that it was snowing outside. 

“Oh, it's snowing!! The weather prediction was accurate this time!!” You shouted, nearly glowing with happiness at the sight of the winter paradise ahead of you, watching your breath create small clouds in front of you as you talked. The snowflakes danced down from the sky, forming a winter display of small butterflies that appeared truly enchanting. Your ears perked at the gentle crunch of the snow beneath your feet, while the biting cold caresses your cheeks, making them flush. 

“It's becoming chillier out here; are you okay with only that?” Your boyfriend, Tobio was strolling beside you, carrying plastic bags in one hand as you twirled around, arms wide open in an ecstatic stance, with snowflakes swirling around you. From the perspective of an outsider, it appears as if you were dancing with the snow, yet to him, your features in the cold could easily make you seem like a fairy. 

‘She looks great in white,’ he thought, gazing at you with eyes full of love, and then his face flushed pink as the realization hit him. What was going through his mind just now?!? In the meantime, you, oblivious to his flustered condition, eagerly moved forward to explore the shops, calling out, “Tobio! Check this out! It's a cupcake shop with a Christmas theme!” Your eyes shine like a child's eyes brighten when they encounter something extraordinary. 

You exclaimed, indicating another shop before darting away once more, “Whoa! Oh, oh, check that out over there! Isn't the window display in that store incredibly adorable? Oh my gosh, they even have polar bear ones?!” 

“Could you slow down a little...?” Tobio was following closely, ensuring he wouldn't lose you in the throngs of people. “If you don't pay attention to where you're headed... you'll find yourself face down on the ground.”

“I'll be fine! I'm not a child or anything—waah?!” After stubbing your toe on the bumpy platform, Tobio grabbed you before you could fall onto the floor. “Haaaaah, I’m fine!” You got up, completely unharmed as if you hadn't just been plummeting to your demise moments earlier... 

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head as you grinned, scratching the back of your head. “But Tobio, come and check this out—ACHOO!” You emit a loud sneeze, your nose reddening slightly as you cover it with your right hand. He exhaled deeply, setting the bags onto the snowy platform, gradually peeling off his scarf. “You gonna get catch a cold”

“B-But! You're going to catch a cold as well.” You looked at him with worried eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters, his face tinged pink from the chill while you remained frozen in shock as he began to drape the lengthy scarf around your neck, when he finished, he took your free hand before lifting the bags from the icy platform. “Let’s head home.” 

You found it hard to look away from him, slowly blinking as a soft blush crept over your cheeks. “Y-Yeah...”

.

.

.

“We're home!” You call out into the vacant corridors, causing a faint echo to ripple across the apartment. It was completely dark when the two of you got back to your home, removing your shoes before heading to the living room to turn on the lights, but something drew your attention and you shouted as if recalling something crucial, “Oh wait, Tobio!! Come over here for a moment!”

“What is that?” You could hear his gentle footsteps nearing the living room, and before long, you could see his head peeking through the doorway. 

“Oh...you have one of those warm tables with a cover, a kotatsu?” He gazed at it with shining eyes, appearing as if he was about to plunge in and snuggle up inside; it made you smile softly. “Sure, I figured you would enjoy it since you mentioned staying home for a few days, so I went ahead and bought it at the mall.”

“Wasn't it.... overly priced for you to purchase them?” 

“Oh, it's okay... your needs matter more than my wallet, anyway.”

“What was that about?”

“N-Nothing at all...”

Feeling flustered, you attempt to shift the conversation to conceal your embarrassment, “Let's give the kotatsu a try!” You're still chilly from being outdoors for such a long time. You were so thrilled that you quickly sat down under the kotatsu. “Ah, it feels so cozy~” 

Tobio couldn't resist chuckling a bit as he watched you sink onto the heating table, settling down himself beneath the cozy blanket. “Would you like a mikan orange?” You take an orange from the little basket in front of you and gradually start peeling it. 

“Sure, I'll have one”

“I feel like taking a nap first...I'm feeling all snug and comfortable from this warm kotatsu...”

“Did you forget why we're doing today?”

“But it's so nice here, and I don't want to move yet...” You sulked, using your most sorrowful puppy dog eyes to appear as pitiful as you could. 

“Alright...” At that moment, he appears extremely forlorn, resembling a kicked puppy due to his downcast eyes as he gazes at the table before him, intermittently darting glances between you and the kitchen with a look of hope, nearly pleading for your attention. For a large man, his face really affects your poor heart. So unfair. You rose abruptly and moved toward the tall man with an expressionless face. 

“W-What is it?” Tobio glanced at you, puzzled by your abrupt shift in emotions, and you quickly kissed him on the lips, surprising him. “You know it's unfair of you to use that face against me”

“Whuh-?”

“Alright, let's head to the kitchen now! Time doesn't pause for anyone!!!”

He could only observe as you quickly dashed to the kitchen, loud sounds echoed from the spot where he was seated. 

“She's like a storm...” He couldn't resist smiling gently as he approached you while you scurried around gathering ingredients for a feast. The sound of bare feet echoed on the kitchen floor, darting around quickly as you began to open numerous...and numerous cabinets, trying to grab something concealed within it.

...hence the start of a journey filled with challenges and mistakes, concluding the day with laughter and happiness. The moments shared with cherished individuals embody the real essence of a winter miracle... 

© HANAERIIN. please do no repost, translate, copy or use any of my works on any platform/train ai.

[adam--official]

I know I've been doing more mod posts than roleplay posts but christ aliveeee do you know how many expletives we use.in day to day life. "Oh my god," "Jesus Christ," "fuck," "what the hell," "goodness," "holy shit," or anything similar!!! All expletives are cultural, most of them involving religion or taboos. Fuck is a swear because sex is frowned upon, son of a bitch is a swear because having a child outside of wedlock is frowned upon, shit is a swear because excrement is viewed as gross, and don't even mention all the ones relating to Christianity! Anything "holy" is relating to God, saying Oh My Anything is essentially a prayer, "damn" refers to sending something to hell, even "oh, man" is a weird cultural thing that I don't know the meaning of but definitely stemmed from something specific. The only way I can get away with saying oh man is when I'm actually having Eve refer to Adam as man. Like "speak not to me of blasphemy, man!" sorta thing. They don't have the names Adam and Eve yet so it.works. the closest thing to an expletive I've used is when Adam refers to gods burning hand, "burning" being the expletive here because it hurt. But how do I use a swear when these people have never experienced any pain, and nothing is taboo? I'm kind of just having them groan and yell a lot

With the angels it's easier. They were created specifically to serve God, so anything outside of God is bad. The view everything in the context of The Lord™. They don't say things like "oh.my god" because that stems from praying, it's more like a quick plea, and angels don't pray. They do say things like "forsaken", to imply that God doesn't like that thing and therefore it sucks. It's used in a similar way to "damn," such as "I stubbed my toe on that forsaken coffee table" or "God forsake this mess!" The angel insults are wild too, they're not allowed to say anything that directly insults God, or imply that God is anything but Good, so I have to get creative. So they're saying things like "I fear God was distracted during the moment of your creation." It's very passive-aggressive, southern-baptisty. They say "God forsake" when they mean fuck as a verb. Like "God forsake you" instead of "fuck you." The angels of a higher rank are usually more aggressive with their insults because they know they're useful and they know that as long as they have no genuine bad feelings towards God, He doesn't care. The lower ranking ones (foot soldiers mostly) rarely ever insult anyone or imply anything remotely negative at all about God because they fear His wrath and they know they're expendable.

With the Fallen (angels, aka devils) it's not hard. They say things like "burning" and "bloody" and "blood and ash!" (Stole that from wheel of time) and pretty much anything to do with fire. For example, "Blood and ash! I stub my burning toe on this bloody coffee table, agh ow this flaming pious chunk of char!" Pious to show its stupid, because the fallen believe worship of any kind is stupid, and they don't like god very much. Chunk of char/charcoal to show that it's functionally useless and serves no purpose and is a waste. The angels and the Fallen existed before the humans did so.they had time to create some semblance of culture.

I wonder what the watchers will do. I mean they were stationed on mt ararat for thousands of years they're gonna be speaking practically a different language. With all the inside jokes and the shared duty/purpose.. it's gonna be really specific. I'll probably have the ability to pay attention be a good thing, and distraction be a bad thing. Like "shit semjaza are you distracted?" At first it was an actual insult but then they realized they were literally doing nothing and they didn't need to pay attention anyway so it kinda became a joke. Still, things relating to attention/distraction are used as expletives left over from a time when it actually mattered. Like saying "punished again by inattention! I stubbed my toe on this coffee table!" Other swears will be specific to the one speaking. A blacksmith might say "this warped coffee table," a jeweler might call it impure or inclusive, an astronomer might call it cloudy.

Basically in order to determine what to use for swears I have to determine the values of the group, what they like and their taboos, and incorporate that in a way that doesn't sound silly. I'm writing this in a way where they speak an ancient language and I'm translating, so if they were speaking their hypothetical native language it would be normal, but this is English which is so heavily influenced by Christianity that anything besides that sounds stupid! Aghgh I hate globalization

Anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk. Can u tell I like anthropology

[bekolxeram]

Human remains as props — the Billy Boils of old horror movies

In this week's Halloween themed 9-1-1 episode, Buck rented a mummy replica from a Hollywood prop shop which turned out to be a real human body. This set off a series of misfortunate events for the firefighter, that might or might not be the result of a curse. Once again, the writers have surpassed themselves in terms of over-the-top silliness that has become the trademark of our beloved weewoo show. There's no way someone can accidentally get their hands on a real corpse... right?

Oh, you'll be surprised. You too may have seen a real cadaver or two on the silver screen.

The Economics of prop dead bodies

Using real human remains as movie props was such a common practice back in the days that prop masters working on the 1979 Vietnam war epic Apocalypse Now were totally unfazed when body broker (later revealed to be a grave robber) brought several dead bodies to the set. The plan to use those bodies as props for maximum authenticity was only scrapped after a producer ruled against it.

Source: The Independent

Interestingly, films that ended up actually featuring real bodies were the low-budget, fake looking ones. In the age before 3D printing, creating a set of realistic human skeleton was a very labor intensive process. That combining with the cost of the material used, the price of a plastic replica was in fact more expensive than a real skeleton.

A special effect make-up artist who worked on the 1982 Spielberg classic Poltergeist explained the film's decision to use actual human remains on a podcast:

Source: Snopes

Eerily, two young actresses who worked on the Poltergeist trilogy passed away unexpectedly shortly afterwards, leading to the urban legend of a curse on set.

The story of Elmer J. McCurdy

In late 1976, the production crew of the TV show The Six Million Dollar Man was filming scenes at the Pike, a then amusement zone in Long Beach, California. While shooting a scene at a thrill ride, a member of the prop department spotted a wax mannequin covered in fluorescent paint dangling from a noose. Worrying it would get in the way of the camera, they gave the dummy's arm a tug in an attempt to remove it, but instead of the whole thing coming off, only the arm broke off, exposing a human bone and muscle tissues.

A penny from 1924 and ticket stubs to the "Museum of Crime" were found in the body's mouth. Investigators contacted the museum owner's son, who identified the body as Elmer McCurdy, an outlaw killed in 1911 in the middle of a shootout with police following a botched train robbery in Oklahoma.

Unlike the fictional McCurdy in 8x05, the real McCurdy was a simple petty criminal looking for some extra cash to support his alcohol habit. Utilizing the skills he learned from the army, his robbery method of choice was explosives, but he was very terrible at it.

Source: KCRW

His body was subsequently taken to a funeral home, where he laid unclaimed for the rest of his stay. The undertaker embalmed the body, shaved his face, dressed him in a suit, but refused bury him until someone come forward to claim it and pay for the service. As time went by, the owner of the funeral home decided to dress the body as a gunslinging cowboy and allow visitors to see "the Bandit Who Wouldn't Give Up" for the price of a nickel, in order to fund his burial.

5 years later, two men claiming to be McCurdy's long lost brothers came forward to take custody of the body for a proper burial. End of the story, right? Well, of course they were travelling carnival owners lying to acquire the body for their shows. In 1922, the body was sold to yet another travelling exhibit called "Museum of Crime", which featured wax figures of other famous outlaws in history.

For the next 3 decades, McCurdy's body travelled all around the country as an attraction. He even had a brief film career. He was once used to promote the 1933 film Narcotic!, then he had a small cameo in the 1967 B-movie She Freak. In 1968, the Museum of Crime owner's son decided to sell his father's exhibits to the Hollywood Wax Museum. There, McCurdy's body started getting mixed up with other wax figure, and his origin story long forgotten.

Following over half a century of voyage, McCurdy eventually became fully mummified. The wax museum believed that the body was too gruesome and unlifelike to be showcased anymore, so he was finally sold to The Pike, an amusement zone in Long Beach, where he began his new life as a thrill ride decoration dummy.

After the shocking revelation by TV crew in 1976, McCurdy was transported back to Oklahoma, where he took his last breath 66 years ago, and finally laid to rest after a graveside service attended by 300 people. (Under 2 feet of concrete, to prevent grave robbing)

Source: Atlas Obscura

[magicpedia]

　　　₊　　i 𝒔𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝒃𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 when i wake up ; sink porcelain stained , ᶜʰᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 and 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 , just two days since the mainframe went down and 𝗂'𝗆 st͟i͟l͟l 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 up ( . . . ) missed calls , 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 from 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 i just don't trust ; mirror talk , 𝑭𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 , but i'll take a pound of your 𝑓l͟e͟s͟h before you take a piece of my pay stub ─── i 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 to 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 for what i have become .

⌗ 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 featured on MAGICPEDIA, a multimuse based within 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 as created by jk rowling , includes canon and original characters , conjured by river 𓆗

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Judd Legum at Popular Information:

An internal Social Security Administration (SSA) memo, sent on March 13 and obtained by Popular Information, details proposed changes to the claims process that would debilitate the agency, cause significant processing delays, and prevent many Americans from applying for or receiving benefits. The memo, authored by Acting Deputy SSA Commissioner Doris Diaz, purports to be motivated by a desire to mitigate "fraud risks." Elon Musk has pushed several false claims about the nature and scope of Social Security fraud. In a recent interview on Fox Business, Musk suggested that 10% of federal expenditures were related to Social Security fraud. This is false. Social Security fraud does exist, but "improper" Social Security payments amounts to about $9 billion annually — less than 1% of total Social Security benefits paid and 0.1% of the federal budget. Most improper payments are not criminal fraud but the result of beneficiaries or the SSA failing to update records. The biggest change contemplated by Diaz's memo is to require "internet identity proofing" for "benefit claims… made over the phone." When an SSA customer is "unable to utilize the internet ID proofing, customers will be required to visit a field office to provide in-person identity documentation." Currently customers can make claims and verify their identity without using the internet or visiting a SSA office. Fraud is extremely rare because there are many safeguards in place. After initiating a call, customers must provide their social security number, date of birth, parents' names, mother's maiden name, and date of birth. After the initial teleapplication is completed, the information provided is checked against tax returns, pay stubs, bank statements, and medical information, depending on the nature of the claim. If there are any discrepancies, a customer may need to mail a copy of their birth certificate to the SSA. About 40% of all claims are currently processed over the phone. Because the SSA serves a large population that is either older or physically disabled, many cannot access the internet. Under the new system, this would force these populations to visit an office to have their claim processed. The Diaz memo estimates it would require 75,000 to 85,000 in-person visitors per week to SSA's offices to implement the policy. SSA offices do not currently have the resources to handle an influx of in-person appointments of this size. In 2023, the most recent data available, there were about 119,128 daily visits, on average, to SSA offices. Eight-five thousand more week visits would be a 14% increase. SSA offices no longer accept walk-ins and the wait time for an appointment, even before these changes, averaged over a month.

The memo anticipates creating a huge surge in demand for in-person appointments as the SSA slashes staff and closes offices. Acting SSA Commissioner Leland Dudek has announced that he will terminate 7,000 workers, about 12% of the workforce. Meanwhile, dozens of SSA offices are being shuttered. Some people need to travel more than 100 miles to get to the nearest location. As the SSA limits services that could be provided over the phone, it is ending in-person services at some offices, converting them to phone-only.

[...]

"DOGE's workaround"

On March 12, the day before the Diaz memo was sent, the Washington Post reported that the SSA was considering a proposal to "end telephone service for claims processing." That move, the paper reported, "would disrupt Social Security’s internal operations and threaten its ability to serve the public, current and former officials warned." In response to the Washington Post's article, the SSA issued a press release saying that "reports in the media that Social Security plans to eliminate telephone services are inaccurate." Rather, the press release said, phone service would only be eliminated in cases where beneficiaries need to change their banking information. The March 13 Diaz memo appears to be a way of implementing the original policy without technically ending telephone service for claims processing. Under the system described in the memo, customers can still use the phone to submit an application for a claim. The claim, however, would be considered "unverified" until an ID was verified through the internet or in person.

Popular Information reported on the Trump Regime’s plan to sabotage the Social Security Administration (SSA) under the purported guise of mitigating “fraud risks.”

[paystubusa]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right 1040 ES Form Creator

The IRS requires these payments using Form 1040-ES, which can be complex and time-consuming to prepare manually. A 1040 ES Form Creator automates much of this process by calculating your tax due, generating accurate forms, and tracking your payments.

[juiceboxscans]

Extra! Extra! Read the Extra! And another Extra!

In lieu of a chapter this month, we get four extras WITH (extra) SHOUMA!

Part Time Job 1: One of Shouma's coworkers at his part time job finds his bad boy attitude charming, the other is all 'Girl... don't do it.' (We stan the brunette with the bad attitude.)

Part Time Job 2: Shouma is told to pay for his own food at a goodbye party for the blonde in the previous extra, goes home to change and sees Yoshino cooking eel (like she talked about doing for Valentine's Day). Forgets the goodbye party and goes for the good stuff.

Basically a Dog: Kirishima goes to see Yoshino for pats after Tachibana wings at bottle at him for missing curfew. Callback to a Pixiv concept sketch where he comes home all bloody after a fight and she fixes him up. This time some of the Miyama group guys join them for snacks but Kirishima wants all her attention.

Protective: Yoshino stubs her toe and get babied and coddled, but she still hates hospitals so of course she gets a treat afterwards.

Props to @papeldecelofan for pointing out his watch, which we're all thinking is the one she gave him for his birthday.

We'll be trying something new this cycle while our TS moves into their new role as the Spanish TL/TS, our Cleaner/Redrawer takes on TSing the English, and our TL takes over creating laying out Glossary Pages and footnotes!

We encourage you to check out our pinned post for info on how to get your own raws or the simulpub. We'll be posting our scans in about 2 weeks. Next Japanese chapter comes out March 25th.

See you soon! (＠＾◡＾)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Missing scene from Blood of Elves. Coën argues with Lambert about responsibility, nobility and their fate.

“I believe that. But I’m not gallant enough. Nor valiant enough. I’m not suited to be a soldier or a hero. And having an acute fear of pain, mutilation and death is not the only reason. You can’t stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can’t have. I’m a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If a Nilfgaardian parent pays me, I’ll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin—which does not seem likely to me—I’ll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it it not what I chose. It was chosen for me.” —Geralt of Rivia in the Blood of Elves.

Coën drew in a deep breath through his nose. The smell of pine filled his chest, mixed with the subtle fishy odour of the lake, and the sprawling bryonia clinging to the rocky outcrops at his back. The mountains around Kaer Morhen were peaceful and familiar in a way that made his chest tight and his eyes prickle; it reminded him of home. He didn’t resent the ache, but cherished it, for it was one of the few things he had left. A tenuous link to something he could never get back.

His head lolled back between his shoulders and he held that breath deep in torso for as long as he could, expelling it through pursed lips only when the ache became a tight pain. Splashing at the lake edge drew his attention and he watched through slitted eyes as his companion stumbled ungracefully through the shallows.

When Lambert had invited Coën to winter with him, Coën had accepted without hesitation, and had been most bewildered by the relieved grin on Lambert’s face at the time. It had been many years since Coën had wintered with other witchers, and Kaer Morhen’s hospitality had not disappointed. Lambert seemed to be bending over backwards to make sure Coën was included in every part of the wolf’s life here, and for that Coën was grateful.

“Ahh, just as bollock-shrinking cold as always!” Lambert crowed, before swearing as he stubbed his toe on a pebble buried deep in the silt and sand. It was an uncharacteristically warm day, but the mountains could be like that. When the skies cleared and the snows had cleared a little, it could almost feel like early summer, when the cool spring breezes stirred the first buds of wakening meadows but your cuirass became itchy and close.

Lambert flopped down on the threadbare tablecloth they had pilfered from Vesemir’s kitchens as a makeshift picnic blanket—Lambert’s words, said with a wry smirk as they had tiptoed out of the larder like errant trainees. He ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it out to dry. Not for the first time, Coën was struck by just how good-looking his companion was when the lines of anger and frustration had smoothed out, the shadows in his yellow eyes chased away by good sleep and good food. “Urf, fuck,” Lambert lifted his hips and pulled the damp cloth of his trews away from his crotch.

“Dunno why you didn’t take ‘em off,” Coën said lightly, tilting his head back again to bask in the warmth of the sun some more.

“Told you, not the type of tackle I tend to fish with. If you’d seen the teeth on some of the fish I get from here, you’d understand why.” Lambert shuffled some more and flipped to his front to grab one of the unopened bottoms of ale tucked in the shade of a large boulder. “No drowner spawn that I could find in the usual places. No idea about the far banks though, that’ll have to wait ‘til—,” Lambert waved vaguely towards the derelict old boat he had been working on half-arsed for the majority of the morning.

“Mmhm, and when’s that then?”

“Fuck knows. Between Geralt’s princess and Vesemir bellyaching about the west wing falling down on his head, dunno when I’ll get back down here.”

Coën opened his eyes, squinting into the great expanse of unclouded blue above. Cirilla. Sweet child, mischievous and bright, despite all the trials and loss she had faced. And yet, the shadow of destiny loomed over her, ever present and threatening. Coën had hoped that, with Triss’ arrival, they might have felt slightly more sure of her path forward, but the magess’ presence seemed to have brought new tensions to the fort. The wolf witchers had invited her in, and yet not a single one seemed to trust her intentions, except old Vesemir, who seemed relieved to have someone take a little responsibility from his shoulders; the girl was beyond even the old wolf’s knowledge.

Geralt appeared somewhat exhausted by her and Coën sensed by her advances that there was a history there that Geralt did not wish to revisit, Lambert was confrontational and ice cold, even more so than usual, and Eskel was the most peculiar of all. He was beyond polite, magnanimous, quick to take the knee and open doors for the magess, scurrying around the castle at her beck and call; if Lambert hadn’t told Coën which way Eskel’s appetites leaned, Coën would have assumed it to be flirtation. Yet, it had been Eskel that had gazed at Triss with distrust and apprehension when they had discussed her whisking Ciri away to her Chapter as in days of old.

They had called Triss out of desperation, but not a single one of the wolves were willing to let her take Ciri from them. They were guarded, protective, Lambert perhaps most of all. He treated Merigold with open disdain, dismissing all pleas from his brothers and master to remain civil. Coën surmised it might be more than a distrust of mages in general, but he hadn’t found the opportunity to probe further.

“None of you trust, Triss Merigold. That much is obvious. But Ciri’s peculiarity worries you. Would it not be best for Triss to take on the burden? To let her take the child with her to Aretuza or wherever destination she has in mind?” Coën asked.

Lambert didn’t answer immediately. They had spoken some of the school’s previous experience with such a girl, but the conversation had been stilted and tight, like it was a source of pain and shame. Coën found out little of the girl’s fate, only that she had left her mark on one of Lambert’s kin. Lambert sighed. “N’aw, she’s just another lost kid. Nothin’ new, nothin’ special.” He didn’t look up as he said it, focusing instead on a blade of grass. “As I said, we’ll teach her the sword, let her grow big and strong, and she’ll be like any other warrioress out there.” He flicked the blade of grass away and drew a swig of ale.

“You don’t believe that. I know you too well, Lambert of Kaer Morhen, you may lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me. You care for the girl, I’ve seen it. You wouldn’t drive her so hard if you didn't, and you would not see her whisked away by the magess. And yet you know there is more to her—”

Lambert rolled his eyes, settling them upon Coën’s face with one eyebrow quirked towards his scruff of dark hair. “It doesn’t make a difference either way. What can we do? Train her to be one of us, but without the poisons. This—that—“ Lambert waved over his shoulder vaguely southward, towards the majority of the Continent, “is so far beyond us, so fuckin’ bigger, we’re just witchers. We fight monsters, that’s it. We don’t get involved, no matter what Merigold might want. No matter the moralistic fuckin’ rants she wants to have over our own fuckin’ mead in our own fuckin’ keep. Arrogant bitch.”

Coën winced and fell silent, giving Lambert’s anger time to settle to an even ebb again. Such was the way with Lambert; whereas the older witchers of the keep seemed to have suppressed their emotions to the point of ambivalence, Lambert’s raged all the fiercer as if out of spite. It was one of the things that Coën admired so ardently about him; the way he took on the world unapologetically and refused to succumb to its darkness. When Coën sensed the turbulent waters had settled, he continued. “You agree with Geralt, then. That there is no side for us to take in this conflict in the South, no greater good for us to fight for.”

“The only greater good for us is coin,” Lambert murmured. “Come spring, we should head south and we can clear up in the wake of the armies. Wade through the shit and the corpses to find the monsters. It’s what we’re built for.”

Coën huffed. “You sound like a cultist reciting a mantra you don’t even believe yours—“

“Where’s this goin’? Out with it. I’ve had enough of politics, euphemisms and bloody philosophising from Merigold this winter; I don’t need it from you too.”

Coën gazed over the lake to the far bank where a mist hung unnaturally among the trees. Foglets, no doubt. The recorded voices and shapes of hundreds of trainees that had perished in the mountains. Souls that were never given the opportunity to realise their potential, to breathe free air beyond the confines of the brotherhood. “I’ve been thinking more on those orphans Triss spoke of. How she works to prevent them from being orphans in the first place, whereas we’re just there after the fact to pick up the pieces.”

“You let her get into your head,” Lambert shook his, adjusting his trews once more, nose wrinkled in discomfort. “She was just trying to take a cheap shot. Get a knife in your ribs and twist.”

“What if she’s right? We may be mutants, but can’t we rise above? Become more? We are worth twenty Cintran soldiers. Having witchers fight on the side of the North, we—we could turn the tide of this war, we—“

“Delusions of grandeur.”

Coën’s blood ran hot with anger. While he admired Lambert’s sass and sarcasm when it was directed at others, he didn’t much enjoy being the target of it. Such dismissal bit at him, and he didn’t much want to examine why it hurt so very much. “So we stand by and watch the world burn so long as we line our purses, how very noble. We pick over the corpses of children like graveir, thugs and mercenaries with yellow eyes.”

“I never pretended to be otherwise,” Lambert snapped back. “You seem to think we owe this world something. We don’t. You think they’d care if us mutants fought at their side? You think they’ll give you a fuckin’ medal? Accept you back with open arms? Write stories and songs about you? Grow up. You’ve got yourself all wrapped up in those fairytales you read to Ciri.”

“And so what if they don’t? It’s not about that—it’s about doing the right thing, it’s—“

“There is no right thing. There is survival. There is getting through another pissin’ year and getting back here. Drinking with the people who actually give half a shit about whether you live or die. That’s it!”

Lambert was shouting now, his eyes furious, and Coën’s belly had tied itself in knots. Defensively, Coën raised his own voice, shoulders bunching. “For you, maybe. But I’m done with it. Maybe I want to become more! Rise above. Maybe I want to fight for something meaningful, defend the innocent, protect the—“

Lambert’s eyes narrowed, his fist tightening around his bottle, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Throwing your life away won’t bring them back, Coën. Get your head out your arse. They’re dead, and you’re alive. Foolish sacrifice for those who don’t give a shit about you is just that, foolish. You’re a witcher, not a hero, stop trying to be more than you were made to be.”

Lambert’s words cut sharper than any knife. His lip lifted in a sneer of what looked like contempt, but there was an unnameable hurt in his eyes. Coën couldn’t parse it, he couldn’t even begin to, because his own anger and hurt was making his head ache. “Then perhaps I am a fool,” he snapped, rolling to his feet and snatching his shirt from the grass. “And as my foolishness seems to vex you so, I shall relieve you of my presence.”

“Fine! Why don’t you scurry off to Merigold? I’m sure she could tell you exactly the best way to piss your life away on her crusade.”

Coën stalked away and didn’t look back. He found Eskel weaving baskets with Ciri in one of the stillrooms and sat with them. The older witcher studied him closely, one of his large hands pawing at the scars on his face om thought, but he said nothing.

The rest of the winter passed much the same as before, but Lambert was no longer open and jovial in the evenings. He festered by the fire, muttering darkly about the cold and throwing an occasional scathing remark in Merigold’s direction, only to be chastised by Eskel, Vesemir or both. He drove Ciri just as hard—harder, when Triss wasn’t looking—and picked fault with everything she did.

Coën found her sitting by the fire one evening, picking dejectedly a the scabs on her hands, and staring into the flames. He brought her a blanket and hot mug of juice. “A penny for your thoughts?”

“Half an oren, and we’re talking!”

He thumped her lightly on the shoulder as he sat at her side, and she heaved a sigh. He pressed gently. “Come, a burden shared is a burden halved. Talk to me.”

“I think Lambert hates me, thinks I’m weak.”

“No,” Coën said quickly. “He loves you. Very much.”

Ciri blinked at him in surprise. “But he berates me every day. I disappoint him with everything I do. I need to get it right, I need—“

“Princess, Lambert is harshest to those he loves the most.”

“Well, he must absolutely worship Triss…”

Coën winced. “Ah, yes, no, perhaps there are exceptions, but…”

Ciri sniffled and turned her head away, one of her small, broken hands lifting to her face. He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Come, there’s no need to hide your tears.”

“He’s right, I am weak…”

“No.” Coën lifted her chin so that their eyes met. “When I lost Kaer Seren, I cried for many days, and when I thought there could not possibly be a single tear left, they kept coming. Do you think me weak?”

“No, you’re so strong. You can shoot an apple from the air at a billion miles away! You make Lambert sweat in fencing and you can do ten backflips in a row, and—”

Coën smiled crookedly. “Your emotions aren’t something to be overcome, they are part of you. They make you stronger.”

“I need to get this right, I need to get strong, I need to kill him. I need to avenge them all. I need to—“

“And you will,” Coën said. “But Cintra was not built in a day, and its lioness is still a cub with a lot of growing to do. You must give yourself time. Strength is something that is forged through hardship, through failure. It will come.”

She gave him a watery smile and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I will get strong, Coën. I’ll listen to everything he teaches me, everything you teach me, Geralt, Eskel… I’ll get strong enough that I can protect people. Save people, you know, just like you do.”

“Yes,” Coën said, smiling. “You will be the greatest of us. Now, drink your juice. It’s past bedtime and Lambert wants me to teach you the crossbow tomorrow.”

“He does?”

“I found him stuffing targets only an hour ago.”

She squealed with excitement and downed her juice. He carried her to bed shortly after, tucking the heavy furs around her narrow frame. But that night sleep wouldn’t reach him; he listened to the others snore as he stared at the ceiling, thinking of orphans, monsters and war.

Come spring, he would head to the front, Coën decided. He could not stand by. He would rise above. He would become more.

[rebeltigera]

Heya Rebel! You probably don't remember me but I'm the anon who previously asked if i could write fanfiction about V! Wukong since i think his world is an interesting concept y'know? This one is incomplete and a work in progress but i still would like to know what you think!

Chapter 1: Regret

No... Nonononono- no! NO-

What has he done?!

No... This wasn't supposed to end like this...

Wukong dropped his staff, the very same one he used to shake the heavens and hell and make the battlefield red. He used this staff to bash his enemies and leave their corpses to rot.

The same staff he used to strike his beloved, the same staff he used to inflict pain on the one he swore to himself he would never hurt.

"Macaque... No- no, please..." Wukong did not hesitate to cradle Macaque's body, gently trying to wake him up by shaking him. Wukong didn't mean to do this! (Why did he bring down his staff with such brutal force?)

They were supposed to have their happy ending, basking in the warmth of the sun and eating peaches for eternity! This- he didn't mean to do this...

”Moonlight...? Come on, wake up! This- this isn't funny!” Wukong frantically shakes the dark-furred monkey's body, he doesn't pay attention to the pool of blood oozing out of the limp monkey. (Gods— there was so much blood...)

”Monkey... ” Wukong can hear his master's words, filled with disappointment and remorse. (He couldn't bother to care less about the world around him, his world is d34D—)

"Older brother... ” He could hear the calls from his friends, he could already tell that their expressions would be one of bewilderment and confusion, after all, he wasn't like this towards all of the other enemies that he had fought before. (T̶h̶a̶t̶'s̶ b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ m̶o̶o̶n̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ a̶n̶ e̶n̶e̶m̶y̶, M̶i̶h̶o̶u̶ w̶a̶s̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ h̶i̶s̶ e̶n̶e̶m̶y̶.)

Wukong felt numb, his hands shaking as his eyes focused only on his (dead— blood— so os much bLo OD—) friend's body.

His ears... Oh god, his ears weren't moving in the slightest— Mihou's ears were always moving, Even if it was just a twitch, it would never be so still... He has never seen Macaque's ears so still before...

He hates it...

Mihou's ears should always be moving...

Where is his moon? Why isn't he getting up?

”—Wukong... Get... Move on....”

”Monkey- help...- dead....”

”No use- move on... Come on-”

How dare they? How dare they say to move on and ignore his beloved moon?! His poor, loyal, and sweet moonlight...

”Wukong please-” The dragon's hands hovered over the monkey's shoulders, their expression showed kindness and pity for the king.

The king, not registering anything, only the bloodied corpse in front of him slapped the hand away. Ignoring whatever expressions were on (his friend—) dragon's face, all he could see was the sunrise casting a soft ember on the corpse. Creating a glow as the air was bittersweet and filled with tension, the sound of cries shook the mountains and the earth. Even heaven heard of it all.

The monk, the dragon, the pig, and the fish all tried to comfort the monkey, but they were ignored. Their words were muffled by the sound of the sage's despair, his sobs that affected the world around him.

Wukong didn't notice the world around him, his hands gripped the bloodied corpse, begging for the heavens, pleading for Diyu not to take his beloved, and asking the universe once more.

(The sound of his darling's laughter echoed through his mind, soft giggles and the image of one's ears fluttering and flapping clouded the king's head.)

Oh, how his beloved Lotus flower had waited for him for centuries. His Moon, acting like both a queen and a warrior, defended his mountain from harm in his absence.

Mihou, his dearest who makes the cutest chirps, who makes his day simply by existing and giving his famous shy smile. His powerful warrior could be most sweetest, gentlest monkey who took care of the little ones and yet could also turn into one of the most dangerous and horrifying fighter he had ever seen. Stubbornly getting back up and fighting 'till his last breath.

”Please- brother we have to go!” Another voice snapped Wukong back into the harsh world known as reality, his eyes dilating as he stared at his beloved's corpse once more. He could not bother to reply or open his mouth, nor move an inch.

(To be continued, still need to add more)

This chapter is still a work in progress but lemme know what ya think! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Ohohohooggoog

Oh my

Oh let me eat more :D

It isn't yet V!SWK story but it's for sure a start

I love those little things like unmoving ears, the second voice in his head , the memories mmm yes yummy . This man could care less about the journey, the thing for what he went through it just died by his own hands . They do not understand .

Ahhh, you make me wanna work on V!Swk , but no I won't , I can't give Wukong more justice than he is already getting

I wonder where u will take this :3

[astramachina]

Weekends are sacred days for fathers and their school-aged daughters. Hospitals are holy spaces for fathers bringing sons into the world. An old, refurbished building is a mausoleum for the bastard of both.

She's a lively little critter, and every lively little critter deserves a perfectly balanced breakfast to keep them going on all cylinders.

While everything is good in moderation is the Emily household motto, Henry admits his dietary restrictions where Charlotte is concerned are a bit stricter than most. Eggs, bacon, home-style potatoes, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice is a perfect combination for a bean sprout elementary schooler setting her classmates to shame during the Math Olympics. Breakfast of champions, that.

But it is the weekend, and weekends are sacred for anyone who's of school age. Henry remembers getting up with the sun during his preteen years, desperate to make Saturday last because Sunday sermons kept him indoors too long. The rooster would cry and his shoes would be halfway on, ready to grab his bike and ride into town to meet up with friends.

Charlotte is too young to be heading out by herself, but Henry knows what she likes best. She's also been feeling under the weather, so why not overindulge her?

"You are not going to believe this," Henry says, setting down a plastic bowl and pouring into it a heaping serving of Lucky Charms. "Are you ready?" He uncaps the milk bottle and begins to pour, lifting it to create a dramatic waterfall that splatters droplets over the table. "If you swirl it around, it turns the milk blue. Like magic."

In reality, the milk turns an ugly gray.

Chapter one of three is now up on AO3.

rated T for canonical character death and discussions of grief, trauma, and child abandonment.