#That's SO Copperhead's descendant

[cxpperhead]

Talking to @question-marked (and previously @2ndbat) really got me thinking about B.atman B.eyond and the possibility that King Cobra from the Splicers episode is totally C.opperhead's grandson.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Cactus Gorge (Sternclay)

For the yeehawgust "chaps n spurs" prompt poll, the tied winner was "cactus blossom." This fill is NSWF and does reference violence.

Cactus Blossom Gorge is said to be the prettiest place west of the Rockies. In the spring, the cacti bloom in waves of pink and orange, leaving the air almost candied in its sweetness and the vistas like a watercolor. 

Barclay’s never had a reason to be in the canyon until now; it’s a day's ride from town, is steep and treacherous to descend, and is rumored to be home to a race of monsters. So, the fact that the blossoms can be boiled into syrups that make desserts taste amazing (and sell out faster than his flapjacks) has always taken second place to staying alive.

He wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for the fucking kidnapping. 

He’d been hired out as a day cook for a party of wealthy tourists from back east. He didn’t take those jobs often, but with summer on the horizon, visitors to Kepler Desert will get scarcer, so he took the generous fee and left Moira to run the kitchen. 

It should have been easy; pack a picnic and drinks, show off cooking on the campfire at dusk, then call it a day. But the group hired a guide they met at the station, rather than asking in town. 

Turns out the guide was a member of the Copperhead Gang, looking for a fat mouse to lead straight into a trap. 

So now he’s stuck here, five days later, arms tied except for when the bandits demand he cook something. They’ve left his legs undone, because his first escape attempt was also his last; he can afford the broken nose. If they get his fingers, like they promised they would, he’ll be fucked when he gets back home. 

If he gets back home. 

He’s laying on his side, in the shade of a boulder, wondering if anyone is looking for him. Mama, Aubrey, all his friends, they must be worried sick, must know what happened. The gang left the bodies there for the coyotes, after all. 

But what if the sheriff and his men assumed Barclay’s body had just been dragged off? Told everyone it was a shame, that they’d catch the varmits eventually (as they’ve been saying for the last four months, in spite of there now being bounty hunters prowling the desert, looking to catch what they clearly can’t).

Dirt crunches behind him. Before he can sit up, a kick catches his upper back. 

“Up. Buddy shot some quails.”

Barclay spends the sunset plucking the birds, cooking them over the fire. Sprinkles a seasoning blend over them; he intended to make these assholes eat the blandest food alive, but after they threatened to cut out his tongue since it was clear he wasn’t using it to taste, he’s been using his special mixture on sad stews and shot birds.

The leader, Bobby, snarls that he better not overcook it. Or he’ll end up like the last cook. 

Barclay tries not to think about the last cook. The guy must have had friends and family, must have sat by the fire with these same copperheads circling him, hoping someone would save him. 

(“Copperheads” he can hear his friend Duck’s voice in his head, “we ain’t even got those out here.”)

The meal is good enough to keep him alive, though he gets ash kicked on his shirt and nearly in his eyes for trying to snag a stray piece of skin. 

Then he’s tied up by the boulder once again, eyes stinging, stomach rumbling, and hope fading. 

It’s when empty plates are being scraped that one of the men says, “Where’d Mike go?”

“Powder room.” Bobby chuckles, still pleased with his idea to call the privacy granted by some stones twenty paces from camp. 

“No I know, but he’s not back. Ain’t been since the start of dinner.”

“Then eat his share and shut up.”

“I’m worried-”

“Then you go check on him.”

A set of footsteps disappears into the darkness. 

“Boss!” Buddy’s call is cut off, like someone knocked him out. 

“What in the hell-” Another of the men, the one closest to Barclay, stands. Barclay rolls over in time to see him disappear the moment he steps out of the shrinking ring of firelight. 

Guns are drawn now and Barclay curls further against the rock as bullets ricochet off stones and get stuck in cacti. A rock hit’s one of the remaining three men in the head, and when they all turn to shoot at the thrower, Barclay watches a huge, lithe figure dart past the fire, a tail kicking up sand to douse the flames. 

The darkness only makes the gang fire more panicked shots. One man turns to flee, only to scream a moment later, and then there’s a horrible, clicking sound as the remaining henchman is dragged from view by clawed hands. 

“Come out and fight me, fucker!” Bobby screams. 

The monster is back, leaping from the surrounding boulders directly onto the outlaw. There’s a struggle, a moment of panicked, sobbing screaming, and then nothing as the creature sinks its teeth into Bobby’s neck. 

Barclay is shaking, hands over his mouth, praying to anything that might listen that the thing hasn’t seen him. 

The narrow head raises, then snaps his direction. Eyes, glowing eerily, faintly blue, lock onto him, and the beast stands. 

Barclay closes his eyes. But the creature doesn’t move. 

Or he thinks it doesn’t. When he opens them, it’s nearly to him on silent, clawed feet. 

At this point he’s hiding his face in his arms, trying to do something, anything, rather than shake and whimper like a whipped dog. 

“It’s okay.” The monster’s tone is cool but not unkind, and Barclay does not feel any less like a hound when it says, “it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

He freezes as it grips his arms, but a moment later the ropes drop away. 

“Can you stand?”

He nods, lets the creature lift him until he has no choice but to take his weight or risk his feet leaving the dirt. Then the hands retreat, falling by dark-furred thighs. Barclay wills himself to look up; the monster is a head taller than him, face close to that of a wolf yet narrower, with a small mane of fur. It’s arms and legs are long, it’s tail like one of the lizards Duck is always trying to get to eat the ants who attack his garden. Short spines sit along it’s back from below it’s shoulders to it’s tailbone. 

It takes Barclay a moment to register that the spines are poking through a men's shirt. No, not poking, it looks like it’s been tailored to let them through. 

He looks down again; since when do monsters wear pants?

“Since I was able to get some made to fit. But I’m guessing you didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“S-sorry.” He looks away, “I, I don’t, I can’t…” he hugs himself, “what’s going on?”

“The short version is I don’t believe in letting murderers escape justice. The longer version is I’m a bounty hunter, they’re my quarry, and your friends back in Kepler will be so glad to see you.”

“How did-”

“You’re Barclay Cobb, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” He feels like he’s speaking from far away. Like he’s about to wake up and discover he’s still tied by the boulder. He shivers; it gets so cold in the canyons at night, it isn’t fair. 

“I’m Joseph.” The monster extends his hand and Barclay shakes it, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable for the night, Mr. Cobb.” 

“You can call me Barclay. Basically everyone does.”

A smile, charming in spite of the sharp teeth, “I can manage that.”

He follows his rescuer out of the camp, doing his best to pick his way over small rocks and patches of plants without any moonlight for help. After his third, near-miss with a cactus, Joseph pauses. 

“Do you want to take my hand? Night vision has its perks.”

Barclay takes the offered hand, holding tighter than he really means to as Joseph winds them through the canyon and up onto a ledge the size of a homestead. Barclay can make out the shape of an abandoned Pony Express depot; they’d tried to place one here once upon a time, only to half complete it before the express stopped running. 

Joseph holds the door, allowing Barclay to pass inside. He stands awkwardly in the dark as there’s a rustling of a drawer, a thwick of a match, and a lantern springing to life. 

The inside of the building is shockingly tidy; there’s a small bookshelf, a bed that’s been made as neatly as if they were in a hotel, and small wardrobe that looks like it’s been fucking dusted. 

He glances down at himself and growls in frustrated disgust; his clothes are a mess of dust, sweat, spit, and blood both his own and not. 

“Let’s see, order of operations…” Joseph is moving through clearly familiar motions, lighting lamps and opening doors, checking cabinets and running his claws though the fur atop his head. 

“Please tell me there’s somewhere I can rinse off? Or change?”

“There’s a spring in the hillside. I have a towel somewhere, and I should be able to find you something of mine to wear.”

Barclay looks toward the back door where Joseph gestured. He can’t go out there. What if the gang isn’t all dead, what if one of them comes looking, what if Joseph isn’t the only one of his kind out here and the others aren’t nearly as friendly-

“Or” Joseph is studying his face, taking in his huddled posture, “I could fetch a few buckets of water and bring them in.”

“Please?”

“Make yourself comfortable.” Joseph picks up two wooden buckets and slips through the door. Barclay hears that same clicking, not as menacing, and the words, “here Nessa, brought you some blossoms.”

Barclay is still trying to figure out why someone like Joseph needs to ride a horse when his host returns, buckets sloshing slightly as Barclay holds the door for him. 

“Here we go.” Joseph pulls over a stool, then sorts through the wardrobe, pulling out a washcloth and a bar of ivory soap and presenting them to Barclay, “there’s not much privacy so I, um” his spines ripple a moment, “I promise I’ll keep my eyes elsewhere.”

“Don’t mind if you peek, not like I haven’t been naked around guys before. But if you want a show, I might charge you.” 

Fuck, where did that come from? 

“Sorry, I, that was weird.” 

Joseph lays a hand on his forearm, “You don’t need to apologize. You’ve been out here for close to a week, scared out of your mind and being mistreated. People say all kinds of things when they’re stressed. Or coming out of it.”

The hand retreats, the claws brushing his skin making him want to sigh and melt, to beg Joseph to trace them over him again. 

The water is cold, Barclay’s skin going goosebumped after only a few minutes of scrubbing himself, but just being able to get clean makes him want to cry with relief. 

When he’s done, he hangs the cloth on the little washline strung up on one of the windows, and picks up the towel Joseph left for him. He turns as he finishes tying it around his waist, and catches Joseph looking quickly back down at the newspaper he’s reading at the little table. 

“I found a shirt that should work” Joseph stands, handing him the white fabric, “but none of my pants will fit you. The ones I wear, you’ll be swimming in, and the ones I have for a human body won’t fit someone as big as you.” His eyes stay politely on Barclay’s face, but the spines ripple again, “this should at least let you make a very comfy skirt.”

“Thanks.” Barclay takes the clothes, pulls on the shirt and wraps the soft blanket around his waist in place of the towel as Joseph pours them water and sets out a handkerchief with some hard tack and cured, even harder sausage. 

He sips his water, finds it floral and bright, “Cactus blossoms?”

“It’s what I grew up putting in water jugs. If you don’t like it I can-”

“No, no I like it. Just surprised me. Kind of a delicacy up in town.” He takes another sip, “does that mean you, like, live down here?”

“Only sometimes; it’s often a better base camp if I’m hunting than town is. And since this stretch of canyon technically is my family territory, it does feel like home.” 

Something about the way he says ‘technically” suggests a sore spot, and so Barclay flicks his gaze to the folded newspaper, looking for a new topic. 

“You were solving the chess problem?”

A smile, “Yes! This was a quick one, at least for me. Do you want to give it a try?”

“Maybe after dinner. I try to solve those when it’s slow at the Lodge. I like the little mystery they’ve been running in the town paper lately, too.”

“Yes.” Joseph nods emphatically, “those are so tricky, I love the challenge.”

“Y’know they’re actually by the McElroy’s youngest? Kid’s got quite a mind for puzzles.” He snickers, “they’ve been coming to Lodge long enough I remember when his brother went through a phase where he’d only eat beans.”

“At the restaurant or…”

“Nope, period, poor Mrs. McElroy kept coming to me for recipes…”

They eat up the remainder of their dry, but pleasant, dinner discussing some of Barclay’s stranger customer requests, and Joseph’s memory of a fellow bounty hunter who seemed to survive on Parsons Cashews alone. 

Joseph insists Barclay take the bed for the evening, so he settles himself on top of the quilt with the chess puzzle as Joseph snuffs out all but the nearest lamp and goes to check on Nessa one final time. 

Barclay holds his breath the entire time his host is outside, afraid he’ll hear a thud and then a human face will peer through the door. 

Joseph returns unscathed, tipping the last of the water into Barclay’s cup before setting himself in a chair with a book of ghost stories. The wind in the canyon is picking up, carrying blossoms past the windows as it rattles them. 

Once he solves the puzzle, Barclay flips to a new page, reading the mystery for the day and solving it a bit faster than he’d hoped. Then he reads the news, then the want ads, then advertisements. 

He’s considering starting the paper all over again when Joseph yawns, “I think we ought to turn in for the night. We have a long ride back to town tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Good point.” Barclay sets the paper away and crawls beneath the blankets. Joseph murmurs a goodnight and Barclay responds with the same. 

Then he lays there. Wide awake. His brain plays the same song of “what if” over and over again; what if Joseph didn’t get them all? What if one escaped and brought back friends? What if Bobby was just playing dead and is waiting for them to sleep so he can sneak in and gut Barclay like a trout?

The window shakes again and he winces. 

“Everything okay?” Joseph’s eyes glow up at him from the floor. 

“Are you sure they’re all dead?”

Joseph sits up, “No. Because I didn’t kill them.”

“What?” 

“I paralyzed them. My bite can do that, and I have enough practice to know how hard and long a bite I need to give in order to keep them out and immobile until I can round them tomorrow and take them into town. I…prefer to at least let there be a trial before someone dies. If you hadn’t been here I might have just tossed them all into the cart I have waiting and started for town, but you needed rest. And care. Besides” his smile is a little bitter, and a little ashamed, “I also don’t feel too bad if someone who murders people in cold blood loses a toe to a coyote because my bite has them too paralyzed to run.”

Barclay nods, trying to take all that in at once. 

Joseph leans forward, resting a hand on his knee, “I’m good at what I do, Barclay. But even if somehow, someone slipped out of it and came here, I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

“Thank you.” He takes Joseph’s hand, clinging to it, “fuck, I’m sorry, I know we need to sleep but I can’t, it’s awful, I keep jumping at every sound and when I close my eyes I see them leering over me or, or I see, see what they did, what I only survived because they’d seen me at the campfire.” He holds tighter, “I’m so tired. I could barely sleep because of how scared I was, or because they thought it was fucking funny to kick me awake.”

A low, rapid click, as Joseph’s tail twitches. Then he clears his throat, rubbing his thumb over Barclay’s knuckles, “Is there some way to help you relax.”

He starts to shake his head, then meets Joseph’s eyes, “What happens if you give someone a little bite?”

The spines straighten a moment, then relax, “It depends on how little. If it’s very small, it will produce a sense of relaxation and mild euphoria. You’ll still be lucid, but it might be easier to sleep if your body isn’t holding all that tension.” 

“Please bite me.” 

“You’re sure? I can try to think of something else, I don’t want it to backfire and leave you feeling helpless or like I’m hurting you-”

“Please” He says again, rolling onto his side, “I…I trust you.”

Joseph studies his face a moment, then lifts Barclay’s left hand. Carefully, he brings the tip of the thumb to his mouth, parting his lips. A hint of pressure, then a sting, and before Barclay even finishes gasping his monster is setting his hand gingerly back down on the mattress. 

“How long does…does..” he blinks, suddenly finding his legs and neck heavy, but not unpleasantly so.

Joseph chuckles, “It happens incredibly quickly. In humans it’s almost instantaneous, but even for my kind, a bite only takes thirty seconds at most to kick in.”

“You bite each other? Like when you’re fighting?” The image of Joseph attacking Bobby comes back to him, but this time his mind lingers on how graceful Joseph was, how swiftly and smoothly he rescued him. 

“Sometimes, but we love a debate more than a fistfight for settling arguments. Even if the debates take longer and can result in more bad blood in the end. But we do more biting with, um, with mates. Lovers. These mouths aren’t exactly as easy to kiss with as a human one is, so love biting takes its place.” The spines are rippling again, and Joseph is looking away from him. 

Barclay reaches down, pulling Joseph’s hand up to his mouth. Then he turns it, palm up, and bites down on the soft, short fur and the skin beneath. 

Joseph yips, surprised, but doesn’t pull away until Barclay lets him go. 

“It’s not nice to tease, big guy.” He murmurs, tracing a line along the edge of Barclay’s beard. 

“Not teasing. Was trying to kiss you. Besides, you just called me big guy.”

“It slipped out.” Joseph’s posture suggests he’s blushing, “Barclay, you’re incredibly handsome, and I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if I knew that’s what you wanted. But I don’t want you to do anything with me you might regret. Like sleeping with someone whose appearance scares the hell out of you.”

“I mean, it did.” Barclay tries to scoot closer but can’t without risking falling out of bed, “but it doesn’t now. Now I know you’re Joseph and not just something waiting in the dark to tear my throat out. And you’re, uh, It’s” he drags a hand over his face, “I almost never find guys who are bigger than me and it’s so fucking hot and it makes me feel so safe. Felt that way before you bit me, too.”

“In that case…” Joseph pulls the blanket off him, “you can bite me as many times as you like.”

Barclay undoes the knot on his makeshift skirt as quickly as his fingers allow, letting it fall open under Joseph’s appreciative gaze. A different noise bubbles from the monster’s throat, more a purr than a click, and he bends forward, tongue longer than humans lapping at Barclay’s cock as he cradles it in one palm. 

“Ohhhhfuck, fuck, Joseph it, that feels incredible.” He’s heard of people paying to have wax dripped on them during sex, and maybe that’s because it feels like this; warm without being painful, smooth as it covers his skin and leaves him tingling. 

“Better test it a few more times to be sure.” Joseph swirls his tongue over the head, licks lovingly up and down his shaft from every side. The claws of his free hand run with a comforting prickle along Barclay’s thigh and card through the hair on his stomach and chest with obvious pleasure. 

He’s weightless, he’s in heaven, he’s getting the best head of his life. 

And he’s not getting hard. 

“Fuck” he groans, frustrated. 

Joseph sits up, though his hand continues stroking and teasing Barclay’s cock, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t, I think I’m too exhausted, or stressed or something, I can’t get it up, I’m sorry.”

“My sweet Barclay. That’s nothing to apologize for.” Joseph leans down, nuzzling his cheek, “All you have to do right now is let me take care of you, however feels good. Besides” the tongue drags up his throat, “who said anything about us needing your cock?”

“Fuck, yes” Barclay tries to spread his legs, but they feel as if they’re too heavy, or as if he’s too far away from them somehow.

“Oh, big guy, has it been too long?” He says it with genuine sympathy as he rolls Barclay onto his front.

“Uh huh, fuck, people get one look at my dick and they, they think I wanna be in charge, wanna be on top, fuck” he gasps, clutching for the pillows as Joseph’s tongue runs from his neck down to his ass. 

“Well, they can have their narrow ideas while you and I have a great time.” Joseph nuzzles the top of his head this time with a happy sigh, “now, be a good boy and hold still for me.”

“You’re not gonna prep me?” Fear reemerges, threatening to spread through his system in a wave. 

“It’s a little different with my, well, set-up,” 

Barclay glances back; Joseph’s cock is thinner than a humans but a good seven or eight inches long, absolutely dripping with something golden and sticky,  with short, knobbly spines scattered across it. 

“They won’t hurt. Here, feel.” He rubs the shaft along Barclays ass with a hungry growl as the spines bend, soft and flexible. 

“Okay.” Barclay takes a deep breath, spreading his knees wider, “okay.”

The tip of the cock presses into him with ease, whatever’s slicking its way seeming to open him as it does. Joseph wraps an arm around his middle, sets the other hand on top of Barclay’s own, “I’ve got you big guy.”

Joseph works his hips in short, deliberate thrusts, his cocking sliding deeper and deeper until he’s flush against Barclay’s ass and Barclay is nearly clawing the sheets from how good it feels. The spines rub against him, finding sensitive spots he’s not even sure he knew existed before now as Joseph’s breathing picks up. 

“You feel so good, big guy. I think I might just stay here all night. If you can’t sleep, I could just keep fucking you until you’re too tire to keep your eyes open.”

“Fuck, yeah” He moans, trying to push back to meet the thrusts but finding his limbs to relaxed to do anything but keep him how Joseph has arranged him. 

“Mmmm” Joseph laughs into his neck, then trills and clicks when Barclay turns to nip at his forearm, “maybe that’s my real reward for this bounty. Not the money, but the chance to demand that because I saved your life, I get to find you every night and fuck you until you’re dripping and so relaxed that all you can do lay there and let me be good to you.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, Josephohfuck” His toes curl as Joseph picks up the pace, his cock finally responding to being ground against the bed. 

“That’s it big guy, let go for me. You’re mine, I’ve got you, I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, I take care of you, I will, ohfuck, shit” he pulses into Barclay, working his hips frantically as Barclay rocks against the quilt, desperate to cum. Eventually Joseph gets his breath back, little clicks and purrs leaving him as he whispers, “I love feeling watching you fuck my cum back into that perfect ass.”

Barclay cums with a weak cry against the sheets, Joseph rubbing his sides and doing his best to kiss his shoulders as he shakes and twitches through it. 

There’s a mess on the quilt the instant he pulls out, but neither of them minds. Instead, Joseph curls around him, promising him he’s safe, telling him how wonderfully he did, and Barclay falls asleep petting soft, black fur. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay steps into the morning light to find Joseph hitching Nessa to a wagon full of bleary-eyed, terrified outlaws who, upon seeing Barclay, begin begging him not to let the monster get them. 

“It’s funny, what heat and liquor can do a man.” Joseph produces a silver ring and slips it over his finger. Suddenly there’s no monster to be seen, just a tall, black-haired man with blue eyes and the most charming smile Barclay’s ever seen. 

“Agreed. Makes people see things that aren’t there.” Barclay steps beside Joseph, ignoring the ongoing shouts from the wagon to press a kiss to his cheek. 

Joseph passes him the reins to one of the outlaw’s horses, “We should hit Kepler before sunset. I need to take these men to the jail and collect my bounty.”

“Any idea what you’re gonna spend it on?” Barclay climbs into the saddle and Joseph does the same. 

The bounty hunter sets a black hat onto his head as blossoms begin dancing in the breeze, “How about taking you to dinner?”

[nancycrewmemes]

If Park is the copperhead, which everyone is saying they think he is, it makes ZERO sense for Ace to have the piece of Charity’s soul and not Nancy. If Park is the copperhead, he’s in love with Charity. So why would he be with Nancy? And why would he be shadowing her like a creeper constantly in her business, and trying to hook up? As a direct descendent of Charity, she probably has a stronger connection with Charity making her THAT MUCH MORE enticing to him.

[heroesandlovers]

Nancy Drew 3x09 "The Voices in the Frost"

This run of episodes are my favorite! Things with #Nace are simmering.

George, Bess, Nick and Eve

Bess is avoiding Temperance’s calls. She has done a 180 with Temperance and now suspects her of being a “sociopath”. While Nancy seems to have become more trusting. 

George tells Nick that she has freed Odette (didn’t that happen like 3 episodes ago?). This somehow turns into a fight between them. These two do NOT portray healthy vibes to me. 

Eve tells her story and why she is suspected of murder. Perhaps coming off her skeptism of Temperance, Bess spends most of the episode CONVINCED that Eve is actually guilty. (Once Ace is looped in) they ultimately figure out it WAS just an accident. All of this ALSO leads to Nick telling George “What are we waiting for…let’s get married!” - These two 🤦‍♀️

They run to City Hall. George is determined and excited. Relentless in ensuring this marriage will happen despite any barrier. But then…after commercial break she seems to have done a full 180.

She tells Nick she is still figuring out who she is..but that she wants to do it with him by her side. They have all the time in the world now to get married so what is the rush?  

THESE TWO GIVE ME WHIPLASH

Nancy, Ace, and Park

Nancy appeals to Park to try and profile the victims of the Frozen Heart Killer to see if they can try and find the other two pieces of Charity’s soul.

Ace thinks he has made a breakthrough and that Charity is the one who has been haunting the Historical Society. Park and Ace have a little banter. 

“Ace that’s incredible”- I love how proud she is. If you watch this scene and focus on just Nancy. She appears to spend the whole time amused and enamored of Ace. 

Ace has a conversation with his platanchor Bess who clues him in on why Park is rubbing him the wrong way. “You know that hot stuffy feeling you have right now? That might be because the window between you and Nancy is closing and you’re finally realizing it. 

Because Ace is always the gentleman and thinking of others, he gets separated from Park and Nancy when he goes to get their coats. 

While stuck in the tunnel, Park surmises that the Copperhead had actually imprisoned HIMSELF in the cell. He asks Nancy to try and get in the Copperhead’s head by asking “Have you ever been in love?” Their musings lead them to surmise that perhaps it was Beckett and Charity’s love for each other that had cast the spell, as a way for their love to survive and persist. A sort of lover’s pact. 

“So you have been in love”- Park says as Nancy presents her explanation of “They just want to be together forever”.

We immediately go to Ace. 

At the end of the ep, Nancy has a revelation that maybe Charity’s soul is passed, not randomly, but through generations. Meaning they can narrow down their search for Charity’s soul by looking at Gettysburg descendants. 

AND…Ace sends the text. (MY ship is rising). Ace’s awkwardness after sending the text but before Nancy sees it is adorable…

And Nancy's hopeful expression when she sees the text is equally adorable 🥰

Episode cliffhangers:

Bess finds Temperance’s journals and learns her true plans (WHY WAS TEMPERANCE RECORDING THIS ANYWAY?)

While investigating the key, Ace gets sucked into the liminal space…where he finds Hannah. 

Aceisms

“Because the FBI is notoriously open-minded about ghosts” 

[horriblehooter]

Copperhead unhinges his jaws and helps himself to an evil scientist. His throat stretches out and he grips at his bulging neck to feel his prey descend. It takes so much effort to work his prey down but he finally manages, huffing and moaning in exhaustion while he slumps back with a massive belly bulging before him. He burps heavily but it's not enough. So his tail wraps around his belly and squeezes tightly, causing a thunderous burp to pour out of Copperhead, who moans with sweet relief.

WHO KEEPS SENDING THESE

[95%]

[tlaquetzqui]

I think I’ve talked a bit about this but I’m gonna go in-depth this time, about naming in my setting. This is gonna be long.

The main human culture of my setting (which has four subbranches, urban, settled rural, and nomadic, plus the halflings) uses personal names derived from the date of their adulthood ceremony, and then surnames from the date of their own or parents’ wedding ceremony. Nobles also take a middle name from the date of their accession to their title; full members of the initiation societies that teach things like magic, legally considered low nobility, likewise take a middle name from the date of their initiation. Finally, they may have a fourth name, not related to a date, that derives from an ancestor or a domain, and mainly designates larger kinship groups, like noble houses. (The three names are simple compounds, while the fourth name has the possessive prefix appropriate to the person or thing the name comes from—except in halfling, where the fourth name is in the genitive case of the appropriate noun-class for whatever the name comes from.)

The other three human cultures do things a bit differently. The witch empire (now surviving mainly as subterranean and aquatic mutants) takes its surnames from the name of a parent, in the genitive and prefixed by “child”. Then if they are themselves witches they take a “coven name” as a middle name, and noble houses have names derived from the coven name of an ancestor, in the plural genitive, prefixed by “house”, also in the genitive. (So they, too, have up to four names, personal and a patronymic derived from a personal, and then coven and a house name derived from a coven name.) The nomads descended from survivors of their empire’s fall just use the personal names and patronymics, not having retained their ancestors’ witchery. The empire on the other side of the planet takes its surnames from the 161 administrative divisions of their empire (that might seem like too few surnames but the Han Chinese are traditionally said to have only 100—and 54% of Koreans, who use Chinese-derived names, have one of five of them). And the “barbarians” who trouble that empire just use “son/daughter of parent” as a surname, and sometimes also the name of one of the spider-people that enslaved them or their ancestors.

Married dwarves have a middle name that’s just their spouse’s name in the volitional genitive case (for things whose acquisition the possessor controlled) if married, and then their surname is their clan name; they have something like 94 clans. (Formally they have a second middle name that’s the name of a parent in the non-volitional genitive, which is for things whose acquisition the possessor did not control. Clan names are also in the non-volitional genitive, but don’t derive from anything but themselves.)

Elves also have a gamonymic (“spouse name”) middle name, that’s their spouse’s name in the genitive-dative case (“oblique”, I want to say?), then “of” and the clan name of one parent, then “and” and the clan name of the other parent. Their clan names come from their sacred groves, and they have 242 of them.

Gnomes have one name given at birth, plus the names of both their parents with an instrumental prefix, and, if married, their spouse’s name with a benefactive prefix. They also have 144 surnames that don’t actually come from kinship (though all members of a household typically have the same one), but from one’s ritual community. Throughout their life, though, a gnome will add extra names, in the same format as the one given at birth, that reflect accomplishments. It’s quite likely for a gnome to be called a different name by each of their gnome acquaintances, so they tend to address people by kinship terms or profession, if they need to be clear.

Goblins use the name of their father or husband, in the oblique case, except married men, who don’t have surnames—the base unit of goblin society is an adult male and his wives and children. Except if a married goblin man is the vassal of another goblin, then he uses that goblin’s name in the oblique as a surname; the women and unmarried men of his household also append their husband or father’s liege’s name after the husband or father’s—in a large horde they can have very long names, since they include those of every goblin in the hierarchy. Ogres’ and orcs’ names are similar, though they use the volitional genitive particle for husbands and the non-volitional for fathers, and don’t bother about lieges’ names, ogre allegiance being a temporary thing. Kobolds have the same kinds of names as gnomes, but in a totally different language.

Dragons don’t have surnames, but they use honorifics made by combining their age-category with their elemental affinity (“fire hatchling, ice elder”, etc.).

Giants use patronymics and matronymics, both at the same time. Cat, hyena, and yak people (who started speaking Giantish after they escaped the witch empire that created them) use the same sorts of names, but cat people use matronynics only (they’re not as promiscuous as cats but the cat half of their blood still inclines them to less than stable pairings). Yak people attach different importance to the two names, with the patronymic functioning more like a clan name since they’re polygamous. You might think the hyena people should put more focus on matronymics, but only spotted hyenas are matriarchal, not striped or brown—or giant short-faced (which lived like striped), and that’s what the hyena people were hybridized with.

Finally, I haven’t figured out whether snake and spider people have true surnames or just use parents’ names, but I do know that either way they’re matrilineal, since maternal care is much more common in both than two-parent. Likewise the ant- and bee-people who serve the spider people are matrilineal, being almost entirely female; think they just use matronyms, since their whole colonies have the same mother. (If there were termite people they’d be different, since their colonies don’t work like Hymenoptera ones.) But the lizard people have bilateral kinship, since they use the monogamous social structure found in skinks. The snake people are also monogamous (pair-bonds being observed in cottonmouths, copperheads, and possibly rattlesnakes, and being the only true social arrangement related to mating, in snakes—a “mating ball” isn’t really social). The spider people are polyandrous, but think, like, tarantulas, not black widows.

[reshuffleadventures]

8/15/22 - Canyoneering with the Aussi boys, Live Music at the Bit, and Neon Bike Ride

CAD (3) with the three Australian 24-year-olds. We went to Yankee Doodle; it was my first time running Yankee Doodle as the only guide. The canyon went great! The downclimbs went smoothly. The last feature (the Moqui steps up and then a booty-slide down in between two potholes) had water in both of the potholes. We we're very careful to not fall in the water-filled potholes. The second pothole, I was able to stem across without getting wet. I asked the guys to toss me the rope; Will tossed it towards me, and it hit the canyon wall and plopped right into the center of the pothole! Wet rope! At the end of the canyon, I walked right past the slab climb exit on the left side, and I led them in the long direction for a few minutes before I realized that we'd come too far. We turned around, and walked back to the slab climb exit. We started the climb at 11:04, and we were at the car at 11:19. It was only 15 minutes for us to get all the way up the exit, which is pretty damn fast! At the car, we grabbed our lunches and ate during the drive. We drove to Lambs Knoll (I accidentally got on the highway headed North instead of South, but I only ride a few minutes in the wrong direction - whoops 😬). At Lambs Knoll, we hiked up the gulley of doom and descended down copperhead. We did the first rappel of copperhead down into copperhead canyon. I climbed up the DCL climb up copperhead commander, and I belayed the three guys up. We climbed the rest of the way up to copperhead commander rappel, the 100' rap. Everybody loves that rap. At the bottom, we felt the cool breeze pick up, the warning sign of an impending rain/thunderstorm. We made the decision to hike up and reevaluate before descending down into another canyon. This second time up, we hiked up the main trail towards snake alley, climbed up the bowl, and did the carousel traverse towards Arch start. We walked around the backside to Cobra. At the top of Cobra, we could hear some thunder, and the rain started to fall. We decided to descend the canyon. As the rain got harder, the thunder was audibly getting closer and closer. We dropped into the canyon. I climbed up the cobra Commander climb and set up a traverse line. The guys followed behind me. I set up the rappel line, another 100' rap down cobra Commander. There were some random bikers huddled in the climbing area below is, waiting out the storm. We all rappelled down, still in the rain, with thunder booming around us. When we got to the bottom, that random group of hikers we're impressed. We were so dirty, since the rope was wet, and it dropped dirty black gross droplets of rope grime onto our arms and shirt and pants and legs as we rappelled. We looked pretty badass, all wet and covered in dirt. After finishing both canyons, we hiked back to the car and drive back to Springdale.

After work, Kass wanted to meet up with her friends at the bit and spur, where there was live music and a taco truck and a farmer's market. So Kass and I took Basil, and the three of us walked from my house to the Bit and Spur. Wet had so much fun with Basil! We listened to live music and enjoyed the company of friends. I saw Nick, who works at the bike shop, who I'd gone mountain biking with the prior Wednesday. We left the Bit and Spur so that we could go home and get ready for Neon Night, a bike riding event with ZAC.

I put on one of my tie-dye button down shirts, and Kass decided to wear my other tie-dye button down shirt! We looked cute because we were matching. We rode bikes to ZAC, where everyone was decorating their bikes with glow sticks and little laminated paper license plates. Kass and I joined Whit’s and Jess’s team. We all finished decorating our bikes and helmets, and we began our ride to the Temple of Sinawava. When we got to the Temple of Sinawava, Lisol popped open some bottles of champagne! We toasted to a fun and successful season. We had a little dance party and played with a soccer ball made from glow sticks. It was such a fun night! I mean, who gets to bike to the Temple of Sinawava after dark and have a champagne toast and a dance party?!?!

[strange-waffles]

So, I have decided to try a re-working of my original story The Flower. It probably will include vore at some point, but right now it does not. Please give me feedback if you have the time! This is part one.

  Her first thought was that it looked much more civilized than she had expected. The walls were bright and smooth, glowing with the light flooding in from the entryway, and a quaint carpet of moss lined the length of the floor, softening the room. Chairs twisted from twigs and vines sat in one corner, next to a small pile of books. Nettie turned toward the creature that had brought her here, shock widening her eyes. He can read? She thought in amazement. Mother never mentioned that they could read…

Her mother.  Why did she have to think about her mother at a time like this? Clenching her fists at her sides, she fought back the shards of liquid pain threatening to spill from her eyes. Her mother was the reason she was in this mess. I shouldn’t have listened to her she chided herself. The villagers were right. She was crazy. Despite her efforts to push the memory away, it came flooding back to her like an unwanted dream.

 Time had finally begun to take its toll. Nettie crouched by her mother’s side, holding a wet rag against her aging forehead, praying to every god she knew of that somehow, the old woman would pull through this. Deep down, she knew it was hopeless. Without the aid of the village medicine man, her mother was sure to die before nightfall.

No help was going to come. They had been outcasts for as long as Nettie could remember, due to her mother’s tendency to think against the common mindset. Melinda had always seen the world differently, even as a young girl, and would spend her leisure time making friends with the creatures of the wood rather than her fellow classmates. Every statement of fact was met with a question, and her teachers soon grew to their wits end. Though these traits were all concerning, what really began to cause trouble for her was her strict opinions on the monsters in the woods. Nettie had been making trips to the village as soon as she was old enough to venture out on her own, and had heard the townspeople whispering conspiratorially about her mother every time she walked through the square. Melinda had insisted that Nettie get a good education, and she had learned early on not to argue. Doing as she was told was the easiest option.

Nettie had never wanted any of this. The outcast life might have been easy enough for her mother, but it was taking a terrible toll on Nettie. Her walks through the village were always met with condescending looks, and sometimes even fear, as if she had something to do with the monsters, herself.  

In school, they learned all about how to survive in the forest, including what plants were safe to eat, how to construct their own shelters, and grow their own crops. Nettie was proud of the things she had learned so far from these lessons, successfully growing food for her aging mother, so that they had to rely on the village less for survival. The rest of their lessons were about the monsters. As soon as the subject was brought up, Nettie’s fellow students would shy away from her, connecting her to the creatures just as their parents had, no doubt stemming from the same stories she had heard whispered through the streets.

The monsters had a name, but many of the villagers refused to use it. During lessons was usually the only time you heard the word spoken – Naga. Everyone else simply used the term monster, or beast. Nagas were quite a bit larger than the average human, reaching an average height of around nine feet tall when sitting upright, and a length of around twenty feet long. Their appearance was not unlike humans down to their waist, but that was where their bodies began to shift into the strong, sinewy coils of a snake. It was these creatures that Melinda cherished most, insisting above all else that they were terribly misunderstood, and needed to be protected.

These lessons focused mostly on the long-held hostility between the two species. Long ago, one had struck at another out of spite, and the other had retaliated, wounding them both. The resulting hatred that had sparked between the two species had carried on throughout the generations. Melinda had been the sole believer that this hatred could be mended, insisting that the root cause of all the trouble had been a simple misunderstanding. This was the reason they had been outcast, forced to the outskirts of the human’s territory.  

Now, Melinda lay on her deathbed awaiting the unknown, while Nettie stood over her, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her mother’s ideas had descended farther into madness because of the fever, and she was now urging Nettie to attempt to bridge the gap between the two species on her own.

Nettie wanted none of it.

“You must go to them, Nettie” Melinda pleaded. “This hate cannot be allowed to continue. So many have been lost…”

“They will kill me” Nettie protested. “You know they will. They are beasts.”

“No…my child…you must listen to me…” Melinda’s voice was now barely more than a whisper.

“If this is so important, why haven’t you gone to them?” The annoyance in her voice was clear, despite her obvious anguish at her mother’s condition.

Melinda’s urgent expression faltered, giving Nettie a very clear answer. “You want me to go in your place, because you were too scared to!” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I will not put my life in danger for your twisted dream, no matter how much I love you, mother.”

“Nettie, you must!” She whispered, a note of desperate urgency in her voice. “For me. Honor your mother’s dying wish…”

This statement struck Nettie right in the heart. “Mom…”

“Promise me” she urged again, using the last of her strength to reach out and cup her hand around her daughter’s pale cheek.

“I promise.” Her response was barely more than a whisper, tinged with a hint of fright. “For you” she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “I’ll do it for you.”

Melinda smiled widely in response, before her hand dropped down to her side, and the light left her eyes. Her last breath rattled in her lungs, and escaped her lips in a faint wisp.

Realizing that her mother had just left her for the last time, Nettie threw herself down against the foot of the bed, and wept, the tears streaming down in untamed rivers from her emerald eyes. She stayed like that for long time. How long, she didn’t know, as she had no way to tell the time as she crouched, sobbing into the bedsheets. Her auburn curls bounced around her face, faintly brushing the freckles that speckled across her nose and cheekbones. When at last she broke from the spell of her grief, the light had noticeably dimmed, the moon high in the sky, casting an eerie glow across the windowpane. It was then that she realized that she would have to bury her mother soon, before her body began to rot.

Grabbing the stiffening body by the wrists, she had heaved it from the bed, wincing as it hit the floor with a thud. Then, she had drug it outside, and buried it in a shallow grave at the side of the house. This task, which would have been simple with the aid of several of the townspeople, had taken her nearly the entire night. Afterward, she had slumped back into the small house, curled up in her bed, and began to cry once again.

She had promised to go into the forest. I should at least find some flowers for my mother’s grave, she had thought. Then I can leave. I don’t have to speak to any Nagas... Mother won’t be around to know. The pain from that last thought had stabbed deep into her chest, and brought the threatening sting of tears to her eyes once more.

 Nettie was snapped back into reality at the sound of her captor’s voice.

“You will stay here until I have use for you.” In the doorway stood a figure, tall and imposing. He had captured her in the woods, as she was searching for some blossoms to lay upon the grave of her mother. As he spoke, he motioned to a small side room, branching off from the main chamber of the dwelling. The room was carved out from the side of a decently sized hill. “Don’t try to run. I am a very good at tracking.” He sneered a little at her, before settling himself down in the middle of the room.

Nettie stared back at him, nodding, her mind growing numb with terror. She hadn’t been careful enough, and this beast had caught her as easily as a cat can catch a cricket. Though she had learned all about the Nagas in her classes, she was surprised by just how big this one was in person. He had deep, purple eyes, a mop of charcoal grey hair, and a fair complexion. His snake half bore the light grey and coffee-brown stripes of a copperhead, with scales that gleamed in the light whenever he moved. Nettie was sure that he would be a very handsome creature, if she didn’t find him so terrifying. Slowly, she crept into her new room, and settled down upon the mossy bed in the corner.

Until he has a use for me. She repeated his words in her mind, and they sent a shiver down her spine. That could only mean one thing. Nagas were notorious for taking anyone daring enough to wander into their forest, and none of these people ever returned. Nettie knew she would be no match for him when he came for her. She lay in silence contemplating her predicament, until she heard the same voice calling for her from the main room.

“Hey mouse, come here.”

She stiffened, not wanting to move from the bed. He can’t already…no. No. I can’t let him do this. I must get away.

“Come here. I won’t ask again.”

His voice rang with annoyance at not being obeyed the first time, and Nettie realized that whatever he was planning, it would only get worse if she were to try to prolong it. After easing herself up out of the bed, she crept across the room to the doorway.

“Yes?” The squeak in her voice betrayed her nerves, and earned her a smug cackle from her captor.

“You hungry?”

Surprised, Nettie’s eyes opened wide, as she unconsciously bit her lip. “Hungry?”

“Yes, hungry. Also, what’s your name? You must have a name.”

She nodded, taking a shaky breath as she prepared herself to answer. “Yes, I am. Hungry, I mean.” She paused, and shut her eyes tight. “My name is Nettie.”

“Ah, Nettie. Fine name” the Naga replied, nodding.

He didn’t sound any less imposing, but his choice of words was confusing Nettie. Maybe he isn’t going to do anything just yet. A glimmer of hope lit her eyes, and was noticed immediately.

“Don’t get too comfortable, mouse.” Chuckling as her face fell, he continued. “You are not going anywhere for a while. You’re my pet for now, do you understand?”

Nettie nodded once again, tears welling up in her eyes. “I-I understand” she stammered. “What should I call you?”

This earned her what seemed to be a genuine smile. “Kiith” he answered simply. “Now, eat” he urged, her, motioning to a table on the far side of the room, where a simple looking meal sat steaming, fresh off the fire.

Moving closer, Nettie saw that there were two place settings, and turned back to look at Kiith. “Is some of this for me?”

He nodded, chuckling to himself. “For such a dangerous creature, you’re acting pretty jumpy. Why were you in my forest?”

“Your forest?” Nettie asked, surprised. “I thought the forest was filled with Nagas. What do you mean?”

Kiith scoffed. “Your kind knows so little. We live in territories. This is mine, which you were trespassing upon. Care to explain that?” The hard glint had returned to his eyes, which made Nettie’s skin crawl.

I need to be careful she thought, her head spinning. He could turn on me in a moment. “I was looking for flowers.” She paused, looking down at her feet. “For my mother’s grave.”

“Your mother is dead? What about your father?”

He wants to know if anyone is going to come looking for me. The thought came suddenly, and the realization kickstarted her heart into a frenzy. “Abandoned us when I was born. Please, let me go back home. I won’t come back, I promise.”

Kiith studied her with a guarded expression, eyes glinting with cold uncertainty. “And have you send back a group of able bodied men to hunt me down like a rabbit? You’re not going anywhere.”

Though she had been expecting this kind of response, the disappointment and dread sliced through her chest like a red-hot knife. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to focus instead on the plate in front of her, reaching out to pick up a piece of the meat that the creature had prepared. She bit into it, and her eyes lit up in surprise.

“It’s good!” she gasped. “What is it?”

Kiith smiled at her reaction. “Venison” he replied. When she gave him a quizzical look, he chuckled and added, “deer meat.”

“How do you know how to cook?” Nettie’s gaze swiveled back to the pile of books that she had noticed upon entering the dwelling. “Where did those books come from? Can you read?”

“So many questions” Kiith remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I learned from the books. They were gifts.” From who, he did not say.

“Gifts?” she repeated. “From…from humans?”

Kiith nodded. “Yes, a human gave me these books, in exchange for information about our species.”

Nettie stopped eating to listen. “We were taught that Nagas despised humans. Why were you talking to one?”

Kiith sighed, now growing a little irritated. “That’s a long story.” His coils began to shift, coiling up then relaxing rhythmically; a nervous habit he had developed as a child.

“So, you didn’t try to kill her on sight?” Nettie asked eagerly. “You let her go?”

“I do not kill unnecessarily” Kiith scoffed. “Typical human way of thinking.” He paused a moment before continuing. “I was wary, but she kept her distance, and didn’t seem to want to cause me any harm. Unlike most humans that come into my forest, she didn’t carry a weapon, and seemed to show profound respect for the forest around her.”

A small smile lit Nettie’s face, but it was heavily laced with pain. “That sounds a lot like my mother. She taught me to always respect the forest and its creatures, and was even exiled from our village because of her love for your kind.

Kiith seemed to perk up at that. “What was her name?”

Nettie blinked. “What?”

“Your mother” Kiith replied, his tail coiling even more. “What was her name?”

“Melinda” Nettie answered, her confusion apparent. After a few more moments, she began to piece it together. “Wait. Did my mother…?”

Kiith nodded, his eyes beginning to glint with tears. “Melinda is dead?”

“Nobody would help her. I tried to ask the village, but the medicine man wouldn’t come. They were afraid, I think, because she was so fond of your kind.” Nettie’s own eyes were beginning to fill with liquid emotion. “I couldn’t do anything. I tried, I really tried.” Sobs began to rack her form, the wells in her eyes spilling over. “Her dying wish was for me to come here.”

That brought a strained smile to Kiith’s face. “She wanted you to meet me.”

Nettie nodded, trying to smile herself, but only managed to lift one side of her mouth, so that it resembled a confused sneer. “She said that the Nagas wouldn’t hurt me, that they would understand.” Looking up into Kiith’s eyes, she continued. “Why didn’t you attack me?”

There was a long sigh, then response that somehow achieved the tone of annoyance, despite the tears streaming down his face. “I told you, I do not kill unnecessarily. You didn’t look dangerous, I wasn’t going to just attack a helpless human.”

“I am not helpless!” Nettie snapped back, momentarily forgetting who held the power in the room.

“Oh?” The cold, glint returned to Kiith’s eyes as the stream of tears faltered. “Be careful, mouse. Even if you are Melinda’s daughter, if you do not show me the proper respect, I will have to teach you a lesson. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Kiith” Nettie whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I understand.”

“Good.” His tone had softened, but his eyes had not. “You are still a human, even if you are related to…his eyes began to well up with tears once more as he spoke, and he turned away from her.

Nettie continued eating in nervous silence, not wanting to disturb the great creature before her, who had been overcome by grief. She didn’t look up again until she heard him breathe a heavy sigh, and shift his body to face her once more.  

[impactcomicscbr]

NEW STUFF FRIDAY 24th NOVEMBER 2017

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COMICARE SHORT COMIC BOX (SOLD IN 10)

[cxpperhead]

🔪

Send 🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body.

The sewers are not one of Copperhead's favourite haunts. While the darkness is a thing he's comfortable with, the cold and the damp rubs his scales the wrong way and the rank stench of Gotham's Underbelly fogs his sense of smell for hours. It's only when desperate prey slips into the sewers that Copperhead is forced to follow after them, and from what he's heard during his time in Gotham, it's a place he does well to avoid. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's not the only reptilian metahuman in the world. It's part of the reason why Copperhead came all the way to Gotham in the first place despite the horrid winters. Sure, the opportunity to commit crime more freely had its allure but the thought that he's not alone, that he's not just one scaled freak in a world of normal people had him wistful for... something - he didn't know what, but he made the long trek from Arizona to here all the same. Now that he was staring down into the open sewer, Copperhead was wondering if perhaps he'd made the wrong choice. He didn't know much about this Killer Croc, only that he was large, and especially dangerous. A scaled behemoth who skulked beneath Gotham's streets and struck fear into the hearts of those who caught a glimpse of him, but he existed. Copperhead had watched the news, read articles to know there was truth to them, but he didn't know how well one like him would be received, or even welcomed as a kindred spirit. It wasn't as though there were welcome signs hanging up in places, but his quarry had slipped down here so it must be safe enough to venture into for now. Serpentine tongue flickers to access his surroundings as Copperhead descends the slime-coated walls. There are scents everywhere amidst the stench of humid rot and fetid water, of rats and their leavings. There's rotten food littered here and there too, dropped or scavenged by the teaming rodent hordes that threaten to swell before too long but Copperhead filters them out, instead focusing on the scent that drew him here... There! A lingering scent rubbed against the wall betrays where the one he was hunting has gone and Copperhead continues on, his eyes on the water at all times in fears (or hopes) of seeing a pair not so different his own. Was Killer Croc even down here? Or was he elsewhere, in another part of the city perhaps? Copperhead supposed it didn't matter much right now. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, but first he had a rat to catch and pursued his target relentlessly, eventually cornering him not five minutes later.

The last gasps of a dying man is rarely pleasant to hear. Copperhead is hanging over the water, claws clutching the ceiling as the struggling figure in his coils thrashes and squirms, growing weaker as the seconds pass. It's not long before white-knuckled fingers let go of his tail and sag bonelessly before Copperhead snaps the neck to make sure the man is well and truly dead, and then he freezes. There's another scent in the air though, and the serpent metahuman glances around, at the shadows and the waters before noticing he's no longer quite as alone as he thought. He looks guilty as all hell holding a dead body, and in Croc's territory no less but it's all Copperhead can do but speak out loud, and politely no less to let the sewer's true inhabitant he meant no harm. "Sorry, I hope he wasn't one of yours." The snake-like metahuman comments softly, wincing a little at how sound reverberate down here in these depths. It's a stark reminder that the surface is quite a bit further away than he likes, if Croc isn't the welcoming sort and sees this intrusion as some sort of challenge.

[athertonjc]

If snake killing is wrong, then my dog Opal doesn’t want to do right by Carol Reese

Opal in her glory days

When I lived near the Luray TN bottoms, the dogs and I often walked the field road to the back of a farm tract known locally as “the island”. This was several hundred acres surrounded by water – swamp, stream and man-made ditches and canals. More accurately, I walked, and the dogs trotted, tumbled, trailed or ran. From a bird’s eye view, I imagine a wildly moving circle of four legged beasts with one slow moving two-legged beast toward the rear.

My squatty brown dog Opal was a snake killer. She so enjoyed it, that if I yelled “SNAKE!” to warn any unsuspecting dogs, she leapt into action, surging forward and scanning eagerly for action. I learned instead to shout “RABBIT”! and point the safest direction.

One day I experimented with shouting “SNAKE!” as she napped on the porch. She peeled up from deep sleep at full roar, thrilled at the prospect of doing combat with her hated foe. Opal had a face that looked like a caricature of a benevolent snapping turtle, and she made me laugh every day.

The field road to the tract known as “the island”, a place where these rescued dogs could run freely.

  I did not like her lust for snake killing, though I grudgingly admired her ability and dedication to the task. I hold the snake clan in high esteem. Imagine getting around in the world without legs or arms, as well as being mostly despised and feared. They deserve admiration.

I find many friends that agree with me on non-venomous snakes, but feel they can make a case for killing the venomous. I honor even the venomous snakes, and feel gratitude for the many times they have chosen to spare me in my barefooted or sandal-footed wanderings. Water moccasins in particular have had plenty of opportunities to bite me and did not.

Opal could have cared less what kind of snake it might be. Venomous snakes had bitten her several times on her legs or face as she charged in, snatching the snake in a violent blur of shaking that was over in seconds. It was terrible and terrifying, especially at the end of the thrashing, when she flung the snake aside with no clue as to direction. Flying venomous snakes with fangs still extended are bad news, dead or not.

When Opal was bitten, her limb, or face, or neck swelled to frightening proportions. My veterinarian had become so accustomed to her habits, that he equipped me with antihistamine, anti-inflammatory and antibiotic medicines so I could give them to her immediately. Usually within forty-eight hours, the swelling was gone.

Whippoorwill Hill is an upland setting, and home to copperheads before it was home to us.

  Opal’s excitement was contagious, and some of the other dogs thought they’d like to have a go at snake killing. Jolene, the big coonhound, could handle it, but her shaking style was slower, more of a head slinging, causing the snake to whip her on one side and then the other. It might have been funny, except it wasn’t.

I did my best to prevent anyone from grabbing the snake, racing into the confrontation screaming in an attempt to protect snake from dogs and dogs from snake. I imagine you could hear me from outer space, giving my all to convince the dogs that any disobedience at that moment might end in blood and guts.

My instinctive fury was inexcusably unfair to Opal on this particular walk. I was in shorts and sandals, looking at clouds, when Opal knocked me aside, lunging against the side of my knee, her big head just at the point where my foot should have descended. No doubt I would have stepped directly on the water moccasin she now shook ferociously just in front of my legs. Adrenalin made my screamed “NO’S” sound so full of rage, that once she’d flung the snake into the soybeans, she hung her head and crouched in submission, afraid she was to be punished.

She probably did save me from a painful bite this time. In relief, I fell to my knees and hugged her blocky body, apologizing and kissing her broad scarred head. She butted it against me, shoved close and wagged her ugly rear end, full of doggy clemency. Sweet, brave, good dog Opal.

Opal has since “crossed the bridge” or she might have saved me from the snake that was not aware of my pact with the clan of snakes. The painful encounter took place my first spring on Whippoorwill Hill, and cost me. It was not just the insurance deductibles, or the three days in the hospital watching my leg swell into something unrecognizable. It took my naivete. I have trekked woods and fields and creeks and swamps all my life with no thought of peril. Now I find myself looking before I put my hands or my feet into places a snake might be concealed. I refuse to call it fear, but it has replaced my heedlessness. I miss being oblivious.

Where I once tread fearlessly, I now cautiously probe.

Fear was not really the emotion present even when I looked down to see that the sting was not a wasp as I first thought. It was beautiful copperhead, gracefully poised to give me another pop of venom if I needed more encouragement to step aside. Some people exclaim they would have died from on the spot from sheer terror, but in that millisecond I had three sensations, and none were related to fear.

I was incredulous. I’d been bitten, and it was definitely a copperhead! I was immediately resigned to the truth of it. I’d been bitten by a copperhead and it could not be undone. Thirdly, I was curious, because now I would know what it was like to be bitten by a venomous snake. It did turn out to be a rougher experience than I expected overall, but obviously, I didn’t die, and it had unexpected rewards. I suddenly became the cool great aunt to my several great nieces and nephews.

…and no, I did not kill the copperhead that bit me, nor did I even consider it. That handsome snake deserved to be there as much or more than I. If there was one good thing about Opal not being with me on that walk, it is that I can imagine the fiesty snake still slips through the woods on Whippoorwill Hill, and you know what ? I hope it is oblivious to any fear.

If snake killing is wrong, then my dog Opal doesn’t want to do right originally appeared on Garden Rant on June 7, 2018.

from Garden Rant http://gardenrant.com/2018/06/if-snake-killing-is-wrong-then-opal-doesnt-want-to-do-right.html

[lastgeeksdying]

Pitches I built a series of stories using the current DC cinematic universe as a loose jumping off point and how to plan it to go forward.  It is a road to get it where I want it, but I think it can be done.  One pitch a week each Friday until Justice League.   So this started posting after Wonder Woman is out but before Justice League.  In theory this means it'll run right up to the release of Justice League.  These speculations will be mostly written before Wonder Woman, with some small changes made following seeing Wonder Woman.  I've included a time line below, with one or two word teases of the pitches going forward.  However, much like this episode, I reserve the right to add titles that I forgot or that I feel will fit in to the mythology as I build out.  Today, I bring you The Batman. 

Here’s the basis of what I think will happen in the films that are already being worked on.  Also, I will be cancelling some of the other films that are set to come out.  DONE DONE DONE. 

Justice League will build the team, tease Darkseid.   Aquaman will be Aquaman fighting Black Manta, set up Ord as Ocean Master.  I'll mostly be treating it as having just been an Origin story. There is a good chance it will actually be Throne of Atlantis, but that isn't important enough for me to factor in when it comes to the pitches down the road.  Which, spoilers, will include a Throne of Atlantis Pitch Justice League: Apokalypse aka JL2  will be Darkseid arriving.(roughly JL:Origin) A Timeline of the Pitches so far are: (Wonder Woman) (Justice League) (Aquaman) (Justice League 2) Wonder Woman:  Fastest in the Jungle THE BATMAN Throne Brave Tower Fear Contract VS Court Identity Black Fall Eyes Serious Shazam Crisis Elegy Corps Peacemakers Young Effigy Society Reborn Kingdom Come Errant Knight Rotworld Return Night Inc The movie opens with a laugh.   A Camera Flashes and a gun shot goes off.   Batman and Robin head to Jim Gordon's home and find Barbara, in her Batgirl costume, shot.  He helps her and changes her out of her suit.  He brings her to the Hospital.  She tells him Jokerland.   Robin rushes out of the room.  Batman tells him to stop but he goes anyway. Sometime later Batman arrives at an Abandoned Amusement park.  The place has been repainted and remarked as "Joker Land".  Bruce travels to the security office and finds each of the guards dead.  Video starts playing showing Robin tied to a chair.  Unmasked.  "Tim Drake?   Bruce Wayne's adopted SON?  Certainly too old to be the old Robin.  Oh well."  Joker comes out of the shadows.  This is a classic looking Joker, his visual look is much more akin to the animated series Joker, but with the classic purple gangster hat.  As Joker strikes the final blow, a door opens in front of Bruce.  This reveals Tim's lifeless body.  A counter appears on the video as the room is lit up and reveals dozens of oil drums.  Batman runs out of the building, leaving the body.   As it explodes he dives out of the building landing at the Joker's feet.   Batman stands up and confronts the Joker.  We see a recreation of the final page of the Killing Joke: http://onlynerdsallowed.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/batman-the-killing-joke-471.jpg Except the ending isn't ambiguous.  Bruce stabs the Joker as he laughs and the sirens wail.   We cut to black and show the title THE BATMAN.   Text appears saying 15 years later showing a modern Ben Afleck.   A gang of Villains dressed as the Original Red Hood rob a bank.  As they come out of the bank a rocket launcher blast is shot and kills all of them.  It is revealed to be Jared Leto's Joker holding the launcher.   "I hate copy cats" Out of nowhere a shot flies down and almost hits the Joker.  Batman swoops in and brings him to the ground.   "Why batsy, I'm so happy to see you."   Joker tries to stab Batman. "I'm trying to protect you.  Someone has put out a hit on you. " "On me?  But why?  I love me!"   "They've pitted 8 of the best killers to bring you down. " "And what, you want that glory for yourself?" "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead Tim." "DON'T CALL ME THAT."   Cut to 8 Killers each being told by a different person to kill the Joker and they will make 30 million dollars.   Batman calls for the Batmobile as Mr. Freeze ices the vehicle down.  It is at this point that the adventure becomes Batman trying to get from Gotham's first National to Arkham Asylum.   Batman fights down Mr. Freeze, learning that he wants the money to fund research for his wife.  Batman manages to beat Victor, but not without the wheels to the Batmobile being destroyed.  When Batman returns he finds that the Joker has run off and has to chase him down.   In a flashback, we see young Batman chasing the Redhood.  Over the comms, he tells Alfred to let Andea know he won't be able to make it due to car trouble.  We then see Batman taking down the original Joker when he was Red Hood and how he became the Joker by falling into Ace Chemicals.   Modern  Batman catches Joker and berates him for running off.  "You can't blame a clown for trying."  "No, but I can blame you." Jumping up, Thomas Blake attacks Joker.  "Oh, you aren't the fun kitty.  You're the lame kitty." Catman tries to reason with Batman,  explaining that with the money Blake and his Husband can run away from Gotham and never be in Batman's hair again.  Bruce considers this, and knocks him out.   Batman runs Joker into the Sewers, with Joker recounting a time where Batman and Robin fought the Joker in the sewer. Bruce clarifies that since this Joker is Tim, he doesn't remember the story entirely.  The real Joker had a room full of kidnapped kids he had been brainwashing into little Jokers.  Some of them would never recover and would go on to form the Jokerz gang.   Copperhead and King Kobra leap out of the shadows to Sting Joker with venom, instead hitting Batman who protected him again.  A delusional Batman tries to fight the Joker, but is easily brought down by the two of them. The Joker gets the upperhand and cuts King Kobra's throat and throws him into the water.  Copperhead tries to kill Joker, but is ultimately stopped.  Joker goes to kill Bruce, but pulls back at the last second.  Batman comes to and reiterates that he intends to lock him in Arkham and throw away the key.   The pair come up from the sewer and find themselves immediately under assault from Machine Gun fire.  Batman pulls Joker inside of a near by building and can't see who is shooting at them.  Batman notices they are on Second Street, and inside Gotham's Second National Bank.  He uses his wrist computer to summon a bat-drone.  This takes down the Machine Gun wielder, Two-Face.  The Bat Drone descends and reveals a secret compartment in the wall near where Batman and Joker came out.  It reveals and hidden stored Bat-cycle.   As Batman and Joker drive down the streets of Gotham a pink motor cycle appears.  The driver whips at Batman and Joker, pulling Joker off the back.  Batman Turns and stops.  The other Driver is revealed to be Flamingo.  "And who are you?" This leads to an epic chase sequence through the streets of Gotham, bursting through several icon locations including the Ice Berg Lounge.  This leads to a confrontation at the gates of Arkham.  Batman beats Flamingo and almost kills him.  Joker/Tim egging him on.  Bruce stops short of killing him and drags Joker and Flamingo inside.  Joker laments that even if Batsy didn't kill Flamingo, he's just as bad as Joker.  He let's his villains live.  He knows they likely won't get well.  And he permanently cripples some of his victims like Joker did to Babs.   Batman hands off Flamingo to someone he doesn't recognize, but demands to walk Joker down to a cell himself. He enters the mess room with Joker walking aside him.  Over the intercom "This is Doctor Hugo Strange, we are locking down the facility per the request of our special guest." Batman remarks "I didn't speak to Hugo Strange" A light highlights Deathstroke at the end of the hall.  "Your right, I did."   Deathstroke fights Batman and Joker.  Part way into the fight, Batman opens two cells and let's Grant Wislon and Rose Wilson join the fight.  The conversation that happens during this fight is about parentage.   Ultimately the two Wilson Children and Joker and Batman take down Deathstroke.   Rose and Grant voluntarily return to their Cells.   Joker tries to kill Batman once more just as he closes the cells.  He eggs on Batman to kill him.  Pushing him.  Bruce tries to get in touch with his Tim side.  He is not successful.  He returns Joker to the Cell.   Batman goes to the Warden's office and finds Clayface acting as Hugo Strange. Batman thanks him for his help in trying to save Tim.  Clayface asks why Batman would put his life in danger to try and save the Joker, and he says it's because he's family.   Bruce donates money to a cancer research facility in the name of Nora Freis.  

[reshuffleadventures]

5/27/22 - Lazy Morning, Lambs Knoll familiarity, and Unsuccessful Paragliding

I woke up around 8 am hoping to find someone to join me for a descent of Spry Canyon. I couldn’t find anyone to do it with me. I walked to the post office to pick up a couple packages. I hung out with Sophie and Zaq all morning; they both had to work in the afternoon, but the whole morning, we just hung out together and talked. It was great! I picked up my gravel bike (Specialized Sequoia) from Zion Cycles which was finally ready after like 5 weeks or something absurd like that. I chatted with my family for a long time about their upcoming trip to Zion, Las Vegas, and the Hoover Dam. I’m so excited for them to come visit! I can’t wait to see them!

I drove to Lambs Knoll in hopes of meeting up with Danny Dvorak (a new assistant guide). I never actually met up with him, but I had an okay time exploring and trying to get more familiar with the trails through Lambs Knoll. I explored the trails that go between Carousel, Italian Start, Sidewinder, Anaconda, Cobra, and Copperhead. My rope was too short to double most of those rappels, so I didn’t actually do any rappelling. I did set up my rope once so that I could descend part of the way down the first rappel of Sidewinder, but I came back up to the anchor because it was clear that my 117′ rope was not going to be enough. As I came down the backside trail that leads into the climbing area, I saw Danny’s white subaru drive away.

As I drove back towards Virgin, I noticed the huge field that’s to the north of the dirt parking area that’s right across from Leahona. It looked like a perfect landing zone for paragliding. I looked the other direction and saw a nice sloping curved hilltop, just to the northeast of Wildflower Resort (on the east side of the Kolob Terrace Road across from that dirt parking lot). It looked like a potentially good launch spot. So, I parked my car in that dirt lot, grabbed my paraglider (which I’d brought to Lambs Knoll just in case), and started walking up the road to the Wildflower Resort. I felt something in the pocket of my paraglider (which I hadn’t flown since January), and I was surprised to pull out a ziplock bag of pazelles! The pazelles must have been at least five months old! Grandma and Grandpaw made them before Christmas! I ate the rest of the pazelles that were in that ziplock bag as I walked through the resort (photo #1). While walking through the resort of tiny homes, teepees, and covered wagons, a couple staff members on golf carts asked me if I needed help finding where I was going or if I needed a ride somewhere. I asked them about a trail that led to the hilltop, and they pointed it out for me. As I hiked up, the wind seemed like it was moving at an ideal speed for a paragliding launch. I saw two different lizards on the hike up (photos #2 & 3). It didn’t take long to hike up to the hilltop. At the hilltop, the wind was RIPPING. It was blowing about (my guess) 30 mph consistently. That’s too high of winds for me to launch in. But, I’d hiked all the way up there, and I convinced myself that it would be okay to just try it out; maybe I’d have a clean launch in 30 mph winds 🙃 🙄 😒. Spoiler alert - I did NOT have a clean launch in 30 mph winds. I built a wall, and I could already feel the strength of the wind in my wing. I pulled the wing up, and as soon as I did, I got plucked just a little bit off the ground and I got carried probably 30 feet downwind. I quickly pulled the wing down and decided that I wouldn’t be trying that again (photo #4). It took me a really long time to pack up my wing, party because of the high winds, and partly because there were so many desert plants that just wanted to grab every single line attached to my wing. Once I finally finished packing up my wing, I hiked back down the hill, through the Wildflower Resort, and back to my car in the dirt lot. 

I drove home, immediately grabbed my bicycle, and rode to ZAC. I helped them clean gear, wash and put away boots and neo socks. At home, we all hung out together; all five of us: me, Zaq (who I’ve been recently calling, “Q”), Sophie, Mollie, and Zak Fisher. 

I’m grateful for a lazy morning. I’m grateful to gel so well with my upstairs roommates that we can hang out all morning and just totally relax with each other. I’m grateful for Basil and her love for me. I’m grateful to have spent more time at Lambs Knoll getting more familiar with the area, more prepared for trips with clients, and more confident in my navigating the area. I’m grateful to have had a good hike up to the top of the hilltop and to have scoped out a cool paragliding launch spot for the future. I’m grateful that I didn’t get hurt when I made the poor decision to attempt a launch even though I knew the winds were too strong (commitment bias or escalation of commitment). I’m grateful to get some hours on the clock at the shop, even if it was only a little bit. I’m grateful to have hung out with all the roommates and be a family.

[impactcomicscbr]

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ALL NEW X-MEN TP VOL 03 INEVITABLE HELL HATH SO MUCH FURY ARCHIE COMICS SPECTACULAR FOOD FIGHT TP ATOMIC BLONDE THE COLDEST CITY GN BATGIRL TP VOL 01 SILENT KNIGHT BATMAN ARKHAM MISTER FREEZE TP BATMAN ARKHAM POISON IVY TP BATMAN DEATH OF THE FAMILY BOOK & JOKER MASK SET (N52) BATMAN DETECTIVE COMICS TP VOL 04 THE WRATH (N52) BATMAN DETECTIVE COMICS TP VOL 05 GOTHTOPIA (N52) BATMAN DETECTIVE TP VOL 02 VICTIM SYNDICATE (REBIRTH) BATMAN ETERNAL TP VOL 01 (N52) BATMAN MAD LOVE AND OTHER STORIES TP BATMAN REBIRTH DLX COLL HC BOOK 01 BATMAN SUPERMAN TP VOL 03 SECOND CHANCE BEFORE WATCHMEN COMEDIAN RORSCHACH TP BEFORE WATCHMEN NITE OWL DR MANHATTAN TP BITCH PLANET TP VOL 01 EXTRAORDINARY MACHINE (MR) BLACK MAGICK TP VOL 01 AWAKENING PART ONE (MR) BLACK MONDAY MURDERS TP VOL 01 ALL HAIL GOD MAMMON (MR) BLACK SCIENCE TP VOL 01 HOW TO FALL FOREVER (MR) BLACK SCIENCE TP VOL 02 WELCOME NOWHERE BLACK SCIENCE TP VOL 03 VANISHING PATTERN (MR) BLACK WIDOW TP VOL 01 SHIELDS MOST WANTED BLACK WIDOW TP VOL 02 NO MORE SECRETS BLOOD LAD OMNIBUS GN VOL 09 BTOOOM GN VOL 18 (MR) BTVS SEASON 8 LIBRARY HC VOL 02 WOLVES AT GATE BTVS SEASON 9 LIBRARY HC VOL 02 CALLA CTHULHU TP CAPTAIN AMERICA TP VOL 01 MARVEL KNIGHTS CATWOMAN TP VOL 01 THE GAME (N52) CHEW TP VOL 12 (MR) CLEAN ROOM TP VOL 03 WAITING FOR THE STARS (MR) COMPLETE CHI SWEET HOME TP VOL 01 COMPLETE SUICIDERS THE BIG SHAKE TP (MR) CROSSED TP VOL 04 BADLANDS (MR) DC SUPER HERO GIRLS TP VOL 02 HITS AND MYTHS DEADLY CLASS TP VOL 01 REAGAN YOUTH (MR) DEADPOOL BY DANIEL WAY COMPLETE COLL TP VOL 01 DEADPOOL TP VOL 01 SECRET INVASION DEADPOOL WORLDS GREATEST HC VOL 01 DEATHSTROKE BOOK AND MASK SET DESCENDER TP VOL 01 TIN STARS (MR) DOCTOR WHO TP EMPEROR OF DALEKS EAST OF WEST TP VOL 03 THERE IS NO US ECLIPSE TP VOL 01 FLASH TP VOL 02 ROGUES REVOLUTION (N52) FLASH TP VOL 03 GORILLA WARFARE (N52) FLASH TP VOL 03 ROGUES RELOADED (REBIRTH) FLIGHT EXPLORER TP VOL 01 NEW PTG GREEN ARROW TP VOL 03 EMERALD OUTLAW (REBIRTH) HAGANAI I HAVE NO FRIENDS GN VOL 01 HAL JORDAN & THE GLC TP VOL 01 SINESTROS LAW (REBIRTH) HARLEY QUINN NIGHT AND DAY TP HARLEY QUINN TP VOL 02 POWER OUTAGE HARLEY QUINN TP VOL 03 KISS KISS BANG STAB HULK TP PLANET HULK INJUSTICE GODS AMONG US TP VOL 02 INJUSTICE GODS AMONG US YEAR ONE COMPLETE COL TP INJUSTICE GODS AMONG US YEAR THREE TP VOL 01 INJUSTICE GODS AMONG US YEAR THREE TP VOL 02 INJUSTICE GODS AMONG US YEAR TWO COMPLETE COLL TP INVADER ZIM HC VOL 01 JOKER ENDGAME TP JUDGE DREDD COMP CASE FILES TP VOL 19 KAIJUMAX TP SEASON 01 KINGDOM COME 20TH ANNIVERSARY DLX ED HC LADY MECHANIKA TP VOL 01 MYSTERY OF MECHANICAL CORPSE LADY MECHANIKA TP VOL 02 TABLET OF DESTINIES LADY MECHANIKA TP VOL 03 LOST BOYS OF WEST ABBEY LAZARUS TP VOL 03 CONCLAVE (MR) LOCKE & KEY TP VOL 06 ALPHA & OMEGA LOG HORIZON WEST WIND BRIGADE GN VOL 06 MAGICAL GIRL SITE GN VOL 01 (MR) MOCKINGBIRD TP VOL 01 I CAN EXPLAIN MONSTER MUSUME GN VOL 12 (MR) MONSTRESS TP VOL 01 (MR) MONSTRESS TP VOL 01 (MR) NAILBITER TP VOL 01 THERE WILL BE BLOOD (MR) NAMELESS TP (MR) NEMESIS TP (MR) NIGHTWING TP VOL 02 BACK TO BLUDHAVEN (REBIRTH) NOVA HUMAN ROCKET TP VOL 01 BURN OUT OCCUPY AVENGERS TP VOL 01 TAKING BACK JUSTICE PAPER GIRLS TP VOL 01 PATSY WALKER AKA HELLCAT TP VOL 02 DONT STOP ME-OW PLANETOID TP VOL 01 RAT QUEENS TP VOL 01 SASS & SORCERY (MR) RUNAWAYS COMPLETE COLLECTION TP VOL 01 SAGA TP VOL 01 (MR) SAGA TP VOL 02 (MR) SAGA TP VOL 04 (MR) SAGA TP VOL 05 (MR) SAGA TP VOL 06 (MR) SAGA TP VOL 07 (MR) SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN TP VOL 01 SERVAMP GN VOL 10 SEX CRIMINALS TP VOL 01 (MR) SEX CRIMINALS TP VOL 02 TWO WORLDS ONE COP (MR) SHERIFF OF BABYLON TP VOL 02 POW POW POW (MR) SILENT VOICE GN VOL 01 SILVER SURFER TP VOL 01 NEW DAWN SPIDER-MAN 2099 TP VOL 01 OUT OF TIME SPIDER-MAN MILES MORALES TP VOL 01 STAR WARS DARTH VADER TP VOL 01 VADER STAR WARS LITTLE GOLDEN BOOK I AM DROID STAR WARS TP VOL 04 LAST FLIGHT OF THE HARBINGER SUICIDE SQUAD TP VOL 01 KICKED IN THE TEETH (N52) SUPERGIRL TP VOL 01 THE GIRL OF STEEL SUPERMAN ACTION COMICS TP VOL 01 PATH OF DOOM (REBIRTH) SUPERMAN ACTION COMICS TP VOL 02 WELCOME TO THE PLANET (REBI SUPERMAN TP VOL 02 TRIALS OF THE SUPER SON (REBIRTH) SUPERMAN TP VOL 03 MULTIPLICITY (REBIRTH) TALON TP VOL 01 SCOURGE OF THE OWLS (N52) THOR GOD OF THUNDER TP VOL 02 GODBOMB UBEL BLATT GN VOL 09 (MR) VENOM VS CARNAGE TP VISION TP VOL 01 LITTLE WORSE THAN MAN WALKING DEAD COMPENDIUM TP VOL 01 (MR) WALKING DEAD TP VOL 26 CALL TO ARMS (MR) WALKING DEAD TP VOL 27 WHISPERER WAR WATCHMEN TP INTERNATIONAL EDITION NEW ED WAYWARD TP VOL 03 OUT FROM THE SHADOWS (MR) WICKED & DIVINE TP VOL 01 THE FAUST ACT (MR) WICKED & DIVINE TP VOL 02 FANDEMONIUM (MR) WICKED & DIVINE TP VOL 03 (MR) WICKED & DIVINE TP VOL 04 RISING ACTION (MR) WICKED & DIVINE TP VOL 05 IMPERIAL PHASE I (MR) WOLVERINE OLD MAN LOGAN TP VOL 00 WARZONES WOLVERINE VS DEADPOOL TP WONDER WOMAN A CELEBRATION OF 75 YEARS HC WONDER WOMAN TP VOL 01 THE LIES (REBIRTH) WONDER WOMAN TP VOL 02 GUTS (N52)

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