Her Furryness, Darth Stitch, Evil Blue Alien Half-Vampiric Genetic Experiment. I am a fuzzy blue alien wandering the Internet reading and writing fan fiction. The Blanket Fort is a safe haven for a lot of fandoms - classic and new.
John was a soldier huddled in the trenches facing No Man’s Land, feeling the most wretched he had ever been. He was cold and hungry, overwhelmed with the stench of unwashed bodies and infected wounds, the nearly endless rounds of gunfire and grenade explosions, the screams of the dying.
Sometimes he felt as if he would never again know the taste of bread and a proper cuppa tea, to breathe in air that was not foully tainted by the Enemy’s noxious poisons. Sometimes he felt that they were all under the pitiless gaze of some great Eye, naked in the Dark.
And then he heard an American voice say, “Don’t you understand? This is No Man’s Land. That means no man may cross it.”
And thus, John’s attention was captured by the hooded figure the American was speaking to. She dropped the cloak to reveal armor, that her hands carried a sword and a shield, and she ascended the ladder with steps swift and sure. John would always remember these words, though she herself had never said them aloud, but her actions spoke clear as day:
“I am no man.”
There she stood, a shining figure in the middle of No Man’s Land, facing the Enemy and drawing their fire, beautiful as the dawn, terrible as the sea, stronger than all the foundations of the Earth.
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien does not remember how he scrambled up the ladder to follow after her, only that he and his fellow soldiers followed in Her wake, to fight by her side and onwards to victory.
I’ve only seen Good Omens in bits and bobs and it was one of those things that was on my TBW list. Never got to watch S1 and S2. Given that I’ve been thoroughly spoiled on the finale, which makes me go “ICK. EW. NO” - guess I’m really just going to stick to the book.
That being said, I honestly thought that the actual sequel would look something like this:
Heaven goes into panic mode because Immanuel, the Redeemer and Savior, the Lamb of God, the Beloved and Only Begotten Son, the Prince of Peace, the King of Kings etc. etc. has gone missing.
Look, we just narrowly avoided the actual Apocalypse. Which was just like, barely a year ago, in Earth time. Are we about to start this ridiculousness all over again? Really?
The Metatron sends Gabriel over to Earth to give a certain Mr. A.Z. Fell a heads up. Since he had done such a stellar job over the whole Antichrist business, maybe he could help out on this one.
OBVIOUSLY, our favorite diffident angel grabs his demon partner because, of course, it’s all hands on deck. Insert subplot here over the whole 6000-year situationship that they’ve had this entire time. Like, Az is the commitment-phobe and Crowley is the one wanting a proper label for them both. You know? Priorities, folks.
Okay, the Ineffable Situationers (we’re not yet at the husbands point, but we’ll get there) still need to figure out a few things. How did Himself end up missing? What new sinister plots are brewing? Crowley has picked up on some rumblings from a possible third party wanting to restart the whole wretched business of war between heaven and hell.
Plot twists are brewing folks. For once, His Infernal Nibs has nothing to do with this and certain Dukes of Hell are chomping at the bit, wanting to be Hell’s New King. And take over Heaven, too.
In the meantime, Adam Young and his friends encounter this boy wandering in their little village. He’s a nice chap, although his memory’s gone a bit wonky. He can’t even remember his own name!
Adam helps him pick out one for himself, because, obviously, one can’t just answer to “Oi, bruv” the entire time. Adam’s new friend and the newest member of THEM decides he’d like to be called Joshua.
Nice, sensible name, even though “Aragorn Arthur Pendragon” sounded pretty cool and was the suggestion offered by Pepper, being as they were now all in a proper Tolkien and King Arthur phase.
Joshua, as it turns out, was rather fond of stories.
That's all I got so far, but y'all can see where this is going, right? The thing about Second Comings is that nobody really knows the day or hour. But the path is, as always, meant to be ineffable.
Me watching the GO fandom going rabid on my socmed:
I am so glad I just stayed a book fan.
Amateur hour theology and philosophy masquerading as "hopecore" is not my jam. It's like the latter seasons of Lucifer, where the showrunners apparently forgot how they did their character set up. This just sets my teeth on edge.
The original book was a funny, irreverent, delightful fantastical romp that still managed to appeal to a wide variety of fans. It didn't matter whether or not you were religious - the core themes were all something that resonated with us.
Going rabid on the showrunners/cast/crew and sending them death threats is NOT COOL and WILL NEVER BE COOL.
Going rabid on each other is also NOT COOL. I don't know why it suddenly became fashionable to be all snobby and go "well, you're not media literate, that's why you hate the finale." This is not "literacy" - the fact that the finale has garnered so much negativity means that the creative team FAILED to effectively tell their story. I don't need a degree in philosophy to appreciate/react/respond to a piece of popular art.
Honestly? I think a certain pair of Ineffable Husbands, after averting the Apocalypse and seeing that the Antichrist is just enjoying being a human child and not being hellbent on becoming the Avatar of Evil or whatever, are enjoying a lovely life in a nice little cottage somewhere on the South Downs. They still get into the occasional amusing scrapes and shenanigans, but they're ineffable, so things just work out beautifully.
and another thing… idk about you guys but my crowley and aziraphale are a demon and an angel, enemies to friends to situationship to almost-lovers, a 6,000 year slowburn. and they were fully shaped by the fact that they are supernatural beings, and by all their shared experiences, good and bad. that crowley and aziraphale have now semi-canonically been snapped out of existence, they have *never* even existed in this universe, they were basically book of lifed, the very punishment that was a threat in s2. and no weird ooc human au can ever be them because what they’ve been through and what they’ve learned is so much of who they are
His Eminence, Thomas Cardinal Lawrence, currently the Papal Nuncio to the Philippines, is credited as single handedly steering away excited Filipino parents from the recent practice of granting their children the most ridiculous name combinations, absolutely absurd nicknames and unusual spellings.
At least in Manila.
Much to the amusement (and relief!) of His Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop of Manila, Vincent Benitez.
All right, so Thomas, thanks to his dearest Vincent and the intrepid Staff at the Apostolic Nunciature of Manila, was familiarized with some of the unusual and funny Filipino naming traditions.
“Vivo Thyler?!! They named my newest nephew AFTER A CELLPHONE?!!” wailed Jennifer, one of his PR people.
Thomas thoughtfully made her a cup of tea - which did not mean that Jennifer was somehow his long-lost daughter, Aileen, stop laughing, you minx - which helped calm her down. And also started the very educational conversation about Filipino names.
Vincent, by the way, was apparently named for Vincent Price, because his Nanay saw the name listed on a Ten Commandments movie poster and thought it was a nice name. That Cecil B. De Mille classic had been a Holy Week staple in Philippine theaters. However, his family had a funny tradition of giving defenseless infants lovely names but turning around and giving them hilarious nicknames. Which resulted in “Enteng,” by the way.
Thomas was rather proud that he could now say Enteng ko and have Vincent blush prettily.
Anyway, Thomas thought he was relatively prepared for the usual blend of ridiculous shenanigans for today’s session of baptisms. He enjoyed helping Vincent and the rest of the priests at the Manila Cathedral and was used to making the acquaintance of various small persons toddling over to tug at his cassock or even being surprised as they hugged his knees and gave him bright, beaming smiles. They were far better company than certain politicians or (Lord forgive him) certain members of the Curia.
“I would like to name my baby Phrincess Khiffany Khaleesi!” said one very excited Nanay.
Thomas’ eyes watered as he saw the name spelled out, being readied for the baptismal certificate. The random Hs. The reference to a fantasy series he was unwilling to know more about except Aldo wouldn’t shut up about how the final seasons were a complete “dumpster trash fire.”
(Obviously, Thomas was a proud denizen of Middle-earth.)
Vincent, who was preparing to pour the holy water over the unsuspecting infant’s head, paused. “Khiffany?”
Thomas murmured, “Honestly, Vincent, the poor child can’t go through life as Khiffany!”
The child’s happy mama continued on, completely oblivious. “And we’re already calling her Khiffy, for short!”
“Vincent!”
Thomas could pinpoint the exact moment Vincent’s soul left his body and was right there to catch him as he swooned.
“Hala!”
Thankfully, all those hours at the gym paid off. “There, there, Enteng ko, it’s all right,” Thomas murmured as he gently led Vincent back to a chair. He was vaguely conscious of Jennifer helpfully trying to fan poor Vincent back to consciousness. She was also distinctly red.
“Khiffy?!!” He also heard Aileen in the background. “That child is doomed.”
“Why? Isn’t Khiffy a lovely-sounding nickname?” protested the child’s mother.
Vincent was apparently murmuring the Marian Litany in actual Latin. Thomas had the distinct feeling he was going to regret asking this but needs must. “Jennifer, dear, would you mind explaining to this very confused Englishman the meaning of - “
“Thomas, no!” Vincent interrupted him, looking frantic as he suddenly snapped out of his swoon.
“Don’t say it!” Jennifer begged him. She gave Vincent a quick glance, crossed herself and said “Bless me, Father, sorry talaga.” And explained.
Oh dear.
OH DEAR.
The Holy Father liked to call Thomas a “manager.” That title was particularly apt at the moment as Thomas Cardinal Lawrence smoothly took over the baptismal rites and tactfully convinced the little girl’s apparently innocently deluded mama that perhaps random H’s and giving her child a nickname that was apparently slang for a certain part of the female anatomy was not the best of ideas. He did, however, have to dig deep into his own love of books to come up with a suitable replacement.
Somewhere out there, a tiny Filipino child now had a name combination that was from a well-beloved Frances Hodgson Burnett novel (which was also a beloved Filipino anime show in the 90s) and a Half-Elvish princess. Perfectly respectable, with H’s in their proper place.
-end-
Footnotes
After the Khiffany IncidentTM the Nuncio and the Cardinal Archbishop made it a point to continue conducting baptisms together, with their Staff ready to assist regarding proper baby names.
It is rumored that this story went all the way to Rome itself, where the Holy Father, known for his sense of humor, laughed himself silly when he heard about it. He may have also sent something for “dear Thomas and Vincent, to comfort them.”
His Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop delivered a rather pointed and very humorous homily about the importance of christening babies with proper names to his flock in the next Sunday Mass. The attendees of that Mass doubled up with laughter but they took Cardinal Enteng’s point.
A relative was apparently filming the baptism and the footage from that was somehow gained by the Kapamilya Network and went viral, after Cardinal Benitez became Pope Innocent XIV. The Nunciature Staff were pointedly unavailable for comment.
#Lawrenitez Nation went into absolute meltdown as they saw how tenderly the then Papal Nuncio comforted the swooning Archbishop, clearly captured by that video.
For the record, Thomas Cardinal Lawrence was perfectly happy with the nickname “Papa Noonsho” which was given to him by the children of the Nunciature Staff. Apparently, the tiny tots were enchanted by his accent, which reminded them of beloved cartoon characters.
(His Eminence Vincent Benitez, Cardinal Archbishop of Manila, isn’t telling him that one of these was Peppa Pig.)
There was one child from the Nunciature Staff who gave Thomas a slightly different… uh… nickname, much to his chagrin.
On that particular day, Vincent and Luis “Chito” Mendoza, the ever-cheerful Cardinal Archbishop of Cavite, had come to the Nunciature and the three of them were taking a well-deserved break from the usual Church business.
One of his staff members, Elisa, had brought her little girl, Madison, to work. At nearly a year old, Madison was already something of a chatterbox. After being encouraged by her doting mama to do the traditional mano po and getting blessed by the three priests, they were playing the “Who’s that/What’s that” game with the adorable toddler.
So far, Madison had correctly identified “Mama,” “Kitty,” “Doggy” and “Tortol” (much to Vincent’s amusement). And then, encouraged by Mama, the little girl called Vincent: “Padder!”
Chito: “Padder!”
Everyone cheered.
Thomas was expecting the same cheery “Padder” but instead, Madison grinned and said, “DADDY!”
What.
(Thomas had been holding Madison at this point and it was just sheer luck that he didn’t drop her.)
Elisa was mortified. “Inakupo - anak, WAG!” (Oh sweet Mother of God, my child, NO!
Chito promptly lost it. “Patay kang bata ka, Nuncio.” (You’re a dead man, Nuncio.)
Vincent was wheezing. “Aba, ang liit-liit mo pa, marunong ka na ng kalokohan.” (Already a mischief maker at your age.)
“Apparently, Filipino humor begins at birth,” Thomas remarked drily, gently tapping Madison on the nose. She giggled.
“Pasensya ka na, anak, hindi ganyan ka-pogi ang Daddy mo talaga,” Elisa quipped.
Thomas willed himself not to blush. “I’m pretending I didn’t understand that” even as Vincent exclaimed “HUY!” in mock-outrage.
It was caught on video.
They would all eventually forget about it, until it was unearthed by a Kapamilya reporter on the day the world found themselves with two Popes.
Postscript to the Daddy Incident
His Eminence learned, much to his regret, that he should never be without his Roman collar when out and about with the younger members of his Staff.
“Excuse me, er… is this your Dad?” The restaurant waiter asked curiously.
Look, it wasn’t his fault that Jennifer, one of his PR persons, was a Filipino with Spanish ancestry and that they did sort of look alike.
(And maybe he hadn’t had a daydream or two about having grown-up children with Vincent in some other life where they weren’t priests.)
Also, it wasn’t his fault that both he and Jennifer had identical expressions of sheer mortification while Vincent decided to be of no help at all and lost it completely. Aileen, one of his other PR persons, also decided to betray her best friend and her boss by telling the waiter, with the biggest grin: “Yes, yes they are.”
Footnotes
For the record, Thomas is perfectly willing to take on Dad duties, if Vincent would like to present him with a baby.
Also for the record, Vincent’s reaction to this is: “HUY TIGILAN MOKO. MAY TIYANAK KA NA.”
This has nothing to do with my real life experience of being mistaken for: Canadian
European
Foreign Person Who Does Not Speak Tagalog 😭
Totally NOT the long lost child of Thomas Lawrence OMG. 😭😭😭
Also, Thomas is fairly sure that he has not fathered any children, as the most risque thing he’s ever done in his life was kiss Bess Suffolk underneath the apple tree at St. Mary’s Cathedral. They were both sixteen and he was soon to enter seminary.
Also Vincent: AND WHO IS BESS SUFFOLK, THOMAS JACOPO BALDASSARE LOMELI LAWRENCE?!!!
An old woman will arrive at the station at 2:47 AM, she will not have enough money to pay the fare, let her in anyway. She will then board an unscheduled train at 3:00 AM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN HER AWAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
It was either a joke or some train executive's wife, that's what I thought when my manager gave me those specific instructions.
He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.
At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.
At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.
At 2:47 AM she was there.
I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.
But I had never met my grandmother.
"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "
It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.
"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.
"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.
We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?
"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.
The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.
"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.
A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.
The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.
Every time someone leaves kind words in the comments it makes my day! Even if I don't reply to each and every one (mostly because I can't think of something to say usually) I love it, so thank you all!
The Staff learned, to their everlasting regret, that while their Nuncio was generally game for anything that would help him better understand his host country, his stomach would not tolerate balut.
Cardinal Enteng was not pleased with this particular misadventure into Filipino cuisine and promptly issued a ban on balut at the Nunciature, on pain of the dreaded tsinelas.
Between him and the Nunciature's formidable old cook, Sister Josefina, they would ensure that Cardinal Lawrence would have a better experience with Filipino food. In fact, while he had to make do with lugaw as he recovered, His Eminence found that he found a proper arroz caldo rather to his liking.
(In general, he found that he enjoyed the food, as long as it was cooked by his dear Vincent.
Also, he did figure out what "kisspirin" and "yakapsul" meant and heaven help him, he rather thoroughly enjoyed his medicine, provided that it was delivered by "Doctor Vincent.")
What if with Thomas’s renewed faith and Vincent’s attempts to feed him and promote self-care, Thomas just starts looking better and better.
Like we know he has a six-pack but with enough sleep and food, he just starts looking younger and healthier. The wrinkles are fading, his eyes have light in them, his singing voice that had diminished with time is now back.
Members of the Curia are doing a double-take when he walks by. In a year, he somehow looks younger than Bellini. Visiting bishops and cardinals are “is that the Dean? There’s no way.”
Every confession is just
“Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been 2 weeks since my last confession. I am ashamed to say I have felt lust towards Cardinal Lawrence.”
With the bishop on the other side thinking “oh, it’s not just me. Thank the lord.”
During mass, there are priests crying from how beautiful Thomas’s singing is and they’re trying to pass it off as “the Holy Spirit is just so moving”. Even Tedesco is drying his eyes and thinking “see, this is what we could have if we go back to all-Latin masses. This is what Vatican 2 robbed us of.”
The media is having a field day about the “Hot Cardinal” and the “Stunning Advisor to the Pope”. There are multiple Stan accounts for Thomas. There’s a priest out there who’s homily is “with enough devotion to the Lord, you too will be blessed with youth for look at our Cardinal Lawrence.” Some young people actually join the church because of this homily.
Bellini is having to tell world leaders and organizations that Thomas will not be attending this international tour but we are very pleased that so many people are interested in the Church.
Ray is contemplating if he can get Thomas on a skincare routine.
Vincent is half “I’m so happy Thomas is doing so much better. Mi Tesoro” and half “I’ve messed up and have introduced temptation into this holy place. Look forward Vincent, look forward, you are holding mass. It will be very obvious if you keep looking at him. Oh my god, he is beautiful and his voice is like the angels. Truly the Holy Spirit is well and alive in him. Look how many are brought to tears by it. Stop looking at Thomas like that Bishop Fitzgerald, we’re in church. Have some decorum.”
I need something to happen like he falls into a fountain or a fellow cardinal gets hurt and Lawrence takes off his shirt to staunch the bleeding, either way he takes off his shirt in front of everyone especially Vincent and the press.
I need Twitter to freak out and stan accounts about the hot Cardinal with the six pack. I need Vincent to visibly short circuit on camera and for some mid-20s college grad Catholic guys to seriously contemplate their sexuality and the possibility of priesthood as a career path over investment banking. Those hot priest calendars in Rome have a new addition for the coming year.
I need American Conservative Alpha-male podcasts to be putting this 75 year old man as a the face of Red-pill content only for the Vatican to release a statement denouncing them. Thomas is somehow responsible for a large amount of men abandoning red-pill content.
Thomas is mortified and does not want to know anything that is going on while Aldo is ecstatic. Ray and Sabbadin, who both have a Twitter account are following this drama religiously. Tedesco posts a photo of when he and Thomas were younger in a “he isn’t gay, look at him helping me when I was the victim of a car bomb” and it’s Thomas carrying him bridal-style. (Vincent is very jealous)
I cannot write a full fic for the next two weeks due to my schedule so this is my contribution to the fandom. May you feast on what little I can offer 🍝.
Notes on the Care and Feeding of Your Papal Nuncio by the Manila Nunciature Staff
The following is a list of rules compiled by the Manila Nunciature Staff as they slowly get to know their new Papal Nuncio, Thomas Jacopo Baldassare Lomeli Cardinal Lawrence. The staff was delighted to find that their new nuncio was sweet, good-natured and was happy to immerse himself in his new role here in the Philippines.
They also got some help from Manila Archbishop Vincent "Enteng" Benitez.
Do not allow your Nuncio to do anything more complex on a Microsoft Excel sheet than the basic SUM formula. He will end up crying and adorably pathetic and you'll feel like you've lost 10,000 Langit Points in the process.
Please see the laminated printout of common Excel formulas and their meanings and ensure that the Nuncio can get his hands on it at all times.
Do not allow your Nuncio to wallow in his office working on documents and reading detective novels. He needs daily enrichment.
To the staff member who let our Nuncio loose in a Booksale - you know what you did. Next time, tie a balloon to his fascia or something so we don't lose him.
Please do not explain what is BookTok to our Nuncio. But feel free to listen to his Opinions on certain books and authors, while wandering Booksale, because he is much, much better than BookTok. Also funnier.
To the staff member who allowed our poor Nuncio to eat balut - 10,000 years in Purgatory for you. Never again!
To the staff member who taught our Nuncio all the Filipino swear words, Cardinal Enteng will be waiting for you in the confessional booth. Humanda ka.
Apparently, English afternoon tea is a Thing. Otherwise known as merienda. We shall ensure that our Nuncio is properly fed so he doesn't look like a perpetually exhausted and undernourished pigeon.
Sister Clarita has already taken note of what sort of Filipino food our Nuncio enjoys. Cardinal Enteng is totally in cahoots with her. "We need to get His Eminence to a proper fighting weight. He's much too thin."
The magic words to get our Nuncio to eat are: "But Cardinal Enteng cooked this for you!" (He never fails to beam and say, "My, this is delicious." He will also invariably end up with second helpings, even though he tries to protest it).
Wandering all over Manila, starting with Intramuros and Binondo, is part of enrichment and immersion in his new country. These are TOTALLY not dates (especially if he's doing the wandering with Cardinal Enteng).
Remember to ensure that the portable Jisulife fan is fully charged and always packed in the Nuncio's bag (together with the water bottle). He's not yet used to the heat here.
Our Nuncio is totally willing to try Filipino foodstuffs and if SOMEONE TRIES TO MAKE HIM EAT BALUT AGAIN WE WILL THROW YOU INTO MANILA BAY.
Otap, ensaymada, puto and empanadas are totally fine though. He likes dipping the otap into his favorite Earl Grey tea.
Apparently our Nuncio has way too much fun riding the local jeepneys, and luckily, he's tall enough to still climb the ones built like Mt. Apo and strong enough to help boost Cardinal Enteng. (Cardinal Enteng does not blush at this, nope nope nope.)
The Papal Nuncio AU - in which former Vatican Secretary of State Thomas Lawrence ends up in the Philippines as its new Papal Nuncio. He ends up happily settling into his new role with the help of his Manila staff and Cardinal Vincent Benitez.
Look, it's more of my Twitter kalokohan coming over to Tumblr.
Vincent adored his newest great niece. It was an amusing coincidence that the kid mostly took after the Benitez side of the family except for her brilliant blue eyes, which were, coincidentally, a similar shade to her godfather, Thomas.
Ninong Thomas, of course, was always happy to babysit his darling goddaughter.
