#acolyte virgil

[mad-bird-writes]

The Order of the Pallid Mask - Acolyte Virgil

Virgil grew up as one of the many orphaned and dispossessed children of the Sundered City. Whether his mother died or simply abandoned him, he never knew, and nowadays does not care. The earliest days of his childhood have since been forgotten, but somebody must have looked after him, else he wouldn't have lived long enough to reach double digits, let alone adulthood.

For as long as he cares to remember, he lived hand-to-mouth in the Sundered City's hardscrabble outskirts, competing with the other urchins for food and water, shelter and territory. Here, he learned most of the skills that carried him; how to steal, how to fight, how to go unseen. Whether it was by these skills or by sheer luck, he only came to grief in his mid-twenties, when he ran afoul of a particularly vicious-tempered stall owner in the Market of Remnants. Purloined piece of rough-grain bread still in hand, he was dragged to the centre of the market and "dealt with" by a scattered handful of unscrupulous traders who were sick and tired of urchins and outlaws like Virgil.

Law and order have not existed in the Sundered City for as long as anyone can recall. If the people want justice, they must deal it out themselves.

Once the beating was over and a small crowd had gathered and dispersed, Virgil was left to live or die, however the fates saw fit. Somehow, the fates were on his side, and a well-meaning passerby picked him up and took him to the Cloister of Saint Cassilda.

Here, safe for the first time in his life, he recovered from his injuries and heard the teachings of the Order. Though skeptical at first, he soon found himself enchanted by promises of a better world. By promises of Lost Carcosa and its King in Yellow.

And, of course, by the hopeful words and kind heart of the Order's High Priestess, Sariann.

She, in turn, was drawn to this unlucky stranger in their midst, and took him under her wing, overseeing as much of his education and slow indoctrination as she had time for. Over time, a bond of mutual trust, respect, and friendship formed between priestess and acolyte; in time, she appointed him as her personal attendant.

Nowadays, he is equally devoted to his "mistress" and the faith they share, but he can't help but hold some wariness towards the Masked Elders and their cryptic machinations, especially as time passes and the effects on Sariann become more and more obvious, obvious to none but him.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hypermobility

Okay wait I have a prompt!!! If you wanna So I've been reading a lot of fics recently that are in space aus, with the whole humans are deathworlders concept (idk how this is common across my fandoms but it is so I'm binging them lol). And I had an idea based on recent irl events. – anon (long ask, cut for brevity)

inspired by my lovely @ghostofasecretary who has trained all of our friend group to look for hypermobility on account of our schlorpy joints :)

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: loosely implied analogical i guess, but as with most of my shit can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count; 1809

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily. "L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?" "Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?" "Elbows don't bend like that!" Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual. Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

Roman clicks at Remus as he comes onto the lab floor. Remus clicks back as he logs onto his station, sighing as he looks at the absolute mess someone's fucking made of the logs—seriously, it's only been one quarter cycle, how are they this fucked up already?—and Roman immediately leans over to see what he's sighing at.

"Wait, what's that?"

"Some xetron made an absolute fucking disaster out of the hadron logs."

Roman winces in sympathy and his carapace shifts. "Are you gonna do yours before you clean that up, or—?"

The last part of his question gest interrupted when Logan comes onto the floor, waving a brief hello with his fingers instead of his antenna—because humans don't have antennae, which was a pretty sharp learning curve for both of them when they'd been so confused as to why this human was refusing to talk to them or even show his feelings, they'd had a few apologetic shifts before Logan realized what was going on and explained everything—and raising an eyebrow when he noticed them clustered around Remus's station.

"Is there something wrong?"

"The shift before us messed up their hadron logs."

Logan rolls his eyes. "You'd think that for life forms insistent that their gravitational curves made them more naturally prepared for graviton scans, they'd have a better sense of how to record them properly."

"You're spellcasting on the acolytes, Logan."

Logan frowns, glancing at his tablet, before the equivalent phrase pings on the screen and he hums. "Ah, I see. Yes, well, if you'd like my help at any point, I only have the routine gamma sweeps to do this shift, so I should be amenable."

"Oh, I can do it, it's just a pain in my thorax."

Roman chuckles and heads back to his own station, probably to sneakily-not-so-sneakily ask some of the others on the shift who are fucking competent what the fuck happened. Remus gets himself ready to dive into the long and tedious work of redoing the spin increments and calculating the proper uncertainties for the right variables—honestly, do they even look at the readouts? It has the layout right there! And it's not like the other logs are invisible! Just look at the rows two microns above the empty one you're supposed to be filling out!—and manages to sink into a rhythm for the first half of the shift. Granted, he's absolutely muttering about how stupid it is that they aren't even calculating the basic momentum, let alone the angular velocity to account for the other celestial bodies in the middle of the waveforms, but it's fine, and Roman keeps up his running commentary of the molecular analysis machine that takes its sweet-ass time to do even the most basic of scans, and every so often he'll hear a small huff from Logan as he corrects their probe's trajectory, but for the most part, the lab is a quiet and serene place to be.

God, he can't wait until he gets rotated back to the engineering department full-time.

Like, yeah, he likes spending time with his brother, and the human's cool—he's really funny when he lets himself be, like his wit is drying than the mountain deserts on Cre-Ativa, and his facial expressions are fucking plat when their superiors are being xetrons, but there's only so much he can take of this quiet where not much happens. And he has to deal with the idiots who don't know how to format hadron logs correctly. This is the third time he's had to correct a typo that's rendered the rest of the calculations useless.

"I'm honestly about to recommend them for a review of the training course, that's how fucking serious this is."

"Maybe there's something wrong with how the keyboard is adapted for their limbs?"

"That would explain some of the typos, not all of them. And it definitely wouldn't explain why there's a massive formatting change about halfway through."

"Perhaps there's a shorthand they're using for some of the notes that we don't know about, and they're forgetting to correct them at the end of their shift."

"Yeah, but then they should tell us that, instead of—" Roman trails off and Remus looks up.

Logan is…stretching, yes, that's the right word. His limbs are extended over his head and his back is arched, but his upper limbs are…bending. Not like the way they normally bend, they're bending…too much? Not enough? The wrong way? Yeah, that's it. The wrong way.

Logan notices they've gone quiet and looks over. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're, uh," Remus stammers, "are you—okay?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, what is it?"

"Nothing, nothing."

He and Roman exchange a look—the first rule in the human etiquette training manual was if they get weird, just roll with it for a reason—and get back to minding their own business. Admittedly, some of the errors do make more sense now that he's looking at it like it's some kind of shorthand he doesn't know yet, but that wouldn't explain why some of these variables are straight-up wrong and why they wouldn't bother to tell him what the shorthand is so that he's not trying to do the work of two shifts in the time of one.

Something he does appreciate is that the way the shifts in the lab are set up, opposed to engineering, is that sometimes there will be people whose shifts halfway overlap with theirs. So there's always at least one set of people that are staying in the lab while a changeover is happening and then there's not that risk that the equipment will be left unattended. Apparently they learned that lesson the hard way when the molecular exhibitor decided to go into overload in the five minutes where there wasn't anyone logged in, and nearly destroyed the matter wave projector on the station next to it. The justification was in the name of safety, but really everyone knows it's just so the higher-ups know exactly who to blame when shit goes awry.

Whatever the case may be, the door slides open to reveal the other human down here, Virgil, yawning as he makes his way over to his station.

"Hello, hello, everyone."

"Hi, Virgil!"

Virgil winces. "You are way too chipper this early in the morning."

"It's past the circadian half cycle, Virgil."

"Yeah, and?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to acclimate to your schedule on your own time," Logan says, stretching again, "even though I'm sure your caffeine tolerance has—what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily.

"L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?"

"Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?"

"Elbows don't bend like that!"

Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual.

Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

"Logan? Do we need to take you to medbay?" Roman's already rushing out from behind his station. "There's a pack in the corner, I can—"

"Oh, for—relax, all of you, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh, yeah, fine, that's what I'd describe elbows that bend all schlorpy as, yeah," Virgil says, "what the—does that not hurt?"

"What? No, it doesn't hurt, look, your joints—"

"My joints suck ass but at least they're fucking bending the amount they're supposed to!"

Remus isn't quite sure how human joints are capable of such a surprising and invasive act, but never let it be said he's not curious. "Your joints are capable of performing anal suction?"

"What the fuck? No! It's a turn of phrase!"

"Oh. Disappointing."

"Ignore him," Roman says, "Logan, are you sure you're—"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm just—oh," he mumbles, prodding at his tablet, "what's the word for this in Common?"

"There's no word for schlorpy elbows, Logan—"

"Yes, there is!" He pokes around for a few more seconds before he lets out a noise of triumph and says something that the translators don't translate.

"It's what?" Virgil just shakes his head when Logan tries again. "I don't know what that means, bud."

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me try it this way. What's it called when you are in a state of heightened energy and it leads to outbursts of things like running around, or talking too loudly, or being high-strung?"

"Remus," Roman offers helpfully.

"No, Roman."

"Are you talking about being excitable?"

"No, there's a specific word for it. It also serves as a prefix for being too much of something, or an overabundance of something."

"Too much—do you mean the word hyper?"

"Yes! Yes, that's it. And then what's the name of the thing that some people hang over cribs that have little stars or animals?"

Virgil stares at Logan for another moment. "You mean a baby mobile?"

"Yes, but only the second word."

"Mobile?"

"Yes, that's it. Then put the two words together—"

"There were probably so many other ways you could've said you were hypermobile, L, I'm just gonna put that out there—"

"Well, it got you to guess it, didn't it?"

"It's too fucking early for this shit."

"Again, it is afternoon—"

"Shut up."

Roman looks back and forth between the two humans, still twitching as though he's going to be asked to sprint for the medbay at a moment's notice. "So…is Logan…are you alright?"

"Yes, for the fourth time, I'm fine. Virgil's just a little excitable, that's all."

"You try being normal when joints are doing unexpected things," Virgil mumbles, more to his caf than anything else, but he reaches behind himself to pat Roman's carapace. "He's fine, his body just does that."

"But you said it bends the wrong way, how is that fine?"

"There is a thing known as hypermobility," Logan says, "it…oh, dear, it basically means that certain joints will bend…more."

"He's not hurt, that's pretty much all I know."

Roman looks like he's about to protest but Remus just clicks at him. They exchange another look as the humans settle back to work.

Humans are weird, just gotta roll with it.

These hadron logs, on the other hand—

"I'm gonna punt these flimflobbers into the next star we see."

"Can I help? They fucked up the carbon dating program as well."

"How do you fuck that up?"

"Ask them, not me!"

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

this is random but do you have a list of titles the unknowns give the players? like scar being killing lamb and so on

Yes I can cobble together a list I think! These are all from the various 003 chapters in the fic.

Scar: 'killing lamb' (one who is both sacrifice and killer), though also suggested were 'lost one', 'bloodied glass-grit' (another term for sand), 'martyr virgil' (virgil the poet who died of disease) and 'final sacrifice'

Xisuma: 'stranded cecilia' - cecilia being the saint of musicians but also suffocated and was beheaded / 'impure acolyte'

Mumbo: 'failed wish'

Pearl005: 'timeless hitchhiker'

Impulse: 'helpless friend'

As you will notice, the Unknowns' naming conventions are quite pointed and deliberate, and rather biased. I enjoy coming up with them!

[vitusvital]

House Aviatis

House Aviatis. The Sixth House. Keeper of the Veil, Seer of All Things, and the Triumphant Spirit of Adristan. The believers, the seers, the acolytes. Residing on the island of Pearlscape in the temple called the Heil. Would you be part of this house?

In the vein of Game of Thrones and Dune, this high-fantasy is full of political intrigue and romantic tension.

Asriel Veservus is not ready to inherit power. Rhaella cannot inherit power. Virgil Midar does not want power. With the threat of battle looming, they band together to uncover just how deep traitorous blood runs in their houses.

Heirs of Destruction is the first book in The Crownkiller Saga, a new high-fantasy series by award-winning indie author T.N. Vitus. Preorder on Amazon and add to Goodreads today!

[wingedshadowfan]

ugh this was funny i admit but also.

i hate michelle and it's so clear she knows darlington but doesn't get him.

his early and teen years were so horrible he ended up risking his life for a chance at a peek into this world of magic (see: the flashbacks about him living alone in black elm, dean sandow "recruiting" him in the hospital, the address moths scene), and because his curiosity and greed for knowledge are insatiable and it's all he's ever wanted (see: what golgarot showed/promised him during the second descent to hell), and once he got into lethe, he repayed it with dedication, loyalty, readiness to serve the ninth house and protect it with everything he has (a knight, an acolyte, the golden boy of lethe), only to be met with nothing back - not a single person acknowledging he's gone and willing to try to bring him back (other than alex and dawes, of course), not even his own virgil.

so yes, he would go to hell for anyone who needed saving and yes, he would also go to hell just to take notes on the climate. what about it?

it feels a bit twisted of her to be making fun of him for all that while he's supposedly suffering in hell and she's refusing to do anything about it.

Alex: Darlington...He'd go to hell for me, for you, for anyone who needed saving.

Michelle: Alex, he'd go to hell just to take notes on the climate.

[galinvant-totherescue]

“I know how the mob works,” I murmur, “you think Sidious fully left us alone? No. He sent one of your fellow acolytes into my classes at school until Fee had to home school me. The mob is scary and with Sidious dead we finally were out. My brothers would rather be dead than go through it again.”

"Well- I know you know that," he nods, "But this- it's different with Virgil and when you're accustomed to the bad stuff it can be hard to know."

[ironwoman359]

Some Fake Fic titles:

-Calvinball -Cranberry Sauce -Agent of Chaos -Old Spice -Remus vs. the Kool-Aid Man

—

Calvinball: Remus and Roman invite their friends to play a game with them, and the others agree…if only they could understand what exactly Roman and Remus are playing. 

Cranberry Sauce: It’s the Sanders’s first Thanksgiving with their new foster children and Patton is determined to make it absolutely perfect! But things keep going wrong: Logan is forced to take an unexpected shift at work, Patton’s brother Janus gets stuck at the airport because of a snowstorm, the twins come down with a fever and Patton forgot to buy cranberry sauce, the one thing that Virgil had quietly answered when asked if there was any special food he’d like for Thanksgiving. It’s all Patton can do to avoid breaking down right there in the kitchen…how will their special day be salvaged now?

Agent of Chaos: Remus is perfectly happy serving as a henchman to the Dark Lord of Chaos. It’s a fun job, challenging work, and there are great health benefits! So what if some people get maimed here or there, all part of the gig, right? But then his eye is caught by a bright and bubbly acolyte to the High Priestess of Order. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to the boy, and strikes up a hesitant relationship with him. But when his Lord orders a strike on the Temple of the God of Order, Remus realizes he must choose between his realtionship with Patton and his duty as an Agent of Chaos. 

Old Spice: Logan, after realizing his crush on Roman Prince is utterly out of his control, reluctantly goes to his big brother Janus for help on wooing boys. Janus, unfortunately, is only 15 and thinks that Old Spice and Axe Body Spray are God’s gift to middle schoolers. 

Remus vs. the Kool-Aid Man: Remus has created an epic battle royal in the imagination where he pits his team (the other sides) against a team of franchise characters such as Ronald McDonald, Toucan Sam, and of course, the Kool-Aid Man. Who will win this all out death match (where no one really dies, and where all the weapons are water guns filled with maple syrup)?

Fake Fic Summaries are CLOSED

[octavianrising]

❂🐦❂

There he was, feeling something foreign in Virgil's touch and finding himself excited by the unfamiliarity. Even before Oztalun had selected him to be an Archdruid, Octavian stood apart from the people he led. He was without equal. Even the great Augustus Ceaser sank to his knees before Octavian's superiority, paving the way for him to ascend as Emperor as an act of service. He acknowledged Virgil as an equal, the one person who could possibly understand Octavian's bird's eye view of the world.

This wasn't a man to command or instruct, this was someone who was at his apex. Powerful and strong, the fact that Virgil didn't need him would have normally put Octavian off as such a quality was far from his usual type. Yet he was drawn in, desiring not to conquer but uplift the man in front of him. The grand fantasy plays out in Octavian's mind about how one stroke of fate prevented this union of power being cemented lifetimes ago. Octavian and the Ivy's Soverign should have always ruled as one, but there was no sense in lamenting what could've been. His empire was dead, so he would have to build something new and return the spirit of his first home to this land.

"We'll reclaim everything that was lost, settle every debt, and when the ashes of conquest settle we'll be at the summit as it should've been. Together." Octavian's hand folded over the one pressed to his chest. Between his loyal acolytes and the backing of history's most powerful coven, he had everything he needed. Appreciation, intrigue, and a lust he finally accepted drove him forward, and after looking deep into Virgil's eyes, blue fire filled his own. He was the phoenix, and now he'd finally be at his prime at it was because of this. The pull was unbeatable, and Octavian's hunger drove him to take the man's lips with his own. "Your days of carrying your burdens alone are over," he promises through his heavy breathing, pressing his forehead tightly to the others in his brief respite before diving back in to feast. "My strength is yours, as yours is mine."

Alone at the top; Virgil knew something of what that felt like, he knew all about it actually. That pressure was something that had nearly broken him, though Virgil had risen from the ashes of that early twenty-somethings that just about lost everything to stand as the man he was today, he carried that kid everywhere he went. Octavian had changed, in no way had the phoenix softened, but The End had posed a different shift at the core of the archdruid that Virgil wouldn't have expected. For all the sovereign's responsibilities, for all his power, for all his influence, and for how extensive his family happened to be, he was also remarkably lonely. In the boardroom every head turned to look at him when he spoke and he'd come to hold the same sway in the senate, not because of anything so simple as title, but because he'd fought for it and he'd earned it. The Ivy rose amidst the rubble of the ruins of Rome, now was the time that they would rebuild the city into something that they could be proud of, something that emulated the sort of future that Virgil wanted to create. Old grudges would never be forgotten, and those who'd wronged the witches of this world would learn the true error of their ways because Virgil would make sure of it.

Octavian's fingers brushed against his and Virgil could feel the warmth that the phoenix exuded, that spark of power that brimmed beneath the surface. All that strength that flooded underneath his skin, it was addicting in its way, and what happened next was an act of mutual respect muddled with reverence and obvious desire.

Virgil moved the phoenix's hand to his chest and pressed it over his heart, "Etruria lives. You and I were meant to rule, together."

[aion-rsa]

The Walking Dead Season 11: Who Lives and Who Dies

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Walking Dead article contains major spoilers.

Many of us thought this day would never come, but as all of The Walking Dead‘s characters know very well, everything that has a beginning has an end. Season 11 of AMC’s flagship zombie drama will be the show’s final run of episodes, but fortunately it’s an expanded season. Fans will get 24 more episodes, broken up into three parts, before the show — and a few of its characters — meets its end.

And it wouldn’t be a season of The Walking Dead without a few big deaths along the way. As we have in past seasons, we’ve made some predictions regarding who will bite the bullet in season 11. For the final time, here are the characters we think are on the chopping block and the ones we believe will live on to remember them after the credits roll on the series finale.

Keep track of all The Walking Dead season 11 deaths below:

DEAD

Roy (C. Thomas Howell)

Prediction: Dies

Result: Dead

Roy took an arrow to the face during a Reaper ambush.

Gage (Jackson Pace)

Prediction: Dies

Result: Dead

Gage stabbed himself in the chest twice, attempting to kill himself before being devoured by walkers in a train car. Zombie Gage was then put down with a shot to the head by Gabriel.

ALIVE

Pope (Ritchie Coster)

Prediction: Dies

I’ve never seen a guy more likely to die in the first half of a Walking Dead season than Pope, the leader of the show’s newest villains, the Reapers, who themselves strike me as filler villains for Maggie and Daryl while the real story at the Commonwealth develops. I assume the Reapers will be out of the picture by the time Alexandria needs to turn its attention to the much larger settlement in the second part of season 11.

Pamela Milton (Laila Robins)

Prediction: Dies

The Governor of the Commonwealth is poised to be the final season’s big bad. A bureaucrat hellbent on preserving the way things were before the zombie outbreak, Milton even established a caste system within her settlement to propagate class inequality. She represents everything that was wrong with the world before the fall of society and the complete anti-thesis of how the Alexandrians do things.

If you’ve read the comics, you know how Pamela’s story ends in Robert Kirkman and Charlie Adlard’s story, but the TV series is known for taking sharp left turns when you least expect it. One thing we know for sure is that the Alexandrians will have to reckon with Pamela’s rule before the series finale.

Lance Hornsby (Josh Hamilton)

Prediction: Dies

A Commonwealth acolyte and bookkeeper of the community, Lance is one of Milton’s chief personnel, helping her run the settlement’s government. He’s also seems like cannon fodder to me as things heat up between the Commonwealth and Alexandria, an early death that could spark a conflict between the two factions.

Mercer (Michael James Shaw)

Prediction: Lives

Mercer is loyal to the Commonwealth but there are more sides to him than his distinct orange military armor lets on. He’s one of the most interesting characters of the comic’s final storyline, and it would be a shame to lose him before we can see his story through.

Elijah (Okea Eme-Akwari)

Prediction: Lives

Elijah made his debut in one of the most WTF moments of season 10 when he rescued Aaron and Alden from the Whisperers. For weeks after his reveal, people wondered who the man in the steal mask could be. When he returned in the final six episodes of season 10, the show just kind of moved on without fleshing him out, which is unfortunate since he looks so cool! I’m going to assume that the series is saving a big Elijah-focused episode for later in the season and that he’s too awesome to kill off. You don’t just introduce a blade expert in a steel mask for no reason!

Virgil (Kevin Carroll)

Prediction: Dies

Virgil has a lot to atone for after kidnapping and drugging Michonne in season 10. At the end of the season, we learn that he’s found a disoriented Connie in the woods. His redemption arc will likely include helping Connie survive on the walker-infested road back to Alexandria. Will that eventually involve a final sacrifice to save her?

Connie (Lauren Ridloff)

Prediction: Lives

Connie’s been through a hell of a lot in the past season. After surviving an explosion, a cave-in, and an entire walker horde, Connie’s made it out of Whisperer territory but is still a ways from home. Expect part of season 11’s story to be about Connie’s odyssey and ultimate reunion with her sister and Daryl.

Lydia (Cassady McClincy)

Prediction: Lives

Lydia was at the center of Alexandria’s conflict with the Whisperers for a season and a half. With Alpha and Beta defeated, and their faction all but obliterated, I have to wonder what Lydia has left to do on the show. That said, the writers have continued to find interesting ways to explore this character, and someone has to live on to lead the next generation of Alexandrians. I think Lydia is in it for the long haul.

Magna (Nadia Hilker)

Prediction: Dies

Magna was sidelined pretty quickly after her introduction. While a reunion with Yumiko seems like the logical direction for her story, The Walking Dead universe is a cruel one. She could be headed toward tragedy.

Yumiko (Eleanor Matsuura)

Prediction: Lives

In season 11, Yumiko is inheriting a major storyline from the comics that likely means she’ll survive the final 24 episodes of the series. Of course, the TV show could always alter that storyline to bring a tragic end to Yumiko’s story.

Luke (Dan Fogler)

Prediction: Dies

It’s pretty wild that Luke has survived as long as he has. A man of the arts hardly has a place in the cruel world of this show, but he has clumsily persevered thus far. But if the writers are planning an especially bloody final season, I’d put Luke on the short list.

Kelly (Angel Theory)

Prediction: Lives

Kelly has been one of the best late additions to the show. It would suck for her to finally reunite with her sister only to meet an unexpected end.

Alden (Callan McAuliffe)

Prediction: Dies

Another candidate for the chopping block. I’m surprised he’s even made it this long.

King Ezekiel (Khary Payton)

Prediction: Lives

Yes, Ezekiel has thyroid cancer, and were he in Alexandria, that would mean his inevitable death. But the Commonwealth is a different ballgame, an advanced settlement in the comics that will likely have the doctors and surgical resources needed to save him. That is, if Ezekiel isn’t caught up in Milton’s caste system.

Jerry (Cooper Andrews)

Prediction: Dies

I love Jerry and don’t want to see the tank with a heart of gold go. But if the season needs an early death that pulls at the heart strings, Jerry is a prime candidate for a midseason casualty.

Father Gabriel Stokes (Seth Gilliam)

Prediction: Lives

Gabriel has evolved so much since his debut in season 5, becoming one of Alexandria’s key leaders. He’s come so far and even survived longer than his comic book counterpart. I’d hate to see him go so close to the end. So I’m just going to say he lives.

Aaron (Ross Marquand)

Prediction: Lives

Aaron seemed destined to die seasons ago, too kind and trusting to survive this long. But here he is, still fighting and surviving. He’s lost the man he loves, his arm, and many friends — and it’s all hardened him into a war machine. It’d be a shame for him to die now.

Rosita Espinosa (Christian Serratos)

Prediction: Lives

In the comics, Rosita’s head ended up on a pike during the Whisperer war, but her TV counterpart has persevered. It’s difficult to predict where her story goes at this point, but since she survived her comic book death, I assume the show’s writers have something in mind for her in season 11.

Eugene Porter (Josh McDermitt)

Prediction: Lives

Eugene has become an unlikely protagonist going into season 11. From a mulleted coward hiding behind his intelligence so that others protect him to the Alexandrian leading his people to the Commonwealth, Eugene is central to the plot of the final season, and I think that means he’s safe. Plus, Eugene is hilarious, and The Walking Dead can always use a little comedic relief.

Judith Grimes (Cailey Fleming)

Prediction: Lives

Result: Lived

NO.

Rick Grimes Jr. (Antony Azor)

Prediction: Lives

Nah.

Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan)

Prediction: Lives

I think The Walking Dead is going to end with one last big death, one last sacrifice before the credits roll on the massive zombie drama. Like Rick in the comics, one of the major characters of the TV series will likely become the martyr who inspires change inside the Commonwealth’s walls. Negan would probably be on the short list for this big moment from the comics, a villain finally choosing to do the right thing for a cause bigger than himself, a fitting conclusion to his seasons-long redemption arc. But Jeffrey Dean Morgan recently teased that he was already having discussions with AMC about a potential Negan spinoff after The Walking Dead has concluded, which means the former Savior leader is safe…unless the Negan show is a prequel.

Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride)

Prediction: Lives

This one’s an easy one: Melissa McBride is getting her own spinoff that will follow her character after The Walking Dead series finale. That means she’s safe.

Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus)

Prediction: Lives

Norman Reedus is joining McBride for that spinoff, so he’s safe, too. The actor even told us what the Daryl and Carol show will be about.

Maggie Rhee (Lauren Cohan)

Prediction: Dies

That leaves The Walking Dead with one logical choice to pick up Rick’s final storyline from the comic. It’s Maggie. It also makes a bit of sense from a logistical standpoint. Lauren Cohan has already left The Walking Dead universe once before to pursue other small and big screen projects. She’s back for the final 24 episodes of the series as a welcome legacy character but that doesn’t mean Cohan wants to stick around for longer than that. I assume Cohan’s returned to bring closure to her character, not to prepare for a spinoff.

Let us know your predictions for The Walking Dead season 11 in the comments!

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post The Walking Dead Season 11: Who Lives and Who Dies appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3yjleNH

[teacupfulofstarshine]

the crossroad of our destinies book three: air

cw: mild angst, cartoon violence, manipulation/betrayal, detailed fight scene including minor character death, blood, injury, weapons, sedatives, and manipulation, swearing, nightmare mention, references to past child abuse, mention of potential genocide

to skip the fight scene, skip the section that starts “There’s no need to be difficult, Roman.” 

wordcount: 6926

book one: earth // book two: fire // read it on ao3! 

“I’m hardly a master of air bending,” Patton says nervously, fidgeting with his hands. 

“You’re the only air bender that we know,” Thomas says, pressing his hands together and bowing his head. “Please, Pat, you have to teach me! Who else will do it?” 

“There are plenty of air benders in the temples where we live, Thomas, much more skilled than myself. I still think you’d be better off going there and seeking out one of the monks to train you.” Patton fidgets nervously with his hands. “I’m . . . not exactly a master airbender. I’m just a kid.” 

“We’re all just kids,” Thomas argues. “None of us chose to be thrown into this war, but we’re here now. Please, Patton. The sooner I learn air bending, the closer I’ll be to ending this war.” 

“And what happens when you do end the war?” Virgil asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“We’re all from different nations, different histories, different cultures. We never would have met without this war. What will happen when it ends? Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than ready for peace, but are we just . . . never going to see each other again?” 

“That’s stupid,” Roman says. “I’m not going to just stop being friends with you all once the war’s over. If anything, with my bitchass dad dead -”

“Language.”

“- I won’t have to worry about getting murdered for having friends. You’re all my friends, and I fully expect all of you to be at my wedding ceremony when I marry Dolos.” 

“Really?” Logan asks softly. “You would want us to come to your wedding?” 

“Of course I would,” Roman says. He reaches out and gently touches Logan’s shoulder. Logan smiles, and Virgil feels something tight in his chest begin to uncoil. “Somebody has to walk me down the aisle, after all.” 

“I volunteer as tribute!” Patton chirps eagerly. “And - and Thomas, I’m not an air bending teacher, by any stretch of the imagination, but if you’re willing to put up with me, I can try and teach you what I know.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“How many times have they done this now?” Roman asks. 

“Counting this? Sevent - nope, eighteen,” Virgil says. Thomas tries to copy what Patton is showing him, and he falls flat on his face. “I think the problem is that earth and air are on opposite ends of the bending spectrum, so their movements are the antithesis of each other. Earth bending is all solid movements and grounded footing, and air bending is about being light and detached.” 

“So what are you saying? Thomas won’t be able to learn how to do it?”

“No, he’ll be able to learn. Every Avatar before him has mastered all four elements, there’s no reason that he can’t do it too. It’s just gonna be particularly difficult to do this stage.” 

Thomas falls for the nineteenth time, screams in frustration, and punches a massive fireball into the sky. “Impressive size, poor technique!” Roman calls. 

“I’m not working on fire bending right now, criticism is unwarranted!” 

“This isn’t going to work, is it,” Logan says dryly. 

“Have some confidence in your brother,” Virgil says. “But no, I don’t think it is. We might need to try a different approach.” 

“Such as what? Patton’s the only air bender that we’ve got.” 

“Technically, we have Remy, too.” 

“What in the fresh hell are you smoking?” Roman says. Virgil ignores him, reaching out to gently pat Remy’s nose. The flying bison huffs out a puff of warm air that nearly knocks Roman over and gently pushes his nose into Virgil’s hand. 

“Fire benders learned to bend from the dragons, earth benders learned to bend from the badger moles, water benders learned to bend from the moon, and air benders learned to bend from the flying bison. I’m not saying that Remy has the temperament to be a bending master, mind you, I’m just saying that he could be a teacher.” Remy makes a disgruntled noise and shuffles off to flop down and sleep a few yards away. 

“He might have better luck than Patton is currently having,” Logan says. “I am sure he is trying his best, but Thomas is not showing promising results.” 

“Yeah, but think about how long it took for him to first make a flame when I was training him,” Roman argues. 

“We no longer have that kind of time,” Logan says. “The reports from your brother are getting more dire every day. Your father is speeding up his plans of conquest, and we cannot let him harm any more innocent civilians. We must stop him in his tracks, and that may necessitate accelerating my brother’s training schedule.” 

Thomas hits the ground again. Virgil winces at the noise. “We should have a team meeting about this.”

*~*~*~*~*

The team meeting takes several days. 

This is mostly because people (namely Logan, Thomas, both of them, and occasionally Patton) get fed up and storm away to blow off steam without taking it out directly on other people. Virgil does his best to maintain a neutral voice-of-reason position, but no one in their group has ever been particularly inclined to neutrality. (Logan claims that he is, but he is also the most prone to losing his temper.) 

Eventually, they come to a collective consensus that while Patton is doing his best to teach Thomas the ways of air bending, it may not be enough for the time frame they’re working with. “I’m doing my best,” Patton says, staring firmly into the campfire, “and I know that Thomas is doing his best, too. But I don’t think our bests are moving fast enough, given the timeline of the Fire Nation’s attacks.”

“According to Remus, my father is moving up the attack schedules every day,” Roman comments. “The faster Thomas can master air bending, the better.” 

“I agree,” Thomas says. Logan makes a face, rocks trembling at his feet, but Thomas reaches out and squeezes his wrist. “Hey, Lo, stop it. It’s not a personal attack on me. I’m not mad, he’s right.” Logan huffs, but lets himself calm down. “We have to find someone qualified to teach air bending and hope that they can help me.” 

“We should see which Air Nomad temple we’re closest to,” Patton says. “I think that’s our best bet. The monks there spend their whole lives training acolytes to bend air, they’ll be able to help you.” 

“Are we sure that’s the safest option?” Roman counters. “Remus said that Air Nomad dignitaries were meeting with Father, and if that’s true then -”

“We’re pacifists,” Patton says stubbornly. “We only fight if absolutely necessary. We would never side with a tyrant who’s trying to take over the entire world.” The fire flares a little, and Patton winces and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t mean to insult your dad, Roman. I just -"

“It’s okay,” Roman says. He lets out a long, slow, controlled breath, and Virgil watches as the fire returns to its original size. “It’s okay, you - you’re right. You’re right, Patton, you don’t have to apologize for that. My dad is a tyrant and he is an abusive asshole and he is trying to take over the entire world. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“But he’s still your father,” Patton says. “It only makes sense that you would have an emotional attachment to him.” 

“I don’t want to have an emotional attachment to him,” Roman pouts. “I barely want to have a genetic attachment to him! He’s a dumbass and he’s useless and - and I don’t need him or his validation!” He pushes to his feet angrily and throws a fireball towards the surrounding trees. Patton swiftly bends a vortex around the fire to suction out its oxygen before it can cause any significant damage. 

“We know,” Logan says softly. “You are more than your father’s son, Roman. You have grown to be more than he could ever be.” Roman’s shoulder shake, chest heaving as he turns away. Virgil reaches out and touches his shoulder; Roman flinches, but when Virgil starts to pull his hand away, he whimpers and leans back towards the touch. 

“We know you’re not him,” Virgil says quietly. “I know you’re not him.” 

“He’s hurt all of you so much,” Roman whispers. “He’s the reason you lost your father, Virgil. He’s the reason Thomas and Logan’s village was razed to the ground, he’s the reason that Dolos had half of his face burnt off, he’s the reason my mother abandoned Remus and me and - and he did so much bad shit and - and I have to fix it, I have to -”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Thomas says. “I’m the Avatar, Roman, and it’s my job to restore balance to the world. I know that you have your own reasons for wanting to dethrone your father, but you are not responsible for what he did.” He grips Roman’s hands and gives what Virgil can only describe as his best “I’m-the-Avatar-and-everything-is-okay-now” smile. 

Virgil has trouble pulling comfort from it, but Roman seems to. “Thanks, Thomas.” He squeezes Thomas’s hands back, and he smiles. Virgil is still uneasy about pretty much every aspect of their situation, but he can at least relax in the knowledge that their little group’s uneven edges have settled comfortably against each other again.

*~*~*~*~*

You are in more danger than you realize.

Virgil lifts his head, and suddenly he’s not curled around the campfire sleeping with the rest of his friends. He stands in the middle of a vast expanse of black nothingness. Wisps of smoke curl around his ankles, creeping up towards his knees. He swats them away hurriedly, whirling around and watching a puff of water vapor appear where he’d just breathed out. 

“Who are you?! Where am I?!”

You are safe, little water bender. I am a friend, one you have rescued before.  

The mist stirs in front of him, forming a small dragon shape coiled in front of him. “You’re . . . the dragon I saved from the Fire Nation temple?”

The very same. Your fire bender friend is right to be suspicious. The Air Nomads are acting strangely. There are disturbances in the Spirit World. Proceed with caution and make sure that you protect those close to you.  

“Disturbances? Isn’t it Thomas’s job to balance the natural and spirit worlds as the Avatar? Should I tell him about it?” 

This is not a disturbance he can heal, not yet. You must keep him safe until he matures enough to help us. Protect him, little water bender, and keep your eyes peeled. If the Avatar falls, the world is doomed. 

The darkness surges up around Virgil, and he wakes up screaming.

*~*~*~*~* 

“And you’re sure that you’re okay?” Patton asks, gently touching his shoulder. Virgil rubs his arms, shaking softly. “You were screaming so loudly . . . you were so scared . . .” 

“It was just a nightmare,” Virgil says. Patton wraps an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, hesitantly, as though he’s going to push it away. Normally he would, but Virgil is still shaken, and he leans into the soft touch. Patton makes a soft noise and pulls him closer. 

“I know it was,” Patton says. “But it’s okay. You’re awake now, and we’re here. It’ll be alright. We’ll be at the Western Air Temple in a couple days, and then we’ll be totally safe.” 

Virgil doesn’t know how to tell him that they won’t be safe, that they’d be safer in the Fire Nation’s outlying villages than in the temple, because he’s seen the way Patton gets more excited the closer they get. So he stays silent, pressing close to his friend. 

*~*~*~*~*

Remy swishes his tail irritably as they glide closer to the mountains. “Is he okay?” Virgil asks. “He seems kinda . . . upset.” 

“He doesn’t like flying close to the mountains,” Patton says. “The winds are a lot stronger, and it takes more effort for him to course correct. He has to do it a lot more frequently, too.” 

Remy makes an exasperated huffing noise and veers sharply to the left. “It’s so pretty up here,” Roman wonders, leaning over the side of the saddle. “Isn’t it beautiful, Logan?” 

“Beautiful,” Logan deadpans. “There are so many different shades of black to see up here.” 

Roman winces, but Logan is smirking, so Virgil pats his shoulder reassuringly and turns his gaze to the mountains. There’s a large, elaborate structure built into the crevasses of the largest mountain, spires and peaks and buildings, some of which blend so seamlessly into the mountain they’re difficult to see. If he squints, he can just barely make out tiny figures flitting around the mountain. 

Remy lands at the base, rather than taking them all the way up to the top. “The head monks take turns bending the air currents around the Temple itself, so we can’t approach unannounced. We’re just gonna have to hike up there.” 

“Why would we hike when Thomas and I can bend us up the mountain?” Logan says. He hops off of Remy’s saddle and wiggles his toes, happy to be back on the ground. “It will not take long at all.” 

“But I don’t just want to leave Remy alone down here . . .” 

Logan squares his shoulders and leans into an earthbending stance. Within five minutes, he’s created a cave in the side of the mountain for Remy to settle into. “I promise we’ll come back for you,” Patton says, pressing his forehead against Remy’s nose. The bison huffs, but licks Patton back anyway. 

“I don’t like this,” Virgil says. “What if something goes wrong? We’ll be all the way up there, with no quick escape, I . . .”

“Are you expecting something to go wrong?” Patton asks softly. He looks upset, Virgil realizes, like he was expecting pushback. 

“Of course not, Pat,” Virgil says, reassuring. “I didn’t mean to say that I don’t trust your people. That’s not what I’m tryin’a say at all. I’m always nervous that something will go wrong. Anxiety, remember? It’s kind of my job to worry about stuff like this.” 

“I know,” Patton sighs, reaching over and patting at Virgil’s shoulder. “I appreciate you, Vee. But you know you don’t have to be worried, right? These are my people. They may not be the temple I grew up in, but they’re still my people. They won’t hurt us.” 

Virgil smiles, and wishes he believed Patton. 

*~*~*~*~*

Even with a master earth bender (not that he’d ever call Logan one to his face) and the Avatar himself, it takes them a good while to get up the mountain. Virgil gets more and more anxious the farther up the mountain they get, and Roman looks pretty antsy himself. He’d ditched his more traditional Fire Nation clothing for some of Thomas’s spares and he’d let Virgil style his hair to obscure his face. 

“How much farther?” he asks. Patton is bouncing eagerly on the tips of his toes. 

“Not long now!” 

When they finally crest over a ridge and into the temple, they’re greeted by a group of school-age children. They all stare at the strangers with expressions ranging from confusion to wariness to outright terror, and then Patton steps forward. He says something in a language Virgil doesn’t speak, but it must be some kind of Air Nomad greeting because all of the children parrot back in unison. 

Patton pushes his bangs off his face, showing them the arrow tattooed on his forehead. “My friends and I have come to seek sanctuary,” he says. “We do not mean to cause alarm.” 

“What temple are you from?” one of the children asks. The others cluster behind her. 

“I am from the Eastern Air Temple,” Patton says. “My friends are not air benders, but we come seeking sanctuary.” 

“You have to come with us,” she says. “You have to speak to the Head Monk about that.” 

“Of course,” Patton says. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way?” 

One of the children tugs on Patton’s flowy skirt. “Why do you have hair, mister? Is that a Eastern Air Temple thing?” 

“It’s not an Eastern Air Temple thing, dummy,” the leader says. “All Air Nomads shave their heads. I dunno why he’s weird.” Patton doesn’t flinch at the insinuation, but it’s a very close thing. 

“It’s because I have not been in a temple for quite a while, little one,” Patton says instead. “We’ve been traveling for many months, and I haven’t been able to take care of all this.” 

“Well, we can cut all your hair off here, mister,” the leader says. “C’mon, the Head Monk is gonna be interested to see you.” 

Virgil looks at Roman, who looks exactly as nervous as Virgil feels, and swallows. Logan looks normal, but he’s also pressing closer to Thomas than he normally does (probably unintentionally). 

Yeah. Virgil has a bad feeling about this. 

*~*~*~*~*

The children take them to a large hallway. A single woman sits inside, eyes closed, meditating. Virgil is about to suggest that they come back later, so as not to bother her, but she speaks without opening her eyes. “Hiroshi. Kanna. What are you doing here?” 

The girl, apparently named Kanna, recites a greeting and performs a strange bow. The boy, who must be Hiroshi, copies her quickly; the rest of the children had scattered long before they reached this hall. “Visitors, Head Monk. We brought them to you.” 

The woman opens her eyes, standing up and sweeping her robes around her. “I see. Thank you. You are now dismissed.” 

“Yes, Head Monk,” the children say, bowing again before scuttling out of the hall. The woman approaches them slowly, letting the anxiety in Virgil’s stomach rise to a rolling boil. 

“I am Kya, Head Monk of the Eastern Air Temple. We welcome you, visitors, seekers of sanctuary.” Her words are kind, but her voice disturbs Virgil. It’s too calm, too devoid of emotion. “What brings you here today?” 

Patton reveals his tattoo to her as well before performing the same strange bow Kanna and Hiroshi had. “I am Patton, of the Western Air Temple. These are my friends, they -” 

Thomas steps forward, brown eyes gleaming slightly. “Head Monk Kya, my name is Thomas, and I am -”

“The Avatar,” she breathes. 

“I’ve been trying to teach him air bending,” Patton says, “but -”

“You could not. I am unsurprised. You have clearly fallen out of practice.” There’s something strange in her eyes, and Patton seems to wilt away from her. “Allowing your hair to grow over your tattoos? Shameful. It is any wonder you can connect with the element which breathes life into your body. I am disappointed.” Her voice is like frost, and Patton grows smaller with every piercing word. 

“Hey, that’s not fair to Patton,” Virgil says, stepping in front of him. “We’ve undergone a lot of challenging circumstances, it’s not like shaving was a priority compared to staying alive.” 

Kya turns her gaze on him, but Virgil doesn’t falter. He’s faced winters colder than her gaze. 

“Who are you to tell an air bender what is proper?” she says. “Do you even bend?” 

“I do not bend,” Virgil grits. 

“Then you have no place speaking here.” Kya turns back to the Avatar. “I am surprised that one of your station would travel with those who are not in touch with the elements, but I suppose I cannot make your choices for you. If you wish to spend the night here, you may, and we will make arrangements for your training to begin in the morning.” 

Virgil glances around the hall while Thomas and Kya speak, frowning when he catches sight of someone lurking behind a pillar. “Who’s that?” he says loudly. Kya frowns at him, but she turns to look at the figure. 

“No one of your concern,” she says. “You are dismissed. Leave my presence.” 

Thomas turns around and walks out. Roman presses close to Patton, who’s clearly trying very hard not to cry, and Logan turns his face in Kya’s direction. If he could see with his eyes, Virgil would suspect he was glaring at her. 

As they reach the doors, Virgil lifts one hand up deceptively, as though he’s going to stretch or scratch his face. The knife hidden in his sleeve gleams against his inner wrist as he angles it to spy on what’s going on behind him.

The figure steps out from behind the pillar, dressed in the blazing crimson colors of the Fire Nation, and begins to speak in a low voice to Kya. She nods, face still impassive and stony. Virgil feels his heart drop straight through his stomach and tumble right off the mountain. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure?” Roman asks, for the sixth time in as many minutes. 

“I know what I saw!” Virgil snaps. “I travel with a Fire Nation prince, Roman, do you think I don’t know what fucking Fire Nation clothes look like?” 

“Kya . . . she sold us out?” Patton says. He’s curled into a ball on one of the beds in the little tower room they’ve been allowed to inhabit. “I - I don’t -” 

“Remus said that Father was trying to broker some kind of peace with the Air Nomads,” Roman says, “and this temple is closest to Fire Nation territory. What if . . . what if he wasn’t looking for peace at all?” 

“You think he’s colluding with the Air Nomads?” 

“We have no proof of that,” Logan says, running his hands along the stone wall. “I’ll tell you this, though. They locked the door behind us, and there’s two guards at the bottom of the stairs.”

“But we don’t have guards! We’re pacifists!” 

“They do not read like Air Nomads to me,” Logan says. “They appear to be Fire Nation, judged on their stances and breathing patterns.” 

Before anyone can say anything further, Thomas makes an aggressive “shhhhh!” and beckons them over to the window. The moon, newly full, is only a few days into its waning gibbous phase, and the courtyard below them is illuminated enough to see Kya and the Fire Nation man Virgil had seen earlier. 

“Can you bend their words to us?” Thomas mouths at Patton. Even though he looks miserable, Patton nods, stepping forward lightly. Kya opens her mouth, and Patton begins to bend. 

“Are you sure this is what the Fire Lord requires?” Kya says. “We do not wish to participate in this war, Ruon-Jian. We would ask that he leave us be, in peace.” 

“The Fire Lord wishes nothing more than to accommodate the wishes of his most trusted neighbors and trading partners,” Ruon-Jian says. His voice is silky smooth and oily, and Virgil hates him immediately. “He of course understands your cultural traditions, and he had nothing but the utmost respect for you and your people. He admires that you share a goal with him, to protect your people and promote their interests and well-being.” 

“However?” Kya says, tiredly. 

“However,” Ruon-Jian says, “there have been rumors of a plot to overthrow our most gracious Fire Lord. Conspiracies against him, originating from his own people. The traitorous Prince Roman has, of course, been exiled, as has his betrothed, and the cursed Prince Remus has been sent on a fool’s errand with the disgraced General Emile, but you can never be too careful. You can understand why the Fire Lord might wish to keep tabs on those he suspects may be involved in such . . . foolishness.” 

“What do you want from me, Ruon-Jian? What will it take for you to leave us?” 

“The Fire Lord requires a sign, Head Monk Kya. A token of goodwill, as it were. In order to spare you and your people, he must know that you are not conspiring against him. You are currently harboring traitors to the crown, including the Fire Lord’s most reviled offspring and the Avatar. These are dangerous insurgents.” 

“I can handle them.”

“We do not doubt your capacities, but the Fire Lord would hate to foist the responsibility of punishing and detaining his fugitives onto our most honored neighbors.” 

“They are children, Ruon-Jian. How much damage can they possibly do?” 

“Enough,” Ruon-Jian says, and his voice drops sharply. “Do not underestimate the Avatar. Do not underestimate the Fire Lord. The terms of the agreement stand before you, Head Monk Kya. Turn over the fugitives to me, and the Fire Lord will spare your temple. Otherwise, you will be engulfed in flames like your Southern brethren. We wouldn’t want that, would -”

Patton drops to the ground as though his legs have given out from under him, tears spilling down his face. “No,” he whispers. “No, they - he - they can’t have - they - the Southern Air Temple? They can’t have -”

“I am so sorry,” Roman says softly. “I know my father, and I know that guy down there. He’s the most ruthless of Father’s generals. He brags about things like that, he wouldn’t lie. He - he probably did, Patton.” 

Patton bites back a sob. “They . . .”

“Kya is going to sell us out in order to protect this temple,” Virgil says. “We can’t stay here and get captured, but we can’t let the Fire Nation attack this temple, either. We need a plan.” 

“What kind of plan?”

“We’re going to have to draw the Fire Nation away from the temple. If we escape, they won’t blame Kya, especially since there are Fire Nation soldiers guarding us, and they’ll have to give chase.”

“We’ll need a plan,” Logan says. Virgil grins, sharp and wolfish. 

*~*~*~*~*

Predictably, things rapidly go downhill. 

They make it out of the Temple, but they’re pursued so tightly by Fire Nation soldiers that they can’t immediately circle back to Remy for fear of getting him captured. Instead, they divert into the forest, splitting up to avoid detection. 

Virgil ends up pulling Thomas along, gripping the Avatar’s wrist and tearing through the trees. He’s not accustomed to forests, but he’s travelled glaciers and snowdrifts before. Dangerous terrain is no stranger to him. Thomas stumbles along blindly, tripping every few steps, but Virgil just pushes forward. 

They stop dead in their tracks when they hear someone scream. It’s high and frantic, and it sounds an awful lot like - 

“Logan,” Thomas says. His voice rumbles deep in his chest like an earthquake, and his eyes begin to glow blue. 

“No!” Virgil hisses, slapping Thomas to snap him out of the Avatar state. “Sorry, sorry - but you can’t do that, you can’t! You’ll draw attention, and you don’t have control of that state yet! You won’t be able to survive, you’ll get captured and we’ll never get you back!” 

“That’s my brother,” Thomas says plaintively. “That’s Logan, I - I have to protect him, I -”

“I know, Thomas. But we have to protect you, too. Come on, come on, I -” 

Virgil pulls Thomas after him, tearing through the forest. He stops a good distance away from his best estimate of Logan’s location and instead begins to pull Thomas after him into a tree. “You stay here.” 

“Wh -”

Virgil slams his hand over Thomas’s mouth, pointing to the ground. There’s a heavy thudding noise, like booted feet, and Fire Nation soldiers rush past the tree. Once he’s sure they’re gone, Virgil uncovers Thomas’s mouth. “Stay here. If they catch you, it’s all over. I’m gonna go after Lo and the others.” 

“And what if they capture you?” Thomas says. 

“They killed my father, Thomas. They took the only family I had left. It’s taken me this long to build another one, I’m not going to let them take it away again.” He hugs Thomas tightly, quickly, before he can change his mind. Thomas is surprised, but he squeezes back just as tightly. 

“Save them,” Thomas whispers, voice wavering. “Please, Virge.” 

“I will. I promise.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“There’s no need to be difficult, Roman.” 

Roman stands, frozen, staring at a man he thought he left behind. Ruon-Jian has the clearing surrounded with his men; his tone is level and soothing, like he’s speaking to a frightened animal or a rambunctious child, like he’s presenting the only logical option. His face gives him away. 

One of his goons stands behind him, holding Logan tightly. His massive arm is like a vice grip around Logan’s fragile torso, and he has a controlled flame-knife pointed at Logan’s throat. He’s holding Logan up so that he can’t touch the earth, and they managed to tie him up somehow. Without his bending, he looks like a blind, scared kid, struggling weakly. Patton is on his back on the ground, a spear point pressed against his throat, arms and legs bound with ropes.

“Come with us, and I promise I will be lenient towards your friends. Why you choose to travel with children is beyond me, quite honestly. Then again, most of your choices are . . . beyond me.” 

“How did you find me?” Roman asks. He knows he should be fighting, knows he should be bending right now, but he can’t. The fire inside him has turned to ice as he stares at his captured friends. 

“Your brother is not known for his subtlety, Roman. It was no secret that he was sending messages on your hawk. All I had to do was track it, and the stupid bird led me right to you.” 

This is all Roman’s fault. He’s gotten his new friends captured, and he’s going to get his brother killed. “What did you do to Remus?” 

“Nothing, yet. For all his lunacy, he’s popular with the crew. But once I bring you and your friend the Avatar back as proof of his treachery, I will have enough support to stage a mutiny. Your brother will die at sea in a tragic accident, and I will be the Fire Lord’s right-hand general.” 

“Never,” Roman croaks, but it’s a weak protest and Ruon-Jian knows it. 

“You are no threat to me, princeling. I will end you and your brother, and your father does not care enough to stop it.” Roman knows that it’s true. He knows he has to get them out of this situation before they all get killed, but there’s nothing he can do. He makes eye contact with Patton, trying to convey his apologies through his eyes alone. 

Patton shakes his head, mouths It’s okay before the soldier holding a spear to his throat kicks him, and Roman hates himself just a little more. Ruon-Jian holds up a rope, and Roman starts to lift his hands to be tied up, and then -

Creak. 

There’s a rustling noise around them, too pronounced to be normal forest noises, and Ruon-Jian frowns. “Did you capture the Avatar and the Water Tribe brat yet?” 

Two soldiers stumble into the clearing, carrying a third between them. Both of the standing soldiers have a knife sticking out of them somewhere, and the sagging soldier looks barely conscious. 

“What happened?” Ruon-Jian snaps. 

“It - out of nowhere, the trees -” one of them pants. 

“Before we knew what hit us, there were knives, and - and they attacked Shoji with some kinda weird punches and he couldn’t bend anymore! He collapsed, we’re lucky we got outta there alive!”

“There’s no such thing!” Ruon-Jian protests. “You can’t take away someone’s bending!” 

There’s a sharp whistling noise, and one of the Fire Nation soldiers cries out in alarm. A slender blade sticks out of his arm, and his eyes roll up in his head as he collapses. “Poison?!” Ruon-Jian hisses. More sharp whistles, and four more Fire Nation soldiers fall. Ruon-Jian snarls and thrusts his fist forward, vaporizing the blade that hurtles towards him. 

“Show yourself!” he roars. “Do not hide in the trees like a coward!” 

“Who are you calling a coward?” a voice snarks back; familiar, but also lower than Roman is accustomed to. “After all, I’m not the one who felt the need to attack children in the woods. You have, what, a teenager and a pre-teen tied up like prisoners of war? Did you really think you couldn’t handle them? God, you’re pathetic.” 

“Come down here and fight me like a man, then!” Ruon-Jian challenges. 

“If I can defeat your minions so easily, what makes me think you’re any more of a challenge?” the voice taunts. “You’re not so bad.” 

“Prove it!” 

The trees all rustle at once. If Roman strains, he can faintly hear the lightest of footsteps and grunts as something leaps from tree to tree. Knives appear out of nowhere, and a soldier screams as one pierces clean through his hand. There’s a gleaming ribbon attached to the hilt, and it gets yanked back before anyone can process what’s happened. 

“No match for me,” the voice lilts. “Too bad, so sad.” 

Ruon-Jian screams and thrusts his arms out, creating a fireball that he hurls at the nearest tree. He keeps screaming as he burns all the trees surrounding the clearing, and Roman cowers down to avoid a serious burn. 

“Where are you now, without your precious tree shelter to protect you?!” Ruon-Jian shrieks. “You’re nothing!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the voice says. A shadow steps forward from the wreck of the forest, knife glinting in the moonlight as they hold it between two fingers. 

Virgil steps into the clearing, and Roman gasps a little. He can’t help himself. Ruon-Jian stares at him, and then he laughs. 

“Another child? Pathetic.” 

“I’ve taken down too many soldiers for you to call me that,” Virgil says coolly. “Also, destroying the forest? Not cool, asshat. The spirits are gonna beat your ass.” 

“Spirits?!” Ruon-Jian snarls. “What can a spirit do to me?” 

“Count yourself lucky that you won’t find out tonight,” Virgil says, “because I’m dishing out justice on their behalf tonight.” 

“Where is the Avatar?”

“Safe from people like you,” Virgil says. “I disabled your soldier’s bending, and you think I’m not the biggest threat in this clearing?” 

“You are a child!” 

“So are the benders you have tied like dogs,” Virgil says. He looks angrier than Roman has ever seen him. “Let them go, and let Roman go too. Don’t think I won’t fuck you up.” 

“What can you possibly do to me?” 

Virgil spins a cord rapidly, and the knife on the end gleams. “You sound scared. Fine by me. Send your minions to fight me if you’re so scared. I’ll take them down and then I’ll come for your pansy ass.” 

Ruon-Jian snaps his fingers and three Fire Nation soldiers step in front of him. He retreats to the edge of the clearing with the soldiers holding Logan and Patton, and Roman steps back as well. Virgil’s eyes gleam as he steps forward. 

Roman sees the cord wrapped tightly around Virgil’s wrist as he throws one of the knives. It sticks in the shoulder of a soldier, who cries out in pain. Another soldier throws a burst of fire at the cord while it’s still stretched out across the clearing, and Roman winces, sure that Virgil is about to lose a weapon. 

Instead, he smirks, yanking the cord and pulling the knife free. “What, did you think that I was going to fight a crew of Fire Nation soldiers and not use my fireproof weapons? Morons.” 

Roman quickly realizes that Virgil has far more of an upper hand than he thought. He has a knife-on-a-string in each hand, and he wields them with terrifying efficacy. He spins the knives and uses them to keep the soldiers a good distance from his body. They retaliate with fire, but Virgil just evades them almost effortlessly with an impressive display of gymnastics. 

“Stop playing around and kill him!” Ruon-Jian shrieks, presumably to his own men. Virgil rolls his shoulders back and grins. 

“Great idea, idiot. I should stop playing, shouldn’t I?”

His knives disappear into his clothes and he runs straight towards the nearest soldier. They shout in surprise, and Virgil shifts to a stance that’s strangely similar to earth bending. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head slightly to the left and lays out a series of jabs, one-two-three-four-five, quick and staccato like Roman’s terrified heartbeat. The soldier wheezes in shock and collapses to the ground in front of Virgil. 

“Use your fire bending! Set him ablaze!” 

“I - I can’t,” the soldier says, “My bending - something happened, I can’t - I - it’s gone!” 

Virgil grins, cracks his knuckles, and bares his teeth. 

“Who’s next, motherfuckers?” 

*~*~*~*~*

It’s short work after that, disposing of the soldiers. 

The leader, that slimy Ruon-Jian, gets away, but Virgil does manage to disarm the rest of his men. He does his best to only use non-lethal combat tactics, but when he gets to the men that had tied up and hurt Logan and Patton . . . 

Well, it’s not his fault if a knife ends up in their exposed throats.

It’s short work to slice through Patton’s binds, and he hugs Virgil fiercely the second he’s free. “That was so scary,” Patton breathes. “I thought they were gonna kill us - I thought they were gonna kill you -”

“Am I forgiven for swearing?” Virgil teases. Something wet seeps into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, Virge, you’re forgiven.” 

Logan is practically mummified in ropes on the ground, but he hasn’t made a single move to free himself. He just lays there, catatonic, and for a moment Virgil worries he’s been injured. “Lo?” Logan flinches, tears spilling down his face. “Hey, buddy, it’s me. It’s Virgil. Can I cut you free?” 

Logan nods. “T - Thomas?” he rasps. 

“I hid him before I came,” Virgil says. “We’ll go back and get him, Lo, I promise. Let me get you out of these . . .”

Logan stands up once he’s been cut free, stumbling forward one, two, three steps before collapsing. Virgil catches him, quickly sweeping him up into his arms. “Whoa! Are your legs sore from the ropes?” 

“Y . . . yes.” 

“Okay. I gotcha. Come on, I got you, you’re safe. I’ll take you to Thomas, okay?” 

Logan tucks his head into Virgil’s shoulder, breathing shakily. Virgil presses his face into Logan’s hair reassuringly and politely ignores the way his shirt becomes damp. 

*~*~*~*~*

Thomas throws himself out of the tree the minute he hears Virgil call to him. “Where’s my brother?! Logan, what happened?!” 

Logan has been still and silent since Virgil cut him free, but now he shifts and reaches for Thomas, hands opening and closing rapidly in a childish gesture he would normally never use. Thomas pulls him into a tight hug, and Logan’s breath hitches as he sobs into Thomas’s neck. Patton presses his face against Thomas’s shoulder, and Virgil smiles. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman murmurs. Virgil turns, confused. 

“What? Why?” 

“I froze. If I’d fought back, if I’d done - something, maybe - maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Ruon-Jian was right. I am a coward. I couldn’t stand up to my father for Dee and Remus, I couldn’t stand up to Ruon-Jian to save Logan and Patton, I . . .”

“You are not a coward,” Virgil says firmly. “You’re a victim of shitty circumstances and a shitty upbringing. Doesn’t make you any less of a person. It’s not your fault you were conditioned into this.” 

“That would have been me,” Roman says. “If Father hadn’t threatened Remus and Dee . . . It would have been me.” 

“But it wasn’t,” Virgil says. “And I refuse to believe that you would have stepped onto a battlefield full of innocents and decided to kill them. You’ve got a conscience, Princey, and you’ve got a good heart. You’ll be okay.” 

Roman smiles, just a little, and touches Virgil’s shoulder. “Thanks, Vee.” 

“No problem, Roman. What are friends for?” 

“Are you finally admitting we’re friends?” Roman probably meant to be teasing, but his voice quivers. Virgil smiles softly, leaning forward and bumping his head against Roman’s cheek. 

“Yeah, Ro. We’re friends.” 

*~*~*~*~*

They make it back to Remy, waiting in his cave with Dragon. Roman writes a quick letter filling Remus and Dolos in on what happened, telling them not to reply and begging them to take care of Dragon, before sending the hawk off. Patton climbs onto Remy’s head, and they fly away. 

Logan is huddled up against Thomas’s side, face blank. “Lo,” Thomas coos, “are you okay?” 

Logan doesn’t speak, tucking himself more closely against Thomas. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll keep you safe.” Eventually, Logan’s eyes slide shut, and Thomas exhales heavily. 

“Has he ever done that before?”

“Once. After we escaped our home village, when it was on fire. He just . . . shut down. He’s never been good at dealing with emotions, so he doesn’t deal with them at all.” 

“Not healthy,” Patton says from Remy’s head. 

“You’re telling me. But I can’t force him to talk about his feelings. He deserves to work through things at his own pace.” 

“I can respect that,” Virgil interjects, “but that kinda implies that he’s dealing with his feelings, doesn’t it?” 

Thomas pulls Logan into his lap and shifts so his brother is cuddled against his chest. Logan exhales softly, mouth open in a little “O” as he breathes. He’s never looked younger than he does right now, except for maybe when he’d been tied up by Fire Nation soldiers. 

“I have to take care of him. It’s my job. He’s the only family I have left.” 

“The only blood you have left,” Virgil says. “Don’t think for a second that he’s your only family.” 

“Who else do we have?” Thomas whispers. 

“Me, obviously. And Ro, and Pat. You have us now.” 

“He’s tellin’ th’tr’th,” Logan mumbles sleepily. “Don’eed bendin’ f’r that.” Thomas smiles at Virgil, watery and honest, and Virgil smiles back. It might be ragtag, but it’s his family, and anyone who threatens it has him to answer to. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protection: A Favor

Hi! Hope you are well! I would like to request more of the Aspen witch and Virgil becoming friends in Protector please! Maybe the Aspen Witch or Virgil or the five running into an adventurer that isn't so nice, too? Ooo! Or one or more of the five running into an adventurer who isn't so nice and the rest teaming up with Virgil and the Aspen Witch to save them? I really love the Aspen Witch and just want her and Virgil to be friends ;-; – twoalpacas

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 5329

The Aspen Witch has a favor to ask.

    "Aspen Witch," Virgil greets as he sits down, "I was not expecting to receive your letter."

The Aspen Witch nods, sitting down opposite him holding a small chalice. "I have prepared for you a drink. It is the same drink I prepared the last time we spoke with an increase to the moonflower nectar."

"I accept your offer of a drink." The Aspen Witch smiles and holds out the chalice for him to take. The drink is sweet, slightly floral, and above all else, warm. "This tastes very good."

"I am glad to hear it." She twists one of the rings back and forth on her finger. "I know that you were not expecting my letter. We have not corresponded in the past, however I felt as though such measures were the best way to contact you."

"I have brought your letter with me," Virgil says as he sets aside the chalice and produces a thin envelope from the folds of his cloak, "so that we may speak about it."

"I am relieved you came so promptly."

"Your letter sounded urgent. I respond to messages of urgency with as much haste as I am able to safely afford." He furrows his brow slightly as the Aspen Witch twists the ring again. "I would like to know if everything is alright. I am…unaccustomed to seeing you…like this."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Unbecoming of the version of me you are used to?"

"I would never assume to describe you as unbecoming."

She snorts. "Janus spoke truthfully, then, when he says you are diplomatic to a fault with magic users."

Oh, so you do talk to them, great, do all magic users have some elaborate interconnected network, or do you just gossip about me?

When he remains silent, the smile slides off her face and she sighs, steepling her fingers and leaning on her elbows. "I am aware of your predispositions towards magic users. I do not begrudge you them, nor will I ask you to change them. I…understand that as with all things of great import, ingratiating myself to you will take time and effort on both of our parts."

He frowns a little at that but remains silent.

"However, I find myself in the position of requiring the service of someone with your capabilities," she continues, looking up at him, "and I am open to discussing payment."

An impulse at the base of his spine clenches. "I would like to know what precisely you are referring to when you say you require some of my services."

Magic users don't hire adventurers. Magic users have familiars or apostles or acolytes to perform tasks they deem too menial to carry out themselves. Magic users especially do not hire adventurers without clearly laying out what sort of payment can be expected before the terms of the contract are even discussed.

Which means Virgil's about to step into a whole lot of trouble if he doesn't tread very, very carefully.

"I would presume that you are not overly familiar with the workings of witches and their covens."

"I am not familiar with the workings of witches and their covens."

"To the layperson, a coven is something of a family of witches. A support system of sorts, a network in which they can learn magic safely and from other witches who are practicing a similar sort of magic. In reality, covens are far less akin to families and more like…" She frowns, tapping her fingers together as she searches for the right description. "They are more akin to the armies of a particular lord. There is a Grand High Council, a set of witches in charge of the coven, and each witch that serves within it is expected to bend to the wishes of the coven should they be called upon."

Well. This sounds like something Virgil would be better off not getting near with a twenty-foot pole but he has a feeling that's not what's about to be asked of him.

"Not all witches belong to a coven. If you are willing to distance yourself from witch societies at large, you may leave your coven. It is also possible for particularly gifted or studious witches to train themselves without a coven." The Aspen Witch gestures to herself. "I was not trained by a coven."

Virgil inclines his head slightly as both an acknowledgment of her statement and his own silent what the fuck at the fact that even though he doesn't know a lot about witches and magic users, he knows enough to know that even he might have underestimated just how powerful the Aspen Witch is.

What the fuck is this favor gonna be?

"I do not need to tell you that those with power will do almost anything to hold onto it," she continues and Virgil shakes his head, "then I presume you can guess at how the Grand High Council of a nearby coven reacted when they learned their witches' offers of assistance were being declined in favor of my services."

Ah. Yeah, he can guess that didn't go over very well.

"I will not ask you to intervene in such details on my behalf—" thank fuck— "nor will I ask that you deal with any of the coven directly. You are an accomplished adventurer but I will not ask you to put yourself at such risk."

He inclines his head again, still slightly baffled at her fondness for him but not willing to question it.

"The favor I ask of you is simply this: I have made a contract with a young woman who lives in a village near the coven's sanctuary. In an effort to avoid clashing with them, I would ask that you deliver her package for me." The Aspen Witch produces a small leather pouch from under the table, setting it between them. "Should you require, I will disclose its contents."

Virgil shakes his head. "It's better for all involved if I do not know the contents. That way, my mind cannot be probed for it and I do not risk implicating you or her if the contents should be discovered untowardly."

"Then you will take it?"

"I would like to know where the village is, whom this package belongs to, what I might expect from the coven, and what payment you would offer me."

"The village is a three-day journey from my house. The delivery is for a young woman with red hair who lives in an inn. She wears a sunflower pendant around her neck and asked to be called Bonnie."

"Bonnie."

"Yes, Bonnie. The coven should not detect you. You are simply a traveler delivering a package, they would not concern themselves with you. The ones that would catch you are twins; they are known as Scarlett and Jayhson. They are fond of themselves and of hearing about their own feats. Should you encounter them, act the flatterer and they will not look at you too closely." She reaches behind her and pulls a sealed jar full of twinkling petals from a crate. "I would offer this as initial pavement."

"I would like to know what is in the jar," he says, eyeing the petals with no small amount of wariness.

"Ilusoi petals. A powerful healing ingredient. A paste made of them and fresh mint oils will cure almost any ailment."

He can't stop his eyes from widening. How important is this package, and how powerful is this coven if this is the payment you would offer me?

"Do we have a deal?"

He takes a deep breath. "I will not be able to take the package at this moment. I would need to return and gather the proper supplies before setting out on such a journey."

"Would you return in a week's time?"

"That would be the required time." He hesitates for another moment before bowing his head. "I will take your package to Bonnie's village in exchange for the jar of ilusoi petals."

The Aspen Witch's shoulders slump and she smiles, setting the jar back in its crate and reaching out to take his hands. He lets her take one, squeezing as she squeezes back. "I will see you in a week."

"I will see you in a week."

***

    A light fog moves over the village as Virgil trudges down the hill, the package from the Aspen Witch tucked safely into his cloak. The path winds through a set of small houses and stables until it ends near a larger structure—a tavern or town hall of some kind. Across the way, down the path by the river, he can see the swinging sign of an inn. He pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders and ducks his head slightly to vanish into the crowd. Someone calls out for their child. A horse snorts.

He pushes open the door to the inn, glancing around. Three people sit at a table, two more by the fireplace. An older woman stands behind the counter, kneading a loaf of bread. After a few moments, he walks up to her and reaches for his coin pouch.

"I have a package for a woman with red hair," he says lowly, "she goes by Bonnie."

"Who's asking?" He places three coins on the wood. "She's out back."

He adds two more to the pile and moves through a side door, glancing once behind him to check that no one's gotten suspicious. The back of the inn is a small stable, complete with a water trough and outdoor area. An offshoot of a larger stable, most likely, one that had been adapted to suit the needs of the inn. At the far corner is a woman with red hair brushing down a horse.

"Bonnie?"

"Yes?"

Virgil steps closer, but not close enough to be a threat, taking the package from inside his cloak. "I've been sent with a delivery for you."

"Ooh, how mysterious." Bonnie winks at him. "Do I get to know what it is?"

He doesn't answer, just holds it out. She takes it, peeking inside, and her demeanor shifts in an instant. She stuffs the pouch into her apron and nods sharply.

"Thank you." He nods. "Do—what do I pay you?"

"My contract was with the person who requested the delivery, not with you. You don't owe me payment."

"A meal, then," she says, gesturing toward the inn, "on the house, please, for what you've done."

He shakes his head. "No, Bonnie, I don't need it. I appreciate the offer."

Bonnie still looks reluctant, mouth opening to say something else, before she straightens abruptly, staring at something over his shoulder. He moves his head to rest near the dagger at his hip and turns as casually as possible.

"Virgil?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Patton smiles. "That is you! I almost didn't recognize you, you look so different!"

Yeah, that would be the point. He inclines his head just slightly, hoping Patton might get the hint that now's not a good time, but then Patton's smiling and walking closer and he hears Logan's voice asking where he's going and—

And now all five of them are coming around the corner. Great. Excellent. Fantastic.

Bonnie makes a noise of surprise and Virgil turns back, quickly stepping closer and bending to mutter in her ear.

"If anyone asks you about that," he whispers, "tell them: 'My contract was not with you and its terms have been fulfilled.' Don't say anything more than that."

Something in his voice must tell her how serious this is because she just nods, taking her hands out of her apron and edging toward the door of the inn. He straightens and turns back just as Patton reaches out to pat his arm.

"What are you doing so far from home?"

Virgil doesn't say anything, instead eyeing the disgruntled look on Roman's face and in Remus's scuffling of his feet. Patton glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, don't mind them. They're just grumpy."

"As always, Patton you have a genius for understatement." Janus pats the nose of a curious horse. "But yes, don't let their dour moods ruin your day."

Virgil nods, but starts walking slowly toward the other end of the path, looking to get away from here, thank you, before any of the coven shows up. Which was an excellent plan, really, as Bonnie almost makes it to the door, but then Logan asks him where he's going and he's not quick enough to respond before—

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

"A couple of scroungers, it looks like."

For once in my fucking life, I want the person who appears behind me to not be the one person I'm trying to avoid.

But, once again, this isn't his lucky day, because he turns around and sees the two people who could only be Scarlett and Jayhson, each draped in robes of sickeningly saturated red and black, complete with glittering jewels around their throats. It puts even Janus's normal levels of ornamentation to shame. They seem to be looking more at the others than him and Bonnie, which is fortunate, but they are still standing between him and any reasonable route of escape.

Fuck.

"Jayhson, Scarlett," Janus greets in a pleasant tone, "I thought I smelled something."

Shut the fuck up, he thinks desperately as Remus cackles. Scarlett tosses her hair over her shoulder and steps forward, nose in the air. "And I see you're still preying on desperate hopefuls to peddle your hedgewitch craft to."

"Who the fuck are you calling a hedgewitch?"

"Now, now," Jayhson lilts, as Remus snarls at them, interlacing his fingers, "there's no need to be so uncivilized. After all, hedgewitches still have their uses. Cleaning houses, repairing roof tiles, even brewing tea."

"Good to see you've gotten your main talents down to such a concise list, then," Roman says and part of Virgil wants to slam his face into the barn post to get him to shut up.

(The rest of him thinks that was fucking hilarious, but he's trying to ignore that part right now.)

Scarlett's face twists and she opens her mouth to deliver what Virgil's sure would be a scathing remark but Jayhson catches her arm. "Now, dear, don't worry about the vermin. We can't expect them to have good manners, after all."

"You wouldn't know vermin if it bit your nose off," Patton informs them cheerily, even as Jayhson sneers.

"No, you're right, of course," Scarlett says, collecting herself, "after all, only those with truly bad manners would dare make deals inside a coven's territory."

Bonnie yelps as something falls from her apron, a small piece of metal glowing for a moment on the ground—Scarlett must have heated it as Bonnie held it, forcing her to drop it. She picks it up, going to tuck it away again, when Jayhson catches hold of her wrist in a cruel grip. Virgil steps forward, hand on his dagger, as Jayhson tuts.

"A wulring locket," he snorts, almost throwing Bonnie's wrist away, "how trite."

Oh, you poor thing…

Virgil makes a moment of sympathetic eye contact with Bonnie, who nods. He holds his free hand over his chest and bows slightly, which is thankfully ignored by all the magic users still in this fucking path.

"I suppose I should have guessed," Scarlett sighs, "that you would resort to such desperate people."

Virgil catches Logan's mouth opening and tries to subtly shake his head— "That's not one of ours."

Jayhson's brow twitches and he turns to Bonnie, quickly adapting a much more threatening posture. "Who made the wulring locket for you, wench?"

"Don't fucking talk to her like that, you prick," Remus says lowly but neither twin pays him any mind.

Bonnie raises her chin and looks the smarmy asshole dead in his eyes. "My contract was not with you and its terms have been filled," she declares and turns on her heel, walking back inside and shutting the door with a resolute thud.

She's Virgil's hero right now.

Still, the high doesn't last long as he catches a glimpse of Jayhson's hand tightening into a fist as he turns back to face them. The others, of course, don't bother to hide their amusement and are openly snickering. Speaking of openings, Jayhson's move to approach the door has left one in the other side of the path, which means if he just steps this way a little bit, he can almost make it to—

"You. Boy. Not so fast."

He slows but does not freeze, turning slowly as Scarlett approaches him. She looks him up and down and he feels the familiar prickle of a spell against his skin. He doesn't move.

"State your business."

"I have no business with you nor with your coven," he says lowly, bowing his head in a show of submission, "I am just passing through."

"You were speaking with the wench." Virgil doesn't respond. "Were you the one that delivered the ring?"

"Give it a rest," Roman sighs, and Scarlett turns and he's gone, walking swiftly down the path and out of the village. He registers another tingle hitting his cloak and bites back a curse—tracking spell, most likely, and he liked this cloak. As he ducks through a crowded market, he lets a jostling merchant slide it from his shoulder, deftly unhooking it from his pauldron and letting it be trodden underfoot as he moves through the stalls.

As he goes to lose himself once more in the woods, pulling his backup cloak from his satchel, his mind keeps wandering back to Bonnie. About how she sought out a witch to craft a wulring locket, a magical token that would ensure that she was never to be forgotten by the person whose likeness was worn inside. About how she sought the Aspen Witch, a witch without a coven, to craft it for her. About how the Aspen Witch had offered something near priceless to Virgil in exchange for its safe delivery.

Desperate, indeed.

"There you are," he hears from an upcoming clearing, "you ran off so quickly, you didn't even say goodbye?"

Irritation resumes as he walks out of the trees to see the five of them standing there, each with varying degrees of pouting—from Logan to Patton, of course, with the sincerity of Janus's varying by the second the longer he looks. He looks at them for a moment before crossing his arms.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"We were thinking," Remus says like he's talking to a child, "that we haven't seen you in a while and it would be nice to say hi."

"You put her in between you and the members of that coven. She could have been hurt."

"We wouldn't have let that happen," Logan tries to placate, "and besides, you were there too."

"Which brings me to my next point: I was in the middle of a contract. A contract you didn't know about and could have been dangerous." He sees Janus and Remus try and hide their scoffs and sets his jaw. "And despite what you think, not everything can be solved by you showing up."

"You'd be surprised," Roman says with too much of a flirtatious edge for this situation.

"We're sorry," Logan says, once again proving that he's the only reasonable one, "we should have realized that wasn't the time. Or place. Though…I do believe you're overreacting."

If anything, Virgil is underreacting right now, but he's not about to say that while he's still so close to the village. He opens his mouth to say as much when he notices a glimmer along the edges of Logan's shoulder.

He looks at the others. The same glimmer is there.

He's done this for long enough to know what a basic scrying spell looks like.

Shit.

If they've tracked them all this far, they know roughly what direction he's going in. If they know that, they probably know whereabouts he's come from too.

Which means that in all likelihood, they've guessed that it was the Aspen Witch.

Fuck.

He's less equipped than he would like to be, but he wasn't about to agree to this contract without his usual magic-user measures. Still, he can't exactly tell them what's going on for fear of Scarlett and Jayhson realizing he's wise to their plot.

Which means he's going to have to do something he really doesn't want to.

"Well," he says, arms still folded, "then you can leave me to the rest of my journey in peace."

He wants to take it back the second he sees their faces fall but he holds firm. Patton steps forward. "Virgil, I'm sorry, I really didn't know that you were in the middle of something, I just wanted to say hi—"

"You put an innocent life in danger."

"He didn't mean it," Logan tries next, "Virgil, please—"

"Let us help you," Remus asks, stepping forward too, "we can help—we can take you there right now, no problem—"

"Virgil—"

All of them stepping forward is enough to make Virgil's hand near his sword.

They freeze.

He takes a deep breath and forces his hand away but doesn't say anything.

In the end it's Roman who nods first, bowing his head and taking a step back. He reaches out and places his hands on Remus and Janus's shoulders. "We won't bother you on your journey home."

Virgil nods sharply. Roman's expression crumples, as if he'd been hoping Virgil would take it back, but then he raises his chin and nods back. "Come on."

The rest of them slowly step into line, each looking at Virgil apologetically, before there's a shimmer of light and they disappear. He lets out a slow breath, trying to ignore the pain in his chest as he double-checks that he's not carrying a tracking spell either. As he sets off toward the Aspen Witch's cottage, he spares one last thought for them.

I hope you'll understand.

Then he squares his shoulders. Time to go to work.

***

    He hears them before he sees them, falling into a defensive stance and slowly creeping closer. Through the trees, he spots the familiar black cloaks around a figure on the ground. Scarlett must alter some sort of spell because the figure jerks, back bowing in an awful strain as Jayhson mockingly cups their chin.

"You thought just because you could cobble together a half-decent protection spell that you were safe?"

The Aspen Witch, Virgil realizes with no small amount of rage, they've got the Aspen Witch.

The Aspen Witch spits in Jayhson's face and he cries out in disgust. He catches a glimpse of her vicious grin before Scarlett's fingers twitch again and she hisses through her teeth.

"How vile," she remarks casually, as though picking dirt from under her nails. "And how pedestrian."

As quickly and quietly as he can, Virgil starts to make a circle around their clearing. Every ten paces, he takes one of the little bags from his belt and buries it in the soft earth. Luckily, the two of them seem to be enjoying their gloating more than they care to be listening to their surroundings, either presuming that there isn't anyone coming for the Aspen Witch or that they wouldn't be snuck up on.

Well, he's not about to correct them just yet.

He makes it all the way around them, burying fifteen of the little bags, before he tucks his satchel and cloak under a nearby bit of brush and examines the binding spell more closely. Seems tied to the ropes themselves, a material component. Somatic too, by the way Scarlett keeps her hand in the same position. Verbal…hard to tell, maybe to cast, not to manipulate. He checks a few more things on himself before he starts his countdown.

"You need to be taught a lesson," Jayhson says, a hand raising, "about respect, about power, and about your place as a witch."

The Aspen Witch grits her jaw but she tries to lean away as the eerie glow of magic lights up the trees.

Just as Jayhson goes to bring his hand down, Virgil steps out from behind the trees.

"What an unpleasant surprise," Scarlett says, her fingers twitching as the Aspen Witch's eyes widen, "I should have guessed that such a loyal mutt would come running to its master's defense."

"No—"

"Silence," Jayhson says almost lazily, slapping the Aspen Witch across the face—oh, he's gonna pay for that— "you. Boy. Go and run back to your kennel now."

Virgil does no such fucking thing.

"You will release her," he says evenly, "you will return to your coven and inform them that you will no longer pursue her."

Scarlett laughs, high and wild. Jayhson looks vaguely amused and waves his hand. "Perhaps you misunderstand, mutt. This is not a negotiation."

"I agree. It isn't." He shifts his stance, hand on the pommel of his sword. "You will release her. You will return to your coven. You will no longer pursue her."

"Kill him," Scarlett sighs, turning back to the Aspen Witch, "perhaps making her watch will be fun too."

Jayhson raises his hand, the magic beginning to glow from it again—

And it ricochets off into the trees, where it hits an invisible barrier and dissipates harmlessly.

The caster frowns, trying again, but the same thing happens. Scarlett turns, one hand still maintaining the binding spell, only to see yet another attempt splutter and fail miserably. "What is this?"

"A runic circle," Jayhson snarls, "you've placed us in a damn runic circle."

Virgil lets the very corner of his mouth tug up into a smirk.

Jayhson snarls and casts another spell, a fiery projectile heading for him. He steps to the side, slicing it in half with his sword. He dodges the next spell, keeping himself low to the ground as Jayson casts and casts, slowly making his way across the circle. He catches a glimpse of a rupturing spell and throws up a stone, intercepting it and sending pebbles all across the clearing as Jayhson yells.

"Kill him!" he hears Scarlett shriek. "Just kill him!"

Despite the spells, he's slowly forcing Jayhson backwards, just from the threat of actually getting closer. He sees Jayhson's eyes go wide and his hand reach for something in his robes and he grabs another rock, throwing it at his shoulder and knocking him off-balance. Jayhson stumbles backwards with a cry and the thing he'd been reaching for sets off in his hand, blasting him halfway across the clearing.

"Filthy mutt," he hears Scarlett curse as her hand twists, jerking the Aspen Witch off the ground.

He takes a dagger from his belt and throws it at her hand as she starts to mutter a spell, rushing up and shoving her backwards as she shrieks. He drops to one knee and cuts the ropes around the Aspen Witch's throat before standing over her protectively. The twins scramble to their feet as the Aspen Witch splutters and gasps, hunching over on the ground. Virgil adjusts his grip on his sword. One of Scarlett's hands is bleeding profusely. Jayhson's entire chest is charred and smoking, his robes burned away from his neck to his navel.

"You will return to your coven," Virgil says lowly, "and you will no longer pursue her."

The two of them exchange a look. Then they scramble off into the forest, vanishing with a sharp crack as soon as they make it beyond the line of the runic circle.

As soon as they vanish, Virgil drops to one knee and sets about freeing the Aspen Witch, checking for any severe injuries. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she says, still catching her breath, "they just bound me. I'm fine."

"It's my fault, I should have—"

"You saved my life," the Aspen Witch interrupts, "again. You fought off two of the coven's most feared witches. You have done more than enough to forgive any fault that you might have committed, and you committed none."

Still, Virgil can't help but run his hands over her wrists, her arms, just to make sure. She bats him away after another moment, slowly getting to her feet. She looks up at him and touches his cheek.

"You saved me," she repeats, that hesitation from when he'd taken the spell for her returning, "I…am grateful."

"You are my friend," he says quietly, "it was a life worth saving."

Just as she opens her mouth, he hears a twig snap. In an instant, he swivels, sword at the ready, one arm out to shield the Aspen Witch on instinct. He scans the forest, eyes alert for movement, before he picks up a rock and throws it.

"Ow!"

"Remus?"

"Yeah, it's me," Remus calls as Virgil relaxes, "can we come out or are you gonna throw more rocks at us?"

"I won't throw rocks at you."

The five of them slowly emerge from the tree line, each shuffling a little and trying to avoid his gaze. He frowns, going to speak when Remus stumbles over his words first.

"We know you said not to follow you but we realized the tracking spell and wanted to warn you."

"But then we realized that you'd realized it first," Patton mumbles next, "and that's why you sent us away."

"We're sorry," Janus says next, looking far too sheepish and unsure, "we'll behave next time."

"We'll keep an eye on Bonnie too," Logan adds, "from a distance, of course."

Roman doesn't say anything, just looking at the ground and sneaking occasional glances at Virgil. His chest twists. Was he really so sharp with them that they're this nervous around him now? He slides his sword back into its scabbard with a shing and watches all of their eyes dart to him. He raises an eyebrow and they all look away again.

"Calm yourself," the Aspen Witch murmurs as he goes to apologize, "they're not upset with you."

"How can you be so sure?"

She laughs under her breath. "I've certainly never seen them blush this hard before."

Indeed, as he looks again, he can see decidedly red and pink flushes to their cheeks and the tips of their ears. Roman in particular is determined not to look at him and something akin to mischief flickers through Virgil's head.

"Roman," he says, not fighting the way his voice naturally deepens after a fight and Roman actually fucking whimpers. "Roman, tell me what's going on."

"Nothing," Roman squeaks far too quickly, before clearing his throat and trying for casual—and missing by a landslide— "just—glad you're okay."

"I see."

"We've, uh," he continues when the silence stretches, "never seen you…do that before."

"You are aware that this is my job, right?"

"Not like that," he hears Remus whine under his breath and he chuckles.

"It's just that with all your distrust of magic users," Logan tries, valiantly fighting the heat rushing to his face, "we presumed that you…would've taken a different course of action."

"I don't like or trust magic users," Virgil allows, "but that doesn't mean I don't know how to handle them."

"You're being mean," the Aspen Witch says lightly as all of them blush harder, though she doesn't sound too upset by it.

"Well, you know what they say," Virgil grins, "fair's fair."

This journey home is going to be fun.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[virgilachyls]

Hands closed around his shoulders, and Virgil went still, not resisting as he was dragged into thee parking lot behind the cafe. He should've recognized this man as the vampire who he'd tried to drown a few months back. Ananke had let him go, and made him a fellow acolyte. Why, Virgil had no idea; he seemed to be quite hardheaded. He did not realize what a boon he'd been granted, and he didn't listen to Virgil.

When they were sufficiently far away from any listening ears, Virgil dug in his feet and twisted out of his grip. "What do you want, ingrate?"

Chris turned to see who had bumped into him and almost jumped in surprise. Like he'd told people, he still didn't know the elf's name, but would definitely recognize him. He also still smelled like wet dead soil, and this close, that was a scent he couldn't miss.

"It's you." Chris wrapped a not-so-friendly arm around the elf's shoulders, plastering on a broad fake smile for the people around them as he let his claws come out to prick against the elf's arm. "Let's talk somewhere a bit more private." Chris started dragging him around the corner of the building to the parking lot in the back.

[perennialessays]

Week 2

From Origins to the Future: The Hero and the Epic Quest.

This week and the next we shall engage in one of the traditional approaches to comparative practice, following various re-appearances of a myth / hero / genre through successive literary periods and in different countries. The example we shall use is the figure of Odysseus / Ulysses in epic writing and film from Homer to the turn of the 21st century. We shall consider how this figure has changed, and focus on specific episodes of Homer’s original epic poem.

Homer, The Odyssey (read in particular Book 1 and the episode of the Cyclops (in Book 9);

Dante, Inferno (read canto 26, Ulysses);

James Joyce, Ulysses (read the ‘Cyclops’ episode (the 12th, pp. 280-330 in Johnson))

Stanley Kubrick, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) (Film: Please watch this in advance of the seminar)

Some secondary reading on Homer’s Odyssey & the figure of Odysseus/Ulysses

Boitani, Piero, The Shadow of Ulysses: Figures of a Myth, tr. Anita West (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994). [Has an excellent chapter on Dante's Ulysses]

Doherty, Lillian E., "The Snares of the Odyssey: A Feminist Narratological Reading", in Texts, Ideas, and the Classics: Scholarship, Theory, and Classical Literature, ed. by S. J. Harrison (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), pp. 117-133. Foley, John M. (ed.), A Companion to Ancient Epic (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005)

Fowler, Robert (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Homer (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2004).

Graziosi, Barbara, end Emily Greenwood (eds.), Homer in the Twentieth-Century: Between World Literature and the Western Canon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).

Jong, Irene de,  A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2001)

Hall, Edith, The Return of Ulysses: A Cultural History of Homer’s Odyssey (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2008).

Lane Fox, Robin, Travelling Heroes: Greeks and their Myths in the Epic Age of Homer (London: Allen Lane, 2008)

Manguel, Alberto, Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey A Biography (London: Atlantic Books, 2007).

Murnaghan, Sheila, Disguise and Recognition in the Odyssey (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987).

Stanford, W. B. The Ulysses Theme: A Study in the Adaptability of a Traditional Hero (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1963).

Some secondary reading on Kubrick

Bizony, Piers,  2001: Filming the Future  (London: Aurum, 1994)

Chion, Michel, Kubrick's Cinema Odyssey. Trans. Claudia Gorbman (London: BFI, 2001)

Ciment, Michel, Kubrick. Trans. Gilbert Adair (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1983)

Cocks, Geoffrey, James Diedrick, and Glenn Perusek (eds.), Depth of Field: Stanley Kubrick, Film and the Uses of History (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006)

Falsetto, Mario, Stanley Kubrick: A Narrative and Stylistic Analysis (Westport, Conn; London: Praeger, 1994)

Falsetto, Mario (ed.), Perspectives on Stanley Kubrick (New York: G.K. Hall; London: Prentice Hall, 1996)

Herr, Michael, Kubrick (New York: Grove Press, 2000)

Kolker, Robert (ed.), Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey: New Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006)

Nelson, Thomas Allen, Kubrick: Inside a Film Artist's Maze (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982)

Naremore, James, On Kubrick (London: British Film Institute, 2007)

Rasmussen, Randy, Stanley Kubrick: Seven Films Analyzed (London: McFarland, 2001)

Wheat, Leonard F., Kubrick's 2001: A Triple Allegory (Lanham, MD, and London: Scarecrow Press, 2000)

Some secondary reading on the epic

Bates, Catherine (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Epic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010)

Beissinger, Margaret, Jane Tylus, and Susanne Wofford (eds.) Epic Traditions in the Contemporary World: The Poetics of Community (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999)

Clarke, M. J., B. G. F. Currie, and R. O. A. M. Lyne (eds.), Epic Interactions: Perspectives on Homer, Virgil, and the Epic Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006)

Danow, David K., Transformation as the Principle of Literary Creation from the Homeric Epic to the Joycean Novel (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2004)

Elley, Derek, The Epic Film: Myth and History (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984)

Foley, John Miles (ed.), A Companion to Ancient Epic (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009)

Hardie, Philip, The Epic Successors of Virgil: A Study in the Dynamics of a Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993)

Hainsworth, J. B., The Idea of Epic (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991)

Hurst, Isobel, Victorian Women Writers and the Classics: The Feminine of Homer (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006)

King, Katherine Callen, Ancient Epic (Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, 2009)

Konstan, David and Kurt A. Raaflaub, eds., Epic and History (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010)

Merchant, Paul: The Epic (London: Methuen, 1971)

Miller, Dean A., The Epic Hero (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000)

Johns-Putta, Adeline, The History of the Epic (Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006)

Newman, John Kevin, The Classical Epic Tradition (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1986)

Quint, David, Epic and Empire: Politics and Generic Form from Virgil to Milton (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1993).

Roisman, Hanna M., and Joseph Roisman (eds.), Essays on Homeric Epic (Waterville, ME: Colby College, 2002)

Toohey, Peter, Reading Epic: An Introduction to the Ancient Narratives (London : Routledge, 1992)

Tucker, Herbert F., Epic: Britain's Heroic Muse 1790-1910 (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2008)

Winnifrith, Tom, Penelope Murray and K.W. Gransden, eds., Aspects of the Epic (London: Macmillan, 1983)

Some secondary reading on Ulysses

Guidebooks: (These classic ‘guidebooks’ can supplement the annotations in your edition of Ulysses.) 

Don Gifford, Ulysses Annotated (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988) Weldon Thornton, Allusions in Ulysses: An Annotated List (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968) Harry Blamires, The New Bloomsday Book (London: Routledge, 1996) 

Some suggested criticism on Ulysses 

(This is a small selection of Joycean criticism, from useful collections of essays (Attridge, Latham, Hart and Hayman), to critics who read language and narrative very closely (Kenner, Senn), to works on the Homeric in Ulysses (Flack, Kenner, Seidel), to a few examples of studies which read Joyce through theoretical, historical, comparative, and postcolonial approaches.)

Derek Attridge, ed., The Cambridge Companion to James Joyce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990) — ed., James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’: A Casebook (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) Scarlett Baron, ‘Strandentwining Cable’: Joyce, Flaubert, and Intertextuality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012) Frank Budgen, James Joyce and The Making of ‘Ulysses’ (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1961) Vincent J. Cheng, Joyce, Race and Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995) Leah Culligan Flack, Modernism and Homer: The Odysseys of H.D., James Joyce, Osip Mandelstam, and Ezra Pound (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015) Clive Hart and David Hayman, eds., James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’: Critical Essays (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974) Hugh Kenner, Joyce’s Voices (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1978) — ‘Ulysses’ (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1980) Sean Latham, ed., The Cambridge Companion to ‘Ulysses’ (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014) Karen Lawrence, The Odyssey of Style in ‘Ulysses’ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981) Andrew J. Mitchell and Sam Slote, eds., Derrida and Joyce: Texts and Contexts, ed. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2013) Katherine Mullin, James Joyce, Sexuality and Social Purity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003) Michael Seidel, Epic Geography: James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ (Princeton and Guilford: Princeton University Press, 1976) Fritz Senn, Inductive Scrutinies: Focus on Joyce, ed. Christine O’Neill (Dublin: Lilliput, 1995) — Joyce’s Dislocutions: Essays on Reading as Translation, ed. John Paul Riquelme (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984) 

Online searchable concordance of Ulysses (e.g. if you can’t remember where the renowned Irish hero ‘Napoleon Bonaparte’ is mentioned, type it into a ‘string search’ and untick ‘whole word’) http://joyceconcordance.andreamoro.net/

Ulysses Synopsis

Ulysses: A Synopsis “Telemachia” 1 - “Telemachus” (Oxford World’s Classics, ed. J. Johnson, pp. 3-23 / Penguin, ed. D. Kiberd, pp. 1-28)- The chapter opens with Buck Mulligan celebrating a parodic mass in which Stephen Dedalus becomes an acolyte in spite of himself. Stephen is a melancholy artist obsessed with guilt since the death of his mother; his taciturn nature is contrasted with Mulligan’s clownish joviality. The Englishman Haines, their guest in the Martello Tower, combines seriousness with an enthusiasm for Gaelic culture; the three characters illustrate three possible positions in relation to Ireland, which is symbolised by the old peasant woman who brings in the milk: the dispossessed Son (Stephen), the treacherous usurper (Mulligan); the representant of English imperialism (Haines) who - through his dream of the panther, traditionally a symbol of Christ - is also associated by Stephen with the imperialism of the Roman Catholic Church. Stephen chooses errancy and exile: he gives over his key and will not come back. 2- “Nestor” (OWC 24-36 / Penguin 28-45)- Stephen teaches history and English Literature to a class of well-off schoolchildren who are disconcerted by his caustic humour and riddles. He confronts Mr Deasy (Nestor in Homer’s Odyssey) on Irish history and economics. The old headmaster cherishes his inaccurate reminiscences and promotes thrift, whereas Stephen squanders away the little money he has. Stephen views history as a nightmare. Despite the antagonism, Stephen agrees to help Mr Deasy is his fight against the foot and mouth disease which affects Irish cattle by helping him to publish a letter in the press. 3 - “Proteus” (37-50/45-64)- Stephen’s philosophical and aesthetic meditations lead him to question the reality of the outside world. Through a complex philosophical argument which hesitates between Aristotle and Berkeley, he redefines for himself the nature of visual and auditory perception. His literary recollections blend with the painful evocation of his past, especially the unsuccessful exile in Paris from which a telegram announcing his mother’s death recalled him. The sterility of Stephen’s “creations” in this chapter (which include urinating and depositing a snot on a ledge of rock [cf. Bloom’s own excremental “creation” in “Calypso”]) is pitted against the remarkable metamorphic poetic prose of the narrative and of Stephen’s stream of consciousness. Odyssey 4 - “Calypso” (53-67/64-85)- Leopold Bloom, who will increasingly become the major protagonist, is introduced in his home at 7 Eccles Street and is first seen preparing breakfast for himself and his wife Molly, who is still in bed. He goes out in search of a pork kidney at a Jewish butcher’s, where he picks up a leaflet advertising plantations in Palestine (inaugurating the theme of the lost, promised land, and of the “recall”). He brings Molly her mail, which includes a letter from Boylan, her future lover later in the day, announcing his visit. He explains to Molly the meaning of metempsychosis; the chapter ends with his defecation in the outhouse, mingled with his remarks on cheap literature. 5 - “The Lotus Eaters”(68-83/85-107) - Bloom has left his house for what will become the epic wanderings of an untypical literary hero, on an ordinary Dublin day - 16 June 1904. He first goes to fetch the reply, sent post restante, from his unknown penfriend Martha Clifford, to whom he sends amorous letters signed “Henry Flower”. He runs into several acquaintances on the way, unwittingly “throws away” a tip for the horse races (the source of a later misunderstanding), and eventually goes to the public baths. Throughout the chapter, drugs of all kinds (perfumes, tobacco, medicine, eroticism, religion, etc.) express a voluptuous narcissistic abandonment to the world of the senses. 6 - “Hades” (84-111/107-147)- Bloom goes to Paddy Dignam’s funeral together with Simon Dedalus (Stephen’s father) and other characters already seen in Dubliners. The conversation soon takes on a malevolent anti-Semitic tone which puts Bloom ill at ease. He thinks of death, remembering both his father’s suicide and the death of his son when he was only eleven days old. Bloom catches his first sign of Stephen (who does not see him). 7 - “Aeolus” (112-143/147-189)- Broken down into a series of newspaper articles complete with headings, this episode brings together, in different scenes and locations of the newspaper office, Bloom, Stephen, various “windbags” including Myles Crawford, the king of windy and hollow journalistic rhetoric. The orators outdo one another in eloquence and the parable of the captive Jews provides the Irish with a mythical model. Stephen narrates a story illustrative of the paralysis of his fellow Dubliners which nobody pays attention to, while Bloom the ad canvasser gets severely ticked off by Myles Crawford. 8 - “Lestrygonians” (144-175/190-234)- The “food chapter”: Bloom is obsessed with food (it is between 1pm and 2pm) and alimentary thoughts, and tastes and smells of all kinds percolate through into the language and style of the episode (the rhythm of the chapter is dictated by the “peristaltic” [digestive] movement of the organism). Put off by the monstrous devouring mouths in the restaurant and obsessed by the impending encounter between Molly and Boylan, he finally orders a Gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of Burgundy wine at Davy Byrne’s pub. 9 - “Scylla and Charybdis” (176-209/235-280)- In the National Library, Stephen spins out his Aristotelian theory of artistic creation which boils down to a sublimated autobiography; his paradoxes on Shakespeare’s life and works fail to convince his Platonist audience. In the complex reasoning of the young artist, Shakespeare becomes like a god who begets himself through his works. Bloom puts in an appearance; Mulligan meets up with Stephen and offers a more burlesque conclusion to the philological / theological debate. 10 - “Wandering Rocks” (210-244/280-328)- This chapter is a pause in the narrative of Stephen’s and Bloom’s day, and it has no precise correspondence in Homer’s Odyssey. This central and “pedestrian” chapter is made up of 19 episodes which offer vignettes and snapshots of the various characters and cross-sections of the Irish capital and society, including Church (Father Conmee) and State (the Viceroy’s cavalcade); the chapter breaks down the so far focalised point of view. Stephen and Bloom appear only briefly and are not mentioned among the witnesses of the Viceroy’s cavalcade through the city. 11 - “Sirens” (245-279/328-376)- The language of this chapter aspires to the condition of music and forges linguistic equivalents to trills, staccatos, counterpoints, etc. The venue is the Ormond Bar, run by two flashy barmaids or “sirens”; while the tenors are busy competing against each other in a virile singing contest, Bloom listens and replies to Martha. Having eluded the seductive snares of music, he exits, leaving behind an ironic fart. 12 - “Cyclops” (280-330/376-449)- A satire against the bellicose patriotism and anti-Semitism of the Citizen, the “Cyclops” who eventually attacks Bloom physically, the chapter oscillates between the Citizen’s rhetorical bombast and sarcastic deflations which leave unscathed neither the British Empire nor Irish nationalism, while the anonymous narrator - a sardonic barfly and debt collector - offers a brilliant instance of Dubliners’ garrulity. The narrative is periodically interrupted by parodic asides in other voices and styles. Bloom the wandering Jew, who had come to Barney Kiernan’s pub to arrange to offer some money to Paddy Dignam’s widow, finds himself involved in an argument about nationalism and attempts to expound his conception of humanity, love and homeland. At the end, his escape from the Citizen’s assault is turned into a grandiloquent apotheosis. 13 - “Nausicaa” (331-365/449-499)- Bloom rests on the Sandymount rocks (Stephen in “Proteus” had also walked along Sandymount beach) and gazes at young girls in their bloom. One of them, Gerty MacDowell, teases him into an erection by an increasingly daring exhibitionistic pose; the distant eroticism ends with Bloom’s masturbation, climaxing with fireworks. The narrating voice is that of a writer of the romantic pulp fiction then fed to women - the kind of books read by Gerty, who accordingly sees in Bloom a mysterious “dark stranger”. When the point of view shifts to Bloom, we see Gerty depart limping; Bloom dozes off in postmasturbatory gratitude. The accelerated crescendo of the first “tumescent” part is followed by the exhausted sobriety of the second, “detumescent” half. 14 - “Oxen of the Sun” (366-407/499-561)- Bloom’s and Stephen’s paths cross once more in the lying-in hospital, amidst roistering medics. The chapter takes us through a roughly chronologised pastiche of the different styles of the English language until the turn of the century, deceptively mimicking the evolution of the foetus until its birth. The painful delivery of Mina Purefoy takes on a universal value and, although the talk ominously focuses on sterility and contraception, a thunderclap and a rain shower at the moment of birth symbolise the triumph of fertility. 15 - “Circe” (408-565/561-703)- Blooms monitors from a distance Stephen’s drunken escapade to the red-light district, and follows him into the hallucinatory atmosphere of Bella Cohen’s brothel (Circe’s den in the Homeric parallel). The characters experience metamorphoses in a wild oneiric dramatisation of their fantasies, obsessions and senses of guilt. Stephen gets involved in a broil with two English soldiers and is knocked out cold; Bloom rescues him and transforms him into the ambiguous vision of his dead son Rudy. “Nostos” [=homecoming] 16 - “Eumaeus” (569-618/704-766)- Bloom leads Stephen to the cabman’s shelter, and the shared physical exhaustion (it is past midnight) and the unreliable narrator turn the chapter into an amusing, if often tedious, collection of deliberately jaded linguistic stereotypes, full of misunderstandings and approximations. 17 - “Ithaca” (619-689/766-871)- This impersonal catechism narrates the last actions of the novel: Bloom takes Stephen to 7 Eccles Street and offers him hot chocolate, they exchange views of Irish and Jewish culture, Stephen refuses Bloom’s offer of a bed for the night, they urinate together under the stars, and Stephen finally departs into the night. Bloom, back in the house, finds traces of Molly’s visitor earlier in the day, goes to bed, where he finds other traces of the visitor’s earlier presence, gives Molly an expurgated account of his day, and finally falls asleep, his head to her feet. The dialogic play between questions and answers universalises all the themes, sorts out human knowledge into vast catalogues, and finally transform the couple in bed into astral bodies. 18 - “Penelope” (690-732/871-933)- Molly’s thoughts flow freely along eight unpunctuated, meandering sentences. She begins with a reaction to Bloom’s request that she make breakfast in the morning, continuous with a celebration of her afternoon with Boylan, proceeds to review her marriage, her girlhood on Gibraltar, her infatuations and dreams of future romances, and finally returns to Bloom, seemingly reinstated into her imaginary life; this is one of the meanings of her numerous final “yesses”, also an affirmation of life itself.

Additional suggestions on Joyce's Ulysses/ Odysseus

Some of the texts through which Joyce reads and receives the figure of Odysseus/ Ulysses

Bérard, Victor, Les Phéniciens et l'Odyssée [originally published in 1902-03, there are no English translations that I know of; but you can find a lot about it, and Joyce's use of it in the book by Seidel, listed below; Bérard held the view that the Odyssey was "written" by a Greek poet, but recorded the travels of Phoenician sailors - the Phoenicians were a semitic people, which is relevant when you think that Leopold Bloom (Joyce's Ulysses figure) is a Jew]

Butler, Samuel, The Authoress of the Odyssey: Where and when she wrote, who she was, the use she made of the Iliad, and how the poem grew under her hands [originally published in 1897; Butler also transalted the Iliad and the Odyssey. There are various editions, including a cheap Kindle version; and it is in the library. Butler suggests that the Odyssey takes place in the island of Sicily, around the port city of Trapani, and that it is narrated by princess Nausicaa. The relevance to Joyce's book, which set on an island in and around the port city of Dublin, and whose final words are narrated by a woman, is evident.]

Lamb, Charles, The Adventures of Ulysses [originally published in 1808, there are various editions in print, and a free Kindle version. The book really is about the adventures and was meant as a book for boys, not as a full tranlation or account of the entire Odyssey. Joyce read this as child and wrote an essay at school about it!]

See also:

Seidel, Michael, Epic Geography: James Joyce's Ulysses (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976) [not a book consulted by Joyce - of course! - but it looks at parallels between the geography of the Odyssey and of Ulysses and the movements of the characters, and relies extensively on Bérard's Les Phéniciens et l'Odyssée]

[theforsakenprince]

Salvation

@badthingshappenbingo​

Prompt: Demonic/Ghostly possession

Fandom: Destiny

Words: 1,707

Warnings: guns, knives, death mention (let me know if I need to tag anything!)

“Are we going inside, or are you going to stand out here all day?” Virgil, her irritable ghost, said impatiently.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Artemis muttered, though she made no move to enter the tunnels that would take her to the Pyramid ship.

The Scarlet Keep had always freaked her out (though she would never admit it), but now that she knew the Darkness lay beneath her feet, it took all her power not to turn away and tell Eris to find someone else to investigate the Pyramid. 

She clenched her fists as she stared down the tunnel. No, she would not give up. She’d come too far. Eris was counting on her.

“You’re not moving.” Virgil sounded annoyed, but she thought she detected a bit of worry in his voice. 

Artemis sighed and stepped forward, holding up her hand cannon. “We’re on our way to the Pyramid, Eris,” she said into the comms.

“Good,” Eris replied. “Getting inside is paramount. We must find something- anything- to help prepare us for their violent return. Remember to keep your wits about you. We do not know what tricks they may play within.”

“Don’t worry, Eris,” Virgil said, letting Artemis focus on defeating the hive she encountered deep in the Enduring Abyss. “We’ll be in and out.”

Eventually, the tunnels ended and she stepped out into the cool lunar air. Sheer cliffs rose up around her, dotted with phantoms. The distant shape of Earth could be seen in the sky, and she stopped and stared at it for a moment before continuing on.

The ghostly phantoms were everywhere. They seemed to watch her as she passed, though they disappeared as she got close. Sometimes, they would whisper things to her; desperate cries for help, pleas for mercy, final words that longed to be heard. Echoes of a great disaster.

Artemis shuddered and ran faster.

As she neared the Pyramid, her fear grew. She lifted a hand to her ear. “Eris?” All she received was static.

“The Pyramid must be messing with communications,” she muttered. “Virgil?”

“It’s-it’s happening again,” Virgil said unexpectedly, his voice strained. “Like it’s reaching inside me.”

Artemis froze. “Do you want to go back? I can get Eris to-”

“No, you must go on,” Virgil replied, voice weak. “This is too important.”

Artemis sighed and silently admitted the ghost was right. She readjusted her grip on her gun and reluctantly continued. 

Eventually, the walls fell away and she stepped out onto an open cliff. Beyond the edge of the cliff stood the Pyramid.

“The Pyramid is waiting,” Virgil said. His voice no longer sounded weak, just… lifeless. “It… beckons us to come closer.”

And so she did. She moved closer, gaining speed with each step, until she stood at the edge. She was just wondering how she would reach the Pyramid when a tiny panel on its side opened and she was lifted off her feet and slowly pulled toward the ship.

“Wha- Virgil, what’s happening?” she exclaimed. 

Instead of answering, Virgil said, “Violence. Beauty. Truth. These things await inside. There’s no turning back now.”

She gasped at the monotony of his tone. “What did you do?” she shouted at the Pyramid. “What did you do to my ghost?”

She received no response as she entered the Pyramid. Whatever force that pulled her into the ship set her gently on the floor.

The room she was currently standing in was huge, with stairs on either side of her that led to giant doorways. A chasm sat in front of her, and when she looked, she couldn’t see the bottom. She shuddered and backed away.

She lifted a hand to her ear and tried to contact Eris again. Nothing.

She bit back a sigh and debated which doorway to go through. It didn’t help that they both looked exactly the same. 

“Decisions, decisions,” Artemis muttered as she went through the right doorway. 

She was greeted by a narrow hallway that was just big enough for her to walk through. Large circles were etched into the floor, and whenever she stepped over them, a red glow would emit from them.

“You’re so close now,” Virgil said. “Just a little further.”

Artemis rounded a corner and stumbled when she saw what waited for her.

Ghaul.

“These damn Nightmares,” she muttered, unhooking her hand cannon from her belt. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” she fired a shot at the Nightmare of Ghaul.

Suddenly, she wasn’t in the Pyramid anymore.

Artemis stumbled as a sudden harsh wind threatened to knock her over. The ship she was standing on was eerily familiar, and with a jolt she realized she was back on Ghaul’s ship, the Immortal.

The sight of it brought back bad memories, like watching the city go up in flames, losing her Light, and worst of all, getting knocked off a ship not unlike this one.

She hadn’t been a fan of heights since.

Artemis ran toward Ghaul, and just like the first time, fought him with her light.

The only difference was this time, Ghaul didn’t say a single word. No taunting, no insults, just the ring of her hand cannon and the clashing of blades.

When Ghaul was defeated, she was transported back inside the Pyramid.

“The Red War saw so many lives lost,” Virgil said, making her jump. “saw the Light taken away so easily. In Light, there is only weakness.”

Artemis took a deep breath and continued down a hallway not identical to the last one. She turned a corner and then-

“No,” she hissed as her eyes landed on the Nightmare of the Fanatic. “No way.”

She stared at the Nightmare for a moment, as if looking at it would make it go away. After a few minutes she sighed and stepped forward.

She was transported to the Watchtower, where she had originally killed the Fanatic. He stood right outside the entrance, blocking it. He brandished his staff, which sizzled with arc energy.

Artemis held up her hand cannon as it was engulfed in flames. She finished the Fanatic off with three shots of her Golden Gun. 

She was panting hard as she was transported back into the Pyramid, though she hadn’t exerted much energy. She gritted her teeth as the Darkness’s voice filled her ears once more. 

“The Light abandoned Cayde,” Virgil said. “Left him for dead. And kept you from saving him.” 

Artemis wanted to scream, but her voice didn’t seem to work. Her feet moved toward the next corridor as if on their own accord. She dreaded the Nightmare she would have to face next.

She ran down yet another corridor and jumped down a flight of stairs. The narrow corridor opened up into a slightly less narrow hallway. Phantoms hovered along the walls, though this time they were silent.

Artemis froze as she saw the Nightmare she would have to face next.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered as she stared at the Nightmare of Crota.

She stepped up to the Nightmare and just like before, she was transported out of the Pyramid.

Crota’s throne world was just as she remembered. A circular pit took up most of the room and Artemis could hear the shrieks of thralls coming from it. Acolytes stood at the rim of the pit, weapons pointed at her. Crota stood at the opposite side of the Pit, right in front of his throne.

Right in front of her stood a swordbearer. She dodged to the side as it brought its sword down. She stabbed it with her knife and grabbed the sword as it stumbled.

Artemis ran as fast as she could with the heavy sword in her hands. Occasionally, she would slash at a knight or thrall, but she had her eyes on Crota.

Crota swung his blade at her as she got close. She ducked and stabbed him with her sword. He backed away, growling.

Though the last time Artemis had fought Crota was years ago, it felt like she had been here just yesterday, defeating a hive god with his own twisted logic.

She stood over Crota’s body as she killed the Nightmare, panting hard. She was transported back into the Pyramid, sword dissolving into the air. The phantoms along the wall were gone, which struck her as strange. 

“One by one, Crota slaughtered many Guardians,” Virgil said. “The Light stood by and did nothing, and a great disaster ensued. In Light, there is only death.

Artemis swallowed hard and began to head further into the Pyramid. “Don’t worry Virgil,” she said, not sure whether or not he could hear her. “I’ll get us both out of here.”

She turned another corner and found herself at the bottom of several flights of stairs.

“Come to us. Do not be afraid,” Virgil said as she started to climb the stairs. “Respite lies ahead.”

At the top of the stairs stood a statue of a veiled person. As she watched, an orb shaped artifact slowly descended in front of the statue.

She stared at it for a moment, then looked up at the statue. Its face was obscured by a veil, so she couldn’t see its expression. She looked back down.

Artemis reached out and touched the artifact.

She retracted her hand and suddenly wasn’t in the Pyramid anymore.

She was standing in a grassy field dotted with red and white flowers. Several Pyramid ships hung in the green sky ominously.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw another figure walk toward her. As the figure came closer, she realized it was… her.

“You made it,” said the figure. “We have heard your cries for help, and soon we will answer.”

Artemis gripped the handle of her knife as she studied the stranger. They looked exactly like her, down to the shade of her armor. 

“Who are you?” she asked as the figure stepped closer. “What did you do to my Ghost?”

“Don’t you recognize us?” the figure gestured toward themself. “We are not your friend. We are not your enemy.”

Artemis backed away until she hit the edge of the cliff. The figure did not notice.

They raised their hands and arranged their fingers into a triangle shape.

“We are your… Salvation.”

[witchy-lili]

What was necessary, part 1/?

So hewwooo, kinda spammed myself with Sander Sides animatic and fic AU’s so i got inspired ! The events are after POF, Roman shut himself making the others doubt their decision to accept Janus and our sassy snake boy needed a way to crawl in. If they didn’t wanna give him a place, he was gonna take it. 

Enjoy~ ---------------------------------------------- It was so crazy, it had to work. They didn’t have much more ideas or solutions did they ? Janus ran his gloved hand over his face, hissing quitely. The fire was crackling in front of him, but no warmth in this world could melt the stone cold look he had on his tired eyes. He took a deep, almost growley breath before looking at his acolyte. The Duke was sitting, legs crossed, seemingly floating in the air, but the ardent embers kinda reflected on a pitch black tentacle. He always had that same enigmatic smile. -Let’s start over, Remus, we- -Again ? Just talk to one of my zuckers and wake me up when you’re over this. I told you. This plan is absolutely perfect, unless Mister Danger Noodle isn’t qualified enough for his task~ -Don’t call me..whatever you just said. No plan is perfect, and what you’re suggesting is really risky, and actually pretty crazy. -Jany, Jany, Jany ! You just lack imagination ! It’s just a simple bait and switch. Three cards appeared in front of the snake. They flipped themselves showing three aces, heart, spades and diamonds before turning again. Janus raised an intrigued eyebrow, staring at the cursed creativity. -Don’t you think it’s not the moment for games ? -Calm your snake tits and pick one damn it ! Janus sighed loudly before putting a finger on the card in the middle. It was supposed to be the spades. He flipped it, kinda confident before being greeted by an almost mocking diamond card. His eyes went back to the satisfied Duke. -You cheated. -Nu uh Slithering Sandy, you didn’t even know what the game was ! I took your attention away and switched the cards. Bait and Switch. The snake’s eyes shimmered under the starlight. Remus seemed foolish, delusional even, this plan was so unrealistic it was impossible to not have doubts about it, but he trusted the man sitting in front of him. This whole scheme also depended on his act. He already managed to fool the other sides more than once, but now it will be for a longer period of time, he had to be perfect. -I guess it’s settled then, dear...slimy friend. Conjuring objects was always pretty easy. Effortless even. But maintaining the illusion of two different places while being shapeshifted was not as fun. Janus sighed looking at his reflection in the mirror, he looked like an almost picture perfect version of Roman. He knew which strings to pull, he had to be careful. They were dorky, not dumb. After taking a deep breath, his natural scales and slit eye disappeared. It was time. Light, cameras, action. Logan, Virgil and Patton were already in the living room, around a board game and some dice. Three pairs of eyes turned to see the newcomer and Janus could quickly see Virgil switching the dice to another number. This could have put a smile on his face, but it wasn’t the moment. Patton had a small side, kinda nervous smile. -Hello kiddo, a..are you okay ? We haven’t seen you in a very long time. Oh yeah. Roman kinda closed himself off after the sides -well, Patton and Logan primarily- accepted to give Janus a seat at the table. The prince look-alike shrugged after putting on a nonchalant demeanor. -Oh you know, a prince needs his beauty sleep. Self care and all of that ! I just needed to think for a hot second. What are you playing, you nerds ? He needed to distract them for now, and also do his best to buy the most time possible for his partner. Logan adjusted his square glasses and loosened his tie. -Well, a game about financial gain, monetary organisation, estate management and…- Virgil cut him off -Monopoly, Logan, just say Monopoly. -Well i was just being precise and-..i'm pretty sure i had a five on my roll. Logan stared at the eyeshadowed emo man who just looked away with a sly little smirk on his face. Patton just laughed, he absolutely had no idea how to play but still had fun, and was against all odds, winning, even though he was just “buying what seemed nice” and getting insanely lucky with the dice. He felt kinda bad playing them like that, but he did what needed to be done. He just hopped that Remus didn’t mess up on his part. -Actually, i came here to talk about an important matter. The small bickering between them stopped as they turned toward the fake prince again, all curious. -I..thought about it for a very long time and i think it’s time to -against all odds- accept that this slimy snake can sometimes be right. We neglected Thomas’s well being for way too long. They looked each other in the eyes. Patton stood up and walked toward Janus before taking him in a warm, kind hug. He was cold blooded. This contact made him shiver a first, but he accepted it, even closing his eyes to focus on the comfort it made him feel. The personified morality looked at him with an innocent soft smile. -I know this was probably a hard decision to make kiddo, but i'm happy that you at least took the time to think about it. Virgil crossed his arms looking at him with a rose eyebrow. -Yeah, you’re usually stubborn and stay stuck in your position. What made you change your mind ? -Well “Purple Days”, guess I am able to have critical thinking ? See ? Hey Logan, I said critical thinking ! Big words here ! I just want to do what’s best for Thommy ! Jesus, this felt like a divine punishment. Acting like the himbo himself. And without another word and the same attitude, he walked up to the board to watch them play, actually he wasn’t even following, his mind was split between thinking about Remus’s situation and if he managed to do his part, and the unceasing affection from Patton. He was so trusting and kind, he even forgave him after impersonating him, but now wasn’t the time to doubt. He knew he did, what was necessary, or at least, he believed so.. He just wanted to be listened to.  ----------------------------------------- Kinda short I know, you know why ? It’s only half of the first chap ! This is Jan’s point of view, so expect to see a garbage bastard rat very very soon~ 

[shirubie]

Miraculous Rescue (temporary title)

A Thunderbirds Are Go/Miraculous Ladybug crossover fic 

by Shirubie (Morihana on AO3)

Snippet of Chapter 1: Thunderhawk

Since I'm stuck at home, I have time to work a bit on this thing. Please note that my native language is French. 

So, here we go, tossing this in for the wolves to tear apart...I mean, I'd love to hear your comments on my work :)

Note: I've decided to synchronize the timelines of the two shows, so the story is set in 2060. Characters in ML seem to use technology more advanced than today's, so I think it's possible to set the series in the future.

----------------------------

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 1. What's your status, Scott?"

"Almost done here, John. Wannabe Spider-man is back on the ground."

Scott's day had started with a call about an amateur daredevil who had decided to climb the Eiffel Tower and gotten stuck for some reason on the metal structure (and surprisingly, François Lemaire was not involved). Since the Paris Fire Department didn't own a long enough ladder to get him down, IR had been called.

"And while I'm in the City of Lights," Scott said as he stood next to Thunderbird 1, parked at the base of the tower, watching as the ambulance containing the daredevil drove away. "Maybe I could get something from the bakery where we got the cake for Virgil's birthday party last year. What was the name of that place? Dupain-something… "

John was about to ask his brother to also get them some croissants, but an alert from the GDF appeared on his screens.

"Scott, the Chaos Cruiser as been spotted near your location. Kayo's incoming from London."

"Great." Scott turned his gaze skyward. Had the Hood noticed his rescue and sent his goons to cause trouble? Should he take off in TB1 now and lead them away from the city? He felt anger rise inside him, like every time the criminal mastermind was involved in their business. Why couldn't the Hood just leave them in peace?

Eyes busy scanning the horizon, he didn't notice the black butterfly that landed on the back of his sash and seemed to melt into the fabric.

Up in orbit, Scott's comm suddenly went offline, only broadcasting a static noise.

"Scott?" John called, recalibrating his systems to try to re-establish the signal. "Thunderbird One, come in." No response.

Back on earth, Scott had suddenly frozen in place. Time appeared to slow down and stop for him, his surroundings fading as if swallowed by fog. His thoughts felt sluggish, like he was sinking into a dream.

"Sir, are you alright?" A nearby EMT asked the IR operative. But Scott couldn't hear him. A deep voice echoed in his head, all other sounds fading to nothing.

"Scott Tracy. I am Hawkmoth."

"This 'Hood' and his acolytes have caused great pain to you and your family." The voice continued. "I offer you a chance to deal with him once and for all. To avenge your loved ones and bring this criminal to justice."

An image of his father flashed in Scott’s mind, followed by the explosion that took him away from them. Other memories arose: all the times the Hood had put his brothers in danger, all the damage his schemes have caused, all the innocent lives he almost took. And the look of deep shame in Kayo's eyes, the burden she felt for being related to that monster.

This needed to stop.

"I can grant you the power to accomplish this." The voice said seductively. "All I ask in return is for you to bring me Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous."

Basic instructions filtered in his mind about who and what his targets were. Take a few trinkets from two children. Seemed simple enough. A simple task in exchange for the means to keep his family safe.

"Do you accept?" Hawkmoth finally asked.

Scott uttered a single word, his blank expression turning into an angry scowl. "Yes."

Living shadows spread from Scott's sash, engulfing him from head to toe.

"AKUMA!" the EMT screamed in terror and fled, as did many of the bystanders. The shadows soon dissipated, revealing the creature Scott Tracy had become. He unfurled his metallic, razor sharp wings, sending a blast of wind that blew away any debris in a thirty-foot radius. Lightning raced down his arms and sparked between his clawed fingers. He was the embodiment of the storm, the power of a hurricane now coursing through his veins. The Thunderbird had awakened.

And the Hood was his prey.

A loud engine noise was heard above and the Chaos Cruiser appeared from behind a cloud. His electric blue eyes locked on his target, the newly born Akuma launched himself into the sky with a thundering sonic boom.

From his lair, Hawkmoth smiled, leaning on his cane and admiring his newest creation. "Fly, Thunderhawk! And bring me the Miraculous!"