#multi-eyed squirrel

[studiotriggerfan397]

[liberalk1tsch]

part 1 of my new multi part thg fic from peeta’s pov based off of the song «the loneliest» by måneskin!

each part will be based off a different point in everlark’s relationship, starting from the first day of school when they’re 5 y/o, all the way through the quell. seeing as this is pt 1, this centres on the first time everlark meet each other, aka the start of his feelings for katniss💚🧡

(i swear it’ll get better lol this is just 5 y/o peeta pov so it’s a bit more limited✨)

this one goes out to all the angsty yearners out there

The Loneliest

You’ll be the saddest part of me

A part of me that will never be mine

It’s obvious

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

I grip my father’s hand tightly, dreading the moment I know he’s going to let go and push me towards the line of all the other 5-year-olds already forming outside the classroom door. It’s my first day of school, and I know I should be excited, but all I feel is an anxious pit in my stomach. There’s a few kids from town already in line, most of them with a parent or two watching them somewhat misty-eyed from the edge of the courtyard, but I’m truly astounded by just how many of my classmates are Seam.

I’d never been to the Seam, let alone had a conversation with someone from there. Whenever they come into the bakery, I always run to find my parents. My mother says the people from there are vermin, the worst kind of people that Twelve has to offer; I’m not allowed to go within two blocks of that side of the district, not even for deliveries within town. I’m not sure why. Looking at them now, they seem perfectly normal to me. They’re skinnier than us, for sure. Their clothes are a bit shabbier too. But normal nonetheless.

The squeaking of the gate opening snaps my attention away from my classmates, and I turn to see the only Seam face that really looks familiar. I recognize the man immediately from the times I’d peeked out my window early in the morning to see my father already awake, passing off a semi-stale loaf in exchange for a squirrel from the Seam man. I’d grown to look forward to the days when I saw the strange man in the alleyway. It meant we’d get to eat something other than rock-hard bread and nearly rotten goat cheese for dinner.

He appears to be around my father’s age with dark curls framing his face, and piercing grey eyes. This man carries himself differently from my father, though. Less weary, somehow, despite being Seam. As if the lines on his face are from years of smiling rather than scowling.

I half expect my father to greet the man from the Seam, but he just stares blankly at some fixed point on the horizon behind them.

It doesn’t matter anyways, as the Seam man’s attention is entirely occupied by the young girl who appears from behind him.

She has the same obsidian hair as her father, the same quicksilver eyes and dark olive skin, nearly as deep and rich a brown as the cocoa powder we use in the bakery. The morning sun glances off her hair, meticulously plaited in twin braids, save for a few unruly curls at the front that have already escaped in the lingering summer humidity. The girl wears a knee length, red plaid dress, but there’s something about the style of it that’s not totally Seam. It’s closer, really, to the clothes my mother gave to Delly’s family from her own childhood. Old-fashioned townie.

I must’ve been staring for a while, entranced by the appearance of the beautiful girl from the Seam, because my father finally nudges me and points her out.

“See that little girl?”

I nod, thinking I’m about to get told off for staring.

“I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,” he says.

I stare at my father in bewilderment. “A coal miner? Why would she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?”

“Because when he sings… even the birds stop to listen,” my father says, glancing at the coal miner in question.

The girl’s dad is now crouched in front of her, saying something unintelligible that causes her to grin at him and throw her arms around his neck. He embraces his daughter and plants a kiss on her forehead before giving her one last wave as she runs off to join some other Seam kids in line. He walks over to the rest of the waiting parents, whistling an unfamiliar tune, and it’s then that I realize he’s the only parent from the Seam to see his child off.

It makes sense, of course. The Seam is mostly coal miners, and the mines have been open for two, maybe three hours already. It’s a wonder any Seam parent made it at all. He must’ve risked something important to be here today.

It’s then that the teacher finally opens the classroom door and the rest of the kids start to be corralled into line by their parents. My father moves to drop my hand, but I grab onto his tighter.

“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to leave.” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Don’t be soft, Peeta,” he says, wrenching his hand away. “Just go find Delly. Have a nice day at school.”

I wipe my eyes and reluctantly join my classmates. But as the small groups that have gathered begin to thin out into a single file, I suddenly find myself directly behind the girl in the red dress.

As if sensing my gaze, she turns on her heel, those dove grey eyes boring into me. And there’s something about her stare that sets off a foreign fluttering feeling in my chest.

“What?” she asks, somewhat defensively.

“Oh, um… nothing,” I manage to choke out. “I mean, I just think your outfit is really pretty. Your hair too.”

Her cheeks turn as scarlet as the dress itself as she bashfully mumbles a soft “Thank you” and suddenly becomes very interested in her shoes.

“I’m Peeta,” I say, offering her my hand in the way my father said is polite. Part of me wonders if she’ll even take it after I seem to have embarrassed her with my flattery.

I feel my entire body exhale a sigh of relief as she tentatively reaches out.

“Katniss,” she says, shaking my hand.

Katniss.

I’d never heard a name quite like it, but as soon as it left her lips, I knew it would forever be my favorite.

Before I can blurt out something stupid, like how beautiful her name is and how perfectly it fits her, the teacher’s saying something and the kids in front of us start flooding into the classroom.

Katniss shifts her attention forward, but my eyes are locked on her. The way her skirt swishes when she turns, the way she turns up her chin and marches inside, though I know she must be as nervous as the rest of us. In fact, I’m so dazzled by her as I step into the room that I barely notice the tiny blonde girl barreling toward me until I’m tackled in a bear hug.

“Peeta!” squeals Delly in my ear as she squeezes me tight. “Happy first day of school! Are you excited? I could barely sleep, I was so excited. I can’t wait to meet everyone!”

“Yeah, Delly, I’m excited,” I say with a small smile, but I’m unable to tear my gaze away from Katniss, who now sits somewhat anxiously next to Madge, the mayor’s daughter.

Delly keeps babbling about all the people she’s already met, and how normal the Seam kids appear to be, and normally I’d have half a thought to listen to my friend’s endless stream of unfiltered thoughts. But as I stare at the mayor’s daughter next to Katniss, all I can think about is how I’ve never wanted to be someone else so badly in my whole life.

❁❁❁

“Does anybody know the valley song?”

The words are barely out of the music teacher’s mouth when someone’s hand shoots up immediately in the air.

“Katniss,” the teacher says, “Would you like to come up here and sing it for us, please?”

Katniss rises from her place next to Madge, and slowly makes her way to the front of the class. The teacher takes her hand and helps her up on a stool.

“Whenever you’re ready, Katniss.”

She takes a deep breath.

Down in the valley, valley so low,

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.

The train, love, hear the train blow.

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.

I’d never heard a voice so clear and sweet. Sure, I’d heard Delly singing before, but that always had more of a shrill and squeaky element to it.

Go build me a mansion, build it so high,

So I can see my true love go by.

See him go by, love, see him go by.

So I can see my true love go by.

The birds that had been twittering nonstop outside the window start to fall quiet, one by one.

Go write a letter, send it by mail.

Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.

Capitol jail, love, to the Capitol jail.

Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.

Everything is silent, as if the entire world is holding its breath, desperate not to miss a single note.

Roses are red, love; violets are blue.

Birds in the heavens know I love you.

Know I love you, oh, know I love you,

Birds in the heavens know I love you.

Everyone’s quiet for a moment, until I find myself rising from my chair to applaud the girl from the Seam. The rest of the class erupts into cheers immediately, and Katniss’ cheeks are once again burning red for the second time today. She shyly hops off the stool and rejoins Madge as the birds return to their own songs, though I could swear some of them were now chirping to the tune of the valley song.

Delly leans over to me and whispers, “She’s amazing!”

“Yeah.” I look over at Katniss, who I find staring back at me, but her gaze quickly flits away as that thing in my chest starts fluttering again. “She really is, huh?”

❁❁❁

“Ryan, how do I know if I’m in love with someone?”

My brother nearly chokes on the water he’s been chugging. “What?”

My oldest brother and I sit on a low wall outside the older kids’ wrestling room, waiting for our other brother to finish practice. He’d been late for some reason or another, so he’s outside doing windsprints while everyone else gets to go home. But since we’d promised our parents we’d walk home together, we now have to wait on him too.

“How do I know if I like a girl as more than a friend?”

My brother sets down his water bottle at his feet and hangs the towel that he’s been using to dry off his sweat on the wall next to him. “You've barely been here a day and you’re already having girl troubles? How does that happen, kid? You’re five years old.”

“It’s not like I was trying, Rye,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Is this about Delly?”

“No! Never,” I say, “She’s my sister, you know that.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

“It’s not Delly!”

“Sure it’s not, Peeta,” he says with a chuckle. “Well, you know when you were a bit younger, and Dad used to throw you up in the air and catch you?” I nod. “You know that funny feeling you got in your stomach when you were falling, but before he caught you? That’s what it feels like, except it’s about a hundred times stronger, and it’s really hard to get it to go away. It’s like when you see them, you’re suddenly in an open freefall with no way to stop yourself.”

I sit quietly for a moment. “Rye, I think I’m in love with Katniss Everdeen.”

Ryan’s eyes widen in alarm. “Everdeen? Like from the Seam?”

“Yeah. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and when she sings it’s so sweet that the birds stop to listen,” I say.

“I’m sure she’s great, Peeta,” he says with a smile, though it could almost pass for a grimace. “Just do me a favor? Don’t tell Mother you like a girl from the Seam, especially not an Everdeen. It’ll be our little secret, promise?”

“I promise,” I say. I know how my mother feels about the Seam, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her hating Katniss that way. Keeping a secret wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, I don’t even know what to do with this newfound realization of feelings for Katniss. I can’t tell her about it, no, she’d probably hate me forever; she could barely tolerate me complimenting her dress this morning. It’s not like it would lead anywhere anyways. I know we’re too young, that we still have many years before I’d ever even be able to act on my feelings.

So for now I’m stuck in freefall for a girl I can’t have. And it’s absolutely miserable.

[heckcareoxytwit]

Eye-Boy discusses with Nature Girl about his visual powers that are messing up his mind and sleep. Then, Eye-Boy sees a raccoon stealing a wallet from Rockslide. Eye-Boy tries to tell Rockslide that he saw the raccoon stole his wallet but the latter (Rockslide) dismisses him for imagining things since he was sleep-deprived from his wonky powers. Although Nature Girl found Eye-Boy strange, she believed him as she had witnessed the animal stealing the wallet so she and Eye-Boy went off to find the thieving raccoon.

As they went into the woods, the two mutants are attacked by a raccoon but it was quickly subdued by Nature Girl. The raccoon explains to Nature Girl (who can understand animals and plants thanks to her mutant power) that it was forced into crime by the mysterious Rat King. The raccoon was not only the animal which was forced to steal things, there were other animals like birds, squirrels, cats, rabbits, rats and other creatures which were forced into crime. If the animal refuses or does not bring any stolen item, the Rat King threatens them with starvation or worse. After hearing the raccoon's story (as translated from Nature Girl), Eye-Boy rallies the animals in the park to stand up and confront the Rat King. Eye Boy, Nature Girl and the animals venture into the sewers to find the Rat King. However, the hypnotic music starts playing in the tunnel and this caused Nature Girl and the animals to attack Eye-Boy. The multi-eyed mutant boy runs through the tunnel until he reaches the lair where The Rat King is sitting on his throne, surrounded with stolen items and playing with his flute. Eye-Boy was concentrating his visual powers when the rat bites his hand, causing him to throw the animal to The Rat King's face, knocking off the flute. Thus, Nature Girl and the animals woke up from the spell while Eye-boy breaks the flute and nearly beats the Rat King. Also, Rat King is the son of Piper the Morlock who uses the flute to control the alligators to do his bidding.

Generation X v2 #5, 2017

[cosmetichorror]

Snippet of this good Ganon linked universe thing where Wild and Ganon (goes by G) are besties and the chain panics

.

Being back on the road is a pleasing feeling for the trio, the wind in their hair and the sun shining down on their skin. Much to Links confusion, no animals scamper past them, nor do birds fly over head. Link hums a small song to himself, trying to calm his ever growing nerves.

there’s something strange about this day. A strange feeling in Links chest that puts him on edge. “Is everything alright?” G asks. Link sighs. “I don’t feel well. Something’s wrong.” He says. Zelda frowns deeply “Oh, Link if you were feeling sick you should have said so! It’s not too late to turn back to the stable, let’s go.” She says, already turning Frosting around. “No, no! Not as in sick, but as in something’s wrong out there.” He gestures widely to the wilderness. “Something’s wrong. We haven’t seen any animals all day. Not even a crow!” He points out. “Now that you mention it, it is strangely silent…” Zelda says, peaking around the bushes and trees. “Not even a squirrel.” G frowns. Zelda clutches her hands on the purple reins of her horse. “I feel a strange presence, but I can’t feel where from.”

As if on cue, the sound of chatter fills the strange empty silence. Zelda, Link and G all exchange glances, and silently agree to hop off their horses and investigate. No use bringing them into danger and paying a visit to Malanya. (The first time they had accidentally lost a horse G wouldn’t stop crying. That bokoblin got a lucky hit on Muffin. G was hysterical the whole way there. Muffin and them slept outside the stable together that night.)

Slowly walking through the brush, Link is once again met with concern as not even a bug nor snail wonders about. What scared all the critters away…?

Getting closer, they can see it’s a group of... eight? Sure, people are traveling more often nowadays, but never in groups as large as this. G is immediately suspicious, and places a hand on the hilt of their scimitar. They look over to Link, who nods and draws his shield, just to be safe. “I’ll handle this.” G whispers. He walks out. “Excuse me, travelers.” They step up, eying them all. There’s a brunet, one with what appears to be a wolf pelt (Wolfie wouldn’t like him), the oldest looking one with one eye, a pink haired one, a blue scarfed one (strange, no one wears that vibrant of a blue except for Zelda and Link), one with a white cape thingy, one with a multi colored tunic, and a child with a bright blue tunic (he swears him and Link saw a similar tunic before).

As soon as they speak, all swords are drawn. They step back and draw their scimitar, and Link steps out of the brush with a hand on the hilt of the master sword, not yet pulling it. Deep down G knows, there's almost no way out of this. They're outnumbered, three to eight. But even so, they're not scared. If this is how they die, then this is how they die. They've escaped death many times, and they know Link feels the same. Although leaving behind Zelda would pain them, they know she's strong. She'll be able to handle it. "Who are you?" Zelda demands, also stepping out of the bushes, glaring daggers right at this group. "Is that... Ganondorf?" The youngest one mutters to the pink haired one, who shrugs, but keeps a white knuckled grip on his sword. One thing G is proud of, it's their exceptional hearing, and they heard that. "How do you know my name?" He questions, hoping they don't hear the waver in their voice. The only people who called them that are Link, Zelda and Urbosa. And even that was always when chiding them for doing something stupid! They've always introduced themselves as G, even the yiga call them G! What in the world are these people?

The oldest one of them, although clearly on guard, raises his hands up as a sign of peace. "My apologies, me and my brothers have been rather jumpy as of late." He apologizes, though his sharp eyes that remain on G at all times as if he'll go rabid any second say he's not very sorry at all. "What do you want." Zelda asks through gritted teeth. She was just as on edge as Link and them, then again who wouldn't be? A group of eight heavily armed possible yigas is enough to send most experienced warriors running, and as the seconds grow longer the idea of running  becomes more and more desirable to this ragtag trio. Could they be responsible for the disappearance of the natural wildlife here?

"We're just looking for the hero, we-" G doesn't let him finish that sentence. "What business do you have with the hero?" He demands. The youngest scoffs. "We don't have to tell you anything." He hisses, if looks could kill, G would already be dead. "Actually, I think you do." G responds, bouncing their scimitar in their hands. "I'll ask you one last time. What. Business. Do. You. Have." He asks, putting emphasis on each word. Like hell if he was going to let these weirdos harm his friend! The oldest grits their teeth, clenching and unclenching his fist. "Now now, let's not get too-" the one with the white cape tries to calm them down, but the pink haired one interrupts him with a war cry, charging and swinging his sword down on G.

Although more often then not, he curses his unusually small stature for a gerudo. But it does have one good use: speed. He nimbly dodges the swing, some of his cloak getting cut in the process. But as long as he's not injured, he'll be fine. looking back at Link, they shout out an order. "Take Zelda and go! I'll hold 'em off." They say, ignoring the blonds distressed 'haa!', they gather their wits and charge. "Wait!" Zelda cries out, struggling as Link grabs her wrist and starts to bolt, sending a weary glance back at G that screamed 'get back safely'.

Unbeknownst to them, they just made the whole situation ten times worse. That group of eight doesn't see someone getting the former princess to safety, they see one of Ganondorf's minions taking away the princess. "Don't let them get away!" The one with the blackish grey fur pelt shouts, and the two smallest are on their tails just like that. The yiga are recruiting children now, huh? Maybe they can capture and rehabilitate these kids. The one with the multi colored tunic appears to be the oldest. He looks to be about sixteen, the other in the blue tunic with a white lobster on it can't be older then twelve. But Link can think about that later, for now he must focus on getting Zelda to safety. He speeds up, taking sharp turns and hoping Zel doesn't trip up along the way.

[taones]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬 // 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

Pairing: kyoutani x gender neutral!reader

Notes: Welcome to another multi part series! I hope you guys like it mwah

Warnings - Kyoutani gets mad but not at the reader, nothing much, very main character in a ya novel but it’s cute

“C’mon mad dog it’s not-”

Kyoutani growled, cutting his captain off. He needed to leave and he needed to leave right now. If not, he would end up bouncing the volleyball in his hands off said captain's head. The gym floor squeaked under his heels as he turned and stormed out, ignoring the calls from his team mates.

The grounds of the school were eerily quiet, most people were home or at their own sports clubs so nobody was there to bother Kyoutani as he sped across the courtyard. Did he know where he was going? No. But he knew he had to get away from the concrete walls decorated with posters with messages so positive it made him want to gouge his eyeballs out. 

The gardens. They were calm and nobody had used them in years so he may as well go there just to find some quiet to rage in his own time. Stupid volleyball. Stupid Oikawa. You had to love the mouthy captain but sometimes he got on the wrong side of Kyoutani’s mood and it became too much. Anyone could do it but his captain had a particular talent for grating on his nerves.

The leaves of the rose bushes surrounding the school gardens came into his line of sight and he felt himself relax at the sight. It was amazon what nature could do. If he wasn’t lying, he preferred nature. There was something about the leaves and the dirt that was so unassuming and calming to him. Not to mention the presence of animals. While his favourite was dogs, the sound of birds above him or squirrels shuffling round the trees was delightfully mundane and something even he could appreciate.

The entrance to the gardens was a rusted old gate, around mid-stomach on him. It had obviously been a rather gaudy yellow and he couldn’t say he was mad about the fact it had faded to a more muted, pastel variant of the colour. The blonde couldn’t see much past the sharp turn on bushes but he heard nothing so chose to open the gate anyway. It didn’t creak, almost like it had been recently oiled. 

There was no sound as he walked into the garden apart fro the running water from the pond in the corner. He was shocked at the way it looked however. Flower beds were newly planted, roses growing out of the hedge-fence looked a lot healthier than they did on the outside. There was even growing vegetables on some of the patches and bags of soil leant up against the tree in the corner. The garden had been off limits to everyone since the teacher running the club had retired, nobody had shown any interest in it so it was left bare.

A shuffle caught the blondes attention. He turned, staring towards the tree just in time to catch a glimpse of h/c hair disappearing behind the trunk. 

“Hello?” he grunted, guards now returned. 

You peaked out from behind the tree, eyes widened in slight fear. He recoiled at the sight of you. He knew it was after hours but your uniform was caked in soil and you had too-large gardeners gloves on your hands.

(Pov switch)

You stared, wide eyed, at the boy in front of you. He was wearing the volleyball uniform but you didn’t know anything about the team. The sports teams of the school were uninteresting to you, as were most of the students. This meant you had never quite cared enough to learn the names of who were considered the school's best assets. 

This boy though, he was interesting. You were the only person allowed in the schools garden. You were also one of the only people that knew about it but that was irrelevant. Why was he here? Taking in his strained posture and heavy breathing, you extended an arm of sorts.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently, coming out from behind the tree.

After he saw all of you, he relaxed a little. His eyes were still squinted in caution. You sighed, if he was gonna stay there then you may as well go back to your gardening. The moment you planted yourself next to the flower bed he visibly relaxed.

“Yeah i’m fine” he grunted, “got mad”

You hummed, patting the space next to you on the ground. Obviously, he probably wouldn’t take it but it was worth a try to be accomodating. The blonde boy hadn’t exactly stomped all over the plants so you assumed he had to have some sort of respect for the growth around you.

To your surprise, he sat down. Not next to you but around a metre away, on the corner of the flower bed. You saw him run his fingers across the top of the daisies on the grass and close his eyes.

Pausing, you stared at the boy who was breathing in deep breaths of the air around him as if he’d been starved of it. The air was different here, not as stuffy as the rest of the school. It seemed like the first time he had been truly calm in a while. Knuckles that were covered in scars danced gently across the grass and petals of the porcelain flowers. The creases that were in his eyebrows smoothed out and you could see the boy’s face, free of the stress. You knew the girls in your school were crazy about the captain of the volleyball team but you think this boy was just as gorgeous.

“So,” you began, “I’m y/n”

He grunted, shifted out of his daydream.

“Kyoutani Kentarou” 

You smiled. Despite answering you, he had yet to open his eyes and was still gently stroking the daisies.

“You seem to like the daisies” you muse, determined to get more than a word out of him.

“They’re nice” he said, “they’re kind of a weed, grow where they're not wanted. But people like them anyway, unlike dandelions.”

Your smile dropped into a look of sympathy.

“Personally, i think dandelions are beautiful” you replied, “it’s why i don’t pull them up”

You gestured around the garden, which was really more of a field. There were dandelions everywhere, accentuating the bright colours of the garden.

“Even if some people don’t like them, I do.  They grow through concrete and shit you know? I admire that”

He grunted again but cracked open an eye again to look at you while you were talking. This was progress.

“I would offer to let you help” you say, standing up.

“However, i think your practice just finished and i’d prefer to keep this place to myself… and you i guess”

He looked up at you, muttering a small apology.

“Hey it’s fine, you’re not so bad Kentarou. I wouldn’t mind you helping me out”

He smirked a bit at that, eyes following your figure as you disappear round the rose bush. A trail of soil followed you, falling off your clothes as you walked. 

It seems he would have to come back.

Feedback is appreciated and remember, reblogs help content creators!

Taglist - @prettysetterbaby @kingdoms--night--star @red-riot-rat

[wjbsart]

A complete, very long list of all GBoard-combinable emojis because I can't find one anywhere.

Ok so for those who haven't seen my stuff (or have only seen my Bionicle posts), I sometimes emoji mashup redraws, with the recent fourth one using GBoard-based fusions. Frustratingly, there's no actual list of fusion-compatible emojis, so I'll attempt to compile them, in a list below the "Read More" thing:

Green/▢ = compatible with fusion Blue/△ = only works with certain emojis Red/◯ = not compatible with fusion

Also, since other people's terms for specific emojis might not match up with mine, I recommend using CTRL+F and then doing this to find the specific emoji you're looking for. This list is in the order presented in GBoard's Emoji menu. Some of them will be generic unicode symbols, I don't know how to change that, sorry for the inconvenience. Also, I won't aknowledge multi-category Emoji.

Smileys and Emoticons

😀Open-mouthed smile▢

😃Wide-eyed smile▢

😄Closed-eyed smile▢

😁Closed-eyed grin▢

😆Laughing▢

😅Sweating smile▢

😂Cry-laughing▢

🤣Cry-ROFLing▢

😭Crying▢

��Kissing▢

😙Kissing, closed eyes▢

😚Kissing, blushing▢

😘Kissing, winking w/ heart▢

🥰Surrounded by hearts▢

😍Heart-eyes▢

🤩Star-eyes▢

🥳Noisemaker and party-hat▢

🤗Hugging▢

🙃Upside-down▢

🙂Smile▢

☺Blushing, smiling▢

😊Blushing▢

😏Looking off to the side▢

😌Relieved▢

😉Winking▢

🤭Hand over mouth▢

😶Nightmare fuel Mouthless▢

😐Neutral▢

😑-_-▢

😔Pensive▢

😋Licking lips▢

😛Tongue out▢

😝Tongue out, eyes closed▢

😜Tongue out, winking▢

🤪Tongue out, wide-eyed▢

🤔Hmmm▢

🤨Suspicious▢

🧐Monocle▢

🙄Rolling eyes▢

😒Unamused▢

😤Snorting▢

😠Angry▢

😡Angry, red▢

🤬Swearing▢

☹Frown▢

🙁Frown but less▢

😕Confused▢

😟Distraught▢

🥺Pleading▢

😳AWOOGA Flushed▢

😬Yikes▢

🤐Zip▢

🤫Shushing▢

😰Distraught, sweating▢

😧Distraught, shocked▢

😦Distraught, neutral▢

😮Open mouth▢

😯Open mouth, surprised▢

😲Shocked▢

😱Horrified▢

🤯Your head asplode Mind blown▢

😢Crying, single tear▢

😥Crying, less sad▢

😓Sweating▢

😞Dissapointed▢

😖Pained▢

😣Persevering▢

😩Weary▢

😫Tired▢

🤤Drooling▢

😴Sleeping▢

😪Sleeping but different?▢

🌛Left-facing moon▢

🌜Right-facing moon▢

🌚New moon face◯

🌝Full moon face◯

🌞The sun▢

🤢Queasy▢

🤮Vomiting▢

🤧Sneezing▢

🤒Unwell▢

🤕Bandaged▢

🥴Drunk▢

😵Dizzy▢

🥵Hot▢

🥶Cold▢

😷Masked up▢

😇Angel▢

🤠yee haw▢

🤑Money-tongue▢

😎Cool▢

🤓Nerd▢

🤥Lying▢

🤡Clown▢

👻Ghost▢

💩Poop▢

👽Ayy lmao Alien▢

🤖Robot▢

🎃Jack-o-Lantern▢

😈Demon 1▢

👿Demon 2▢

👹Oni◯

👺Tengu◯

☠Skull and crossbones▢

🔥Fire▢

💫Star with trail▢

⭐Star▢

🌟Star with bits▢

✨Stars▢

⚡Lightning◯

💥Explosion◯

💯100△

💢Anime anger symbol◯

💨Steam▢

💦Sweat Droplets▢

💤Zzz▢

🕳Hole▢

🎉Party popper▢

��Confetti ball▢

😺😸😹😻😼😽🙀😿😾Literally all the "cat in different emotions" emojis▢

❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤Literally all the coloured hearts△

♥Heart suit▢

💘Heart with arrow▢

💝Heart with ribbon▢

💖Shiny heart▢

💗Growing heart▢

💓Beating heart▢

💞Swirling hearts▢

💕Two hearts▢

💌Love letter▢

💟Heart in square▢

❣Heart exclamation mark▢

💔Broken heart▢

💋Kiss▢

👥Two silhouettes◯

👤Silhouette◯

🗣Talking silhouette◯

👣Footprints◯

🧠Brain◯

🦠Microbe▢

🦷Tooth◯

🦴Bone◯

💀Skull▢

👀Eyes◯

👁Eye▢

👄Lips◯

👅Tongue◯

👃👂🦶🦵💪👍👎👏🙌👐Every other body part and hand gesture, seriously this isn't even all of them◯

People

Seriously, I don't know why none of the people-category emojis are Fusion-compatible. Let's just move on.◯

Animals and Nature

💐Bunch of flowers▢

🌹Rose▢

🥀Wilted rose◯

🌷Tulip▢

🌺Hibiscus flower◯

🌸Cherry blossom▢

🏵Rosette◯

🌻Sunflower◯

🌼Daisy▢

💮White flower◯

🍂Falling leaves◯

🍁Maple leaf◯

🌾Rice plants◯

🌱Seedling◯

🌿Herb◯

🍃Falling leaves again◯

☘3-leaf clover◯

🍀4-leaf clover◯

🌵Cactus▢

🌴Palm tree◯

🌳Deciduous tree◯

🌲Coniferous tree▢

🏞National park◯

⛰Mountain◯

🌊Wave◯

🌬Wind◯

🌀Tornado symbol◯

🌁Foggy scene◯

🌫Fog▢

🌪Tornado▢

☃Snowman (with snow)▢

⛄Snowman (without snow)▢

❄Snowflake

🏔Mountain with snow◯

🌡Thermometer◯

🌋Volcano◯

🏜Desert◯

🏝Desert island◯

🏖Beach◯

🌅Sunrise/set (water)◯

🌄Sunrise/set (mountains)◯

☀Sun▢

🌤Sun with cloud◯

⛅Sun and cloud◯

🌥Cloud with sun◯

🌦Sun and cloud with rain◯

☁Cloud▢

🌨Snowcloud◯

⛈Stormcloud◯

🌩Thundercloud◯

🌧Raincloud◯

💧Drop◯

☔Umbrella with rain◯

🌈Rainbow▢

✨Sparkles▢

🌙Crescent Moon◯

☄Comet◯

🌠Shooting star▢

🌌Milky Way◯

🌉Bridge◯

🌆City in the evening▢

🌃City at night▢

🌍🌏🌎Earth▢

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗���The moon◯

🙈🙉🙊🐵Monkeys, wise or not▢

🦁Lion face▢

🐯Tiger face◯

🐱Cat face▢

🐶Dog face◯

🐺Wolf face◯

🐻Bear face▢

🐨Koala face▢

🐼Panda face▢

🐹Hamster face◯

🐭Mouse face◯

🐰Rabbit face▢

🦊Fox face◯

🦝Raccoon face◯

🐮Cow face◯

🐷Pig face▢

🐽Pig nose▢

🐗Boar head◯

🦓Zebra head◯

🦄Unicorn head▢

🐴Horse head◯

🐸Frog face◯

🐲Dragon head◯

🦎Lizard◯

🐉Dragon◯

🦖T-Rex◯

🦕Diplodocus◯

🐢Turtle▢

🐊Crocodile◯

🐍Snake◯

🐁Mouse▢

🐀Rat◯

🐇Rabbit▢

🐈Cat▢

🐩Poodle◯

🐕Dog◯

🐅Tiger◯

🐆Leopard◯

🐎Horse◯

🐖Pig▢

🐄Cow◯

🐂Bull◯

🐃Water buffalo◯

🐏Ram◯

🐑Sheep◯

🐐Goat▢

🦌Deer▢

🦙Llama▢

🦘Kangaroo◯

🐘Elephant◯

🦏Rhinoceros◯

🦛Hippopotamus◯

🦒Giraffe◯

🐒Monkey▢

🦍Gorilla◯

🐪🐫Camels◯

🐿Squirrel (why does the squirrel of all things have a Unicode symbol?)◯

🦡Badger◯

🦔Hedgehog▢

🦇Bat▢

🐓Cockerel/rooster◯

🐔Chicken◯

🐣🐥🐤Chicks◯

🐦Bird▢

🦉Owl▢

🦅Eagle◯

🦜Parrot◯

🕊Dove◯

🦢Swan◯

🦚Peacock◯

🦃Turkey◯

🦆Duck◯

🐧Penguin◯

🦈Shark◯

🐬Dolphin◯

🐋🐳Whales◯

🐟Fish▢

🐠Tropical fish◯

🐡Pufferfish◯

🦐Prawn◯

🦞Lobster◯

🦀Crab◯

🦑Squid◯

🐙Octopus▢

🦂Scorpion▢

🕷Spider▢

🕸Spiderweb◯

🐚Shell◯

🐌Snail▢

🐜Ant◯

🦗Grasshopper◯

🦟Mosquito◯

🐝Bee▢

🐞Ladybird◯

🦋Butterfly◯

🐛"Bug" yeah sure ok◯

🐾Pawprints◯

Food and Drink

🍓Strawberry▢

🍒Cherry◯

🍎Red apple◯

🍉Watermelon◯

🍑Peach◯

🍊Orange◯

🥭Mango◯

🍍Pineapple▢

🍌Banana◯

🍋Lemon▢

🍈Melon◯

🍏Green apple◯

🍐Pear◯

🥝Kiwi◯

🍇Grapes◯

🥥Coconut◯

🍅Tomato◯

🌶Chili▢

🍄Mushroom◯

🥕Carrot◯

🍠Sweet potato◯

🌽Corn◯

🥦Broccoli◯

🥒Cucumber◯

🥬Lettuce◯

🥑Avocado▢

🍆Aubergine◯

🥔Potato◯

🌰Nut◯

🥜Peanuts◯

🍞Bread▢

🥐Croissant◯

🥖Baguette▢

🥯Bagel◯

🥞Pancakes◯

🍳Frying pan◯

🥚Egg (somehow)◯

🧀Cheese▢

🥓Bacon◯

🥩Meat◯

🍗Chicken leg◯

🍖Anime meat◯

🍔Burger◯

🌭Hotdog▢

🥪Sandwich◯

🥨Pretzel◯

🍟Chips◯

🍕Pizza◯

🌮Taco◯

🌯Wrap◯

🥙Stuffed flatbread◯

🥘Paella◯

🍝Spaghetti◯

🥫Can◯

🥣Bowl◯

🥗Salad◯

🍲Pot of food◯

🍛Curry◯

🍜Noodles◯

🍣Sushi◯

🍤Fried prawn◯

🥡Takeaway container◯

🍚Cooked rice◯

🍱Bento◯

🥟Dumpling◯

🍢Oden◯

🍙Jelly Donut Rice ball◯

🍘Rice cracker◯

🍥Fishcake◯

🍡Dango◯

🥠Fortune cookie◯

🥮Moon cake◯

🍧Shave ice◯

🍨Ice cream◯

🍦See above◯

🥧Pie◯

🍰Cake slice◯

🍮Custard mate what kinda custard have you been eating, this is clearly a créme caramel◯

🎂Birthday cake▢

🧁Cupcake▢

🍭Lollipop◯

🍬Boiled sweet◯

🍫Chocolate◯

🍩Donut◯

🍪Cookie◯

🍯Honey◯

🧂Salt◯

🍿Popcorn◯

🥤Soft drink◯

🥛Milk◯

🍼Baby bottle◯

🍵Green tea◯

☕Coffee▢

🍺Beer◯

🍻Beers, plural◯

🥂Champagne glasses◯

🍾Champagne◯

🍷Red red wine◯

🥃Whiskey◯

🍸Martini◯

🍹Cocktail◯

🍶Sake◯

🥢Chopsticks◯

🍴Knife and fork▢

🥄Spoon◯

🔪Kitchen knife◯

🍽Plate▢

Travel and Places

🛑🎡Everything from the stop sign to Ferris wheel◯

🎠Merry-go-round horse▢

🎪🏕Everything from circus tent to campsite◯

🌇City at sunset yes I'm surprised as you are▢

🛤Train tracks◯

🛣Road◯

🗺Map◯

🗾Japan is an island by the sea filled with volcanoes and it's beautifuul!◯

🌐Globe with meridian lines▢

💺Plane seat◯

🧳Luggage◯

Activities and Events

🎈Balloon▢

🎀Bow◯

🎁Present◯

🎇Sparkler◯

🎆Fireworks◯

🧨Dynamite Firecracker◯

🧧Red envelope◯

🎐Wind chime◯

🎏Fish streamers◯

🎎Japanese dolls (that's what the emoji's called, don't @ me with the actual name for them)◯

🎑Moon viewing ceremony◯

🎍Pine decoration◯

🎋Tanabata◯

🎄Christmas tree▢

🎗Ribbon△

🥇🥈🥉🏅🎖Medals◯

🏆Trophy◯

📣Megaphone◯

🥅Goal◯

⚽⚾🥎🏀🏐🏈🏉🎾🏸🥍🏏🏑🏒SPORTS◯

🥌Curling stone◯

🛷Rosebud Sled◯

🎿Ski◯

⛸Skate◯

⛳Golf-hole◯

🎯Target◯

🏹Bow◯

🥏Frisbee◯

🎣Fishing rod▢

🎽Running shirt◯

🥋Martial arts uniform◯

🥊Boxing glove◯

🎱8-ball◯

🏓Ping-pong◯

🎳Bowling◯

♟Chess◯

🧩Puzzle piece◯

🎮Controller◯

🕹Joystick◯

👾Videogame alien◯

🔫Gun◯

🎲Dice◯

🎰Slot machine◯

🎴Flower playing card◯

🀄Mahjong tile◯

🃏Joker◯

🎩Top hat◯

📷📸Camera◯

🖼Painting◯

🖌Paintbrush◯

🖍Crayon◯

🧵String◯

🧶Wool◯

🎼🎵🎶Music▢

🎷🎺🎸🎻🥁Instruments◯

🎤Mic◯

🎧Headphones▢

🎚🎛🎙📻Assorted audio stuff◯

📺TV◯

📼VHS◯

📹Camcorder◯

📽Projector◯

🎥Film camera◯

🎞Film◯

🎬Clapperboard◯

🎭Comedy and tragedy masks◯

🎫🎟Tickets◯

Objects

📱🧻Everything from smartphone to toilet roll◯

🧸Teddy bear▢

🧷🧢Everything from safety pin to baseball cap◯

👑Crown▢

🎒💍Everything from backpack to ring◯

💎Diamond▢

💄👓Everything from lipstick to glasses◯

🕶Sunglasses▢

🥽📁Everything from goggles to folder◯

🕶Newspaper▢

🗞🔎Everything from rolled-up newspaper to right-pointing magnifying glass◯

��Crystal ball▢

🧿🔓Everything from Nazar amulet to open lock◯

Symbols

There are no compatible non-repeated Emoji here.◯

Flags

Aaaaand none here either.◯

Feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Good Vibrations

Thank you to @permanently-exhausted-witcher for that Geralt edit yesterday! You really did me a solid and, as promised, I have written you the fic! I love stoner aus (because I myself am a bit of a stoner) and this was so much fun to write. Thank you for the prompt, boo!

Good Vibrations - The Beach Boys

tw: drug use, marijuana only, horny

---

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Jaskier asks. “They’re all...red.”

“Yeah, that can happen,” Geralt replies. The room Geralt had rented before Jaskier even reached the mid-sized Redanian town was unusually cushy. His Witcher’s tastes were usually more spartan in nature and the bard was curious as to why he’d chosen such a place to stay for the two of them. And why it smelled so weirdly sweet and skunky at the same time. 

“Did you burn incense or something? It smells weird in here.”

“Not quite,” the Witcher giggles. Fucking giggles. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

Jaskier crosses the room and sets his pack and Sexy down next to the bedside table. He perches on the edge of the mattress next to his favorite Witcher and waits patiently for the strange red-eyed ailment to be explained. Geralt giggles again and puts a finger to his lips, signalling for secrecy. Another small, happy sound finds its way between his lips and Jaskier can’t help but smile encouragingly in response.

“I’m high.”

“What?”

“Lambert found a huge field full of the dankest kush behind Kae-”

“Hold on.”

“Huh?” Geralt looks over to Jaskier again and finds the bard looking positively flabbergasted.

“Did you just say the words dankest kush?”

“Yes, I did. It’s really good shit. Do you want some wax? It’s all I brought because it’s easier to travel with.”

Jaskier considers for a moment, running his hand along his smooth chin as if pretending to stroke a beard. Geralt is gazing at him with eager eyes and his hands are clenching and unclenching in the sheets beneath him. The bard has never tried this particular substance before but if Geralt is offering it then it’s probably not something that will kill him or make him sick. He nods, brown bangs flopping in and out of his eyes as he does, “Sure, I’ll try a bit.”

The Witcher’s face lights up in a new and unfamiliar way, like he’s truly relaxed for the first time since Jaskier has met him, and he breathes out a soft: “Excellent.”

Geralt pulls a strange, jointed glass contraption, half-full with water, from beneath the bed and removes a tiny tin (almost small enough to be a lip-rouge tin, it looks like) from his bag. Using a small metal pick, the Witcher takes a glob of some odd yellow, sticky substance and transfers it from the tin to a protruding stem on the glass thingy. “What is all this?”

“It’s called a dab, Jaskier. It gets you high in a different way than just smoking the herb.”

“Can’t say I’ve really tried this before,” the bard shrugs. “So for now it’s all the same.”

“Really?” The Witcher seems extremely surprised. His grey eyebrows disappear nearly all the way into his hairline; he’s rarely this expressive and Jaskier is reveling in it. “But you’re always so...horny.”

“Thank you for that assessment,” the bard deadpans. He shrugs off his doublet and undoes his chemise where it laces at his throat, letting some of his chest hair peak out. Geralt swallows the growing lump in his throat as his friend mutters, “It’s fucking hot in here.”

“Well yeah, it is now,” Geralt snorts. He can’t seem to stop himself from adding,  “It’ll only get hotter if you keep taking your fucking clothes off.”

“Alright, whatever this shit is,” Jaskier says, gesturing to the dab rig, “I want some in me like yesterday. If it can make you, the great and grumpy Geralt of Rivia, joke around so easily then I want to be on the same spiritually transcendent plane.”

Geralt’s brow furrows as he squirrels the tin back into his bag. Without another word he signs for Ignii and watches the amber wax bubble and melt a little in the stem. Geralt breathes in through a tube at the other end of the rig and Jaskier watches a swirl of thin white smoke bubble through the water in the wide glass chamber and into his friend’s lungs. After a moment the Witcher releases the cloud back into the room and that sickly sweet stink returns.

“Your turn,” the Witcher half-coughs, gesturing at the multi-jointed pipe. Jaskier leans forward and mimics his friend, taking a long, hard pull of white smoke. Geralt yanks the dab rig away with a bright laugh. “Fuck, Jask! You’re going to die!”

The bard releases the smoke more quickly than Geralt had, taking the Witcher’s words to heart as he’s compelled into a coughing fit by the strange itching burn of the drug. “G-Geralt! Wh-What the fuck!?”

“Are you okay?”

There’s already a pleasant, tingling buzz settling at the back of Jaskier’s skull and behind his eyes. He breathes through the cramps in his chest and settles more firmly against the mattress. He feels soft. Pliant. “I feel like a…”

Geralt waits a moment to hear what Jaskier feels like but the sentence never ends. The Witcher glances over to find his friend, glassy-eyed and silent, staring down at his palms where they rest atop his thighs. Oh. Jaskier is high. Like really fucking high. And he’s only taken one little hit.

Geralt has had four.

The bemused Witcher sets the now-empty dab rig on the table and tugs Jaskier closer so that their thighs are nearly touching but not quite. The bard looks up from his hands, startled, and allows himself to be moved. “Oh, hello again. Geralt?”

“Yes, Jaskier?”

“You’ve been smiling this whole time,” the bard muses. His voice sounds dreamy and far away, half a register higher than usual. “Are you going to die? Is that why we’re doing this? Why have you gotten a nicer room than usual, one that I would like, and why are you giving me this...stuff? Is it all so you can break the news to me that you’re dying of some strange Witchery ailment?”

“No, it’s the drugs,” Geralt replies. “They make me feel very relaxed. They make my mind a little quieter. I got the nice room because I had a little extra coin and I thought...I thought you’d like it.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I can feel so much,” Jaskier sighs. Geralt glances over at him again, watching his long fingers swirling against the soft material of his high-waisted trousers. 

“I’d like to feel you.”

“Huh?” Jaskier looks dazed. Geralt slowly lowers his large hand, settling it against the top of the bard’s unoccupied thigh. 

“You always look and smell so soft,” Geralt murmurs. “Are you? Are you really always that soft?”

Jaskier glances up. His face breaks out into a wide, dopey grin. “Yeah. I’m really that soft.”

Geralt’s hand is rucking up his shirt a second later, sliding his hand along the smooth skin of Jaskier’s rib-cage and over onto the man’s slightly coarser, hirsute chest. The Witcher is fucking purring. A loud, deep rumble comes fluttering out of his chest as he caresses the man beside him. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighs. “Yes, like that.”

“It’s been so long; I’ve missed you.”

The Witcher’s lips seek out and sink against his bard’s. The two men slide down against the pillows and adjust until both are shirtless and tangled together. Jaskier is resting with his head against Geralt’s chest, his fingers swirling through the silvery hair, and Geralt’s hand is buried in the thick brown hair atop Jaskier’s head. 

To the bard’s extreme surprise, his Witcher begins to sing very softly above him. 

“I - I love the colorful clothes he wears;

And the way the sunlight plays upon his hair. 

I feel the sound of a gentle word 

On the wind that lifts his perfume through the air.”

“Are you singing about me?”

“Hmm.”

“Did you write a song about me?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Geralt chuckles, “I overheard it at a tavern on my way  north and it happened to remind me of you.”

“So you memorized it?”

There’s another lazy hum from the Witcher and Jaskier feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

“That’s so incredibly sweet of you, my love.”

“Well, you’re incredibly sweet. Only makes sense.”

“Kiss me again, Geralt. I swear that I’ll die if you don’t.”

“No dying on me, bard,” the Witcher orders, dragging his lover up his chest and pressing their mouths urgently together. “Never.”

“Let’s have some more of this stuff,” Jaskier suggests breathlessly. “And then see what happens. I’m feeling very...touchy.”

Geralt grins and reaches for his bag.

[darknessbound3]

"Where's Cas?"

Jack smiles at Dean's question like he'd been expecting it. "He's with me. In Heaven. He's... done, I think. He played a part in saving the world, and now... he wants to rest. I think he deserves that."

Simultaneously, the news breaks Dean's heart and heals it. But more than anything, it gives him something to think about.

~

"Sammy."

His brother looks at him like he has a million times - with an expression that says he knows exactly what Dean's going to say before the words even leave his mouth. "Are you sure?"

Nodding with a gallic shrug, he slides his hands in his pockets. "Listen, man. We've been through it, I mean really through it the last fifteen years. Monsters, gods, cosmic douchebags... Hitler, for god's sake. You name it, we've beat it. And now Jack, he's... he's better. He's better than Chuck, and I'm alright with that. You've got Eileen here, the baby. You guys are good. Everyone's good. But me?"

Sam tries to cut him off, but Dean's been trying to get these words out his entire life, and he's not gonna let Sam stop him now. "Just wait. I'm not happy here, Sammy. I can't be, not with... not with Cas somewhere else. He's it for me, man. He's everything, and if I gotta let go of this life to go find him, then..." He shrugs again as the faces of all the people he loves flash through his mind. "Then I'm good with that. I've lived a lot of lives, man. More than anyone, probably, if we consider that fiasco at Mystery Spot. And I wanna be done. I wanna be happy. I wanna finally look Cas in those stupid blue eyes and tell him I love him too. So... I asked Jack if he'll let me in up there. Say sayonara to this place and just... be."

Dean was prepared for a lot of reactions from Sam, but happiness wasn't one of them. Tears shine in his brother's eyes as he steps forward and pulls Dean into a hug. "I'm proud of you, Dean. I'm gonna miss you, but... this isn't the end. I'll see you again soon."

With a sad smile, Dean pats his brother's back and steps away. "Yeah, but maybe not too soon, okay? Have a few more kids. Train the next generation of Men of Letters right. And for the love of god, burn every copy of Supernatural you ever find."

Sam laughs, but before he can say anything else, Jack appears. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let me just..." Dean pulls off his flannel and sets it in the box he's kept Cas' trenchcoat in. "Alright. Beam me up, Scotty."

"Bye, Dean." Sam sniffles, pulling the box close to his chest. "Tell Cas I said I'm sorry it took you so long to admit it."

With a last grin and a middle finger, Dean disappears from the Earth.

~

Heaven is a lot brighter than Dean remembers it, but maybe that's just because his human eyes were limited. Things look great, and Jack looks around proudly as he leads Dean to the garden. "I no longer keep people confined to their personal heavens. You'll be free to roam, free to see everyone you've ever loved that's up here. I think Cas is visiting with my mom right now."

"Does he... does he know I'm comin'?"

Jack nods. "Yes, he's been watching over you. He's eager to see you again."

Butterflies scatter throughout Dean's stomach as he rounds the corner. He sees Kelly, but she's not talking to Cas, she's talking to some huge, multi-headed thing. "What the..."

"Oh, you haven't seen his true form yet, have you?" Jack asks. "That's what he really is. What he really looks like. Don't worry, he can take any visage he wants up here, so he'll be able to speak with you the way he always has."

As they approach, Dean gets a good look. His wings are wider than anything he's ever seen, all jet black with streaks of blue and green. They're gorgeous, and would've stolen the show entirely if it weren't for the heads. One moose, one squirrel, one insect-lookin' thing that might be a bee... and an Impala. Dean's breath catches in his throat as tears flood his eyes. "Has he always looked like that?"

"No. But you changed him, Dean. More completely than I think you'll ever know. Now... go. I think you've wasted enough time."

As he nears Cas, all four heads turn to look at him. It's overwhelming, but Dean isn't afraid. This is Cas, the love of his life. "Heya, Cas. Long time no see. I uhh... guess I've got some things to tell you. Can you... I dunno, maybe come down here?"

With an almost blinding flash, the giant form shrinks down until he's once again the blue-eyed, trenchcoated angel that Dean fell in love with. He takes two steps forward with joy etched in his features, and reaches out for his hand. "Hello, Dean. Walk with me."

[izzyfandoms]

Miraculous: Tales of Tarantula and Prince Dragon

Origins - Part One

This is a Sanders Sides Miraculous Ladybug AU, where the Sanders Sides/Sanders Shorts/Cartoon Therapy characters take the place of the Miraculous Ladybug characters, becoming Miraculous heroes with original Miraculouses and fighting akumas similar to the ones in the show. The main cast and other important teenagers are all TS characters, while all the background characters (adults) and villains are the same ML ones. I imagine the characters are slightly older than they are in ML though (closer to 16). There will definitely be a part two to this, and hopefully more oneshot episodes too in the future. Hope you enjoy!

SHIPS: Future Prinxiety, implied Remile, one-sided Rosleep crush, implied Thomas x Andy

WARNINGS: Bullying, fighting, anxiety

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Miraculous: Tales of Tarantula and Prince Dragon Masterpost

Masterpost

Many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing extraordinary powers were created. These were... the Miraculouses.

Throughout history, humans have used these jewels for the good of the human race. Two of these Miraculouses were more powerful than the others: the earrings of the Ladybug, which provided the power of creation; and the ring of the Black Cat, which granted the power of destruction.

According to legend, whoever controlled both those jewels at the same time, would achieve absolute power.

And so, in the face of a dangerous, rising super-villain – one wielding the Moth brooch Miraculous, who likely sought the combined power of creation and destruction for themself – the guardian was conflicted. His kwami could feel that the Butterfly Miraculous had fallen into the hands of evil, so it was only a matter of time before that evil surfaced and attacked.

Did he risk using the two most powerful Miraculouses? Granting their powers to two new heroes, in the hopes that they won against the Moth, and that the jewellery wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands? Or did he give out other, weaker Miraculouses, ones that wouldn’t be too dangerous to lose, keeping the Ladybug and the Black Cat safe, but risking it not being enough?

His hands hovered over the small Octagonal boxes laid out in front of him.

They were mismatched, not all from the same Miraculous box. A mistake in his youth had led to that, and it remained his biggest regret.

The Ladybug and the Black Cat came as a pair, from the same box as the Butterfly and the missing Peacock, as well as the Turtle bracelet that sat on the Guardian’s wrist. The rest, though, were all different. A mismatched collection, grabbed in a panic.

The Owl.

The Yellow Snake.

The Spider.

The Red Dragon.

The Bird.

The White Cat.

The Lion.

The Octopus.

The empty box of the Turtle.

And the Ladybug and the Black Cat, a pair, sat in the centre.

The Guardian glanced up at his kwami – a small, floating, green turtle by the name of Wayzz. They held a silent conversation, and came to a silent agreement.

(Their many years together had given them a deep understanding of each other and their thoughts.)

Then, he turned back to the boxes, carefully picking out the necklace of the Spider, and the bracelet of the Red Dragon.

The Ladybug and the Black Cat would stay tucked away, for now.

***

“Virgil. Virgil!”

Virgil yawned, sitting up slowly and blinking the sleep from his eyes. He stretched noisily, making a face when he realised that the alarm on his phone was going off, and likely had been for a while.

How did he sleep through it again?

“I’m up, Mama!” He shouted back when he heard his mother call his name again. “Coming!”

Maybe she needed help in the bakery. He had been assisting his parents more over the Summer.

“You’re gonna be late for school!”

Virgil froze mid-stretch. He stayed like that for a moment – blinking in shock – before he unfroze and hurriedly grabbed his phone, switching off the ringing alarm and checking the date.

It was Monday.

The first day back at school.

He groaned.  

“Ah, shit,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, rubbing at his eyes with over-sized sleeves.  

He had borrowed one of his dad’s old shirts to sleep in again. It was comfy – very comfy – but worn-out and definitely too big on him, and he thought he probably looked ridiculous.

He somewhat reluctantly climbed out of bed, scowling at himself as he left the warm comfort of his duvet and pillows. He knew he would miss them. It would be far, far too many hours before he’d be able to sleep again. He already deeply missed the Summer, even though he definitely wasn’t a fan of the heat.

He left his room and made his way down the stairs, entering the kitchen and immediately heading over to his mother to kiss her on the cheek.

“Ugh, I think Remy’s in my class again this year,” he said as he sat down at the table.

His mother, Sabine, pulled a face. “Really, again? Four years in a row. That can’t be possible.”

“Oh, it’s definitely possible – with my luck at least.”

“Hmm... well, maybe he won’t be so bad this year?”

Virgil scoffed. “Nah, Remy’s never gonna change. He’s always been like this. Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

His mother shot him a chastising look that was tinged with a fondness that made the corners of Virgil’s lips twitch upwards. He knew he’d inherited his mischievous streak from somebody, though his father was also a potential candidate. He also knew that he’d overheard her talking to his father about Remy in a similar way, in the past when his classmate had been particularly nasty to him.

“Well, let’s look on the bright side, honey,” Sabine continued, turning away to continuing preparing her own breakfast, as Virgil poured himself a bowl of cereal. “It’s the start of a new year! I’m sure everything will turn out just fine.”

Virgil huffed. “I hope so.”

He lifted the first spoonful of cereal to his lips, but before he could get even a single taste of that sugary goodness, it slipped from his fingertips, landing in his bowl and splashing his shirt with milk and cereal.  

Virgil sighed; this was going to be a long day.

Sabine passed her son a cloth to wipe his shirt with.

The rest of his breakfast passed quickly – and, thankfully, uneventfully, with minimal mess. He got dressed quickly, too: he was running late, after all. Black socks. Black boots. Black jeans. Purple shirt. Black and purple hand-made jacket. Make-up. Purple backpack. He double checked and triple checked and quadruple checked that he had everything he needed – anxiety may have been a bitch, but it at least made him thorough – before he headed back downstairs again.

As he entered the bakery below his house, he was immediately greeted by the usual sounds of his father, Tom, singing out of tune to himself as he moved around the room. The bakery wasn’t open yet, so there were no customers, only them.

Virgil then smiled slightly as Tom turned around, revealing the box of freshly-baked cupcakes he held in his hands, quickly (and carefully) handing them to his son.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem! Glad you like them. Make sure to show off your new logo design to your classmates, I’m sure they’ll bring in a ton of new customers this year!”

Virgil huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure it’s your baking that brings in the customers, Dad.”

“We all bring in the customers. We’re great, and we’ll be even greater this year! We’re the Dupain-Chengs, and there is nothing we can’t do!”

Tom moved into a super-hero pose, flexing his arms and grinning. Virgil snorted.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta go, Dad. I’m kinda late.”

“See you tonight, then!”

Virgil pushed past his parents and exited the bakery, moving as quickly as he could whilst balancing the box of cupcakes in his arms. With his luck, he was surprised he didn’t trip the moments his boots hit the pavement, but, somehow, he managed to stay upright and begin to make his way down the street.

He stopped at a crossing, almost tripping into the road but managing to lean back and catch himself at just the right moment. He let out a sigh of relief, and then tensed up again, gawking, wide-eyed when he noticed the small, old man slowly trying to cross the street – travelling slowly and with a cane – right in the way of an oncoming car. He wasn’t looking where he was going, and the rest of the surrounding people were far too focused on their phones to notice.

Virgil leapt forward, grabbing the man by the wrist that held his cane and tugging him towards him and out of the way of the car.

The old man stumbled, though made it safely to the other side, but Virgil’s box of cupcakes flew from his hand and landed on the pavement, spilling cake and multi-coloured icing all over the grey concrete.

“Thank you, young man,” the short old man in the Hawaiian shirt said, smiling gratefully, before noticing the spilt cupcakes all over the pavement. “Oh, what a shame!”

“It’s- it’s fine,” Virgil sighed, picking himself up and dusting himself off. A few cupcakes were still mostly intact and still the box – unaffected by the pavement – though most were unsalvageable. He offered one of the remaining ones to the old man, who took it.

“Mmm... delicious!”

“Yeah, my da- oh, shit!”  

Ah, shit, Virgil just swore in front of an old man.  

“I’m late for school!” He continued. “Uh- bye!”

He waved a quick goodbye to the old man, and then proceeded to sprint across the street and over to his school. Luckily, he lived right by it, but, unfortunately, that didn’t often save him from his usual lateness.

Unbeknownst to Virgil, the old man watched him intently as he went, his gaze following Virgil’s running form until he was out of sight. Then, he retrieved a small octagonal box from his pocket, looking it over.

“Thank you very much, young man.” He smiled to himself, before walking off in the direction of the bakery at an easy pace, holding his cane off the ground, behind his back, not needing to use it.

***

“Logan, why don’t you sit in the front row, this year?” Caline Bustier said as Virgil burst through the door of the classroom.

Logan sighed, pulling out his earphones and lifting his bag as he made his way to one of the front desks – the outer right seat – sitting down reluctantly. Virgil took one of the seats behind him, the middle right seat. He and Logan had had classes together for years, though they didn’t know each other nearly as well as they could have.

Logan Lahiffe was into music – the violin, in particular, and composing his own tunes – whilst Virgil was into fashion design. They both mostly kept to themselves, though they got along well enough when put together.

A hand suddenly slammed into Virgil’s desk and he jumped, looking up. His eyes immediately landed on a familiar, sunglasses-wearing face and his stomach dropped.

“Ugh,” Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “What is it now, Remy?”

“You’re in my seat. Move.”

“Wha- but this has always been my seat? Get your own.”

“Not this year, dumbass. New year. New seats. You can go sit with that new guy over there.” He gestured vaguely at the other front desk across the room, where a teenager in a green and black t-shirt and ripped jeans was sat. He was barely paying attention to them. “He’s a weirdo, too. You guys could totally be, like, best friends or something.”

There was a second new guy sat beside Andy, just behind the desk Virgil was sat at, too. Two new students were joining their class this year? Virgil almost pitied them, they wouldn’t know what to expect with Remy – the serial bully and life-ruiner.  

The mayor’s son. A spoilt brat.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Why do you even care so much, Remy? It’s just a seat.”

“Roman’s coming today!” Remy’s lackey, Emile Picani-Raincomprix piped up from behind him. He was far too nice to be friends with Remy, but had been for as long as Virgil could remember. “Remy’s his best friend, so we’re gonna sit behind him.”

Three new guys?

“Who’s Roman?”

Remy laughed, loud, mocking and only slightly over-exaggerated. He mimed wiping a tear from his eye, shooting Virgil a short look of fake pity.

“What rock have you been living under, babe?” He glanced back at Emile. “Can you believe he doesn’t know who Roman Agreste is? Totes adorbs, don’t you think?”

“He’s a famous model,” Emile supplied helpfully, giving Remy an apologetic look when Remy scowled at his friend for being nice to his enemy.

(Virgil hoped that one day Emile would move on from Remy. He seemed nice, and deserved better than a friend who walked all over him.)

Something suddenly clicked in Virgil’s head.

Roman Agreste. Like Gabriel Agreste. He certainly wasn’t one of Virgil’s favourite fashion designers, as they had very different styles, but he was famous, and Virgil could certainly appreciate his work.

“Roman adores me,” Remy said. “We’re, like, meant to be. So, go on, move!”

The new guy across the room burst into laughter at that, making everyone’s eyes fall on him. His whole body shook under the force of his loud cackles, and Remy immediately turned to glare daggers at him.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You, duh.”

Remy let out an offended noise, hand over heart. “Excuse me? Do you even know who I am?”

“Course I do. You’re the mayor’s bitch son.”

Virgil heard Kai Kubdul snort in the background, and he didn’t even try to hide it. He did hold his hands up in mock surrender when Remy turned his glare on him, though. And when Remy turned back to the new kid, Kai rolled his eyes and scowled.

Remy opened his mouth to snap back, but the new kid continued before he could.

“And what makes you think Roman adores you? He thinks you’re annoying as hell.”

“Excuse you? How the hell would you even know that?”

The new kid looked at Remy like he was stupid. “Oh, come on, Rem. I know it’s been ages since Dad made us hang out, but you’re really saying you don’t recognise me?” He paused, watching Remy cross his arms, before glancing around the room at the rest of the staring class. “Roman... is my brother. We’re twins, dumbass. We look basically the same, except he’s boring and stupid. And I know he doesn’t like you.”

“You know nothing,” Remy said coldly. “You’re just the loser your father gave up on. He’s the cute model. You’re nothing.”

Emile made a quiet noise, grabbing at the sleeve of Remy’s leather jacket and tugging gently.

“That’s mean, Rem.”

“Uh, duh, that’s the point.” Remy huffed. “Where is Roman, anyway? How come you’re here and he isn’t?”

The new kid grinned, showing off his teeth. “I snuck out. He tried, but he got caught. Loser.” Then, he turned to Virgil. “Come on, come sit with me. Let the bitch sit near my dumb brother. Who even cares about them?”

“First smart thing you’ve ever said,” Remy mumbled, turning back to Virgil with an expectant look.

Virgil shifted uncomfortably as all the attention returned to him. Then, he sighed, reluctantly scooping his backpack off the floor and the box of cupcakes off the desk and standing up. He ignored the apologetic look that Emile shot him as he and Remy took their seats – Emile behind Logan, and Remy where Virgil had just sat – and went across the room to sit beside the new kid, who immediately bumped shoulders with him.

“God, he’s such an asshole, isn’t he?”

Virgil snorted. “He’s the worst.”

“Yeah...” The new kid trailed off in thought. “I’m Remus, by the way. Remus Agreste.”

“Virgil Dupain-Cheng. It’s nice to see someone stand up to Remy, for once.”

Remus scoffed. “The bitch deserves it.” Then, he grinned. “Now that I’m here, he’s gonna be getting some payback for walking over everyone his whole life. You with me?”

He spoke quietly enough that Remy couldn’t hear, which seemed like a miracle given Remus’s brash personality, though the two students who sat behind them – Kai Kubdel and Thomas Haprèle-Sanders – probably could. They’d both dealt with Remy long enough not to speak up in his favour, though.

Virgil glanced back at Remy. He was staring at the door, a bored expression on his face as he drummed his fingers on the desk. Emile was staring at him with a lovestruck expression, and Virgil was suddenly stuck by the memory of that disaster of a crush, that apparently hadn’t faded over the Summer. Everyone in the class but Remy, himself, seemed to know about it. That was likely a good thing, as, knowing Remy, he probably would’ve taken advantage of it if he’d known.

Virgil turned back to Remus, pulling a face.

“I don’t know...” he said. “He’s been making school hell for me for years, I don’t wanna make it worse...”

Remus scoffed. “Nah, you’ve got me now. No need to be a coward when I’ve got your back!”

Virgil blinked. He didn’t know what to say.

So, instead, he opened the cupcake box and handed Remus one of the last remaining two, keeping the final one for himself.

Remus perked up. “Oh, nice!” He immediately took a large bite of his cupcake, continuing to talk with a mouth full of food. “Thanks.”

Virgil snorted, turning away from the crumbs that spilled from the corners of Remus’s mouth.

“No problem.”

“Has everyone found a seat?” The teacher, Miss Bustier, called out, reminding Virgil that she was, in fact, still in the classroom.

The fact that she hadn’t intervened in the fight over desks was unsurprising, but still a disappointment. Virgil severely doubted her ability to keep their class – and, in particular, Remy – in check. This would be a long year.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Miss Bustier,” the teacher smiled as she introduced herself, gesturing to her name that was written on the chalkboard. “I’ll be your teacher this year.”

“Ugh,” Remy complained, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “He should be here by now!”

Remus leant in closer to Virgil, swallowing his last mouthful of cupcake. “Dad probably caught him and isn’t letting him come.”

“Why hasn’t he pulled you out of class, yet, then?”

“Ro’s the model. I’m not,” Remus explained, shrugging. “He doesn’t care what I do, as long as I don’t ruin his dumb ‘reputation’.”

***

Roman ran down the street, his red and white schoolbag hanging over his shoulder. He ignored his father’s assistant, Nathalie, calling after him, and hoped his bodyguard wouldn’t catch up in time.

Maybe, if he made it through the front doors of the school and into the classroom, Nathalie and his father wouldn’t pull him out until the end of the school day. Then, maybe he could convince them to let him keep coming back. After all, Remus had already snuck out and made it into the classroom, and had texted him a selfie of him and his ‘new friend’ to prove it.

But the expectations for Remus and Roman were different.

Remus was the lucky one. He wasn’t the model, so he was allowed much more freedom. Roman had to do as he was told.

He reached the bottom of the school steps, and was almost ready to ascend them and make his way through the doors, when he heard a sudden groan of pain. His head swivelled around and his eyes landed on an old man on his hands and knees on the pavement.

He’d clearly fallen, and he couldn’t get up.

For a moment, he glanced back and forth between the school and the old man. Did he help the old man, but risk being caught by Nathalie and his bodyguard, who were oh-so close behind? Or did he leave the man on the ground, but make it to school, to freedom?

Roman sighed, and turned back to the old man in the Hawaiian shirt, rushing over to him and bending over to help him up.

“Thank you so much, young man,” the old man spoke as Roman handed him his cane.

Roman smiled at him, opening his mouth to say something, but freezing as a large, familiar hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced back, and his eyes immediately landing on the blank face of his bodyguard, and the stern expression of Nathalie, who was stood just behind him.

No words had to be exchanged for Roman to know what was going to happen next.

As Roman was led towards the car that would take him home – to the prison he rarely got to leave on his own – he was unaware of the pair of eyes watching him intently. The old man, who now stood just fine without the useless cane, was staring at his back, watching him go.

The old man then smiled as the car drove away, turning and balancing his cane on his shoulder, before walking back in the direction of home with ease.

***

“For those of you who have P.E, Mr D’Argencourt is expecting you over at the stadium. The rest of you can all head over the library,” Miss Bustier called out as her class finished her lesson and got up, gathering their things.

Over by the desks, Pryce passed Andy a note, snickering to himself as he did so.

Andy read it quickly, and then crumpled it into a ball in his fist, turning back and glaring at the other, laughing teen.  

“What the hell, Pryce?” He snapped, lifting his arm and looking just about ready to punch him.

Pryce just laughed, leaning back in his chair as their teacher sighed at Andy.

“Andy, what’s going on?”

“It’s Pryce! He’s- he’s- he’s such an asshole! Oh, I’m gonna-” He grabbed the front of Pryce’s white and red hoodie, glaring up at the taller boy and shaking him roughly.

“Andy!” Miss Bustier scolded. “Go to the principal’s office.”

Pryce laughed – and Remy, who was always one for drama – laughed along with him as Andy angrily grabbed his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder and storming out of the classroom. The rest of them just watched.

***

“Perfect. A heart full of negative emotions. Anger. Sadness. Betrayal. Just what I need.”

A glowing white butterfly landed on the gloved hand of the super-villain. He covered it with his other hand, and it turned a neon black and purple.

“Turn him into my soldier. Fly away, little akuma, and evilize him!”

The akuma left his hand, and he thumped his cane against the floor – the sound echoing across the dark empty room – as he flew through the window. It moved across Paris, an inconspicuous little butterfly that drew no attention, as no one noticed its dark aura and glowing purple pattern, with a one-track mind as it headed towards its victim. Hawk Moth didn’t have to wait long before he felt it infect Andy Bruel, and he smiled as the connection between him and his target was opened. A glowing purple outline – a jagged mask – appeared across his face, a matching one appearing on his victim, too.

“Blackheart, I am Hawk Moth. You feel weak and helpless, scorned by your peers and the teacher you thought you could trust. I give you the power and strength to seek revenge on those who have wronged you. You’ll never feel weak and helpless again”

“Okay, Hawk Moth.”

***

The library was full of students talking quietly amongst themselves. Only a few were really doing work, though all were supposed to.

Virgil and Remus had managed to find themselves a good table – with Remus having elbowed many others out of the way to get it – and were sat across from the other new kid, Patton Césaire, and Thomas Haprèle-Sanders. They had their school books open in front of them, but were paying them little attention as they had been mostly left unsupervised.

Then, there was a loud bang as something large shook the whole library, knocking all four of them out of their seats and to the ground. Virgil yelped, holding his backpack to his chest and looking around frantically.

Remus jumped up first, grabbing Virgil by the wrist and tugging him up and across the room, towards the large TV that showed off security camera footage of different areas of the school. Both Patton and Thomas followed immediately behind, as did a few other nearby students, and they all watched in helpless shock as the screen showed a large, black, stone-like monster landing just outside the front of the school.

It dented the pavement, and the few nearby cars and people they could see all fled at the sight of it.

“Pryce!” It shouted.

Many of the other students around them began to shout and flee, but the four of them remained glued in place, watching the screen with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“What the hell?” Virgil exclaimed. “That’s Andy’s voice!”

“Woah, it’s like he was turned into a real-life super-villain!” Remus’s voice lacked the fear that Virgil’s held, as he just stared at the screen in amazement.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Thomas asked worriedly.

Patton grabbed Remus’s arm, shaking him equally excitedly. “Do you think there’ll be a super-hero, too? Whatever turned Andy into this, it’s gotta be some kind of super-villain!”

“Or Andy’s the super-villain,” Remus commented.

Thomas shook his head. “Andy wouldn’t do that. He’s- he’s intimidating, but he’s not evil.”

“We’ve gotta follow, we could record it.” Remus grinned. “There’s no way I’m missing this!”

Patton nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and when Remus turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, he immediately ran after him. Thomas turned to follow, too, but hesitated, glancing back at Virgil, who remained in place.

“Are you coming?” He asked.

Virgil shook his head. “God, no. I’m going home. I don’t wanna be killed by this thing.”

Thomas’s brow creased in thought. “It’s Andy,” he said softly. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Then, he, too left, leaving Virgil on his own, still watching the TV screen. He watched as the monster with Andy’s voice picked up a car and threw it at the security camera, breaking it and showing only a rainbow error screen.

“Pryce!” It shouted as it did so.

Virgil winced.

***

Roman’s lesson had been far more boring than usual. Normally, he at least had Remus to entertain him, but as Remus had managed to successfully escape and go to school, it had left only him and Nathalie in the large, echoing dining room. The subject was boring, too. Roman never had been the biggest fan of History.

For a minute, his father, Gabriel, had emerged to scold him for going to school, and comment on how Remus was a ‘lost cause’ and that only Roman needed to be protected. Roman hadn’t been sure which of the two statements had angered him more, but he’d left in a hurry, locking himself in his room and turning on the TV.

The day became significantly more interesting when the news displayed a monster named Blackheart rampaging across Paris, but Roman was still stuck in his room, far from the action.

(When the police had fired their weapons at Blackheart, the monster had only grown larger and stronger, still yelling the name ‘Pryce’ as it destroyed cars and damaged the pavement with each footstep. The mayor had recommended everyone stay home while the police dealt with the threat.)

Then, Roman noticed the octagonal box laying on the coffee table in front of the TV.

***

“This day keeps getting better and better,” Virgil mumbled sarcastically to himself as he watched the news report on the super-villain.

Then, he noticed the octagonal box – one that he’d never seen before – laying on his desk by the computer.

“Huh?” He said, picking it up and looking it over. “What’s this?”

It was well-made: black with an intricate red pattern carved into the top.

He opened it, and the first thing he saw was a necklace �� a silver chain with a large black and purple spider-shaped charm hanging off it. The second thing he saw was a purple ball of light emerge from the necklace.

The spider charm changed to a black tear-drop shape, and a small, round, spider-shaped creature with a large head formed out of the ball of light, floating above the jewellery.  

Virgil yelped, pushing his chair back, wheeling as far away from the floating spider as possible, only just managing to not fall out of the chair as the box and the necklace clattered to the ground. The floating spider stared at him from a moment, uncurling its eight legs and blinking its eight eyes at him. It looked almost... cute – mostly black, but with a purple pattern – but Virgil was far too freaked out to notice that.

“What the fuck?”

Then, the floating spider opened its mouth and spoke, and Virgil just about had a heart attack.

“That is not very nice,” it said, in a low, female voice.

“What the fuck are you?”

The spider had a very inhuman-looking face, but Virgil could immediately tell that the look she gave him was flat and slightly annoyed.

“I am a kwami,” she spoke calmly. “And my name is Boo.”

“Boo? Like- like a ghost?”

She sighed. “The sound was named after me, not the other way around. Plagg thought it was funny, but I beg to differ. I suppose it can’t be helped anymore, though. And you can’t have known any better.”

Boo floated closer to him, and Virgil immediately jolted back.

“There is no need to be afraid,” Boo continued in an impatient tone of voice. “I am here to help.”

“Help with what?”

Boo made a quiet sound that was halfway between a hum and a buzz, before she drifted down towards the floor, landing between the box and the necklace that had fallen out of it.

“This is a Miraculous,” she explained. “The Spider Miraculous, to be precise. Miraculouses are magical pieces of jewellery that grant powers to their users when combined with their respective kwamis. Currently, the Butterfly Miraculous – also known as the Moth Miraculous – is in the hands of a super-villain. It grants the user the ability to choose a champion to fight for them, granting them temporary powers to aid them in battling evil.” She paused for a moment. “But, in the hands of evil, it is used to turn victims into-”

“Monsters,” Virgil finished, his eyes returning to the computer screen, where the news still displayed the battle against Blackheart. “Like what’s happened to Andy.”

Boo nodded, seeming please that he figured that part out on his own. “Exactly. The villain has used an akuma – a butterfly, that when combined with an object turns the owner of the object into a hero or a monster. The Butterfly Miraculous must be retrieved and returned to the Guardian.”

“Guardian?”

“Yes. The Guardian keeps a hold of the Miraculouses – or, at least, some of the Miraculouses.” She sighed, her small body drooping visibly. “Many are still lost to us. You see, Miraculouses come in sets, in large boxes that hold at least a dozen at a time, but our Guardian currently only holds a few of us, all from different boxes.”

“Okay... but, what are you doing here? Like... in my room?”

Boo moved so she was right in front of his face: all eight of her eyes staring right into Virgil’s two, and he barely resisted the urge to look away uncomfortably.

“You have been chosen to wield the Spider Miraculous, to become a hero and fight the wielder of the Butterfly Miraculous.”

Virgil froze.

“Wha- but I’m not a hero.”

“Not yet, but you will be.”

“But- but I don’t know how to fight,” Virgil spoke hurriedly, stumbling over his words. “And I especially don’t know how to fight a super-villain!”

“The Miraculous will enhance your strength, speed and agility. It will give you the physical abilities needed to fight.”

“But I’m just a teenager! I go to school, I design and make clothes, I bake with my parents. That’s it! I can’t fight!”

“Anyone can use a Miraculous to fight,” Boo said calmly. “Even the weakest of people could use a Miraculous to fight. But it takes a special kind of soul to be a hero.” She flew forwards, resting one of her eight arms on Virgil’s chest, over his heart. “And you have that.”

"I- what?”

“Every Miraculous has a specific type of human it matches well with,” she continued, speaking slowly and patiently. “These people are rare and difficult to find, but every Guardian has the ability to see which souls make the perfect wielders. And you, Virgil Dupain-Cheng, are a perfect match for the Spider. The Guardian tested you, too, and he saw that your heart is good. You will be a good hero.”

There were many things to unpack there, and Virgil was feeling really quite overwhelmed. His hands bunched up the material of his hoodie in tight fists, and he could feel his heart race.

“I... I don’t remember being tested?”

It was difficult to tell with her inhuman face, but Virgil got the feeling that Boo was smiling at him.

“The best tests are the ones where the subject is unaware that they are being tested,” she spoke cryptically. “Those produce the most genuine results.” She paused for a moment. “Does this mean you are ready? Because there is still a villain rampaging through the streets of Paris, and we really should be quick.”

Virgil straightened up suddenly, like he was only now remembering the situation at hand.

“You said that the monster was created by a- a wielder of the Moth Miraculous, right?”

“Correct.”

“So, where are they? The news only talks about the, uh... Andy. Blackheart. Where’s the Butterfly?”

“Likely in hiding,” Boo answered. “The Butterfly works from a distance. The wielder likely won’t emerge unless absolutely necessary, and will only fight through their champions.”

Virgil’s brow creased in confusion. “But then how am I supposed to fight him?” He paused for a moment, watching the kwami’s expression, before sighing. “This is gonna last more than one battle, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. I believe it won’t be so easy to draw out the Butterfly user, and you’ll have to fight many akumas to get there.”

“Shit.”

Boo shot him a chastising look, and he mumbled an apology. She sighed.

“We do have some idea of the Butterfly’s motivations, though.”

“And what’s that?”

“I believe they are going to be after the Ladybug Miraculous and Black Cat Miraculous: the most powerful of all Miraculouses. Creation and Destruction. Combined, they give the user practically infinite power, so we must make sure they stay out of the wrong hands. The Guardian currently holds these Miraculouses, and we believe that that is what the Butterfly holder is after.”

“So... it’s a race to see who can find the other first? The Butterfly sending out a – what did you call it? – an akuma, and the Guardian sending out me?”

“You will have a partner, too. The Guardian has sent out the Red Dragon Miraculous as well as the Spider. We should hurry, he might have already transformed by now.”

“Crap, okay.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Uh... yeah? I guess. It- it's worth a try.”

“Wonderful.” Boo clapped with four pairs of spider-hands. “Put on the necklace and from now on, you cannot take it off.” She paused for a moment, watching as Virgil bent down, picking up the box and the necklace, shoving the box into a random desk drawer, and putting the necklace on. “When you wish to transform, say ‘Boo, web out,’ and then when you wish to de-transform, say ‘Boo, web in.’ When transformed, there will be a glamour on you that keeps others from recognising your face and voice, though if you are not careful, they may still work out your identity. This cannot happen.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh- okay.”

“Your power is called Spider Web,” she continued. “Say the words when transformed and it will be activated. You will be able to shoot out a large web from your fingertips that will trap anyone and anything, but yourself. It cannot be destroyed by anything but the power of a few different Miraculouses, and will stay in place for as long as you are transformed. Once you use this, however, you will have five minutes before you de-transform, and you will have to feed me to transform again.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

Boo huffed, crossing four sets of arms. “We will have to work on your language, spiderling.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just- Andy’s been a monster for way more than five minutes. How come the Moth guy doesn’t get a timer?”

“The Butterfly wielder is likely an adult. Teenagers are given timers, but they are much more flexible and it is easier to develop a Miraculous bond with a teenager than an adult. This will not be too much of an issue, just as long you carry around food to feed me with. It does not take too long to recharge.”

“Okay... what do you eat?”

“Anything sweet.”

“So... like candy?”

“That shall suffice.”

“Okay, that’s... I should have something somewhere...” Virgil wheeled his chair back over his desk and began to hurriedly sift through a few drawers before he finally found what he was looking for, and pulled out a small bag of gummy worms. “Will this work?”

Boo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, these are worm-shaped?”

Virgil nodded.

“That is certainly preferable.” She nodded, and Virgil stuffed the bag into his hoodie pocket. “Insect-shaped sweet things would be my favourite.”

“Is- is that everything?”

“I believe so. You partner’s Miraculous will give him the ability to destroy akumas – not ideal, the Ladybug does work better in these situations, but we must work with what we have got. My recommendation is that you trap this ‘Blackheart’, and then your partner breaks the object and the akuma. After the akuma is destroyed, the Guardian will use the Ladybug Miraculous’s cure to fix any damage caused by the akuma.”

Virgil blinked. “But I thought you said he didn’t want to risk using the Ladybug or the Black Cat?”

“He will not be involved in the battle,” Boo explained. “He will remain in hiding, as the cure can be used from a distance. Do you understand?”

“Alright... I- I think so.” Virgil nodded. “So... uh, I guess – Boo, web out?”

He said it more like a question than anything else, but it worked just fine, and Boo was immediately sucked into the Miraculous. Virgil felt the transformation wash over him – strangely cool and tingly as his clothes were replaced by a surprisingly comfortable super-suit.

Most of the super-suit was one piece – solid black with deep, purple pockets on the trousers and a purple belt around the middle. The boots were black, too, (but with purple soles) and there was a large white spider-web in the centre of the chest, just under the necklace. The jewel had changed to a bright purple, eight-legged spider again, like it had had before Boo had come out, but this time it had five glowing purple eyes on its head. There was a jacket, too, that was black and purple with white spider-web patches, that had a large hood currently pulled down. His gloves were thick, sturdy and black.

Under the jacket, over the suit, there looked to be four thick 3D lines – two on each side – spreading out from his spine, like extra ribs over his ribcage, that gave the illusion of Virgil having four short extra legs, just stuck to his torso.

Attached to his belt on one side was something that looked halfway between a phone and a tablet, that matched the black and purple aesthetic, with a spider-web across the back. On the other side, also attached to his belt, was a coiled-up piece of white rope that appeared to be thick and sturdy and incredibly shiny.

And, on his face, there was a mask. It was black and purple, surrounding his eyes and covering most of his nose, but spreading out like a spider-web near the edges of his face.

His previously brown eyes were now solid black – no whites or irises, just solid black and shiny, with quite the creepy effect – and his previously black hair was now tinted purple, a colour he’d always wanted to dye it to. His canines had sharpened to a point, like fangs.

Aesthetically, he looked closer to a typical super-villain than a super-hero, and Virgil loved it.

Virgil grinned despite his anxiety – it was ever-present, really, so he had experience trying to ignore the pounding heart in his chest. This felt... right.

“Virgil? Honey, is everything okay?” He heard his mother call out from under the trapdoor that led to his room.

“Crap,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah, Mama, I’m fine!” He shouted back.

Part of the whole ‘super-hero’ thing was keeping your identity a secret, he assumed, so he figured he probably shouldn’t let his parents know. He left his room, climbing up onto the rooftop balcony and ducking down so no one on the street below could see him.

“Okay...” he mumbled to himself. “How do I...”

Virgil’s hand landed on the rope attached to his belt. Immediately, he could feel himself connecting to it, almost like it was becoming an extension of his body – something he could use just as easily as the rest of his limbs. He knew exactly what to do.

He straightened up, pulling the rope off his belt and feel one end of it coil around his hand like a snake, attaching itself easily. Then, he flicked his wrist, and the other end of the rope shot forward, stretching and elongating itself magically and catching a gargoyle on the rooftop of an opposite building, just across the street.

Virgil took a deep breath, and then tugged.

He was suddenly pulled forward as the rope followed his silent command and made itself shorter, swinging him across the street and then up and over the building, much further than he’d anticipated.

He yelped, then bit back a scream as he tumbled uncontrollably through the air – the rope detaching itself from the building as his grip on it loosened. He moved too fast to see where he was going and he couldn’t catch himself in time before he crashed into another figure on a whole different rooftop than the one he’d meant to land on.

“Jesus- fuck!” He yelped as he rolled off the other person and landed on his back.

“Oh, wow! You were-” they took a moment to huff loudly, out of breath from being knocked into by Virgil. “You were not looking where you were going, were you?”

Virgil panted, out of breath, taking a few seconds to compose himself – staring up at the blue and white sky and wincing slightly at the too-bright sun – before he finally had enough air in his lungs to talk again.

“Excuse me for not being perfect on my first day of people a superhero,” he hissed, perhaps a little harsher than intended, but he was having an interesting day.

There was a beat.

“So, you’re my partner, then?” Virgil didn’t have time to answer that before a masked face appeared in his vision as his partner got up, looking him over critically. “Hmm... you look like a villain, but I suppose you’ll do.”

Virgil took a moment to glare half at him and half at the sun, before he sat up and finally looked over his partner properly.

It was a teenage boy about his age – though that part he could’ve told from the voice alone – with blond hair and bright green eyes. He was dressed in a way that looked halfway between a super-suit for fighting crime, and a proper suit for a formal event: red and gold with hints of white, all made up of dragon-like scales. His gloves were a pristine white, matching his boots. On one side, on his hip, he had a tablet similar to Virgil’s, though red and gold inside of black and purple, and on his other hip there was a sheathed sword.

On his wrist there was a golden bracelet: it looked like a dragon with red gems for eyes and five red spikes down its back, its tail in its mouth. Virgil assumed that that was his Miraculous.

Virgil huffed, crossing his arms. “How come you get a sword, and I just get a piece of rope?”

The other hero laughed, holding out his hand to Virgil. “Because I’m awesome, that’s why.”

Virgil took his hand, allowing the other boy to pull him up so they were standing side-by-side. He was slightly taller than the Dragon hero, and he couldn’t help but feel just a tad smug about it.

“So,” his partner continued, straightening up and announcing. “I am Prince Dragon.”

“That’s too long,” Virgil said immediately, without thinking. “I’m calling you Princey.”

Princey huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine, whatever. And who might you be?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh...”

“You mock my alias, yet you still haven’t come up with your own?”

“I wasn’t mocking, I just- I'm not creative, okay! I dunno. How the hell did you come up with yours so quickly?”

“Because I’m a genius, spider boy.”

“Oh, well, sorry it takes me more than fifteen freaking minutes to come up with a good name,” Virgil snapped sarcastically. “My mind’s been a little occupied.”

“No need to be rude, oh, eight-legged partner of mine,” Prince Dragon said, before flashing a bright grin. “I’ll just help you come up with one. Hmm...” He tapped his finger on his chin. “What about Spinner? You know, ‘cos spiders spin webs?”

“Pass.”

“What about... Charlotte?”

“What?”

“You know, Charlotte? Like Charlotte’s web? Ugh, please tell me my partner isn’t uncultured. I don’t know if I’ll be able to work with you if you can’t understand my references.”

“No, I- ugh, no, I get the reference. I just- whatever, that’s a dumb name. Try again.”

“No, need to be so rude, my knight in gloomy armour.” Prince Dragon then suddenly perked up again. “Ooh, what about something knight-themed?”

“No.”

Princey ignored him. “Stormy Knight? That matches your gloomy attitude!”

“But not my powers or my costume,” Virgil said flatly. “I’m a spider. I can make a big web to trap people, that’s it. Nothing weather-related. Also-” he paused, before his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, shouldn’t we be saving Paris?”

Just as he said this, the pair suddenly heard a loud rumble and a crash. Both jumped, startled, their heads swivelling around. They watched, wide-eyed and shocked, as a nearby building fell and crashed to the ground in a large cloud of dust.

“Oh, my stars, I can’t believe I let you distract me like that! We have a job to do!”

“Me? Distract you? You were the one listing names and wasting time!”

***

The seats of the stadium were all empty, the only people in the vicinity being the students stretching and doing P.E. in the centre. They were all calm, relaxed and chatting amongst themselves, none of them having heard the news of the monster roaming the Paris streets, who was looking for one of them in particular.

“Pryce!” Blackheart roared, leaping into the stadium and denting the ground as it landed with a crash. “So, who’s the coward now?”

The rest of the students fled, leaving only a frozen Pryce standing terrified in the centre, his legs unable to move for once in his life. Then, after a moment, he finally remembered to run, and he turned on his heel and attempted to flee.

The monster was large – at least twice as tall as the average human – and made out of smooth, black stone, with two large, glowing white eyes that took up almost half of its face. One hand was permanently clenched into a fist. The other reached out towards the fleeing Pryce. Its hand was five times the size of his head – it would easily be able to crush his skull to dust with just one simple squeeze.

Pryce tripped, but before the monster could grab and destroy him, a hero dressed in red, gold and white landed between them.

(Enhanced speed, strength and agility made travelling across Paris much swifter and easier, especially when paired with a partner who could swing between buildings with invincible spider-silk rope.)

“My, you’re quite the giant, aren’t you?” Prince Dragon grinned at the beast, unsheathing his sword and getting into a fighting stance.

“And you’re tiny compared to me. Is that toothpick supposed to scare me?”

Blackheart lifted his fist, before smashing it down over Prince Dragon’s head. He dodged out of the way just in time, and a cloud of dust burst from the spot that the stone hand had hit the ground. The giant straightened up again, and the purple of a mask appeared over his face for a brief moment.

“No!” Blackheart heard Hawk Moth shout in his head. “They don’t have the Ladybug or the Black Cat Miraculouses! Capture them, take their Miraculouses, and find out where they’re hiding them!”

Then, the outline faded, but Blackheart knew that the villain was still watching through his eyes.

“Where are the Ladybug and the Black Cat?” He bellowed at Prince Dragon as the hero easily dodged another blow. “Give them to me!”

Prince Dragon jumped up – his Miraculous making him leap much higher and further than he usually could – and brought his sword down over Blackheart’s head. The metal and stone collided with a loud cracking sound, but the villain remained completely unharmed. If the sword hadn’t been magical, it likely would’ve broken, but it didn’t, and, for that, Princey was very grateful.

But when the hero’s boots hit the ground again, he watched in open-mouthed horror as Blackheart began to glow, increasing in size before turning back to Prince Dragon with a growl.

“Crap.”

As he said this, Virgil finally landed in the arena, just across the grass from the fight – having slowed down and dawdled out of anxiety, gnawing on his thumb as he considered just turning around and fleeing.

Being a hero? That wasn’t for him! He was Virgil, he was a coward! He was no hero. He couldn’t do this. He really, really couldn’t do this. He should’ve told Boo ‘no’ and just given the Miraculous to somebody else, someone actually fit for being a hero.

Maybe Remus? He certainly seemed brave enough.

Or Thomas. Or Patton. They were both nice and smart and-

“Hey, spider-guy, what are you waiting for? Kill him!”

Virgil jumped, spinning around, his eyes finally landing on Remus, Thomas and Patton, who were crouching down at the edge of the arena, watching the fight.

“No, no! Don’t kill him. Save him!” Thomas elbowed Remus’s arm, shooting him a reprimanding look, before turning back to the hero with one of wide-eyed concern

Remus then muttered something that sounding something like. “Fine, if you wanna be boring.”

(Virgil suddenly realised that his hearing was much, much better like this. As was his eyesight, as he could make out things far away much clearer than usual.)

Patton nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with Thomas, and then held up his phone, which appeared to be filming the action – which included Virgil, too, of course.  

He took a deep breath – feeling his heart beat loudly and steadily in his chest: ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum – before he straightened up, suddenly filled with a courage that he hadn’t felt before. Virgil turned back to the fight, and cursed under his breath when he realised that, in the moments he’d been hesitating, Prince Dragon had lost his sword (it lay abandoned on the grass, not too far from Virgil) and the hero, himself, had been grabbed by Blackheart.

Virgil grabbed his rope, feeling one end coil around his wrist, just as it had before. It was tight enough to be reassuring, but not enough to be physically uncomfortable. He then whipped the other end forward, and it wrapped itself around Blackheart’s legs.

He tugged, and the villain fell forward onto its face. Both of his hands opened as he tripped: Prince Dragon tumbling out of one of them, and a small purple rock falling right out of the other. Blackheart picked the rock back up as quickly as he could, curling his hand into a protective fist around it, but Virgil managed to catch a quick glimpse of it, and something clicked in his head.

He turned and ran over to his partner as Prince Dragon got back to his feet.

“The akuma’s in his fist,” Virgil spoke quickly. “It’s a purple rock. He dropped it when he fell, but I doubt he’ll make that same mistake again.”

“Alright, then let’s kick his ass and destroy that thing!”

Virgil grabbed his elbow and tugged him back before he could run off. “Not so fast, Princey. I think he gets bigger when you hit him. We’ve gotta be smart about this.”

Prince Dragon huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine, then. What do you suggest, knock-off Peter Parker?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, glancing around the arena for inspiration. Blackheart was frozen in place with a glowing purple mask on his face. It was vaguely butterfly-shaped, so he assumed it had something to do with the Moth Miraculous wielder who had turned him into that monster.

“What’s your power? I can make a big web to trap it with. It sticks to everyone but me,” Virgil said, but when Prince Dragon opened his mouth to respond, he hurriedly interrupted him. “And don’t say the name, yet! That activates it, and it’s a one-time use kinda thing.”

Prince Dragon blinked. “It is?”

“Yes, and we have five minutes afterwards before we de-transform. Didn’t your, uh... your kwami explain that to you?”

Prince Dragon shot him a sheepish smile. “I got excited.”

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes again. “Fine. Please, tell me you at least know what your power is.”

“Relax, Hot Topic, I'm not stupid, I know that one! I can breathe fire – it lasts a few seconds and can destroy anything. Tarr said I should use it to destroy the akuma.”

“Right, you’ll use it on the rock then.”

Princey nodded.

“Okay... but how do we get him to open his fist?”

“Uh...” Virgil trailed off. He didn’t know what to say, but his thoughts were interrupted when Blackheart suddenly turned and leapt at them again. “Improvise!” He shouted as they ran in opposite directions to avoid being crushed.

“Nice plan!” Prince Dragon shouted back sarcastically, grabbing his previously-abandoned sword off the ground and quickly re-sheathing it.

Blackheart turned to Virgil, lifting his fists in the air, and Virgil gulped.

“Where are the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses?” Blackheart shouted again.

“Why the hell would I know?” Virgil shouted back, jumping to the left just in time for a large, black stone fist to come crashing down where he’d just stood.

His head swivelled around quickly as he looked for something, anything, that could help them defeat Blackheart. At one side of the stadium stood Thomas, Remus and Patton, still watching and filming the fight. Virgil was quite grateful that Blackheart showed no interest in attacking the trio, as he wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to protect them, too. At the other side stood his partner, who stared at him expectantly.

“Shit,” Virgil swore under his breath. “Uh- uh-”

Then, suddenly, something clicked in his head and he straightened up. He had a plan.

Blackheart turned, ready to attack Prince Dragon, but before he even had his back fully to Virgil, the hero whistled loudly get his attention back.

“Hey!” Virgil shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I lied. I’ve got them right here!” He patted his pockets, backing up as he did so. “Come and get them!”

Blackheart spun back around, roaring and running towards Virgil, bringing the fist that didn’t hold the akuma down. Virgil stayed in place until the last second, then rolled out of the way just as the stone hand hit the ground.

“Spider Web!” Virgil shouted, aiming his hands in the direction of Blackheart’s fist.

A white web shot from the palms of his hands, flying in the direction of Blackheart and landing over his fist, spreading out, covering it and attaching it to the ground. The villain tried to pull his hand back but failed, grunting as he did so. He tried to rest his foot on the web to steady himself, but the foot got stuck, too.  

Blackheart turned and roared at the heroes as Prince Dragon returned to Virgil’s side.

“Nice work, sidekick.”

Virgil turned and glared at him. “Partner,” he corrected.

Princey raised his hands defensively. “Kidding, kidding! No need to get your super-suit in a twist, my dark and stormy knight.” He grinned widely. “So, what now? How do we get him to open his other hand?”

“That’s where you come in,” Virgil said, turning back to Blackheart and watching the villain try and fail to escape the web. “I need you to throw me at him.”

“You- what?”

“Throw me at him,” Virgil repeated, a tad impatiently. “At the fist we need to open. The suits make us strong enough, I’m pretty sure. I’m hoping he’ll try to catch me and drop the rock.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“Then... panic.”

Prince Dragon snorted. “Well, I suppose it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

“Destroy the rock as soon as you can. Hopefully, before Blackheart can crush me.”

“You have such faith in me. Surprising, given your gloomy attitude and evil colour-scheme.”

“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret it.”

Prince Dragon grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Then, without warning – which Virgil supposed he should’ve expected – he picked Virgil up, taking a moment to adjust him in his arms, and almost balance him on his shoulder, before launching him straight at the villain with a strength much higher than any regular human’s.

As Virgil tumbled through the air, he heard cheering from the side lines, with Remus’s voice being the loudest of the three. He probably would’ve smiled at the reassurance if he hadn’t been currently falling through the air towards a stone monster at an alarming speed.

Blackheart opened his hand to catch Virgil – just as he’d hoped – the stone fingers wrapping tightly around the hero’s middle, and the rock fell to the ground.

Prince Dragon dashed over to it, picking it up and tossing it into the air.

“Fire Breath!” He shouted, and a large bright flame immediately burst from his mouth, lasting a few seconds and burning the small, purple rock into ash.

A small, black and purple butterfly appeared from the ash, and, at the same time, Blackheart turned back to Andy. Both him and Virgil fell to the ground with a thump, and Andy immediately began to look around wildly – wide-eyed and panicked and confused, like he had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there.

The ash turned back into a crumpled ball of paper, and the akuma flew away. Neither of the two heroes noticed the butterfly.

“Yes!” Prince Dragon cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “I’m awesome!” As Virgil got up, dusting himself off and shooting him a pointed look, he continued with: “Oh, and, uh... you’re awesome, too, I guess.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

He then looked around. “Uh... isn’t all this damage supposed to fix itself? Boo said that when we were done, the Guardian would use the Ladybug to fix everything that was destroyed by the akuma.”

Prince Dragon shrugged. “Maybe he’s just late. This is our first time doing this, after all.”

“What the hell’s going on? What am I doing here?” Andy sat up.

“Woah! That was amazing!” Patton exclaimed as the three other students ran over to them. “You two are so cool!” He bounced up and down on the spot, still recording on his phone. “Who are you? What can we call you?”

Princey beamed. “I am Prince Dragon, and I vow to protect Paris until the villain that akumatized your friend is caught!”

“And, uh... I am...” Virgil trailed off, glancing for a moment at Prince Dragon for help, but his partner just shrugged. “I’m... Tarantula?”

“Woah! Badass!” Remus exclaimed. “You look like Halloween threw up on you. That’s awesome!”

Thomas spared a quick glance at the two heroes, before rushing over to Andy to help him up. Andy’s face reddened slightly when the other teen touched him, and something immediately clicked in Virgil’s head. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he noticed that his necklace was beeping, and he glanced down at it.

Three of the eyes on the spider had stopped glowing, leaving only two remaining. One was flickering, and it took him a moment to realise that that meant he had less than two minutes before he transformed back.

“Crap, I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Identity’s gotta stay a secret, you know?” He turned back to the others, who were watching him, and he awkwardly saluted. “Uh... Tarantula out, I guess.”

Before he could die of awkward embarrassment, he grabbed his rope again, quickly using it to swing out of the stadium and leave. Princey seemed the friendly type – he could finish dealing with the civilians on his own.

***

“So, thanks to this amateur footage, the Parisians now know the names of our heroes. The Mayor is organizing a huge celebration in honour of our new protectors: Prince Dragon and Tarantula!”

Roman sat back on the sofa, grinning proudly as he watched the news.

“I can’t believe it, I’m a super-hero now!”

“Eww, what’s this?” The red dragon kwami pulled a face.

“What? It’s ice cream. My personal chef made it. Don’t you like it?”

Tarr flew closer to his face, crossing his arms and glaring at Roman. “No! It’s cold, so I hate it! If you expect me to get my energy back up, I’m gonna need something hotter!”

“Like what?”

“Like peppers! The spiciest you can find!”

Roman sighed, taking his phone from his pocket and switching it on. “Fine. Remus isn’t home yet, I’ll text him and get him to pick some up. If I bribe him with video games, he’ll probably do it, no questions asked.”

“Good! Remember, no one can know about me, not even your twin. It’s, like, one of the most important rules of the Miraculous.”

Roman sighed again, louder this time. “But what’s the point of saving people, if no one knows to praise my name!”

***

“Just as Paris is about to celebrate the appearance of our two new super-heroes, Prince Dragon and Tarantula, a new wave of panic is sweeping across the capital as dozens of people are mysteriously transformed into black stone monsters. It’s simply unbelievable!”

“Wha- Boo, what the hell? You didn’t say this was gonna happen?”

The spider kwami flew over to her holder, who was watching the news on his computer, which now displayed video footage of dozens of black and purple butterflies – akumas – flying around Paris and turning people into frozen black stone monsters. Statues.

“Did you destroy the akuma?” Boo asked.

“We destroyed the stone that held the akuma. Isn’t that what you told us to do?”

Boo shook her head, sighing. “No, an akuma can multiply, that’s why it must be purified or destroyed after breaking what holds it. Virgil, if Andy’s emotions turn negative again, then Hawkmoth can use original akuma to turn him back into Blackheart. He’ll bring all those statues to life and control them as one giant army.”

Virgil’s stomach dropped.

“Shit.”

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada  is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​ @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...

[drsilverfish]

Mary is Watching Over You... from a Mirror Universe? (14x20 Moriah)

Whew, well that was intense! Just catching up, and still cogitating on the thread of Mary Winchester’s narrative.

Mary told Dean, in the womb, “Angels are watching over you” (5x13 The Song Remains the Same) and she told Cas, in the flashback we see of them together in 4x18 Absence (speaking of her sons) “They were never alone” (because Cas was watching over them).

Now Mary herself, symbolically, watches over the tableau, of Abraham and Isaac redux. 

That statue of Mary/ The Mother, is shot so carefully as a presence throughout the sacrifice scene.

Watching over Jack and his adopted angel father Castiel, as Jack says he has tried to do good, since Mary:

Watching over Jack as he offers himself as the scapegoat, as he describes himself as a monster:

Watching over Dean as he prepares, in the role of Abraham, to sacrifice his son Isaac to God (because God demands it) while an angel of the Lord (Cas) tries desperately to stay his hand:

Until finally, Dean says, “No” to the Father. Even when Chuck offers to bring Mary back, if Dean will obey him.

At last, Dean says “No” to the great Father figure in the sky, who symbolises, of course, his own father.

And don’t you think, just for a second, Chuck looks really happy about it?

DEAN: “My Mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life but she would not want this.”

Notice that the weapon Chuck forged, he wanted to call Hammurabi:

That is an ancient Babylonian code of law from Mesopotamia which sets out a code of punishment; “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Code_of_Hammurabi

In other words, symbolically, God handed Dean a weapon of revenge. 

And Dean passed the test, at the last. He did not take it.

Because it was a test. Chuck claims, “No, no, this isn’t how the the story is supposed to end. Look at the gathering storm, the gun, the father killing his own son. This is Abraham and Isaac, this is epic!“ 

But, writers lie. And we know, in the Bible, God was testing Abraham, and Abraham did not, in fact, kill Isaac. 

Dean chose free will. And hasn’t free will always been Chuck’s greatest creation?

Dean put down the Father’s revenge weapon. He did not kill the yellow-eyed supernatural being who killed (or did he?) his Mom. He rejected, at last, his father’s legacy, his father’s word, watched over by a statue of Mary. 

It was the culmination Dean’s long struggle with the Ghost of John Winchester.

But, I digress: because this post is about Mary. 

There’s something about Mary...

I still think Mary is not dead and we will see her again.

Firstly, because of this:

I’ve said since 14x17 Game Night I think Jack (unbeknownst to him) actually blasted Mary through a portal into another universe rather than killing her. 

And didn’t the episode make a point of reminding us that Supernatural is a multi-verse? Particularly in Sam and Chuck’s conversation,  over the archangel blade the Winchesters have at the bunker, which they got, “from another world” (Chekov’s archangel blade! Let’s park that - I have a feeling we’ll come back to it before the show ends):

SAM: “So, how many are there? How many other worlds, or universes or realities or whatever?”

CHUCK: “I don’t know, I kinda lost count. Most of them are boring; one’s in reverse, in one there’s no yellow, one of them’s just all squirrels.” 

So, firstly the mirror universe/ multiverse is hammered home, visually and narratively.

And secondly, my other clue, is that what happened to Mary (which, remember, we never saw, in either 14x17 or 14x18) is “re-staged”, between Jack and his grandmother, the mother of Kelly Kline. Jack gets upset with her, his eyes glow yellow, just as they did when he apparently “killed” Mary.

And then 14x20 teases us with what happened! We don’t get the sequence all at once. 

“What did you do to my daughter, what did you do?” she screams, then SCENE-CUT.

We only discover the outcome when Jack re-tells the story to Castiel in the graveyard. And then we learn, Jack did not harm his grandmother, although she was yelling at him:

 He ran. And look at that shot we get, of Jack looking back through the door:

Symbolic of a door to oh say, a mirror universe?

A woman yelling at Jack, his eyes going yellow, but, not a death - a doorway. 

So I say again, what if Mary has only been fake re-fridged?

 Long live Mary Winchester!

I have a feeling we will meet again before The End. 

[infinitesimal-grey]

Prince Starved 7

Links to previous chapters in reblog

Sorry for being late but I have a lot going on for medical things all happening at once with missing a lot of school, anyway hope yall enjoy

Thank you to cowriter R and @hiddendreamer67 for beta reading

...

Virgil watched Roman leave, sighing quietly before turning to look around. With all the worrying about cleaning off cuts and mud he hadn't really gotten a chance to take a look around the place. Not that he could really go anywhere, but he could still look from the table.

Roman carefully worked around his open wounds and over his bruises. He watched dirt from his hair darken the water and swirl down the drain below him.

Virgil stood for at most a few seconds, humming and tapping his foot before letting out a sigh. Fuck it I'm gonna explore.

He turned, walking idly along the edge of the table, ending up wandering down and into the room to explore a little. He wasn't about to let some bruises and some big furniture stop him from seeing the room he'd only seen through video for so long.

Roman combed the last of the conditioner out with his fingers, and he turned the shower off with a creak of protest from the old knob. He quickly blow dried his hair and slipped on a comfortable pair of black and grey camo sweatpants he had in a drawer in cases he didn't want to go out in a towel and didn't bring clothes with him.

Roman ruffled his hair as he stepped out, looking right for Virgil but pausing when he didn't see him. Roman immediately looked to the floor but didn't see him there either. He walked further into the room, unknowingly standing right over the human he was looking for. "Virgil?" Insidious voices tried to convince Roman that his friend had left him.

Virgil had tried to move out to somewhere more visible when he'd heard Roman getting out, but just ended up standing pretty much right under the Giant. He turned his head to look up toward Roman's face, but Quickly decided against it, sighing quietly. "Right here, Ro."

"Virgil??" Roman called again, voice cracking ever so slightly. He hadn't heard Virgil's much quieter voice.

Ah fuck... he hadn't heard me... "Ro, try down" Virgil started taking steps away to try and get more in Romans' line of sight if he happened to glance toward the floor again, but he wasn't quite making the greatest progress.

Roman continued to be absolutely clueless and took a few shuffled steps forwards, walking right by Virgil. "Virgil!?"

Virgil stumbled back from Roman's feet, eyes widening. Holy shit he almost hit me. "Oh for the love of--Ro! Down Here!"

Roman yelped like a pubescent boy and turned, tripping on his own feet and falling right on his ass embarrassingly in front of Virgil. He gave an embarrassed half wave.

Virgil jumped, backpedaling a decent amount. He stared at the half dressed giant wide-eyed for a few moments, before managing to reboot and return himself to his signature deadpan expression. "Jesus christ, Ro. You almost hit me like, three times." He attempted to look elsewhere while he caught his breath but it's hard to look elsewhere when the damned giant takes up almost his enire view.

Roman gave a sheepish look, flipping himself over so he was laying facing Virgil on his stomach. "Sorry." Without his shirt his blush could be seen extending all the way to dust along his shoulders.

Virgil took a deep breath, letting out a chuckle as he sighed out. "Well, you didn't actually hit me so, It's good." He felt himself flush a bit as well, glancing away completely with the cover of running a hand through his hair. "I- ah- was exploring a bit while you were busy, since I've never been in a giant's place before.."

"Oh, not much interesting in here besides a few choice things, oh! I wanna show you something." He picked Virgil up and whisked him away to the wood plank paneled wall next to his bed. He started tapping on it with his nails, "Hmm.. here!" He slipped a nail between the wood panels. He ragged it down until something clicked and a panel of wood swung out, revealing a dark cubby. He slipped his hand along the upper lip and flipped a switch. LED strips lining shelves illuminated, showing off multi colored bottles of assorted liquors, airtight glass jars with the devils lettuce, and smoking glassware. "Logans in charge of the whole don't get caught sitch and he was complaining about us constantly leaving our illegals out so me being me I suggested this and a few weeks later... voila!" He finished excitedly.

Virgil blinked, still registering how Roman had just picked him up with almost less-than-no effort as the cubby swing open. "..huh. Cool."

"I take that as high praise from the dark edge lord himself. It took forever but it's so extra it's worth it, kind of antique prohibition-esque. I planned on showing you pictures but this is so much better." Roman grinned, "We had to repanel a bit more of the wall because I-uh-someone got a little carried away with the demolition part," He coughed knowing it's obvious whom, "but it worked out. Logan insisted the one meant for his room go in the living room above the mantel for easier access or whatever. I'm sure he had a reason but I zoned out pretty fast thinking about how I'd hide it behind a painting."

Virgil chuckled. "Yeah, cool t' see it in person. I guess it wouldn't quite be the same with pictures seeing as, well.. they'd make it just look normal-sized." He sighed slightly. "And could you slow your oversized princelyness down it may be like 3 o clock in the afternoon but still too early for space camp training."

Roman tried to ignore the need to wince at that, "Sorry I got excited and carried away when I remembered it. I'll be more careful next time." He laughed awkwardly at himself and grabbed the medical kit from the desk, he set Virgil down on his pillow and sat on the bed. He started getting to work on wiping the cuts from the pavement on his elbows and the blood from his elbows.

Virgil let himself relax, smiling softly and letting blush cover his cheeks while he thought Roman wasn't looking. "I can uh, help with your back n' stuff, if you need."

"I think I've got it," Roman wrapped his wounds, wincing only slightly when he pulled the last one tight. There was some roadrash deep enough to draw blood on the backs of his shoulder blades. He could feel those wounds the worst in the shower. He attempted to dab at them with a disinfecting wipe, but his arms fell short. Didn't stop him from trying, though.

Virgil hummed, crossing his arms as he watched. "You sure? Look like you're struggling a bit there. I let you do mine, so let me help with yours."

"I got it, I got it," he strained his arm, trying to will it to go further. It only succeeded in brushing the side and making Roman wince.

Virgil gave Roman a look, sliding down off the pillow so he could walk over to Roman, pulling himself up onto Roman's lap. "Ro, for goodness sake, just 'cuz you're bigger doesn't mean you get special privilege. It's your turn to lay down, so c'mon already. You obviously can't get it yourself."

Not expecting to find the human on his lap, he leaned back so he wasn't looking straight down and smirked when he realized even leaning back so far he was still above Virgil. He eyelevel was still a good few inches past the human's head.

"Oh alright alright. I guess I submit." Roman waved the white flag dramatically. He picked up Virgil by the back part of his hoodie teasingly and set him down gently on the blanket. Roman flipped himself over, careful not to hurt Virgil while doing it, but leaving Virgil falling towards Roman's side from the mattress' sudden incline.

Virgil kicked the air slightly, letting out a yelp of surprise as he tumbled onto Roman's side. He let out a huff, knowing how smug Roman's expression must be at that moment. He scaled Roman's arm up onto his shoulder blade. "Alright, I need the stuff so I can put it on ya' Ro."

Roman had to stop himself from moving at the feeling of Virgil on his lower back. That was certainly a new sensation.

"Just don't step on any bruises dumbass."

...

Asks and comments appreciated!♡♡

I try to fix any errors I find to make it the best it can be for yall but due to limited time some slip through, so spotting them isn't a bother at all

Tag list: @no-no-no-no-6 @thebadhalfofafandom @greyyy523 @arc852 @justanotherpurplebutterfly @tiny-enby @phlying-squirrel @thestrangedino @revairies @just-another-rainbowblog @that-smol-tired-gay @the-asexual-alien @authorized-trash @c-e-l-t-i-c-h-a-v-e-n @imtooaromaticforthis @random-fandom-dragon @enby-phoenix @brooky71

[shirtlesssammy]

14x20: Moriah

The Road So Far:

How is Team Free Will 2.0 ever going to beat Michael, the Big Bad of the season?

Now:

We open right where we left off last week. Jack escaped the Ma’lak box by blowing it to smithereens, and took most of the bunker’s storage room with it. “You lied to me.” And then he blasts Team Free Will before flapping off.

The guys assess the damage and discuss Jack. And by discuss, I mean Dean and Cas continue to fight about their differing parenting choices. Dean wants to kill their son; Cas wants to save their son. Quite frankly, it’s obvious their therapist is done with it all. And by therapist, I mean Sam. #prayforSam. (I particularly liked the last bit of the fight when Dean had to walk closer to Cas then he already was, and Cas had to clip Dean’s shoulder as he walked away.)

Sam and Dean continue to discuss the plan for Jack. Dean insists they have to find him and “do the hard thing.” They have to kill him. Sam is visibly upset by the prospect.

Jack, meanwhile, is wandering around a city, listening to people lie to everyone around them. I particularly liked the lines that were filler for the lines that we were supposed to pay attention to:

“You should have seen it. I caught a steelhead this big.”

“I saw ‘em at Coachella last year!”

“That’s not porn. I don’t know what that was.”

Jack flashes his gold eyes and commands everyone to stop lying. This is going to solve all the world’s problems! (Sidenote: I liked this post by @eveiswaywardaf)

Sam and Dean pull up to a company called Mirror Universe. Ahem. Sam’s on the phone with Rowena (oooOOOOooo) --she’s in on their little plan.

The brothers head inside to hopefully use the company’s facial recognition program to locate Jack.

Dean calls the whole room nerds, but Sam calls him out on that bit of hypocrisy. DEAN WATCHES JEOPARDY!, guys! (ofc, he does.) Dean tries flashing his FBI badge at the receptionist, but instead of giving a fake name and reason for being there, he spills the truth.

Oh, it seems Jack’s truth command works on everyone everywhere. Dean tests the situation by asking Sam who his favorite singer is and Sam responds, “Celine Dion.” Oh Sam, Vince Vincente (and Balthazar) are very disappointed in you right now. Dean tells Sam that they can’t lie.

Then, all hell breaks loose in the company. I mean, what show are we even watching? (iloveitwithallmyheartandamnotsurewhatiamgoingtodowithoutit) The brothers escape to an empty room. There’s a TV broadcasting the news that the president spilled his tax history, deep ties to Russia and North Korea, and a “demon deal” with Crowley. Out of context, this might be my favorite part of the episode. I mean, the absolute shade! I can’t think of another show I watch doing this --especially one with a conservative audience like we know Supernatural has. In any event, the brothers quickly put it together that Jack’s behind it all.

And then we’re gifted with my favorite part in context (if that’s possible):

THE STAPLER QUEEN!

Cut to Cas in the alley trying to get access to Hell. The demon monitoring the door won’t let him him. Blerg.

For I’m Going to Hell Science:

But Chuck shows up! Uh-oh. He says he’s here because Cas called him, and “him.” Jack’s a problem.

Jack shows up at his grandmother’s place.

The poor lost cause wants to talk about Kelly. (bby boy, you’re so creepy rn.) She’s visibly upset and tells him that they made phone calls and no one knows who he is, and that others think that Kelly is dead. “What did you do to my daughter?!” Agh, her screaming makes Jack get angry and he demands that she stop (so much like his other grandmother...AUGH). The next shot we see is Jack fleeing from the house. Oh dear.

Meanwhile, Dean’s living his best life NOT lying and talking about the parenting blog he follows. MY HEART. Cas and Chuck show up. Dean wants to know where he’s been. “It’s a funny story. Reminds me of a song.” And the Chuck proceeds to pull up a guitar, which Dean promptly smashes to bits and pieces.

He shouts at Chuck to answer him, and with equal force Chuck responds, “Don’t!” Ugh, I think Dean just remembered he’s not just dealing with cuddly, affable, nebbish Chuck here. He’s dealing with God. To lessen the tension, Chuck snaps them all back to the bunker.

That doesn’t stop the questions that Sam, Dean, and Cas have though. Chuck admits to being around, but he’s hands off. If they want to <insert bad event> that’s on them. He only needs to step in when there’s an Apocalypse.

He stops the truth tellings and sets all the world back to order. Sam wants to know if Chuck can stop Jack. He tells them not exactly, but they can with a special gun. He just made it and hasn’t named it yet, but is leaning on “The Equalizer” or “The Hammurabi”. It’s a gun that sends a wave of multi-dimensional energy across a perfectly balanced quantum link. So shooter and shootee get the same treatment with this gun. Cas asks why he can’t just fix Jack’s soul. “Souls are complicated, even for me.” Dean says that this is it. Cas utters Team Free Will’s motto: There has to be another way. Dean doesn’t think so, and tells Cas to “get on board or walk away.” Cas walks away. (Spoiler: DID Y’ALL SEE CHUCK’S LITTLE SMILE AT THAT!?!)

Jack walks the streets replaying his conversation with his grandma. He’s troubled…

So is Dean! He’s tucked himself away in a corner of his bedroom, steadily working through a stash of liquor. He sits Sam down for a special talk. No, it’s not about how two people can still love each other very much, but need to be apart for a while. (#DeanCasBreakup) Dean is, of course, ready to kill himself to take care of the “Jack problem.” Dean. Bean.

Sam refreshingly calls him on his self-sacrificing bullshit.

“We always have a choice,” Sam tells him. He admits to Dean that he’s angry about their mom and a part of him does want Jack dead as well. But they have a responsibility to try to save Jack first. Jack lost his soul to save the Winchesters. Furthermore, he’s FAMILY. “You want my permission?” Sam asks. “You want me to say I’m cool with losing him and losing you all at once? ‘Cause I can’t do that.” GOD, SAM I LOVE YOU. This was the best, most emotional, most needed speech.

Cas continues his desperate search for Jack, heading to the cemetery where Kelly is buried. Jack isn’t there.

But Jack flaps in. He’s been looking for Cas! Castiel, that beautiful, majestic raven, pulls Jack in for a big hug.

Back at the bunker, Chuck’s a giant dork, playing with an AU archangel blade. Sam asks how many AUs exist. Chuck’s not sure, but we do learn about:

Reverse

No yellow

All squirrels (Thanks @consulting-cannibal for your contribution to the world’s cumulative joy)

At the cemetery, Jack talks through his failures with Cas. The lying experiment? Huge fail. Coffee and love with the Klines? Catastrophic strike-out. Grandma Kline accused Jack of killing Kelly, and Jack says that he did, just by being born. UGH that is a terrible guilt to lay on a child, soul or not. (Of course, she didn’t know…) Anyway, Cas is a good dad and talks about Jack’s experiences with him. Jack used to hate himself for Kelly’s death, but the feelings are gone. We also learn that Grandma Kline survived her interaction with Jack. Phew!

Sam asks Chuck an ultra-mega-pertinent question: is their world just another throw-away experiment? Chuck insists that this world is the best and he LOVES following the adventures of Sam and Dean. Sam gets pissed off at the idea of Chuck just watching them suffer through terrible near-ends. “You’re my favorite show,” Chuck says with a little side smile.

Sam demands an answer for why all these world-saving burdens have to fall on them, but Chuck offers up the “non-interference” answer. Anyway, he’s not here to argue cosmic ethics with Sam. It’s time to address the Jack problem. Sam finally asks where Jack is, and Chuck reveals that he’s already told Dean. Dean has left the bunker, gun in hand. Y I K E S.

At the cemetery, Jack and Cas talk.

For Beautiful Feelings Science:

Jack is desperate to do the right thing, but he doesn’t have a soul to guide him anymore. Oh, Jack. Cas will be your Jiminy Cricket! Jack WANTS to love. He wants to feel. But he can’t. “You can’t yet,” Cas tells him. They need to go hide somewhere in the world until Jack gets better.

Enter Dean with his metaphorical gun. Cas stands between Dean and Jack and EMOTIONS ARE HAPPENING PEOPLE. Jack refuses to run. He knocks Castiel away and faces Dean, knowing why Dean is there. Jack kneels. He’s ready. And I’m getting tears in my eyes. Because Dean looks at Jack. He REALLY looks at him while Cas and Sam watch the story unfold.

This metaphorical gun, while almost a joke because of its obvious symbolism, is actually perfect. This death would tear into Dean’s soul just as much as it tears into his body. And when Jack tells Dean that he knows he’s a monster just like Dean’s been saying all along, Dean looks at Jack and sees……...

Sam, meanwhile, has been joined by Chuck who is having the time of his life. Drama! Yes. Despair! Yes. Terrible soul-killing sacrifice! Mmmhmm good. Chuck watches Dean while Sam watches Chuck with growing horror. “Are you enjoying this?” Sam asks and Chuck shushes him like he’s in a freaking movie theater.

Dean cocks the weapon, grits his teeth. Finger tenses. He looks at Jack. And he LOWERS THE GUN. And here, I’m going to take a little crying break. This moment means so much to me.

Dean tosses the weapon aside. Chuck springs to life and orders Dean to pick the gun back up. “This isn’t how the story is supposed to end.” And HERE is where Chuck flips from adorable weird bunny to, idk, red-eyed god-bunny of doom.

The gravitas dies. Chuck goes on a rant about wanting to watch the father-killing-his-son storyline. The epic man paaaaaaain! Sam tells Dean that Chuck’s been playing them for fools. Playing WITH them like they’re game pieces.

“Our entire lives. Mom, Dad, everything. This is all you because you wrote it all, right? Because, what? Because we’re your favorite show? Because we’re part of your story?!”

Chuck tells Dean that if he picks up the gun and kills Jack (and himself) that he’ll bring Mary back. Dean confesses that his mom is his hero (cries) and he misses her (cries more) but she would not want this (cries the most).

“Why the games, Chuck?” Dean demands. The Winchesters unite in outrage. “When does it end?” Sam asks.

Chuck snaps his fingers and SMITES Jack. It isn’t fast, or painless. Cas tries to help him while Jack screams. Meanwhile, Sam picks up the metaphorical gun and shoots Chuck. NOOOOO SAAAAAAM!

(Okay, but the metaphorical gun symbolized Dean’s self-destruction but for Sam, it symbolizes how he fights to protect the people he loves. SAM you have come into your own this season. Truly. I am so proud.)

Sam only shoots Chuck in the shoulder and, as Chuck advertised, gets a wound in his shoulder as well. (At least he won’t have to dig out a bullet?) Pissed off now, Chuck throws a cosmic tantrum. “Story’s over,” Chuck says. “Welcome to The End.”

The sky goes dark. Jack’s dead, wing burns scorching the ground.

Sam’s still injured as they gather around Jack. We fall into a camera spiral, dipping down into Jack’s burned out eye socket (ew?) to the tune of Motorhead’s “God was never on your side.”Jack wakes in the Empty and looks around.

The Shadow greets him and draws a smile on their face. (What Would Mister Rogers Do?)

Billie greets him!!!!!!! “We should talk,” she says. Suddenly, all my crops are watered and my skin has cleared!

Down on the world, shit goes down in the cemetery. As an epic score screams about God’s betrayal, the dead claw themselves from the earth.

The woman in white appears. Gacy resurfaces. Bloody Mary rides again. These souls are all back, despite all the work and the death and loss…

It’s The End, and Team Free Will stand together as the dead converge on them. The camera cuts away and we lose sight of them in the pressing of the zombie horde.

I AM SO EXCITED. What a damn gloriously operatic note to linger on for…months.

D:  h o l d   m e

Quotes Lie:

Dad, none of this woulda happened without you.

You should never have tried to lock him away!

We’re gonna have to do the hard thing. We’re gonna have to do the ugly thing. It’s not like it’s the first time, right?

I’m Dean Winchester. I’m looking for the Devil’s son. This badge is fake.

“Hey I slept with your wife.” “I know. I’m kinda into it.”

And I saw Springsteen on Broadway, man’s a genius.

You want to go up against the British Men of Letter? Little weak, but ok.

Souls are complicated, even for me.

I’ve already lost too much.

What are you?!!

No offense, but your brother is stupid and crazy.

This isn’t just a story. IT’S OUR LIVES.

Writers lie.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[pghbabesonbikes]

Frigid Bitch 2019 Results

Frigid Bitch - back for year 6!

Continuing tradition as probably the biggest ladies/non-binary bike race in the universe with over 100 riders, this year’s Frigid Bitch expanded with first-time-ever-offered pre-registration and MORE PODIUMS. Held at Threadbare Cider in Spring Garden, at 10am on Saturday, February 16th, 2019, racers started flooding in to stock up on gear, check out the competition, and pick up their maps & manifests.

As always, there is a one hour window for racers to frantically plan their routes, forge alliances, and make friends. A few local ladies’ racing teams showed up in force, and some veteran Frigid Bitch ride-or-die gangs side-eyed up their matching kits and focused efficiency with determined fuck-it, let’s-do-this attitudes. New racers met riding partners on-site, and a handful of volunteers showed up to take in the crowd before heading out to their no-longer-secret positions.

A quarter to go-time, everyone was hustled outside to unlock their steeds and gear up for the start line.

THE CHECKPOINTS

Grandview Overlook Every year, for the out-of-towners, suburb queens, commuters who never stray from the beaten track - there’s always one checkpoint that everybody knows how to get to. Not that we’d make it easy! Pittsburgh’s famous overlook is a slag up Mt Washington, and with the main thru way closed, racers had to either bump it up via shattered sidewalks, or find away around. Volunteers were ready with a toast at the top!

Fineview Overlook In a city of hills and bridges you’re gonna have a lot of overlooks … Grandview’s much lesser known cousin on the Northside had racers figuring out how to find their way above the ballfield. Anyone who actually followed the map to this checkpoint found themselves climbing one of the toughest Dirty Dozen Hills….oh, did we do that? Whoops!

Herr’s Island Keep following the map in the other direction, and it’d take you down Rialto St (another Dirty Dozen Hill! Who drew this?!) and across the 30th St Bridge to Herr’s Island, haven of local crew teams and isolated Pgh elite. Everyone knows it’s there; most cyclists have zero reason to ever trek over. On the far end of the island, through some woods & down some steps to a gravel lot in a crumbling wall, volunteers were waiting with a camp fire to check off numbers of the racers who hiked-a-bike or threw down and hustled on foot.

5 Points Speaking of hike-a-biking, the furthest checkpoint from the start was tucked away in Pgh’s mountain biking mecca, Frick Park. There’s only one spot in the woods where 5 trails spike together in a star formations, colloquially known as…. FIVE POINTS!!! Entering the trail from Beechwood Blvd in Squirrel Hill, anyone who made it this far had to off-road their ride down dirt paths and over exposed roots. But hey, there was hot chocolate at the bottom! 

Murray Hill Not far from 5 points, Murray Hill Ave gave everyone the opportunity to experience off- roading on a one of the most quintessential Pgh urban this-is-actually-still-a-road terrains (second only to massive potholes): brutally steep cobbles!

Iron Eden Metal Works Oh, but there were potholes. Snaking the back way up & down bombed-out Sassafras St, nestled in the shadows of the Bloomfield Bridge, lies a two-tiered & strange-looking structure. ~By night!~ a times-past underground venue in the woods, ~by day!~ a rustbelt relic: Iron Eden!

Bonus checkpoint feature:  ~ * g l a m o u r   s h o t s * ~

The Hot Metal Bridge It’s a classic. Need we say more?  

The Boob Mausoleum Probably the most infamous tomb in the Allegheny Cemetery, the WHITE mausoleum features a bafflingly intense commitment to full-blown Egyptian theme&decor. Stationed just outside the crypt’s brass-cast pillar-flanked doors, 2 ~prominent~ sphinxes stand guard over the venerable (?) White family portal. Stationed just outside the sphinxes….Frigid Bitch BEACH PARTY!!

Mohawk St Finally, last in line but top of the list as far as checkpoint shenanigans go; bomb down Fifth Ave from Pitt campus and right before you hit the Birmingham Bridge, there’s a set of city steps that ascend into the woods of West Oakland. They spit out at Landslide Community Farms and a pink jersey barrier where volunteers waited with a camp fire* and a case of PBR. They’d set up a beer chute along the top of the stairs and stood in suspense while racers ran up the steps, not taking the bait. Finally, the vet bitch gang of Alex K, Katherine J and Frankie M threw their bikes over their shoulders, rushed the chute, grabbed a beer, cracked it with their teeth and chugged on the way up.

*if you missed the campfire, it’s because the fire dept showed up to put it out. See? Shenanigans!

Once the clock struck 2, everyone had 1 hour to race back to Threadbare. Bikes were slammed into the temp parking, road shoes clacked across the parking lot, the doors were thrown over and spoke card numbers hollered at the waiting table-side officials.

P A R T Y   T I M E

Pizza was eaten, cider was drunk, war stories were exchanged! Multi-year Bitch Queen Elise R regaled audiences with a story that started as a complaint that she couldn’t run any red lights on the North Side because there were too many cops around, then perked up with details about bombing down towards an intersection from Mohawk, where a white SUV veered into the corner of the intersection, blocking traffic for Elise & her crew to blast their way through, waved them past and yelled “YEAH FRIGID BITCH!!!”

Podiums

For the first time, the Frigid Bitch podium split into multiple categories. Singlespeed, Mountain Bike, Masters, and Out-Of-Town were added in addition to the all-encompassing Women & Nonbinary Open Field. Check back next year; more are comin!

Fixed/Singlespeed 1. Alexandra Korshin 2. Rachel Thompson

Masters 1. Louanna Bailey 2. Frankie Montenegro 3. Kelly Haderly 4. Monica VanDieran 5. Jen Damon 6. Suz Falvey

7. Christa Ross 8. Stacie Truszkowski 9. Barbara Jensen 10. Sarah Crawford 11. Simone Riddle 12. Suzanne Kinsky 13. Athena Marsh 14. Cynthia Billisits 15. Suzie Silver 16. Heather Mccracken 17. Jolynn Gibson 18. Kelli Jones 19. Dorothy Voelker

Mountain Bike 1. Suz Falvey 2. Vincent Zeng 3. Nikki Turner

Out Of Town 1. Jane Hodge 2. Caitlin Woodson 3. Sara Khalil Open Field Results! 1. Elise Rowe #10 2. Shaena Ulissi #18 3. Caryn Willis #73 4. Anna Bieberdorf #114 5. Katie Webber-Plank #93 6. Julie Grove #91

7. Louanna Baily #15 8. Lydia Yoder #50 9. Lindsay Dill #28 10. Alyssa Crawford #62

11. Jessie Appleman #87 12. Ania Jaroszewicz #6 13. Amy Wincek #111 14. Emily Palmer #54 15. LaurynStalter #79 16. Mary-Wren Ritchie #86 17. Alexandra Korshin #69 18. Frankie Montenegro #44 19. Katharine Jordan #78 20. Lan Tran #89 21. Naomi Anderson #107 22. Alexandria Shewczyk #29 23. Jaime Martina #26

24. Megan Andrews #43 25. Cansu Ozen #39 26. Sara Horsey #75 27. Shequaya Bailey #7 28. Kelly Haderly #84 29. Megan Sybeldon #46 30. Allison Glick #104 31. Acadia Klain #37 32. Robyn Brewer #34 33. Anna Barensfeld #52 34. Kelsey Kradel #83 35. Monica VanDieren #4

36. Jen Damon #80 37. Suz Falvey #88 38. Christa Ross #82 39. StacieTruszkowski #102 40. Greta Daniels #60 41. Elizabeth Salesky #33 42. Barbara Jensen #41 43. Sara Madden #92 44. Vanessa Jameson #110 45. Jane Hodge #112 46. Sarah Crawford #90 47. Rachel Dingfelder #59

48. Mary Kate Minnick #27 49. Caitlin Woodson #13 50. Simone Riddle #64 51. Sara Khalil #94 52. Suzanne Kinsky #71 53. Taylor Wescott #35 54. Kathleen Blackburn #49 55. Athena Marsh #57 56. Riesa Lirette #14 57. Vincent Zeng #32 58. Anna Faber #47 59. Erin Potts #51 60. Molly Orzechowski #666 61. Jenna DeVivo #23 62. Laura Watson #99 63. Ngani Ndimbie #108 64. Rachel Thompson #113 65. Alexandra Falk #81 66. Cynthia Billisits #48

67. Sarah Martin #97 68. Laura Everhart #53 69. Bonnie Weibel #61 70. Mary Jackson #65 71. Leah Nicolich #103 72. Charlie Eddington #106 73. Catherine Armbruster #42 74. Paula Zamora #16 75. Ramona Stanley #38 76. Morgan Sulik #21 77. Anusha Simha #119 78. Yvette Aban #58 79. Hwa Han #63 80. Sarah Scherk #101 81. Hayes Indigo #1

82. Milo Spiders #100 83. Jenna Geiman #22 84. Hannah Berg #31 85. Suzie Silver #56 86. Julie Mallis #36 87. Morgan Tunstall #30 88. Heather McCracken #45 89. Shannon Frishkorn #115 90. Jamie Parke #66 91. Kate Bechak #105 92. Jaclyn Sternick #74 93. Jolynn Gibson #40 94. Maureen Duncan #9 95. Kelli Jones #12 96. Sarah Pearman #96 97. Lauren McKenna #17 98. Jennifer Ross #20 99. Kimberly Garrett #98 100. Chen Li #55 101. Rachel Shockey #25 102. NickyTurner #95 103. HEather McClain #109 104. Emily Voelker #24 105. Nicole Toney #68 106. Jenny Bender #67 107. Shelby Schmidt #72 108. Dorothy Voelker #19 109. Elizabeth LeDonne #77

Prizes

Were there enough prizes to go around? Were people bugging the f out over how awesome they were? We’ll let these photos speak for themselves.

The Best Part

The Frigid Bitch has always been a race to promote empowerment in the cycling community, to show that underrepresented groups of people can kick just as much ass as the status quo, and to support organizations that in turn provide for  others in need. To that end, funds raised via registration fees and anonymous pledges have always been given to the Greater Pittsburgh Women’s Center & Shelter. Over the past year, another organization has provided immeasurable support for the founders of the Frigid Bitch in their hour of need. This year’s race raised $730 for the Women’s Shelter and $400 for the Women’s Law Project. It couldn’t be done without the support of our racers & our community.

THANK YOU for another great year! To all of our sponsors, who are solely responsible for the joy fest you just witnessed above! To all my lovely volunteers, without whom this race would never get off the ground, and who pull out all the stops to make this the funnest goddamn alleycat in the whole universe. Thank you to my photographers, without you no one would ever know how fucking awesome this event is! Thank you to my little brother, who always finds the time to churn out another amazing race flyer! THANK YOU TO MY TEAM OF LADIES who helped me throw this race! Without you, Frigid Bitch #5 would have been the last of its kind! Thank you Di-ay, Elise #1 & Elise #2, Kat, Mattie, & Kaylin! Thank you Pittsburgh for being the only city I’d ever wish to be from! I’LL BE BACK!

SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!

[thelastpilot]

whats UP you ask for questions you get some!!!!!!! whats your favorite not-popular book series? if you could have your own planet, what would it be like? would you rather live in the sky or under the sea?

MISTMANTLE CHRONICLES, the mistmantle chronicles my dude. Urchin of the Riding stars, ive ranted about this series before but i will never stop yelling, it is one of the biggest influences on my writing style that i have, a massive inspiration to me. Urchin the squirrel and his journey on the If i could have my own planet i would want it to be incredibly dense forests with massive tree trunks that could support cities and crystal clear oceans with rust red sand mixed with pale beige. There would plentiful rain and a few great plains like the Mongolian great planes with tall and strange creatures and the forest would be home to clever bright eyed things sprinting along the trunks and singing eerie multi toned songs and the winged creatures would sound like silver bellsI would rather live in the sky because dragons and griffins and birds and shit are my jam and the ocean scars the hell out of me but if i could breathe underwater i would want to chill with sea turtles and i appreciate the power of the ocean

[fuzzhugs]

Progress - Redwall Fanfiction

Lieutenant-Colonel Alastor Farshore gently kneaded the warm sand beneath his pawpads as he stood on the flat, sandy shore that lay alongside Salamandastron. It was supposed to be his day off. He was supposed to be free from supervising drills, inspecting quarters, and chasing lazy cadets from their lunch. Alastor had hoped to spend the day with his wife and leverets (they were growing up so quickly); the afternoon in mid-summer was a perfect time to lounge on one of the many natural porches formed along the slope of their mountain home.  However, at breakfast, a messenger had informed him that Lord Hyrax requested all high-ranking infantry officers to be present for a demonstration, of sorts.

Now Alastor stood on the beach with a mix of other officers, waiting to see what was in store for them. Off to the side, Lord Hyrax sat on a boulder in stoic silence, patient as always. The lord of Salamandastron was far younger than most of the previous rulers of the mountain-fortress, and his persistent silence and frequent self-imposed isolation could have been mistaken for brooding, but those who had come to know the badger knew that, beneath the solemn exterior, a cunning military-minded brain was constantly churning.

In front of the assembled group of hares, a young sergeant was making adjustments to some…contraption. Sergeant Flores had always been mechanically minded. He designed, built, and maintained the ballistae and trebuchets that lined the crater and ledges of Salamandastron.

His latest invention appeared to be something smaller in nature. It was a long metal tube, approximately the same length of a javelin. One end of the tube was fitted into a wooden base shaped in a way comfortable to grip. A metal box containing a mass of gears and springs sat between the metal and wood. A score of paces down the beach, there was a ripe melon perched on top of a barrel.

“Gentlebeasts,” Sergeant Flores greeted his audience, finally getting underway. “Thank you for attending this morning. What I have here is something which I believe will completely revolutionize the way warfare is conducted.”

A few of the officers quietly scoffed at his remarks. Flores had made similar statements before, but nothing had come of them. The multi-shot crossbow had snapped under the pressures of repeated use, the “liquid fire” had proven just as hazardous to those using it as those on its receiving end, and the self-propelled battering-ram, well, it was a mystery how that one had even gotten past the drawing board.

“In this device, I have harnessed both the principals of pressure in conjunction with the incendiary properties of…”

“Get on with it Flores,” a major griped.

Startled at the interruption, Flores took a moment to compose himself. “Very well, observe.” He took up the device and sturdily gripped the wooded base and pulled back a small lever until it clicked. “You may wish to cover your ears.”

Whatever happened next was too fast for even the most keenly-eyed hare to see. In the same instant, a loud bang issued from the contraption in Flores’ arms, a puff of smoke filled the air, partially obscuring Flores from sight, and the melon which Flores’ device had been pointing at exploded into a mess of pulp.

After a few moments of silence, Alastor found the words that everyone on that beach was thinking.

“Sergeant, what…what was that?”

Flores smiled confidently. “As I was explaining before I was interrupted,” he glanced at the loudmouthed major, “a mixture of sulfur, saltpetre, and charcoal is ignited by through a spark created from this hammer here,” he indicated the small lever he had fiddled with prior to his demonstration. “In the confined space of the chamber, the pressure of the ignition is forced outward, propelling a small lead projectile at high speed through the barrel and…”

“We get the picture, Flores,” the same major interrupted, silencing him. “How exactly is this ‘revolutionizing’ warfare? We’ve plenty of ranged weapons. Arrows go farther and can be shot off faster.”

“And how many of those arrows instantly incapacitate or kill their target?” Flores argued. “We’ve a great many talented archers, but rare is the beast who can precisely hit and kill their target every single time. With the amount of damage my new weapon creates, anyone hit by it is bound to be stopped. Besides, this is only my first working prototype. I have dozens of ideas for improvements: the shape of the projectile, modifications to the barrel, prepackaged amounts of powder…”

“That’s enough Flores,” Lord Hyrax stood up. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. Keep working on it.”

The meeting adjourned and the officers departed, some to the training fields, others to the barracks and mess hall.

At Salamandastron’s main gates, Alastor was stopped by Brigadier-General Sibelle. The Brigadier had been Alastor’s sergeant when he was in training. As was typical, there had been some initial animosity from the cadet toward the harsh drill sergeant, but by the time both had started climbing the officer ranks, the two had formed a strong friendship.  

“Are you busy, Al?” Sibelle asked as she leaned against the doorposts.

“I’ve got a day for sabbatical and was hoping to spend some time with the young’uns.”

“I won’t keep you long. Let’s walk.”

The two began a circuit around the training fields, watching young cadets at work, learning the skills necessary to survive in the Long Patrol.

“What did you think of Flores’ demonstration?” the Brigadier asked.

“An intriguing weapon, though hardly ready for battle. It may work as a signaling device or a means of intimidation, but I can’t see a foot soldier marching off into battle with one of those…boomsticks. The Long Patrol has always met its foes with sword and spear; I can’t imagine that changing.”

“I wish I was as optimistic,” Sibelle said, thinking aloud. “Everything we’ve both learned, everything I drilled into you when you were still an idiotic cadet with delusions of grandeur…”

“Now I’m an idiotic lieutenant-colonel with delusions of grandeur.”

Sibelle gave him a playful shove. “Everything we know about the Long Patrol has been based on the traditions of countless seasons. Archery, spears, slings, ambushes, siege-tactics…what if all comes crashing down around us? Where will that leave us, the old, unchangeable officers?”

“The blissful arms of retirement, I suppose,” Alastor remarked cynically, “but it’s better than the alternative.”

“As if either of us would ever retire,” Sibelle said as they returned to the gates. “Give that sister of mine my best. I’ll have to come and visit soon. It feels like ages since I’ve seen my niece and nephew.”

The rest of the day was not as relaxing as Alastor had hoped. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the uncertain future.

***

General Alastor Farshore gently kneaded the warm sand beneath his pawpads as he stood on the flat, sandy shore that lay alongside Salamandastron. He watched as the newly formed rifle companies went through their drills.

It seemed all the new cadets talked about in their downtime: how to get into a rifle company. The traditional units still remained, but their numbers had greatly diminished, and their odds of ever seeing combat were equally abysmal. Twenty hares armed with rifles were doing what had taken a hundred foot-soldiers during Alastor’s days in the infantry.

Some of the new officers had Alastor concerned. They wore swords, but few knew how to use them properly. The sabers they strapped on each morning was little more to them than a badge of office, just another part of their uniform. Most of the members of the rifle companies had little training in melee combat beyond the use of the bayonets fastened to the barrel of their firearms. At least his son could hold his own in a one-on-one battle.

Turning his back on the drills, Alastor surveyed the mountain. Lt. Colonel Flores had removed the last of the war-machines earlier that morning. A few were being preserved for posterity, but the rest were on their way to being fuel for the cooking fires. Hurling boulders and massive bolts were of little use when cannon could fire farther and more accurately.

Taking in all the changes he had seen in his tenure, Alastor sighed.

“What troubles you, friend?” A quiet rumbling voice spoke from behind him. Lord Hyrax, surprisingly stealthy for his size, had a habit of suddenly appearing unexpectedly.

“I am like the ballistae, milord,” Alastor lamented. “I am an antique. The Long Patrol has been my life, but how long will it be before I too am decommissioned?”

Hyrax sat down and faced the sea. “The badger lords and ladies have kept this mountain for countless seasons. In that time, many brave creatures of all sorts have come and gone. Squirrels, otters, hares, mice, all of them different, but brave in heart. Look at the young cadets out on the fields. They may carry a rifle instead of a sword, but are they any less valiant than you or any of the Patrol? They have taken the same oath to defend this shore against invaders and protect all its inhabitants. The tools they use do not matter, for the Long Patrol only looks for the valiant in heart. Look to the mountain. It has stood here longer than any of us, and though countless changes have been made to it over the years, it still stands. Weapons are easily replaced, but valiant hearts? Those will always be needed.”

Alastor smiled. “Of course you are right, milord. I suppose nobeast likes feeling they are being replaced.”

“But it is still inevitable that we are. Some new lord or lady will follow me just as I followed my predecessor, but we all have our role to play for the time being. Anything that helps us fulfill those roles will not undo us. We will not be undone by progress.”