#panthers struck oil

[this-ass-is-eikonic]

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…👀…

[stargazingfordreams]

A court of Night and Stars

Summary- Random killings have been happening all over Pythian and make its ways to a kingdom in the fae realm known as Mareen. Emrys grieves the loss of her sister and keeps her domain away from war, and she gets help from an unexpected ally.

Pairing- Adu!t Nyx x OC

Warning- None 

Chapter 1

Chapter two

Emrys Pov

I watched the night sky enjoying it as if it would be my last as a warm breeze flowed in. Midnight my familiar lay at my feet, his bright yellow eyes alert, and his black fur shined in the moonlight. I was at peace petting the spoiled panther before me until I heard a knock at my door.

“Princess?” Sujeed moved his head into my room.

“Yes, General Sujeed,” my voice couldn’t hide my annoyance. I just wanted tonight. I just wanted a minute to process what tomorrow might be like. This will not be my first war. Mareen hadn’t been a place of peace, but after the civil war, I thought this would be it.

“The watch for tonight will be changing now.” He said with a bow and smirk.

“You’ve never felt the need to tell me you would be standing guard before,”  I said to him.

“Oh no, it won’t be me but rest knowing that I put one of my best to guard for you tonight. I really came in here to talk to you.” He moved further into my room though the door was still open. I shifted in my seat on my window sill.

“I don’t think that we have anything to talk about,” I said to him.

“It’s about tomorrow. I want you to stay close, and if you see danger, please just run. I can protect you.” I scoffed and shook my head.

“You want me to run from a fight when my people are risking their lives,” I said

“I want to keep you safe,” he said. Coming closer. Midnight's eyes were fixed on him.

“Well then, I hate to disappoint you, but I won’t be doing that” I got up from the window sills and moved to my vanity. I picked up some hair oil in a bottle and started putting it in my hair, looking into my mirror and not at the general, who took it upon himself to come further into my room and close the door behind him; I stopped what I was doing to glare in his direction. Still, it seemed as though no matter how much he looked at me, he wasn’t seeing me.

“I don’t want this to be up for a discussion. Truly it shouldn’t be your safety that is best for all of us. If anything happens to the Kirsi or Sauna, then it will be you to take over the throne, and we can’t have you dead.” A nerve in me was being pushed at. He quickly forgot his place, and then a thought struck me.

“You spoke to my mother, haven't you? What did she tell you?” My tone was deadly, and he was wise to be worried. He straightened his back and took straight at me.

“When all is done, you are to be my wife, I look forward to that, Emrys, but that day won’t come if you are no longer here. But, please, for our sake, for the sake of life, we will have to stay away from danger” he took a step forward, but I took one back.

“I think it is time for you to leave.”

“Emrys, please I-“

“No, just leave,” I said, taking a threatening step toward him. Midnight was now up, eyeing him down. A challenge to try if he dared to disobey. He stepped back, took his last bow, and left through the door. When I was again by myself, I finished my hair for the night, went back to the window sill, and looked up at the stars. A million thoughts and emotions ran through my head, but none mattered, not right now, and it was just me and the night sky.

That night I was restless. I would close my eyes and want to sleep, yet that dream kept playing the same dream I had been having for months. The endless night sky, Music, Art, a bridge that crossed over water, and sometimes, on nights like this, I would see flashes of body parts, long dark hair, a woman’s smirk legs, and moaning. I never understood why I was having dreams of someone else’s pleasure, but they always ended the same, and that was with me staring at a mirror. I could not see the face, only the eyes, only the blue starry eyes.

My eyes slowly opened, and my mind and body came back together as I moved out of bed. The dream had already left my mind forgetting the eyes and the sky like it became a haze leaving me to not remember. Sometimes I try to remember whether their eyes were green or brown, at night or day, and that laugh was smooth or booming? I didn’t have time, though, to try and remember. It was early morning, but there was no light. The sun was breaking slowly in the sky while I put on my armor and fought maroon and gold leathers, the royal family's colors.

I had met the rest on the open field. My sister and I wore the same armor, and my mother wore all black, showing that she was still mourning. I had put my mask over my face, and my sister and I walked side by side with my mother as we met with what looked like the high lords of Prythian. I looked at all seven of then, and my face stopped at the only woman among their ranks.                           

“What is the meaning of this, Queen Kirsi? We have no problems nor want any of this for the people of Maureen.” A man with white hair and the ocean in his eyes said.

“There have been crimes committed against my people, and it is time that they are paid for with blood” my mother looked at the group of men before us and showed no fear.

“And do you plan on doing that by having children and women fight for you if it comes to war?” A man with brown hair and fire in his eyes said.

He motioned to my sister and me, standing next to my mother. I was smaller than most, and it seemed as though because of this, That arrogant man mistook me for a Child. I let a smirk appear on my face, but it was short-lived when I felt something shift beneath my feet.

Nyx Pov

We planned to meet on the Isle between the night court and Mareen. However, when we had gotten to the open field, the Maueenian queen and three others were already waiting. I straighten the appeal of my jacket and put my hands in my pocket. My mother and father are both at my side, along with Amren.

“Do you think it will come to a fight between the Mareenians and us?” I asked both of them

“The Mareenians are proud, ruthless people; I can’t see them backing down from this fight if it comes to that, but that is not why we are here though we all did bring reinforcements,” Amren said as we walked closer to the middle of the battlefield.

“Rhys, Do you think it’s wise to just walk into the open field like this” my mother followed in step with us.

“This isn’t like Hybren Feyre, darling; we have a chance to talk this out and hopefully avoid the bloodshed of thousands,” My father explained; we made it to the middle, standing in front of the Queen, a man who was the same height as me the second oldest daughter and a tiny warrior who was close to amen size their face was covered the only thing I notice was familiar pare of chocolate eyes that narrowed as it pierced through me I threw them a smirk. All of us took a slight bow.

“Your Grace, I am glad you have decided to meet with us here.” My father said Amren. However, she translated it into their language. I listen closely, seeing if I can piece together what they are saying. Unfortunately, I can't keep up with what they are saying.

“What is the meaning of this, Queen Kirsi? We have no problems nor want any of this for the people of Maureen.” High lord Tarquin had claimed

“The queen says that a great offense has been…..brought the death of her firstborn child” Amren tone was low.

“I am sorry for your loss, your grace. I can't begin to imagine what you must be feeling,” My mother said.

“And do you plan on doing that by having children and women fight for you if it comes to war?”Baron was next to open his arrogant mouth. I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance.

“I understand your loss, but-“ The small one dressed in a maroon stepped forward. I almost followed suit wanting to protect my family, But they held their hand up.

“She said to wait….” I stopped and listened although I heard nothing, I sensed nothing. The Female warrior bent down and felt the earth, closing her eyes and listening to it as if she was the only one who could hear it. In a split second, she jumped up, pushing my mother out of the way and putting a shield around us all, but she wasn’t fast enough. A stray arrow that would have hit my mother hit her arm instead, giving her a flesh wound.

“It was an ambush,” The queen said in a heavy accent.

“This wasn’t us; we swear by it,” Amren said

The Queen raised her hand, and the Mareenians army came down above the mountains, swarming the battlefield, but they weren’t met without force. The Illyrian armies rushed to the sky with arrows and swords. The other lords had their troops charging the area. The high lord of autumn drew his sword and lunged toward the queen with such speed and force that my eyes almost missed him, but the small soldier drew the hilt to their sword. It had no blade. I moved to stop them, but a blade made of lighting sprung for the handle and broke the sword in half. She smiled and swung again. I moved to push the girl out of the way because she didn’t see Eris sneaking his way behind her. So now it was our swords that crashed.

“Move out of my way, brute,” he said through his teeth.

“This doesn’t have to be a fight, Eris” he pushed off and rushed into what now looked like a battlefield sword crashing. Screams were echoing. The sounds of flesh being cut rang through my ears. And the sounds of my beating heart thumped with adrenaline. I looked at my mother and father, who were holding their own.

“Nyx! Get your mother and Amren out of here now!” He yelled over the sounds of the fight.

“What about you!” I fought my way to him.

“Do as you're told and go!” Finally, I made it to where my mother and Amren were. I fought the two men that were surrounding them. I held them both in my arms.

“Hang on. I’ll get us out of here.” I was about to take off when I saw the warrior from earlier fight off at least eight Barons men by herself, holding her still-injured arm; the injury she got protecting my mother.

“Mother takes Amren and gets out of here,” I said, heading toward where she was fighting.

“But your father said-“

“I know what he said, mother, but please go. I owe her this” her eyes went over to the warrior fighting for her life with the disadvantage of her injury.

“Be quick” I nodded off and ran to her. But in a moment, something hit the battlefield hard then mere force sent all of us flying. I caught her mid-air, hitting the ground and rolling with her in my arms. The blast's power sent us far away from the battlefield but for a brief moment, 

I saw him and Ranthain.

[unforestalledreturn]

Theres someone in one of the upper floor training rooms. This is unusual for a... few reasons. For one, they're usually meant for 2nd class SOLDIER and up. For another, its nearly midnight.

The young man inside is blond, with blue eyes and a short, compact but strong stature. He's working through forms with an old masterwork of a greatsword and a shield with a surprising certainty to his movements

Ever the restless type, the word 'schedule' seldom held sway over Genesis' seemingly unpredictable behaviors. But it had been a long while since the redhead tried to conform to just anyone's wishes. He served himself. A late night prowl around HQ was not unheard of. And, when the SOLDIER First strolled past the simulation hall, a mug of floral cider in hand, his enhanced senses firstly picked up the stink of cologne, then, the faint sound of movement from beyond the closed doors. He glanced through the glass, not all too surprised to find some young upstart grinding the midnight oil, or perhaps this one was plagued by jetlag? Idly, he lingered, taking a sip as he observed. He could not say he recognized the blonde, which struck him as odd; he never forgot a face that handled a sword as readily and easily as the one in the training room. Overriding the lock on the simulation door with his credentials, Genesis entered, nonchallant. "You must be a transfer-- Commander Hewley? Or is it Sephiroth?" Like a lethargic panther, Genesis circled the stranger, cloudy gray eyes especially studying the blonde's face. "Never lucky enough to have anyone who takes their formwork seriously to come to Bravo." A pity. The only SOLDIER that drifted under his command either did not make the cut in Sephiroth's division or had less orthodox approaches that only Commander Rhapsodos was willing to invest and train them in.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Don't Have to Choose

Summary: Reader has been avoiding Laxus and Gajeel because of how she feels about them but soon they let Reader know that they don’t have to choose.

TW/CW: Poly Laxus Dreyar x genderfluid!afab!Reader x Gajeel Redfox,

Requested?: Yes, by a lovely Anon who said, “Hi Gin!! I was wondering if you still write for Fairy Tail? If so, could I request a poly Laxus x genderfluid reader afab x Gajeel imagine? Maybe the way they get together? And if the reader was a water or ice god or demon slayer that would be cool. If you do choose to write this it would be so exciting to read your great writing!”

Word Count: 1,543

A/N: It feels so good to write again. Again, I'm so sorry about it taking so long to get back to it. Also, when I say I wish I could be (Y/n), I mean it. Literally can never decide which is my favorite between Laxus and Gajeel lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read! As always, love to all!

Your POV

As I made my way through the Guild Hall for another job request, I ducked behind a pillar as I spotted Laxus on the other side of the room. I silently prayed that no one would bring attention to me. Out the corner of my eye, I also spot Gajeel so I decide to beeline towards the Request Board and pick up the first one I could grab and take off. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m avoiding my two best friends but I’m not even sure myself. Actually, that’s not true. I know why but I’d rather marry a Vulcan than admit the reason.

I make it to the board and grab a job request and then turn on my heel to speed out of there but slam right something big and sturdy. I’m knocked onto my butt and as I look up I find the Iron Dragon Slayer grinning down at me. I glare at him as he chuckles but my eyes are torn away from him as a hand is offered to help me up, said hand happens to be attached to a second Dragon Slayer, this one being of the lightning variety. I get up off the floor without taking Laxus’s hand and then turn to head towards Mirajane to accept the job.

I toss the paper down onto the counter and turn to leave but Mira stops me, “(Y/n), you should probably take back-up for this one. From what I hear there’s a lot more Vulcans than just one person can handle for this job.” Of course, having heard her, Laxus and Gajeel make their way over.

“We’ll go with you, Tiny,” Gajeel offers.

I internally scream as Laxus nods his head in agreement. “Great! Be safe you three, we’ll see you when you get back,” Mira exclaims happily. Something in the back of my mind says Mira did that on purpose but I don’t have the mental ability to argue with her right now. Without saying another word, I head straight to the door and out into the sunshine and bustling street of Magnolia. I don’t even need to look back to know that Gajeel and Laxus have joined me as well as Panther Lily. I head North on foot towards the mountain town overrun by Vulcans.

We walk in silence for quite some time before I hear something metal rattling. I turn to look over my shoulder to find Gajeel dropping a few nuts and bolts into his mouth. He offers some to me but I roll my eyes and turn my attention back ahead of us. Lily finally is the first to speak, “I’ll be blunt and quick about it, what has gotten into you three?”

The silence coming from Gajeel and Laxus tells me that they’re waiting for me to speak. I pretend not to notice. Unfortunately, Laxus doesn’t seem to want the subject to drop, “I don’t know about Metal Muncher, but you’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, it hasn’t been that long,” I respond nonchalantly.

“So, you admit you’ve been ignoring him?” Gajeel inquires, “Glad it’s not just me.”

“It has been that long. It’s been three weeks since there’s been any semblance of an interaction between us,” Laxus adds.

I sigh and ignore them as were coming up on the outskirts of the town. It’s surprisingly quiet as I lean against a brick wall to take a break and survey the area from our position up on this hill. In a flash, Laxus is in front of me and has his hands pressed against the wall to cage me. I avoid eye contact with him as he speaks, “Don’t think we’re finished discussing this. When we get this job done, you’re gonna tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.” I finally look up at him to read his expression. He looks genuinely hurt which causes my own heart to ache. Then I could swear I hear Gajeel growl lowly as Laxus steps away from me to look over the town.

Seeing no sign of the Vulcans, we descend into the valley where the small town resides in search of them. It’s not long before we find them. Together the four of us make quick work of the job with only a short capture of myself by a Vulcan which led to even more tension between Gajeel, Laxus, and myself. Soon, we leave the town as the citizens cheer and thank us. The walk home is almost suffocatingly tense and quiet.

Upon our return to Magnolia, we make our way to the counter where Mira wanders back and forth serving drinks to our guildmates. Laxus heads upstairs where it’s undoubtedly quieter and Gajeel makes himself at home at one of the tables on the opposite side of the room. I take a seat at the bar as Lily hops up onto its surface, “Are we going to discuss what happened?”

Mira stops in front of us, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I mumble in annoyance.

Lily looks as if he’s trying to decide if he should tell her but quickly makes up his mind, “(Y/n) here was kidnapped by one of the Vulcans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gajeel and Laxus work together so swiftly or become so angry.”

Mira giggles, “Let me guess, you too think they love our dear friend here, don’t you.”

“Yes,” and nods thoughtfully, “I also think that (Y/n) loves them too but is too scared of what that might mean.”

I sigh, “Fine, you’ve caught me. I just... there’s no way that I could choose.”

Mira looks at me with a mischievous grin on her face, “Who says you have to choose?”

I fidget with my fingernails as I drop my head to stare at the counter. A storm of thoughts rumbles its way through my mind. However, it’s quickly halted as someone gently places their hand on my shoulder. I look behind me to find Laxus and Gajeel both standing there. Gajeel nods his head towards the door to signal for me to come with them.

Mira mouths, “good luck,” at me as I hop down off the stool to leave the Guild Hall. Quietly, we make our way to my house as my stomach twists itself into knots and the storm in my mind begins raging again. I unlock the front door and step inside, leaving the door open for them to follow me in. I hear the door shut softly behind me as I drop my backpack off on the kitchen counter and then plop down onto the couch.

The quiet persists for a few moments until Laxus finally speaks up from his stance against the wall across from me, “I never knew there could be someone outside of the Thunder Legion that I could work so well with let alone with such little communication.”

I know without asking that he’s referring to the fact that he and Gajeel worked like a well-oiled machine to get me to safety. From the other couch, Gajeel agrees, “I didn’t either but we were pretty good out there huh?”

“We were... but it’s not just us,” comes Laxus’s response as he drops onto the couch beside me.

Gajeel stands and joins us, “Without Tiny, we’d be a pretty shitty team.”

“We’re not going to make you choose, (Y/n). Why would we when we’d know you’d be safer with both of us than just one?” Laxus adds.

All my fear of having to choose dissipates as I realize what they’re saying, “So, we’re really going to make this a thing?”

“Yup,” Gajeel answers, popping the p before getting up to go to the kitchen.

Several months later, the Fairy Tail Guild has been requested to help out taking down a dark guild. Here I stand, facing off against a trio of dark mages. One of them looks at me and chuckles, “You’ll make a cute little maid, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

One of his friends looks at him like he’s insane, “Dude, how do you not know who this is? I highly suggest you just fight and not try anything. Her boyfriends will level you in seconds if you even think about taking her.” Just then the guy is struck with a bolt of lightning and knocked out.

“You’re right about that one,” Laxus grumbles as he steps up beside me on my right, shortly joined by Gajeel on my left. The other two look at the three of us in absolute terror and try to flee but they too are knocked out, this time by Gajeel’s iron arm.

“Just when I thought I was going to have to take these idiots out myself,” I laugh.

“You know we’ve always got your back, Tiny,” Gajeel responds as he moves closer. The three of us form a sort of triangle with our backs turned to each other to face the oncoming hoard of dark mages who heard the lightning and decided they could take the challenge. In the midst of chaos with a battle raging on, I feel perfectly safe knowing that the two men who hold equal shares of my heart have my back and each other’s while I also have theirs.

Taglist:

Masterlist

[possessedbyadisease]

The people who's deaths affected me greatly:

- Monty Oum: ive been a huge fan of his since watching Dead Fantasy. The way he animated fight scenes was so unique and exciting. And I loved watching his ddr videos. He was the reason I got to meet some online friends that i still consider to be close. People that loved the things that I loved, people that I could confide in about things that I normally couldn't my irl friends. When he died, it felt so surreal. I remember being in a college class, and not being able to concentrate. My friend, who had talked to him more often than I did, was even more so affected.

- my best friend from college: I remember asking her a question in a biology class, and that essentially put us on the path to becoming good friends. I was with her when she needed an oil change for her first car. Prior to her death, she was supposed to get married. My one regret was allowing my mental health at the time take over to the point I stopped hanging out with friends, including her. I wish I could have been with her for the last time.

- my maternal grandpa: I wont lie.....I wasn't as sad about my grandpa's death initially, but that's mostly because we had never met in person. Our first and last meeting was on Skype, when my family in the Philippines managed to come up with enough money to afford a computer and internet. The moment he saw my face, as well as my mom's, he cried. It had been 20 years since he last saw his daughter, and the first time seeing me. The thing that made me sad about his death was that we would never be able to meet in real life. I've always had.....complicated feelings towards my family (mostly on the paternal side) but with my maternal grandparents, even tho I never really got to grow up with them, I felt.....loved. and cherished by them. When I traveled to the PH for the first time, to view his grave, my maternal grandma treated me with such love and care, that I didn't know how to feel. She didn't judge me, nor looked down on me.....she made me food, and gave me a Lei of sampaguita. She made me feel special. She was like those grandmas you see on TV, who would bake you cookies and sing you a lullaby. I reckoned had my grandpa still lived, he would have done the same.

Chadwick Boseman: this was a death that affected many greatly. His portrayal of Black Panther was unique, and special. He was a strong and diligent leader, but also empathetic and kind. His performance at the end of Civil War, in particular, stuck with me; his speech about Vengeance towards Baron Zemo struck a cord with me.

I remember prior to his death being concerned at how skinny he had become in interviews. People would make fun of him and make jokes that he's doing drugs or something; not realizing he was very, very sick, and growing weaker as the days went by. The day he died, I didn't think I would be affected; but I was. I cried a lot for this man, who kept his illness a secret for so long from the public, just so he can take on a role that would mean so much to many people; especially little boys and girls of color. It hurts to see this man die so soon, someone who was looked up to by so many kids; kids who saw something in him that was also present within them.

Billy Kametz: prior to learning about Billy, I had already unknowingly heard his voice in many anime roles: Josuke, Naofumi, etc., but it was Ferdinand von Aegir in Fire Emblem: Three Houses where I first heard his name. He, alongside the entire voice cast of FE3H, brought a lot of joy and comfort to me during the three years of this pandemic. The game was the 1st game I bought with the last paycheck I got from my job before they laid me off. I spent days upon days playing and replaying that game. There were days when the uncertainty of real life would cause me great distress; but every time I heard the words "I am Ferdinand von Aegir!!" It would make me laugh out loud, and then, it would make me smile. In that moment, i was Ferdinand von Aegir; a noble knight on a horse, proud and strong, and I'd forget a little about how shitty the world has become.

When Billy announced his cancer not too long ago, I immediately thought back to Chadwick; I thought, "oh no. Not again. This can't be happening again." It doesn't help that it was the same type of cancer that took Chadwick. I was scared again. I didn't know these people personally, but i was afraid for him. Watching Billy's video talking about his diagnosis, seeing how skinny he had become in such a short span of months......this world is just too cruel.

Today, I learned on twitter that he passed away. I cried a lot, for a person I never met in person. I have a streamily print featuring Ferdinand and Hubert at tea time, autographed by both Billy and Robbie Daymond. I was hoping one day, once I own my own house with its own reception/living room, I would turn it into a tea or coffee room, and then I would hang that poster up, for all the guests to see. I still plan on doing that someday......but for now, I think I want to hang it up in my room, so that I can remember, that someone so talented and so loved by a wonderful community existed.

FYI, this post doesn't really have.....a specific purpose. With how today went, I just wanted to vent a little. Death is suppose to be a natural part of the circle of life, but it's also the one that hurts most. Once someone is gone, they're gone for good. No more text messages, no more impromptu trips to In-N-Out with them.......family gatherings have an empty void where they once stood. The squeaky toy your favorite pet used to play with, is still stuck under the shed, gathering dust, and cobwebs, and dissolving from the weather. Movies, and shows don't feel, or sound, the same. Weddings, birthday parties, graduations suddenly become a memorial.

Admittedly, it gets better with time; but there will always be moments in our lives, where a memory, or an image of someone we love appears in our minds, and we can't help but break down and cry, even years later. Despite all that, we're forced to wipe our tears and keep moving forward, as best as we can; if not for our sake, then for the people we still have in this world, as well as for the sake of the loved ones we lost, who would have wanted us to keep going.

I don't know how best to end this post except: please, hold your loved ones close.

[silverwhiteraven]

Words Most Important - MariBat GarMari Soulmate AU

[Hello~! This is a 7+k word fic written for a MariBat AU fan in need of some Garfield Logan/Marinette Dupain-Cheng content! (They also Beta read this, so thank you to them!!) Content includes an original Akuma, Puns, GarMari crossover pairing, Adrinette platonic pairing, an original take on First-Words Soulmate Tattoos (please credit if you decide to use it), and ends with a first-meeting! Hope you enjoy~!]

[Posted on A03]

This was not how the day was supposed to go. 

No, not at all, not a bit. 

But they're there now.

And here’s what happened.

Beast Boy had been in one of the Titan’s aircrafts heading for Paris, France, on an investigation of an old rumor. The rumor was really just a random, by-chance, overheard conversation heard in passing from someone describing having taken a vacation to France a handful of years back. The highlight of the vacation they had described was a shapeshifter. A beast with bright violet eyes had begun its attack at the city zoo in the form of a panther, and they supposedly witnessed it be defeated while in the form of a Tyrannosaurus-Rex by a pair of local heroes. 

The friends of the teller were skeptical — not because of lack of belief in heroes and villains, but because, as they searched the internet for satisfaction to their curiosity, there seemed to be no evidence whatsoever. The speaker had simply shrugged, stating they had been too panicked to take footage of their own, and the local news had skimmed over it excitedly — but too quickly to record a copy. They added, a little confused themselves, that when they returned home and tried to look it up, they, too, had seemed to be pulling up blanks with their searches.

Their only proof of evidence was their own word and memory.

They claimed to have found a few obscure posters online who shared similar stories of travels to Paris, but they all seemed to have very little luck in getting their stories shared or noticed.

Even the European branch of the Justice League only had a shrug in response to the questions.

Direct conversation seemed to be the only way these tales went heard, yet they never went far, a strange trait for rumors to have. 

So, there he was, on a simple recon mission. No engaging the enemy if seen, ask questions but do no harm. That’s was all it was intended to be. Well, it certainly didn’t go as planned.

Garfield watched as rather suddenly near the heart of Paris, a huge cloud of mixed colors and shades erupted. Perplexed, he began a slow turn to circle it, a mile wide berth between them. He barely got the controls turned before the cloud began to expand outward all round, and a wall of colors was heading for him. With wide eyes, he went to evade, but it was far too fast. 

For a short moment, he took notice as the closing in colors distinguished themselves through the new proximity to be small flower-like petals. They were uneven, non symmetrical, like little ovals cut diagonally through their minor axis. 

Then they struck.

Well, not so much struck as phased through the craft and him like they were nothing. 

Until the petals cleared and one, single, coral red petal struck him solid in his chest. He stumbled back, his seat no longer under him and the straps no longer securing his body to it.

In fact, the entire aircraft was gone. He was newly collapsed on the ground in an open street, a walled-in river to one side of him. In a panic he looked around, down at his chest and then right up into the sky. He spotted it still airborne and far off, with the wall of the cloud of colored petals having left it far behind as it disappeared into the distance. It took him a moment to realize it was now without a pilot.

“Uh-oh.”

He was off the ground in a moment, transforming into a falcon and took off after the craft.

He didn't reach it —definitely not for a lack of trying. 

Rather, barely after he started after it, a pale red glow emitted from his chest where he had been struck, and he found himself teleported once again back towards where he had been dropped the first time. He tried twice more before giving up.

Perched and pouting on top of a chimney, he watched as the craft finally crashed outside the city limits and unceremoniously caught itself on fire, leaving a glaring dark smear of smoke in the air. “Well, that sure went up in flames. What now.” 

A distant crashing sound pulls his attention completely around, and he finds himself staring wide eyed at a collapsing Eiffel Tower. 

“Well, today certainly has room to get better,” he remarked absently as the iconic landmark disappeared under a debris cloud of its own making. The glow from his chest started back up again, and he sighed as he braced himself. 

Beast Boy dropped into a bush, transforming back into his most human form as he jumps back out. He stops when he notices a very out of place rusted beam across his path. A lot of interconnecting beams. 

He looks down the length of the structure and realizes he’s at the Eiffel Tower now, at least, somewhere around where it’s now laying. Likely near what used to be the top, considering the beams were gathered close and the higher up ones sloping upwards and out, while the place where they gathered closer seemed to be supporting a floor, the rest of the structure's top hidden from view by the angle from where he stood.

He barely has time to consider what his first move should be before the glow is back, at the same time he hears another building collapse in the direction of the Tower’s feet, and he’s standing in a different spot.

At the bent and upturned feet of the Eiffel Tower. 

His brows furrowed and arms crossed, “I get the feeling I’m being dragged around now, that’s uncool ya know,” he adds, looking down with a halfhearted glare and frown to his chest. 

Not wanting to take any chances that whatever the coral red petal did to him would respond in kind, he turned back into a bird and took off in the direction he was being teleported, which seemed to correspond a little too well with the latest destruction. He really hoped he wouldn’t end up joining in a fight. He already lost his ride, he didn't want to break one of the mission’s rules, too.

Beast Boy watched the ground from above, and after a moment spotted movement followed by more noise. A giant came jumping out of a collapsing building. Several people, actually, two smaller, normal sized people carrying several others each followed suit.

The first person was huge, twice the average height. Their clothes — a simple androgynous formal suit and domino mask — were colored as though to mimic the cloud of petals as it had first appeared. The entire thing was swirls of blacks, greys, and whites, with an iridescent sheen like oil or mother-of-pearl. Their eyes and short hair matched as well, the entire look one matching theme. 

And they looked as mad as a smacked hornet.

The other two were running away from the first figure and setting down their human loads in safe spaces, people who must have simply been stragglers of an evacuation seeing as how there were no other people around, before heading right back towards the colorful…person. Was it even human? Nothing that tall was usually human. 

One was wearing an all-black, shiny leather bodysuit with matching close-body plates of armor, his eyes flashing green and catlike through his loose pale hair as they glared towards what Garfield now assumed was the enemy of the pair that rescued the people from the collapsed building. 

The other of the two wore an armored-looking bodysuit as well, but this one was red, black, and spotted, and just as shiny as the other. Her midnight hair was up in a braided bun, which was held in place by a pair of red, black-tipped ribbons, leaving her ocean-blue eyes clear below side-swept bangs. 

The two, obviously heroes, barely got close with a charge before they were jumping to retreat and dodge as the colorful villain began blasting them with shots and beams of equally colorful energy. The energy seemed to be dragged from the center of their chest, where two solid, iridescent metal petals, oil-black and mother-of-pearl white, slotted together into a heart, and into their hand’s grasp. 

“Power sources?” he mused as he settled on a roof edge. He was a bit worried, the heroes seemed to be doing just fine on their own for now. They were slowly gaining ground, without one sign of being injured at all. But it didn't seem to be fast enough, seeing the trail of destruction the fight was leaving behind. 

Maybe, he could help, just a bit. 

Yeah. 

Yeah! He could! 

He wasn’t exactly engaging the enemy, just… assisting some heroes! Besides, the enemy he was looking for in Paris obviously wasn't this one, so he was still following instructions, in a rule-dodging way, but still. 

Mind made up and a crooked grin on his beak, Beast Boy transformed once more. He was still a bird, but this time he chose a much smaller, much less noticeable bird. 

A hummingbird, to be exact. 

Zipping through the air, he made his way towards the fight, staying above it and out of the way of wildly-aimed energy shots, whipping yo-yo wire, and metal bo staff swings. He zigzagged through the air as they moved about, following and watching for an opening. The two other heroes communicated wordlessly, clearly teammates well-versed in their dynamic. He could tell though that the black-cat-styled one wanted to speak up a few times like a habit. Garfield could practically see the unsaid quips in his mouth, but he never got a chance, as they were interrupted by attacks every time.

“Mood,” he said to himself, as he was also not one to stay quiet for long. He just couldn't help it! It made the fights so much less tense for him, so less frightening. 

He also made a small note of how the villain didn't talk as well, and guessed that he had simply missed all the typical villain-monologue this one had had in stock.

The two heroes found their own openings before Beast Boy did, and they each struck opposite shoulders of the villain with their weapons, knocking them back into a wall with a crash. They didn't get up from the ground right away, but were quick to raise their hands yet in a counterattack. When the villain finally sat still for just a moment, Beast Boy struck.

Still a hummingbird, he dive-bombed straight down to the villain. He flew past their head on one side, grabbing the petal-heart-object as he pulled back up, then shot off back into the air on their other side.

The energy blasts fizzled out, since their power source — “Yes! I was right!” —had been removed. The villain looked panicked, looking all over the ground frantically for the item Beast Boy just stole and was now holding high in the air. The item, despite being metal, was surprisingly light, and his worry of needing to shift into a new form to hold it was dismissed. 

The hero pair, seeing the defenses of their opponent vanish, closed in. 

The fight was over the moment the wire of the ladybug themed yo-yo secured itself around the villain, unbudging. They took an extra moment to secure them to a tree, just in case they thought to try caterpillaring away as a last ditch effort.

“Pound it!” the two cheered in union, bumping their fists in a clearly traditional fashion. The two then glanced around themselves, looking for the villain’s power source that Beast Boy held. He noticed a purple mask-like butterfly symbol appear before the villain’s eyes as they scowled, fruitlessly struggling. 

The two heroes looked to each other then the villain with questions in their eyes. “Where did your Akumatized object go?” the ladybug-themed hero asked, clearly confused yet wary. 

The villain scoffed. “Like hell if I know. Yes, I don’t know where your stupid Akuma went, Hawkmoth, so leave me alone. We clearly lost this one. You aren't getting your precious Miraculous through me, and clearly I won't be finding my Soulmate through you.”

The colorful person doubled over and fell sideways in pain, held upright by the yo-yo, and Garfield felt alarmed and concerned at the sight. He dropped the Akumatized Object he had stolen, flitted closer to the tied up person, and transformed once more, now into a butterfly, and perching on the bark of the tree near them. 

The object made a light, ringing clatter as it hit the ground, and pulled the defeated villain and hero pair’s attention to it. 

“Oh!” the pair said, grinning to one another. 

“Care to do the honors, Chat Noir?” The ladybug one held out a red-and-black object, halting her partner in walking over to retrieve the heart-looking item.

Garfield saw the gleeful and mischievous smile spread as he took it. “Of course, might as well get some use out of it, don’t you say, Ladybug?” She only laughed and waved at the villain’s power source laying on the ground.

Chat Noir lifted and pulled back his arm, holding the red and black object, before flinging it forward at the Akumatized object.

It struck true, and embedded itself upright into the ground among the now perfectly split remains of the colorful, heart-shaped petals. 

The red and black item stopped quivering in its spot, and, besides the abnormal colors to the usually silver piece of merchandise, Garfield recognized it. 

It was a letter opener, with the handle in a perfectly shaped miniature replica of the Titans Tower. Garfield had one back in his quarters in that very Tower. 

Then, a violet-streaked black butterfly emerged from the shattered metal remains.

“Well, all together that was rather unnerving,” Beast Boy commented quietly, and the villain, who happened to be close enough to catch it, whipped their head around with wide eyes, staring at what used to be a very unassuming Beast Boy in butterfly form. 

“Sup,” he says, just before the enemy is rapidly covered in dark, violet black bubbles, which scared him off his tree perch and almost, almost, making him transform back into his usual form, but manages to hold it off. 

He stared at what is now a normal looking human, with no costume or signs of powers to be seen. The cable around them fell away with the slack. He kept staring, so much so that he missed whatever Ladybug does with her now retrieved yo-yo as she calls out, “No more evildoing for you, little Akuma! Gotcha!”

He did, however, manage to pry his eyes away from the un-transformed person quickly enough to watch Ladybug open her yo-yo to release a pure white butterfly. 

“Bye-bye, little Butterfly.” 

He flew up into the tree as the hero duo approached, ignoring the impromptu dagger Chat Noir had thrown, and shifted into a chipmunk to better perch and look down from the branches.

“Hawkmoth is no longer a threat to you. How are you feeling?” Chat Noir asked, crouching down by his partner. Concern was laced into his soothing tone. Ladybug had gathered up the petals of the broken Akumatized item, revealed to be a set of two half-heart pins, as well as the letter opener, and was now sitting close to the untransformed person.

“I…” They paused, looking down at their now-exposed arm. Two lines of text flowed parallel up their forearm. The bottom one had faded into a sickly grey. Some of the words he could read of it were not very pretty. Tears built and fell from their eyes and they sobbed. 

“She said something to me, it- it was bad, really bad… I never knew that words that ‘mean the most’ can sometimes be so… so mean. I...” They sniffled. “I wanted to find my other soulmate, I really needed them…”

Ladybug gave them a sympathetic smile and rested a hand on theirs in comfort. It became apparent to him that this person must have been a victim to this Hawkmoth person and that dark butterfly he had seen. 

“Words have a lot of weight on us,” Ladybug said to them, “The people behind them and their meanings can be a lot to have sometimes. I want you to remember something,” she requests, and wiped away a tear from the civilian’s face. 

“Remember that if these aren't the words you want on you, to make an effort to change them. Make sure she puts in the effort, too. You know why? Because they are her words to write, not just yours to bear. You don't have to accept these words if you don't want them to be the ones that have the most meaning.”

Ladybug gently tapped the faded words with an encouraging smile. “See? Even now, you’re making sure they don't stay. You can bring them back, if you still want to keep your connection and strengthen it. Just make sure the words that are there are the ones you truly want to value most.

“And them?” She tapped once more on their arm, now on the other set of words, and finally dropped the two heart halves into their palm, then closed their fingers around it. “You'll meet them when it's time. Not even I could make mine come sooner than they're meant to. Don’t worry, you’ll meet yours and hear their words, I’m sure of it, when it's right.”

“Never heard words so wise, Bug,” Chat Noir added with a soft and proud grin. He helped the victim stand, after making sure they were steady, before letting them head off. Lingering sorrow and pain were still clear in their tense shoulders, but hope and determination powered their steps.

Ladybug stood with a sigh and a content smile, before she pulled the Titan Tower letter opener back out and gave it a last glance before tossing it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Garfield watched in stunned awe as the world was momentarily filled with glittering ladybugs, and as they swept past him, all damage was turned right back to what it had been before. He even watches the sparkling trail as it brought back the city’s iconic Eiffel Tower. 

When they were gone, he turned his gaze and attention back to the heroes and their enemy-turned-civilian. 

But they weren't there.

In fact, as he stumbled back once more, “Oh snaps,” and popped back into his regular form, he’s pretty sure he was the one who now wasn't where the two heroes are, wherever that was. He spun around, and there was the aircraft that was nothing more than a hot mess in the distance barely over an hour before. 

Surprisingly, he was right where he and it were originally supposed to be: parked in a clearing outside the city.

“Huh. Weird.” Garfield heads into the aircraft, going straight for the communications station. He finds it blown up with notifications of warnings and concerns from his team. 

He read over it all, making sure to record and send a quick report of what he experienced on his end.

Turns out, that cloud of petals had expanded out at a seemingly impossible rate over the surface of the Earth and even out towards space. The petals seemed to be physically unstoppable, except for the single petals that would break from the main wall and were apparently attracted to individuals. Every individual to be precise, like there was a petal or even more assigned for every person in the universe. 

One of the speedsters had even tried to outrun his own and failed at it. He had coincidentally ended up in Paris, too, though he had been rather disappointed he didn't get to see the Eiffel Tower —it just wasn't there. 

Beast Boy figured he just got there some time after it had collapsed and couldn't see it from where he was.

Also it turned out that everyone experienced the same thing he had when they stuck: they were teleported somewhere they didn't know, or didn’t intend to go, or hadn't expected to get to so soon. 

At least, that was the experience of those who hadn't met their soulmates yet.

Those who knew their soulmates were simply teleported to each other: either to the location one was already in, or somewhere random in between. 

And when the magic ladybugs came to the rescue, everyone was put where they had been.

He thought it was over, then started one more recording to message out. 

“Hey guys. So, I think I know what happened. I don’t think whatever put everyone back actually put people back, exactly. See, I mentioned how I was brought back to the aircraft, right? Well, this isn't where it crashed, it's where my landing zone was. It's where I was supposed to be, not where I had been, especially considering I was hit while still flying this thing. 

“That lady hero, Ladybug? She said something about not being able to force a meeting between soulmates before its time. And the Akuma — that’s what that villain was, by the way, just now found out — turns out I can find all the stuff I need on the Internet while in Paris. I bet it's either a magic or cyber firewall that keeps it in check outside of Paris’ networks. 

“I even found stuff on that shapeshifter! He was an Akuma, too, Animan, so he’s long gone. Anyway, the Akuma wanted to find their other soulmate after being hurt by the first one. Bet you five that their power was to transport soulmates closer to each other. Bet again the fact that I haven't met mine yet kept it from transporting me all the way, but the Akuma also kept me from getting too far away.”

His face lit up in a wide, dopey grin with realization. “I bet mine is here, I wasn't able to get very far away from all the fighting after all, maybe they were one of the people who got caught up in the fight.” His smile softened, and he rubbed the nape of his neck, where he knew his soulmate’s words spanned over it, starting from one shoulder and ended on the other. 

“Even if I met them while the fight was still going, I bet another five that not once, through even a whole convo, they would have said the words. After all, you can't force a first meeting. It has to be a surprise.

“Besides,” he laughed, “with the adventure I was on, that would have been one big terrible circumstance for a first meet, yeah? So let's see where this goes. Beast Boy, out!”

He sent out the new update message before he stood and stretched, then dressed out of his hero uniform and into casual clothes. Beast Boy finally booked it out of the aircraft with a holler powered by a previously-suppressed excitement finally coming to the surface. 

“MY SOULMATE’S IN PARIS!! But first,” he added with a sly grin to himself, “food!”

~~~

Ladybug watched as the magic ladybugs clear away the damages before turning back to Chat. “Well, this was an eventful day. Glad we didn’t get teleported halfway across the world or something,” she added as the two make their way onto a high roof. 

Chat follows her up and laughs, giving a lighthearted shrug, “True, but I bet we can thank Kaalki for that — at least, on my end.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of silver sunglasses that he slid on with a wink. A Kwami followed the glasses out and hovered at his shoulder.

The Horse Kwami spoke up with a huff as she accepted a macaroon from Ladybug. “You absolutely can thank me, and should. You, M. Chat Noir, almost got transported to the Americas. I had to cancel out Split-Soul's power until your other Soulmate was struck with their own Soul-Petal, thus bringing them here. It took longer than expected; whoever they are, they must have found some way to avoid the Soul-Petals, at least temporarily.” 

“And Ladybug?”

Kaalki gave him an odd look. “You are my current wielder, and I can only use my transportation ability once at a time, in this case, on you, in a non-stop reverse-teleportation. I had no time or energy afterwards to attempt the same for Mlle. Ladybug. However, it seems she had no need for my power. My guess is her Luck held and her other Soulmate is either already in Paris or was brought here, instead of her to them. Or the Soulmate Bond between you two assisted in keeping her here, any of these options are plausible.”

The two heroes looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions as the information sank in. 

“Ladybug…”

“Chat… They could be here. Right now. I- I might meet my Soulmate soon.” She became overwhelmed with nerves, excited and nervous all at once. 

Her partner grinned at her as he saw what was about to happen coming, and opened his arms to her. She slammed into him with a crushing hug, laughing as her overflow of emotions comes out as tears.

“I don't even know if I’ll meet them yet,” she added, hugging her best friend closer for a bit of extra support. “But that's okay, just knowing they were so close, even for a little bit, it’s… amazing. I just can't wait. I hope we meet soon.”

“I look forward to you telling me all about them, Bug. Good Luck.” They both laughed at that, knowing full well her luck was always out of whack outside the suit, and he never could avoid a fitting yet sincere pun. 

She breathed deeply for a moment then stepped back and wiped away her tears; Chat made sure to catch the ones she missed. 

“You good?”

“Good.” She nodded, and gave him a beaming smile that he returned. “Now, let’s head home! Maman and Papa made a huge order today and you know there's always extras left over.”

“Yes!” He cheered, pulling out his baton, “Dupain-Cheng sweets, here I come!”

Together the two headed to Marinette’s home, and dropped in through her open skylight that they had exited through and left open earlier when the first Akuma struck, then latched it shut with an added sense of finality to their day. They de-transformed and toss their respective Kwamis their treats before following each other down the multiple flights of stairs, then burst into the back of the bakery with big smiles. 

“Marinette! Adrien!” Sabine Cheng smiled back at the two as they made their appearance. “You're just in time, we have some reject meringues left over for you to take upstairs for snacks if you want them. Would you mind helping us in the bakery later before closing? We expect a small rush for all the end-of-day goods.”

“Of course, Sabine!” Adrien nods enthusiastically, grabbing the tray of proffered meringues. “Did the Akuma earlier cause any troubles here? That one was a doozy, almost gave me a heart-attack.” He emphasized his private pun with a wink towards Marinette, who smirked and rolled her eyes.

Sabine laughed, though remained oblivious to the secret behind the pun. “Other than Tom appearing in front of me on top of the counter without warning? No, all was well here. Though, he did grab one of the shelves when he almost fell — turns out it's a bit loose, ‘cause it fell right off the wall with the baskets of bread. Lucky us, Ladybug’s cure cleaned it all right up, and we can fix the shelves tomorrow.”

“Oh! I can do it when we come back down. It’s safest to get it done as soon as possible, right? I’ll even do it before the rush, promise.” He saluted, emphasizing the promise like a scout.

Sabine nodded, no longer shocked by his eagerness to help out. Sometimes, she just wanted to adopt the boy, and she knew she could without a doubt. “Alright, dear, just be careful when you do.”

“Yes Ma’am! Let's go, Marinette!” He grabbed her hand, the one where his words were etched into her wrist, balanced the tray on his other, and dragged her back up the stairs. 

“Slow down, you’ll make me trip!” she exclaimed, and followed him up with only a slight stumble. 

They headed right back up to her room, and passed a meringue each to the three Kwami, then proceeding up the steps to her loft and out into the open air of her shaded balcony. He set the tray down on her spool table. The two settled down into matching lounge chairs on either side of it and finally took treats of their own.

“So…” Adrien started, looking at her expectantly, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Hm?” Marinette looks back at him as she bit her meringue, tilting her head curiously, though wary at his look.

“Your other Soulmate, huh?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him once more. “Haven't met them yet, like you already know. Yeah, they might be in Paris, but we don't know for sure. And like I told the Akuma victim, we won't meet until it's time.”

“But you're still hopeful, right?”

“Yeah, like I said earlier, I hope I meet them soon, but, I’m okay if not. I know they're out there, and that still counts.”

He sighs and laid back. “Yeah, me, too. Though, knowing they were so close? It’s a little hard to not be disappointed that not even an Akuma’s desire-fulfilling powers could bring them around quicker. Just wish they would get here faster. Like come on, pick up your feet!” He threw out his arms dramatically before slumping back in a pout.

She laughed and reached across the table to pat his hair. “They're coming as fast as they can, promise.”

He looked back at her in mock skepticism before his grin returned in full force. “Speaking of picking up feet, can I see you other Soulmate’s words again? They make me crack up every time.”

“Oh come on! They're not that ironic,” she protested, but obliges anyways as she lifts her right leg and settles the ankle to rest on the edge of the table. 

“Are you kidding me?” he questioned, leaning forward to look at the words, laughter in his eyes. “This is being ironic at full power. I would swear with you being, well, her, and these words, you would have met them by now.”

Words wrapped around her ankle like a decorative piece of jewelry. 

“Oh wow, my hero, thanks!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve seen yours, too, right?” She reached over and tugged up his shirt, revealing the words running along the front of his left hip.

“Since when did the cat lady have a son?”

He laughed, and she added, “If your dad knew why it said that, he would faint on the spot and then lock you up permanently when he comes to.” He only laughed harder at the thought and she sat back again with an exasperated grin of her own. 

As he quieted again, he looked at her with a question. “Kaalki said the Americas, right? Do you think it might have been the United States?”

“We can ask later, but yeah, maybe. Why?”

“Well, it does say ‘cat lady’, so clearly we’re bound to meet while I’m being him. Do you think this ‘cat lady’ is, maybe, another hero?” He looked nervous to ask, but open to the idea. 

“Maybe? We can check.” She waved her phone at him, the search engine already open. She took a moment to search ‘cat themed american heroes’ while Adrien leaned closer, biting into a meringue as he did so. 

She shook her head at the broad list of results, humming to herself in thought. “Maybe…” She tried again, changing the search to ‘black cat themed american vigilantes’. Her eyes went wide at the top results, and pulled up an image, showed it to him, and his expression followed suit to her own.

“Is that…” 

“Yep. You know, with the familiarity that ‘cat lady’ sounds like, maybe you should be thinking about if your Soulmate is the one who’s also a hero.” She finished off her meringue with a pointed look, and he munched the last of his with a thoughtful look.

“What if,” he swallows before continuing, pointing at her, “both of us have hero Soulmates?”

She took a moment to process that then looked out over her balcony railing, tapping her chin. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it would make a whole lot of sense. I don't see us stopping being heroes even after Hawkmoth is defeated. Even if someone else takes up his mantle like Timetagger suggested, there will always be other villains out there, new and old, big and small. I want to help fight them, so maybe we’ll be helping other heroes, too, and not just us on our own.”

The soft smile he gave her in response relaxed her, and she smiled back just as softly.

“You're right, Buginette. I wouldn't want to stop and give that up, not ever. I plan to go full Daredevil!” Adrien cheered — a bit too enthusiastically, because he wound up knocking the empty tray off the table with his arm, and it fell to the deck, bounced with a clang, and went right through the bars of the railing — falling to the ground below. 

They both rushed over and leaned out, checking to see if it fell on anyone. The sidewalk and street was clear, and the tray was resting rather casually against the curb. Marinette raises a brow at him. “I thought Daredevil was aware of his surroundings at all times.” 

Adrien chuckled sheepishly and rubbed his neck guiltily, but bumped her side in retaliation to her jibe. “I meant fighting crime both in and out of the mask, you know? Become a lawyer or something.”

Marinette nodded and gave an encouraging smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I can see it. I’ll help you out any way I can.”

He gives a sly smile, “Any way? Even show up in court as her and then reveal yourself?”

Without hesitation, she nodded once with a sense of finality. “Yes, even that. You’re my partner, my friend, and practically my brother, if my parents have say anyways. I support you, all the way.”

His grin is wide and bright as he turned to her fully and pulled down his shirt, revealing her words written over his heart. She has no time to read them as she watched them rewrite themselves before her eyes, sparkling silver before fading back to black.

“You’re my partner, my friend, and practically my brother. I support you, all the way.”

She laughed and looked him in the eyes as he grinned back, her heart feeling loved, and she loved knowing her words meant so much to him. “You missed a part.” 

He laughed, too, and then they're both giggling against each other's sides as they looked back at the ground, unconcerned for the moment about the tray. 

“Remember our first words to each other?” Adrien asked quietly, soft and content.

“Mhm, you said “Well, hey there, nice of you to drop in,” right after I fell on you that first day.” They both giggled again and he nodded.

“Yep, and you said, “Sorry, I didn't do it on purpose.” Who would have known what those lines would mean to us, let alone why they were said. I’m glad they happened. You're the best person out there, Marinette, thanks for dropping in on me.”

“Yeah.”She nodded back to him with a held back laugh. “You're welcome I'm such a klutz.”

They sat in comfortable silence after that, just basking in the renewed calmness of the day, and casually kept an eye on the fallen tray to make sure no one saw it and took off with it. 

A slight disturbance down on the far side of the park drew Marinette's eyes and she nudged Adrien, gesturing toward it. “See that?”

He looked, and a moment later made a face like he bit something distasteful. “We’ve both seen enough fan-made crowds to know what that is, and how to avoid them. I wonder who the poor famous soul is.”

“Let’s find out,” she said, and whipped her phone out once more, opening the camera function. He raised a brow at that. 

“Your camera’s that good?” 

She nodded with a grin, “Yep! Lucked out with this one,” she stated with a wink.

He rolled his eyes but grinned in appreciation. “Good for you, mine stinks like cheese.”

“Get new cheeses then,” she quipped, and ignored his plaintive “I wish…” as she leaned closer to her screen as she zoomed in. 

It takes a minute, but she finally got a good image and a clear view, and snapped a picture, sitting back with wide eyes as she looked it over. “No way.”

“What? Let me see, who is it?” She let him take the phone as she looked back over the balcony and down towards the relatively small and far-off gathering of people.

“Pretty sure that's a foreign superhero, Adrien.”

“No way,” he parroted as he stared between the phone and the small group. “That's definitely a hero —. one of the Titans, too; I recognize him from one of Alya’s other hero blogs. That’s so cool, we don’t actually get to see other heroes that often, do we?”

Marinette shook her head, looking back to him. “Nope. We’re way too busy all the time, even with one so close we probably shouldn't try going over, even in costume.” Adrien deflates a bit at that, but nods in understanding, knowing full well what she means. “Besides, like you said, Alya has her side blogs, and nothing hero-related ever gets past her. I bet she'll have something up on one of the blogs by tomorrow.”

Adrien brightened back up with a chuckle. “Yeah, Paris gets a lot of visiting heroes. Alya won't rest whenever one is spotted. Still, I don't think we've ever had one visit so close to an Akuma attack before, I wonder if he saw it…”

“At the very least he experienced it,” she stated “That Heart-Petal blast Split-Soul did went worldwide, if not off-world, too.”

“True. Not a lot of Akumas pull attention from outside of Paris, though. So, here’s to hoping none of it is negative.” He held up a split meringue he had previously stashed away, offering her a half. 

She took it and tapped it against his as they call out in unison, “Hear hear!”

Together, they finished off their last treat and headed back down into the building once more. They joined Marinette’s parents in the bakery, and Marinette went to get the fallen tray from outside, then brought it to the back. She found Tom and asked if he needed help with the cleaning in the back, including the shutting off and clean-out of the ovens. Adrien found Sabine and asked about the shelf. 

Sabine helped Adrien bring out a ladder for him to use, as well as a couple tools and screws that he set aside. Marinette joined the two up front, as her father had claimed he would get her assistance later and sent her to help with the shelf.

“We need to get all the bread off the shelves first. Here, I’ll pass them to you, okay?” He went up the ladder and grabbed the first bundle. 

Unfortunately, he seemed to be rather unused to the use of ladders, and had  trouble turning or stepping back down without his arms. 

In what Marinette assumed was an accurate rendition of what happened earlier with Tom Dupain, Adrien stumbled on his perch and, after dropping half the bread, shot out an arm to grab the very shelf they were trying to get fixed.

Just as that was happening, Marinette saw the flash of movement at the door as it opened with a little ring from its bell. After so many years of practice predicting chain effects and their results, her movements came instinctively. 

She jumped forward, grabbed an empty display tray, and held it above their heads as a makeshift shield against all the catapulted bread and the shelf itself as she dove for the newcomer to unceremoniously tackle him out of the way. 

The shelf had scraped the bottom of the tray as she had gotten in its way, shoving it off course, and as the two people went down, one end of the shelf thudded hard into the ground just to the side of where it had previously been headed, the place the newcomer had been about to be, before falling to the floor with a bang.

Marinette and the other both sat up on the floor and looked over to the shelf and the surrounding mess of bread. Adrien and Sabine are both momentarily stunned into a still silence.

“Oh wow, my hero, thanks!” The other boy breaks it, and Marinette tinted with a gentle blush alongside her nervous laugh. She hadn't heard that phrase as often outside of Ladybug’s mask, and it had always felt different, a bit more embarrassing. 

This time it had felt a little extra different in another way and she turned to him.

She blinked owlishly as she recognized Beast Boy beside her, already realizing the words that next tumbled from her mouth were full of both irony and coincidence, considering she really was a hero, and so too was he, but at the same time being protection from baked goods and a shelf wasn't much of a heroic feat.

 “I’m not much of a hero, I just do what needs to be done, the best I can. Anyone can do it.” His expression lights up at her words, and she realizes in that moment why him having called her a hero felt so different: Her Soulmate Mark was reacting to the words he spoke, and she felt them for the first time as though they were a solid thing around her ankle, right where it belonged.

Beast Boy was quick to reply, “I’ve never heard words more true.” 

His grin widened and his eyes seemed to glimmer. 

“Well, I’ve certainly read such true words,” he adds. “But it’s nice to finally hear you say it. Hi, I’m Garfield, Gar for short, and, I think you’re my Soulmate. I really hope I'm not wrong.”

Adrien and Sabine, who had both broken from their stupor sometime during the floorbound conversation and had moved closer to check on the two, both froze for a second time at Garfield’s words.

They all watched as Marinette felt Garfield’s words react once more and she stuck out her right ankle for all to see as the words there shimmered a golden iridescent. It felt like she had put her ankle directly into a beam of sunlight through a window, before it faded back to black and the feeling left.

“I think you’re my soulmate. I really hope I’m not wrong.”

She flushed a darker shade as she covered it back up, embarrassed to have everyone see just how important those specific words had been to her, and so soon after meeting him, too! At least one of her fears was eased: she hadn't met her Soulmate while being Ladybug.

“Hi, I’m Marinette, and we’re definitely soulmates. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sorry about the bread.” She quickly stood up from the ground and held out her hand to her Soulmate. He grasped it lightly and they steadied each other as he pulled himself up, a bit of a dopey grin on his face. 

“Nice to meet you too, Mari, and don't worry about it, I've been through far worse than almost being turned into bread pudding.” Adrien laughs at that, breaking from his second shock, and was joined by an overhearing Tom who had finally joined the group in the front to investigate the original commotion. Even though her mother turned a sympathetic yet encouraging look to her, Marinette didn't feel at all disappointed that a third jokester had added himself into her life.

“Garfield, meet my mother Sabine, my father Tom, and my Platonic Soulmate Adrien. My family. Family, welcome Garfield, my Soulmate.”

And welcome him they did, with open arms and several hugs, one of which he pointedly compared to Cyborg’s in strength with a touch of amused surprise. 

Honestly, this was not how the day was supposed to go for either of them.

No, not at all, not a bit.

At least, from their expectations it wasn't.

In actuality, it went exactly as it was Destined.

And they're here now.

That’s what matters.

[End!! Thank y’all so much~!!]

Tag List: @the-navistar-carol @persephonebutkore @freshbark @ethelphantom @soulmate-game 

[harrowdubois]

okay, i said if there was interest i would think about making a post listing all the references i squeezed into the locked tomb fic i spent the last month or so writing, and now i’ve realised i don’t care if there’s interest because i want to be self-indulgent SO

under the cut is a (somewhat spoilery) chronological list of all the memes, vines, and cribbed tumblr posts, as well as homages to various books, tv shows, song lyrics, etc. that made their way into blessed with a wilder mind! 

(cw for suicide mention)

this is of course a reference to the legendary bodybuilding forum thread where they did, actually, argue over how many days there are in a week (cw for ableist slurs in the thread)

---

buzzfeed unsolved meme. i am dirt and i love to eat dirt

---

this is so well-known it’s almost not worth listing it but oh my god they were roommates

---

in itself, this isn’t a reference to anything in particular, but if you didn’t do this on your first read then i’d recommend taking another look at this scene and thinking about the specific wuthering heights/frankenstein/rebecca excerpts discussed by harrow and mercymorn but in relation to canon!harrow’s trauma/relationship with the body in htn :~) 

---

also not really a reference to anything in particular but when i looked back over the fic for this post it struck me that the ‘sex panther’ phrasing was probably at least partially unconsciously inspired by the shoebox project (professor mcgonagall’s oiled man panther was a formative moment for me, truly)

---

cw gross/unsanitary: it’s the tinder poop window incident. i mentioned this in the end notes of the fic as being what i had in mind for that scene but if it’s too gross for you (UNDERSTANDABLY) then feel free to Death Of The Author me to your heart’s content!

---

i listened to a lot of orville peck while writing this

---

 very very very loosely inspired by this clickhole article

---

respectively: fourth of july by sufjan stevens / wuthering heights by emily bronte

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TWO BROS, CHILLIN IN A HOT TUB, FIVE FEET APART BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT GAY

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there was absolutely no need to stretch this across three paragraphs, and yet

---

iconic

---

i already linked to this one in the end notes of the fic itself, but it’s good, so here it is again

---

 i can’t find the actual original post but it’s this fucking horrible thing 

---

the last line is a reference to the secret history by donna tartt:

“Could it be because it reminds us that we are alive, of our mortality, of our individual souls- which, after all, we are too afraid to surrender but yet make us feel more miserable than any other thing? But isn't it also pain that often makes us most aware of self? It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one’s own. Even more terrible, as we grow old, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think?”

---

a lyrical double whammy!

from ‘last words of a shooting star’ by mitski: “they’ll never know how i’d stared at the dark in that room with no thoughts like a blood-sniffing shark”

from ‘a better son/daughter’ by rilo kiley: “sometimes in the morning i am petrified but can’t move/awake but cannot open my eyes” 

---

*

shout-out to maybe my single favourite video game moment, the encounter with the sky cat in night in the woods: “There is a hole at the center of everything, and it is always growing. Between the stars I am seeing it. It is coming, and you are not escaping, and the universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, and there is nothing to remember it, not even the things beyond. And now there is only the hole... You are atoms, and your atoms are not caring if you are existing. Your atoms are monstrous existence.”

---

“Nothing is ever fulfilled, not until the very end.” - rust cohle, true detective s1, this reference is VERY tonally dissonant because in context it’s actually grim as all hell but w/e w/e i couldn’t resist the shout-out

also harrow quotes from the goldfinch again here! i had the reference included before i read this post and realised tamsyn muir also quotes from the secret history in htn. terrible synergy 

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they are in fact all real. you’re welcome

---

this one’s doing a lot of work lmao. it’s paying homage to this quote by tamsyn muir talking about the draco-in-leather-pants trope in relation to ianthe by loosely referencing drop dead gorgeous, the best drarry fic ever written, in which harry is part veela

---

“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.” - that’s right it’s another reference to the secret history, with a little bit of mary oliver (tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?) sprinkled on top for flavour

--- 

a small one, but it’s the goldfinch again: “And I feel I have something very urgent and serious to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you...”

---

my FUCKING cinnamon apple

 what if i... put my minecraft bed.... next to yours... aha ha just kidding.... unless?

---

[cw: suicide discussion in these next two]

*

robyn can have little a rust cohle quote, as a treat.

1. “I'd consider myself a realist, all right? But in philosophical terms I'm what's called a pessimist... I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law... We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody's nobody... I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction; one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.”

2. “This... This is what I'm talking about. This is what I mean when I'm talkin' about time, and death, and futility. All right, there are broader ideas at work, mainly what is owed between us as a society for our mutual illusions. Fourteen straight hours of staring at DBs, these are the things you think of. You ever done that? You look in their eyes, even in a picture, doesn't matter if they're dead or alive, you can still read 'em. You know what you see? They welcomed it... Not at first, but... right there in the last instant. It's an unmistakable relief. See, cause they were afraid, and now they saw for the very first time how easy it was to just... let go. Yeah, they saw, in that last nanosecond, they saw... what they were. You, yourself, this whole big drama, it was never more than a jerry-rig of presumption and dumb will, and you could just let go. To finally know that you didn't have to hold on so tight. To realize that all your life - you know, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain - it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person.”

---

ahaaa this one’s particularly rough. evil monkey no one alive dot jpg

“Later, that dozy embrace solidified in his memory as the single moment of artless, charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives. Nothing marred it, even the knowledge that Ennis would not then embrace him face to face because he did not want to see or feel that it was Jack he held. And maybe, he thought, they’d never got much farther than that. Let be, let be.” - annie proulx, brokeback mountain

---

a TRIPLE lyrical whammy!

- harrow’s words to gideon in the dream are a bit of a vague reference to the song ‘adventures in solitude’ by the new pornographers (”we thought we lost you/welcome back”) - gideon’s words to harrow are a reference to the song ‘blush’ by wolf alice (”you’ve got two hands to take all you can/but don’t take too long”) - what harrow texts to gideon is a line from ‘about today’ by the national, aka the most devastating song ever written (”hey, are you awake?/yeah i’m right here”...)

---

i CANNOT find a clip of it but harrow’s repetition of “life is short... it’s short” was me paraphrasing from memory a line from pride (2014), because i am the worst

---

spooky scary skeletons! 

“jail for gideon” is obviously a reference to the “jail for mother” tweet that tm also referenced in htn. so, not original in the slightest, but it’s a great tweet

---

one of my favourite tumblr posts

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because naberius tern absolutely would watch rick and morty. he would. i know it in my heart. 

---

and that’s it, i think. hope you enjoyed this horrid little post and my horrid little fic!

[artdaily7]

Marriage by Marianne Moore

This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind about a thing one has believed in, requiring public promises of one's intention to fulfill a private obligation: I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time, this firegilt steel alive with goldenness; how bright it shows -- "of circular traditions and impostures, committing many spoils," requiring all one's criminal ingenuity to avoid! Psychology which explains everything explains nothing and we are still in doubt. Eve: beautiful woman -- I have seen her when she was so handsome she gave me a start, able to write simultaneously in three languages -- English, German and French and talk in the meantime; equally positive in demanding a commotion and in stipulating quiet: "I should like to be alone;" to which the visitor replies, "I should like to be alone; why not be alone together?" Below the incandescent stars below the incandescent fruit, the strange experience of beauty; its existence is too much; it tears one to pieces and each fresh wave of consciousness is poison. "See her, see her in this common world," the central flaw in that first crystal-fine experiment, this amalgamation which can never be more than an interesting possibility, describing it as "that strange paradise unlike flesh, gold, or stately buildings, the choicest piece of my life: the heart rising in its estate of peace as a boat rises with the rising of the water;" constrained in speaking of the serpent -- that shed snakeskin in the history of politeness not to be returned to again -- that invaluable accident exonerating Adam. And he has beauty also; it's distressing -- the O thou to whom, from whom, without whom nothing -- Adam; "something feline, something colubrine" -- how true! a crouching mythological monster in that Persian miniature of emerald mines, raw silk -- ivory white, snow white, oyster white and six others -- that paddock full of leopards and giraffes -- long lemonyellow bodies sown with trapezoids of blue. Alive with words, vibrating like a cymbal touched before it has been struck, he has prophesied correctly -- the industrious waterfall, "the speedy stream which violently bears all before it, at one time silent as the air and now as powerful as the wind." "Treading chasms on the uncertain footing of a spear," forgetting that there is in woman a quality of mind which is an instinctive manifestation is unsafe, he goes on speaking in a formal, customary strain of "past states," the present state, seals, promises, the evil one suffered, the good one enjoys, hell, heaven, everything convenient to promote one's joy." There is in him a state of mind by force of which, perceiving what it was not intended that he should, "he experiences a solemn joy in seeing that he has become an idol." Plagued by the nightingale in the new leaves, with its silence -- not its silence but its silences, he says of it: "It clothes me with a shirt of fire." "He dares not clap his hands to make it go on lest it should fly off; if he does nothing, it will sleep; if he cries out, it will not understand." Unnerved by the nightingale and dazzled by the apple, impelled by "the illusion of a fire effectual to extinguish fire," compared with which the shining of the earth is but deformity -- a fire "as high as deep as bright as broad as long as life itself," he stumbles over marriage, "a very trivial object indeed" to have destroyed the attitude in which he stood -- the ease of the philosopher unfathered by a woman. Unhelpful Hymen! "a kind of overgrown cupid" reduced to insignificance by the mechanical advertising parading as involuntary comment, by that experiment of Adam's with ways out but no way in -- the ritual of marriage, augmenting all its lavishness; its fiddle-head ferns, lotus flowers, opuntias, white dromedaries, its hippopotamus -- nose and mouth combined in one magnificent hopper, "the crested screamer -- that huge bird almost a lizard," its snake and the potent apple. He tells us that "for love that will gaze an eagle blind, that is like a Hercules climbing the trees in the garden of the Hesperides, from forty-five to seventy is the best age," commending it as a fine art, as an experiment, a duty or as merely recreation. One must not call him ruffian nor friction a calamity -- the fight to be affectionate: "no truth can be fully known until it has been tried by the tooth of disputation." The blue panther with black eyes, the basalt panther with blue eyes, entirely graceful -- one must give them the path -- the black obsidian Diana who "darkeneth her countenance as a bear doth, causing her husband to sigh," the spiked hand that has an affection for one and proves it to the bone, impatient to assure you that impatience is the mark of independence not of bondage. "Married people often look that way" -- "seldom and cold, up and down, mixed and malarial with a good day and bad." "When do we feed?" We occidentals are so unemotional, we quarrel as we feed; one's self is quite lost, the irony preserved in "the Ahasuerus tête à tête banquet" with its "good monster, lead the way," with little laughter and munificence of humor in that quixotic atmosphere of frankness in which "Four o'clock does not exist but at five o'clock the ladies in their imperious humility are ready to receive you"; in which experience attests that men have power and sometimes one is made to feel it. He says, "what monarch would not blush to have a wife with hair like a shaving-brush? The fact of woman is not `the sound of the flute but every poison.'" She says, "`Men are monopolists of stars, garters, buttons and other shining baubles' -- unfit to be the guardians of another person's happiness." He says, "These mummies must be handled carefully -- `the crumbs from a lion's meal, a couple of shins and the bit of an ear'; turn to the letter M and you will find that `a wife is a coffin,' that severe object with the pleasing geometry stipulating space and not people, refusing to be buried and uniquely disappointing, revengefully wrought in the attitude of an adoring child to a distinguished parent." She says, "This butterfly, this waterfly, this nomad that has `proposed to settle on my hand for life.' -- What can one do with it? There must have been more time in Shakespeare's day to sit and watch a play. You know so many artists are fools." He says, "You know so many fools who are not artists." The fact forgot that "some have merely rights while some have obligations," he loves himself so much, he can permit himself no rival in that love. She loves herself so much, she cannot see herself enough -- a statuette of ivory on ivory, the logical last touch to an expansive splendor earned as wages for work done: one is not rich but poor when one can always seem so right. What can one do for them -- these savages condemned to disaffect all those who are not visionaries alert to undertake the silly task of making people noble? This model of petrine fidelity who "leaves her peaceful husband only because she has seen enough of him" -- that orator reminding you, "I am yours to command." "Everything to do with love is mystery; it is more than a day's work to investigate this science." One sees that it is rare -- that striking grasp of opposites opposed each to the other, not to unity, which in cycloid inclusiveness has dwarfed the demonstration of Columbus with the egg -- a triumph of simplicity -- that charitive Euroclydon of frightening disinterestedness which the world hates, admitting:

"I am such a cow, if I had a sorrow, I should feel it a long time; I am not one of those who have a great sorrow in the morning and a great joy at noon;" which says: "I have encountered it among those unpretentious protegés of wisdom, where seeming to parade as the debater and the Roman, the statesmanship of an archaic Daniel Webster persists to their simplicity of temper as the essence of the matter:

`Liberty and union now and forever;'

the book on the writing-table; the hand in the breast-pocket."

Winslow Homer 1874 Moonlight, oil on canvas, PC

[fierypen37]

Victory is in Your Veins 4

Chapter 4

 Day Ninety: The White Wolf

 The sand was brutally hot beneath his bare feet. Sweat dripped beneath the weight of the wolf pelt on his shoulders. Jon clenched and unclenched his fists, his sticky tongue darting out to wet dry lips. Half a dozen men stood in line with him: costumed and unarmed as he was. A meaty smell wafted up from the sand: spilled blood heated by the sun. Here and there the red sand had been raked smooth, though the wet patches were still visible.

From the iron gate on the floor of the arena, Jon had watched the initial matches unfold. Slaves tied in pairs set against each other. Slaves armed with wooden weapons pitted against starving panthers or lions. A group of naked children lashed with whips until they stopped crying and beat each other to death with a single rock. Jon closed his eyes to shut out that particular horror. The unholy noise chased him, though. Thin screams of dying children and worse, the noise of the spectators washed over him. Shouts, cheers and applause. Jon choked down bile. Rage surged like liquid fire in his gut, his chest. Gods, what sort of vile creatures were they?

Now above him in the orator’s box, the announcer boomed rapid-fire Valyrian. Jon understood one word in six, but Morrgys had dinned the expected phrase in their heads during training. They faced the prince of Pentos, lounging in silks. Once the announcer finished speaking, Jon raised both crossed wrists and in one voice shouted with the other slaves: “Ilon vīlība se morghūljas syt aōha jaqiarzir, O Jaqiarzus Mēre!” {We fight and die for your glory, O Glorious One!}    

Unlike the great fighting pits in Astapor and Meereen on Slaver’s Bay, the arenas in the Free Cities were smaller, shabbier affairs. This arena was tiered, yes, but held only a couple thousand. The Great Pit of Daznak in Meereen was said to seat over ten thousand spectators, with each tier of benches painted a different color. Though according to the Twins’ grumbling, at least Pentos’ was passable. The prince and magisters were accustomed to luxury, so the canopied boxes held every imaginable comfort. Heaped with silken cushions. Heavy oils and perfumes masked the smell of blood and shit. Slaves waved fans of palm fronds and peacock feathers. If only he had a spear to stick them like the squealing pigs they were, Jon thought savagely.

The cheaper seats were packed despite the punishing heat. A sea of humanity filled the arena. The din was deafening. The prince’s answering phrase was lost in the noise. The announcer looked helplessly to the prince. Furtively, Jon looked to the other slaves. One dressed in a ridiculous fringed silk garment had height and breadth of muscle. Two more were lean and wild-eyed, dressed in matching motley. One was naked save for a rower’s loincloth, his chest scarred from previous matches, the last one—

The orator’s voice broke his contemplation.  

“Let the match begin!” the words—one of the few Valyrian phrases he knew—rang through him.

Jon leapt back, scanning the sand for a weapon. Any weapon. In the matches he’d seen, the combatants entered armed, or the weapons were thrown by the gamemakers. The others scattered.

A faint thud from above.

The sound from the crowd rose impossibly louder. His ears rang with the jeers and encouragement shouted in babble of languages. Jon glimpsed a greatsword. Three of the slaves converged on it. Jon skittered back, trying to ignore the burning pain in his feet from the scorching sand. The big one with the scars emerged with the sword. One brutal blow lopped the head from the motley-clad slave. It rolled on the sand as the trunk slumped. The sand eagerly drank blood spurted from the neck.

Another savage blow spilled a slave’s entrails. The slave howled, trying to shove them back inside. His cry was lost in the roar of the crowd, laughing as he died. The silk-garbed slave jumped on the armed attacker’s back and struck his head repeatedly with the broken haft of a spear.

That’s it!

Jon scanned the sand for a remnant from a previous match. A rock, a broken handle, anything! He scrabbled on his knees for a weapon, seizing the stubby haft of a broken axe. The wood ended in a splintered stump, but it was better than nothing. Another of them charged at Jon, wielding a broken spearhead like a knife. Jon faced him square, and long training did the rest. A duck, a heave. The man thudded onto his back. Jon twisted the weapon from his grip. From outside himself, Jon saw him open the man’s throat. One clean, unhesitating slice. Felt hot blood slick on his hands. The man’s dark eyes were wide in shock as he choked on his own blood. The roar of the crowd rose to a crescendo.    

He straightened with the bloody spearhead. Behind him, the sword-bearing slave had shrugged off his attacker. The massive man straddled his attacker and shoved his thumbs through his eye sockets. The shrill shrieks shred Jon’s ears. The sword lay forgotten in the sand.

Jon and the last slave—dressed in a sellsword’s gambeson—their eyes met over the sword. He lunged. Jon lunged. The other man was quicker by a heartbeat. Smaller and wiry, his heave of the greatsword was sluggish. Jon swung and missed with the spearpoint. He followed and connected with a punch to the jaw. The man staggered back, but kept his grip on the sword. Jon ducked a blind thrust and paced like a stymied wolf. His heart thundered in his chest, sweat stung in his eyes. So close. If he could get the weapon—a real weapon—he could win. Stay alive. Stay alive.

The skinny slave cast a wild-eyed glance around. From the tail of his eye, Jon watched the big one rise above the body of the one he killed, his hands dripping gore. He roared, muscles gleaming with sweat and blood. The sellsword slave wore an expression of abject terror and held the sword awkwardly in front of him. The big one barreled toward him, and the sellsword thrust. The dulled tip of the sword scraped along the big one’s ribs. The gash bled. Like a wounded boar, the wound only enraged him further. Their dance was short and terrible. The big one ate another blow, this time to the shoulder. Biting deep, the blade stuck. When yanked free, Jon could see the wet gleam of bone through ragged red muscle. The wound didn’t matter. The large man snapped the other’s neck like a bundle of kindling.

Jon paced, sizing up the last remaining slave. The shouts from above pulsed like a heartbeat. The blood on his hands dried to a gummy paste. He measured his breathing. The other slave blew like a winded racehorse, bleeding from half a dozen wounds. It won’t be an easy thing to win. The man fights like a demon.

“Toruk TO-ruk! TORUK! TORUK!” The slave’s name chanted by thousands of voices rang in his ears. Toruk grinned a long yellow-toothed smile, shouting something in bastard Valyrian. Jon couldn’t understand the words, but it was an easy assumption what a minor champion would say to a barely blooded pup.

“Zokla timpa, eh?” he sneered, pointing to the wolf pelt with the bloody sword. Jon tightened his grip on the spearpoint. It would be best to let him charge, let him tire. But already the noise in the crowd signaled disapproval. Boredom in the crowd made the gamemakers desperate. Wild beasts were always as surefire way to spice up a fight. Mighty Toruk had the same notion, glancing at the box overhead.  

“Let’s end this!” Jon shouted. He charged toward the champion’s weakened left side.  Predictably, Toruk swung the blade with graceless brutality. Jon slid across the sand on his knees, dodging the blow. He felt the wind of it part his hair. Before Toruk could turn, Jon slashed at his hamstring. A sharper blade would have dropped him, but the dull spearpoint did little damage. Toruk grabbed at him, coming up with only a fistful of the pelt. Jon shrugged free of it, grateful for the kiss of fresh air on his skin.

The battle seemed to last forever. Had he been on this burning sand for days, evading and attacking this big dumb opponent? It was less a dance and more the man waving the sword like a club. The larger man barreled toward him. Jon floundered in the sand. Oh gods, the sword was coming down fast! Instinctively, he raised his arm and blocked the blow with his forearm. The blade stuck in the bone of his arm. Pain shrieked through him and Jon shrieked with it. A metallic taste filled his mouth. Toruk pushed with his weight and strength behind the blade, grinning his yellow smile. Jon found a grim smile through the pain to answer him. The larger man blinked, too dumb to see until Jon’s spearpoint was buried in his throat. Jon pushed, feeling the flesh and sinew part and shiver around his hand. Blood gushed out, trickling down his wrist and arm. The noise from the audience, booing and cheering, applause and shouting rose and fell like a sea. Soon one phrase drowned out the rest as Toruk fell dead.

“Zokla timpa! Zolka timpa! ZOKLA TIMPA!”

White Wolf. White Wolf. White Wolf. Perhaps that’s what he was now. A wolf. A beast who could run and fight and kill. A wolf he was.      

 ~

 Day One Hundred and Three: The Dragon Queen

 “If this is how you plan to get us home, khaleesi, you might be old and gray by the time we reach Westeros,” Ser Jorah said.

Daenerys leaned back in her saddle with a faint squeak of leather. Several sharp retorts rose to her tongue, but she bit them back. All her advisors and bloodriders wearied her of late. The ship Ser Jorah had found was a small, mean thing. Many of her Dothraki had balked to even board it. The storms they met upon leaving Qarkash were punishment enough. Thus, at the next port, she ordered they disembark and follow the route by land. The passes through the Bone Mountains were dangerous, especially with so few riders, so thus the path to Slaver’s Bay—their ultimate goal to hire soldiers—for now was barred to them. North to the plains of the Lhazareen were to be their safe haven. Her children grew by the day, now almost the size of a small hound. Their fire burned hot, and all three had proved their mettle against Pyatt Pree. Daenerys could count on them for protection.

“Old and gray or young and fair, I plan to see my people safely to Westeros, ser,” she said with a hint of sharpness. A strong, hot wind washed over her, smelling of clean grass and sun-hot stone. Daenerys closed her eyes, relishing the fresh air cooling the sweat on her limbs.  

“We need soldiers to win free home.”

“I know that!” Daenerys shouted, twisting in her saddle to glare at him. Ser Jorah did not quail beneath the lash of her words, but scowled back at her, sweat matting his thinning blond hair to his bare scalp.  Quaithe’s words rang in her ears. A jealous seed. A jealous seed. The thought of buying slaves to do the killing and dying for her to win her throne stuck in her craw. Though there are few alternatives at present. Rakharo cantered to her side astride his black.

“A city lies ahead, khaleesi. Vaes Drivi,” he said.

“A dead city? Like the one we found chasing the comet?” she asked, standing in her stirrups. Unlike the Dothraki Sea of rippling green grasses, Lhazar’s land boasted gentle hills and gullies, blocking her vision.

“Yes. A good place for camp.”

Daenerys scanned the skies for her children. A tranquil blue sky answered her, a few shreds of cloud floating idly in the wind. Taking shelter amongst the bleached ruins of a dead city would have to do.

 ~

 Day One Ninety-One: The White Wolf

 Jon woke to the screech of the key in the lock of his cell door. He was on his feet, tense and ready before he was even fully awake. Morrgys waddled into his cell, Longclaw belted with a velvet sash around his waist, flanked by Morbo and both of the Twins. After his win in the arena, the proceedings afterward felt hazy. Toruk had broken one of the bones in his forearm along with the impressive gash where Jon had checked his sword blow. The heavy bandage itched, but at least nothing felt broken. The Twins hadn’t bothered to take him back to the compound, instead he slept in one of the arena’s meaner cells. The bed was clean straw, and Jon had fallen asleep dreaming of a hayfield in summer.

Jon waited, eyes flickering from one hated face to the next. I won, didn’t I? Isn’t that what these foul creatures want? Morrgys made an elaborate flicking gesture. One of the Twins produced the white wolfskin he’d worn in the arena.

“A gift for you, Zokla timpa. A memento of your first match. Thrilling, was it not? You faced off against a larger, stronger enemy, certain you would perish, and then—ah!” he mimicked a sword thrust, “you triumph! I imagine there is no feeling like it in the world.”

“You are welcome to trade places with me next time, Master,” Jon said coolly. Morbo cursed in Dothraki, reaching for his arakh.

“Ah ah, Morbo. Our White Wolf is entitled to a little insolence after his first win. I heard you lost most of your gold in the bets this morning. That fat Dothraki lost to Tycho. I’d save my coin. I think our White Wolf could face Tycho with a little more practice.” Jon remained impassive. What did the fat slaver want from him?

“I am a generous master. You win for me, you get a reward.” Another gesture. The Twin yanked the tether of a slave’s chain. In walked a young woman, as naked as her nameday. Milk-pale skin, long brown hair, sleek and lovely. To his unending shame, Jon’s body reacted, and the dirty loincloth hid little. Morrgys clapped his hands.  

“Good! I thought maybe you might prefer men, being a former Night’s Watch recruit. What else is there to do in that frozen wasteland? Good, good. Sarai will do nicely, then. Go along, now. I bought her from a pillow house in Yunkai. Very skilled.”

Jon swallowed hard and made no move to approach or retreat as the woman was released from her chains and minced over toward him. Her eyes were liquid and dark, like a doe’s, though there was a certain predatory glint in them. The faint spice of her perfume teased his nose. Arousal was a drumbeat in his chest, his traitorous cock. The woman slid to her knees before him, tugging at his loincloth. A fleeting thought reminded him of Ygritte, but with a cold shock, he realized he couldn’t remember what she looked like. Red hair, yes, red hair and blue eyes . . . oh gods, her mouth! The rest eluded him and he keened at the loss of it. As he prevaricated, Morrgys droned on.

“It’s very simple, White Wolf. You obey, you win, you are rewarded richly. Believe me, once you become a champion, there will be nothing beyond your reach. Fine food, money, prince’s daughters will sneak into your cell hoping for a night with a warrior with many kills to his credit.” The four of them took their leave, and Jon’s hands fisted in her dark hair

[animentality]

Another thing that struck me as odd about infinity war

SPOiLERS

SPOILerRS

sPoILERs

SPoilErS

Sp-sspppp sppppps pspsppspss ooil oil ers 

anyway. 

.

.

.

well, first off, the girl next to me was squealing a lot and it was awfully annoying. 

second, i read some tumblr posts that said when it was over, everyone was sitting in stunned silence...

but my theater was sitting more in a confused silence, where they weren’t sure what to think.

some people seemed upset, but mostly everyone i looked at while trying not to look like it seemed to have a slight frown.

not like an, “oh my god i’m devastated” frown but more of a, “what just happened...?” frown. 

I think that even if you’re a part of the popcorn munching masses who doesn’t feel the need to think too hard about movies, you came out of the film with this sense of confusion. 

because you’re sad because your favs died, but...the entire middle chunk of the movie is carved out of your mind.

there are parts that stood out to you...but the movie was cut into bits, tiny scenes and moments.

you remember the funny ones, but everything else is a bit of a blur.

infinity war was like a film reel of happier times and good moments.

it went by so quickly that what stuck out to you was specific scenes with your favs, but when you came to the end, you blinked, and suddenly everything was over.

2 hours and 30 minutes didn’t feel like it. 

because you got all of your information in like...increments of four minutes.

every scene was like the length of a pop song.

it was disjointed in that way, so the ending scene just...

i feel like they could’ve made even hard balls like me soften up, but instead they just went for recognition tears.

like they wanted everyone to see peter quill, know automatically that they love him, and then take it hard when he vanishes.

and yes, most people probably did.

but i didn’t, and not because i’m some edge lord, ok, that’s not what i’m saying.

all i’m saying is that to get someone like me to be upset, and to maximize the effect in general for all audience goers, who like to cry for cathartic purposes, you really have to dig in deeper.

you have to build stronger connections and remind us why we love these characters.

now spider man, his death felt real. it was pretty good, because he actually had time to cry out to iron man, and we all just saw spider man homecoming, so it feels.

and that’s why the audience was so excited by black panther and wakanda!

we just saw them!

but people...they weren’t that excited to see captain america, at least, not in my theater. 

they sort of took a breath, but exhaled it after a second, and then we were on the next scene.

i think civil war was a little too long ago for people in my theater to remember the whole big drama between steve and tony...

drama which was not adequately explored this movie, and i hope it will be next movie. 

but anyway. 

they were excited for black panther, because it was recent in their minds.

and spider man was recent in their minds, as well as colorful and funny and...well, a child.

you just want to protect spider man. 

when he was grasping at tony, crying out that he didn’t want to go...i mean, that was the most emotional moment of the film for me.

i didn’t cry like i wanted to, or even feel much other than some sadness. 

but it was something! 

you guys know i’m not made of stone, ok, i just don’t fall for the simple, “when people die, it’s sad” law. 

I need more, i need more FOREPLAY, marvel, you can’t just slap my dick and expect me to get a heart boner. 

Hm.

In conclusion. 

I wouldn’t say tumblr lied to me, but I would say that it did its usual thing of overhyping things it likes up. 

Infinity War was fine, but it wasn’t like...Logan.

It wasn’t like...................er, the notebook? I’ve never seen it. 

Marley and Me? The book? 

I dunno. 

Point is, I didn’t go into the movie determined not to cry, ok? I didn’t go in thinking, “I’ll show tumblr, I won’t cry! I won’t be upset!” 

I went in hoping for a good time.

I mostly got it, and I wasn’t bored (most of the time...I was a little bored with Thor’s subplot with Peter Dinklage), but I wasn’t emotionally affected the way I was hoping for.

Maybe it’s too much to ask of marvel, though, to ask animentality to feel something. 

[writeyouin]

Just because I want to see how someone else would handle this: Could you do a Wanda Maximoff x Male!Reader for me? Where the Male!Reader is one of Hawkeye/Clint’s sons who is the oldest out of his siblings and has always shown interest in his dad’s line of work. The Male!Reader gets swept into the events of Civil War and finds himself falling in love with and protecting Wanda Maximoff who has the same feelings for the Male!Reader as well. Thanks!

Wanda Maximoff X Reader – Hawkeye Jr.

A/N – Made it all inclusive if that’s okay, I can do one with just males or females by changing the pronouns if you prefer, just ask. Also, I’m barely dying anymore, yay me.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You spun around, shooting three perfect headshots into the androids behind you; you were determined to complete the training course without fault today. As it was, the training course had been provided by Tony Stark to help Clint train in his off time; instead, it was mostly used by you, Clint’s eldest child.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve Rogers was watching you with Clint over the camera system that recorded the course.

“(S)he’s good,” Steve praised.

“If (s)he doesn’t show off. Did you see that slide under the table? Pure dramatics, there are at least six other escape points that would face you off with the opponent, and what’s with the explosives? I gave other arrows. Too much flash and not enough skill which would be fine if (s)he didn’t have the talent but damn it Steve, (s)he does,” Clint ranted.

Steve gave a reassuring smile, “You’ve done a good job. I know it’s a lot to ask Clint, but I wouldn’t if I didn’t have a choice, is (s)he ready to fight?”

“Oh sure, (s)he is; it’s his mother who’ll kill me. If we can win the argument with her, fighting stark will be no problem.”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

The pair turned their attention back to the monitor where you were hitting every target with ease.

You’d never been more pumped for a fight. You finally had the chance to show what you were made of, even if it was with your dad’s co-workers and you were against Aunt Natasha. There were so many cool moves you had planned that had to impress Tony at the very least. You’d start with a big explosion, or should you end with that? Ah, what did it matter, one at the start and at the end, you could never have enough explosions.

Finally, the rest of the team arrived. Captain America, Uncle Sam’s favourite. Falcon, the aerial support. Bucky, the end goal. Ant Man, who? Hawkeye, just dad to you. And… who was that? Red hair, confident strut, stunning by any other means. You positioned yourself to be next to the girl with a pounding heart, preparing yourself for any pick-up line that may spring to mind.

Suddenly, the perfect one came, “Hey, are you-”

Hawkeye pushed in front of you, pulling at your armour tightly. “How many times?” he chastised. “Armour has to be secure. And what’s with the floppy hair? It may look good, but it’ll only impede your vision.”

“Daaad!” You whined quietly.

“Don’t daaad me, now let me see your quiver.”

“But-”

“Quiver!”

You pulled the quiver moodily off your back and shoved it at Hawkeye who gave you a warning look.

“What the hell is all this? Are you preparing the fireworks at Disney World? No? Then why all the explosives? That’s it, we’re swapping.”

“But dad-”

He shoved his quiver at you.

“These are all regulars and net traps,” You complained, examining the other arrow set.

By now, the entire team were snickering under their breaths, even the girl.

“This is so lame dad.”

“So is your attitude, now zip it, the others are here. Oh, and by the way, drop the cool guy act, she can read minds genius.”

You blushed and gave a side glance at the girl who was straight faced as ever.

“Can you actually-”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

“Okay then… not awkward at all… Would that line have worked?”

“No.”

“Alrighty.” A few tense minutes passed, “I’m (Y/N), in case you were wondering.”

“Wanda.”

“You don’t say much, do you,” You commented apprehensively, aiming to salvage your ruined reputation.

“There’s a time and a place.”

You were about to say more when the opposing team arrived. Iron Man, enemy leader. Vision, a floating computer program. Black Panther, royalty you could punch. War Machine, knock off Iron Man. And Black Widow, your God mother/ honorary aunt. The two teams lined up, facing off. Natasha smiled at you, giving a cursory nod which you returned with a small wave, making you feel younger than you were.

Wanda snorted under her breath. You nudged her in an ‘Oh, come on’ gesture, which earned you a glare.

“What?” She demanded.

“She’s my Godmother, what do you expect?”

“Precious baby.”

Despite the veiled insult, you couldn’t help grinning as if it was a compliment; she’d called you precious. Not paying attention to the talk, the battle quickly commenced before you even realised what was happening. You scanned the battlefield, looking for any opportunity which would give you an advantage and impress Wanda. Your dad may have taken the explosives, but an air field provided multiple opportunities to cause some fireworks. Taking aim and being careful to impede but not seriously maim or kill anyone, you fired at an oil tanker with an incendiary arrow; the resulting explosion knocked Iron Man, War Machine, and Vision off their flight path.

That had been the only unique arrow you had, now it was all the boring ones. Before you could take aim again, the new hero, one who called himself Spiderman swung into you, knocking you over while he landed perfectly on all fours.

‘Damn, did she see that?’ You risked a glance at Wanda who was busy warring with Vision.

“WHOA!” Spiderman rejoiced. “Did anyone see that? Anyone? That was so cool how I smashed into you.”

You frowned at the young voice, “You’re not a man, you’re just a kid.”

“Says you.”

“I’m older than you.”

“You don’t know that, I’m wearing a mask. Ugh, this is unbelievable,” Spiderman put his hands on his hips and started pacing. “Mr Stark picked me, I’m clearly old enough to-”

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence, you shot an arrow which became a weighted net, holding him down. “Huh, maybe dad was right about those ones, they actually work. See ya.”

You looked for Wanda again, grinning when she saw you and gave an acknowledging nod; she’d seen you in your moment of glory. Still, the battle progressed, and you learnt fast that it wasn’t as fun as training sessions. Somewhere along the line, Rhodes, the man behind War Machine was struck down. You’d expected minor casualties at best, but this wasn’t minor; this was real. He was hurt, others could be hurt and over what? A stupid argument that nobody could solve like adults. Everyone should be talking this out, but they weren’t. It seemed that Natasha held a similar sentiment to you as she ended the fight by letting Barnes and Rodgers escape, effectively ending conflict until matters became infinitely worse by the capture of you and the team.

Stuck in the Raft prison, there was little left to do but think of the failure that had befallen you. What were you going to tell your mum? She was probably worried out of her mind and you couldn’t even get a message to her.

“Hey,” Wanda said quietly from the cell next to yours, “Don’t worry about it, your family will be okay.”

You shuddered, her powers were blocked by the cell, yet she’d managed to read you clearly. “How can you tell? I’ve got two little brothers and a little sister; what if they don’t understand?”

“That’s what your mother’s there for. She understands the risks of your family so let her worry about that while we-”

“While we rot in here?”

Wanda fell silent. The drab surroundings did little to offer comfort.

You sighed and shifted off your bench, closer to Wanda’s cell. “Sorry… I’m just scared. It’s okay though, we’re going to get out of here, probably, and when we do, I’m going to go home and enjoy it when mum screams her head off at me for getting caught.”

Wanda smiled, she remembered that childhood innocence when her and her brother would get in trouble and their parents would shout and then hug them as tightly as they could. “Must be nice,” she murmured.

“What about you? Where’s your family?”

“This is it. Everyone here and the people we fought, they are my family.”

“One hell of an argument,” You joked. “When my family fight, it’s usually over the remote, not a war criminal.”

Wanda laughed, despite herself.

“Get your laughs in now, we may be short of them soon.”

“With you around? I doubt it. Don’t mind me saying so but you’re not overly similar to your father.”

“Don’t mind it? Say it again. He’s always telling me to be more serious… maybe he’s right but I can’t let him think I agree… You want to know something?”

“Hm?”

“When we started that fight, I was desperate to protect you, silly right? I couldn’t even protect myself.”

“I don’t need a protector… I would like a friend though.”

“I can do that, friends are good. I was kind of hoping for something more but that’s a good start. Besides, this place leaves little in the way of first dates. What would I do? A damp date whenever they provide food?”

There was an echoed “Aw,” around the room.

You’d been aware the entire time that everyone could hear you, but the mood was ruined by Natasha cooing over what she would call ‘puppy love’.

“Aunt Tash, quit it,” You moaned.

“Don’t mind me,” she replied. “Keep going, you’re doing great, a real Casanova, right Clint?”

“Not like your old man?” Clint grumbled loudly. “Unbelievable. I’m cool, I know I am.”

You slapped your forehead, wishing you had a real scenario where you could talk with Wanda alone. “C’mon guys, stop.”

“Go on,” Natasha encouraged. “Just pretend we’re not here.”

“I was until- You know what, never mind, the moments gone, you ruined it.”

“No, no. The date scenarios gone but how about meeting the parents, we’ve got one of them. Clint, tell your kid how to behave around such a sweet young lady.”

You covered your head with you hands, not that they could see. If this was the start of love, you have a rough road ahead.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 13: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A sturdy brass scroll case

A sturdy steel scroll case

A sturdy wooden case containing eight large glass vials containing human hearts floating in a preservative fluid. Each vial contains a label with a name written on it belonging to a missing person in a nearby settlement.

A sturdy wooden scroll tube containing a small collection of letters carefully folded and tucked away. The letters are from an adventurer’s loved ones, and have clearly all been read multiple times. The last page is actually a note meant for whoever finds the fallen adventurer, begging that her loved ones are informed of her fate.

A tabard of obvious military design from an army that no one is able to identify

A tarnished copper signal on a leather thong. The whistle’s mouthpiece is shaped liked a pair of pouting lips.

A tarnished silver bell lacking a clapper. The worn initial H.P.L are barely visible on its lip.

A thick pair of six-toed socks. When the bearer walks on wood, each step sounds like a hoof.

A thick tapestry depicting angels being slain by a rampaging demon wielding a huge sword wreathed in dark energy. The tapestry is obviously old, but is in good condition.

A thick, charcoal-colored infinity scarf smelling of wood smoke and large enough to act as a deep hood as well as scarf.

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A sturdy brass scroll case

A sturdy steel scroll case

A sturdy wooden case containing eight large glass vials containing human hearts floating in a preservative fluid. Each vial contains a label with a name written on it belonging to a missing person in a nearby settlement.

A sturdy wooden scroll tube containing a small collection of letters carefully folded and tucked away. The letters are from an adventurer’s loved ones, and have clearly all been read multiple times. The last page is actually a note meant for whoever finds the fallen adventurer, begging that her loved ones are informed of her fate.

A tabard of obvious military design from an army that no one is able to identify

A tarnished copper signal on a leather thong. The whistle’s mouthpiece is shaped liked a pair of pouting lips.

A tarnished silver bell lacking a clapper. The worn initial H.P.L are barely visible on its lip.

A thick pair of six-toed socks. When the bearer walks on wood, each step sounds like a hoof.

A thick tapestry depicting angels being slain by a rampaging demon wielding a huge sword wreathed in dark energy. The tapestry is obviously old, but is in good condition.

A thick, charcoal-colored infinity scarf smelling of wood smoke and large enough to act as a deep hood as well as scarf.

A thick, wide leather belt that has a buckle shaped like a fist and various attachment points from which to hang pouches and perhaps even a small sack or two. A hidden compartment lurks at the back of the belt.

A thin metal rod that plays out a simple tune when repeatedly tapped

A three fingered glove that makes everything taste like burning

A three fingered glove that sounds like women laughing in the far distance when near corpses

A tiny lidded box that opens, revealing the emptiness of space. No amount of force can make an object go into the box.

A tiny longsword (No longer than a pinky finger) made from magnetic iron.

A tiny mechanical dragonfly with a miniature glass vial at its center

A tiny metallic box without latches or locks that only opens on a full moon

A tiny soapstone octopus that slowly absorbs water into itself at a rate of about a single drop per hour. No matter how much it absorbs, the figurine never gets any heavier and for all intents and purposes, the water completely disappears.

A tiny two-minute hourglass filled with Randomly Colored sand.

A torn and filthy burlap sack. Inside are four holy symbols each dedicated to a different minor God each from a Random Good Domain. Each has been defaced. A fifth holy symbol (Also dedicated to a minor God of a Random Good Domain) has not yet been vandalized.

A transparent fist sized cube containing an hourglass-shaped vial. A figure is inside the hourglass on one side. When the cube is tilted, the figure disappears, and a different figure appears on the other side. Depending on how the cube is tilted, different figures may appear.

A travel case filled with strange, forbidden, and in some cases heretical, religious scrolls. Neither the case nor the papers bear any sort of marker’s mark, ownership or distinguishing names.

A tuning fork that emits a chord when struck

A uniform belonging to the nearby town guard or local militia. It is however lacking the appropriate weapons and armor.

A walking cane made from an exotic mummified snake.

A waterproof wax paper envelope containing a careworn letter from a dying father addressed to his daughter asking for forgiveness

A weighted trick con that always lands on the same side no matter how many times its flipped.

A well crafted stylus of unfamiliar design. The user always finds themselves writing in an unknown language while using it. If they attempt to draw a map with the stylus, the user  instead draws a map to a distant realm, perhaps the home of the language.

A well made saddle sized for a very small animal, such as a squirrel or a small cat

A white cloth mask decorated with patterns of light green whorls that makes the bearer’s breath smell and taste like peppermint while worn.

A white leather sporran edged with black horsehair bears a rearing stallion on the front.

A wooden box containing a collection of cards full of monsters, spells, lands and other pictures. There are symbols on each one, and the ones that repeat depict the sun, a skull, a fire, a tree and a drop of water.

A wooden box containing a dozen iron nails taken from the coffin of a murderer

A wooden box containing a mummified fish with feathered wings

A wooden box containing a trapmaker’s kit, including caltrops and the materials and tools needed to make a series of tripwires, snares and jaw-traps.

A wooden box decorated with the image of a stick figure man. It contains ten candles made from the fat of human corpses

A wooden case containing an ornate chess set. The board itself depicts the hellish Abyss and the tortured souls trapped there. The pieces on one side are various species of demons, while various types of devils making up the opposing side. It seems to be a reference to the Blood War between demons and devils.

A wooden case containing an ornate chessboard. Half the board is white and heavenly with various species of celestial angels as pieces and half of which is hellish and fiery, with nightmarish demons as pieces.

A wooden crate filled with small burlap sacks of different exotic coffee beans

A wooden model of a ship constructed around a wine bottle so that the bottle is still visible in there. It would probably be more impressive if it was the other way around.

A wooden prosthetic hand with a skull and crossbones etched into the back of the hand. Knowledgeable PC’s will notice that the initials at the base of the limb match those of an infamous one-handed pirate.

An amber prism with a prehistoric beetle trapped inside

An antler from an unknown creature that emits clicking noises when near children

An egg-shaped metallic bauble that occasionally spins and speaks in a language no one understands

An iron horseshoe once worn by a unicorn.

An iron nail from the crucifixion of a prophet.

An obsidian figurine of a stalking panther that holds absolutely no magic powers or enchantments.

An octagon-shaped amulet that is colored black during the day and sky blue at night

An odd little brush which carefully cleans any surface it is applied to, leaving it smelling vaguely of camphor.

An oddly formed stone that is strongly magnetic to non-ferrous metals

An oil lantern whose chimney is made of a deep red glass.

An onyx comb shaped like a raven that has common cabochon ruby eyes.

An origami unicorn that can never be torn or crumpled

An ornate Dwarven flask made of brass.

An ornate sacrificial dagger, still stained with the blood of its last victim

An ornate wooden box containing two weathered dueling hand crossbows.

An unblemished black marble that reflects no light and can never be marked or scuffed

An unbreakable fist sized, clear crystal sphere filled with swirling green smoke

An uncommonly convincing glass eye that’s completely unusable due to being fully spherical.

An unsigned note requesting a meeting at a local landmark. The date for the rendezvous has not yet arrived.

One square foot of preserved human skin showing a map that changes randomly.

Sprigs of dried hemlock, mistletoe and nightshade bound together with a red ribbon.

A lump of coal that appears to be burning but sheds no heat and is never consumed

A pamphlet announcing upcoming show by Brusker & Piemoore, a controversial comedy duo that consists of a fat elf and a bald dwarf.

A tiny bat skin pouch containing a pinch of lich dust..

A pocket mirror that reflects men as women and vice-versa.

A set of collapsible opera glasses.

A silver spoon with a handle shaped like a gorgon

A single cheap chrome shuriken.

A single dragonfat candle which burns with a low red light that won’t disrupt darkvision.

A single bronze piece with no monarch profiled on it. Its minting date is seven years in the future.

A single playing card that was stolen from the private game room of the King of Gamblers.

A belt pouch containing a handful of tarnished and clipped bronze and copper coins from a variety of different cultures and kingdoms. All are obviously old.

A swanky leather dice cup.

A tarnished old dog whistle. It can only be heard by mad or rabid dogs.

A ticket to a dwarvern opera, to be performed a tenday hence

A tiny model ship built inside an empty potion bottle.

A small triangular silver coin of unknown origin.

An ancient, acid-pitted doubloon with a kraken on one side and a ship on the other

A magically preserved apple from a dryad’s garden.

An origami dragon made from a (used, blank) spell scroll.

A big, gaudy silver plated belt buckle with a rot grub encased in glass at the center and “‘CRAWLER” written in cheap gems at bottom.

A bronze coin that bears the black spade symbol of the Prince of Murderers. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the coin as black-market currency that’s accepted by some criminals in return for illicit good and services.

A bronze coin that bears the profile of  the King of Beggars. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the coin as black-market currency that’s accepted by some criminals in return for illicit good and services.

A bronze coin that bears the profile of the Queen of Whores. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the coin as black-market currency that’s accepted by some criminals in return for illicit good and services.

A one-inch tall prehistoric proto-faerie encased within a chunk of amber

An exquisite flute made from a human thigh bone.

A ceremonial headdress prominently displaying dozens of pegasus feathers.

A long black satin glove (Left hand) that once belonged to the Vampire Queen.

A child’s rag doll whose physical form deeply unsettles anyone who looks at it.

A sealed glass vial containing a fishhook-sized barb from the stinger of a giant bee

A battered hilt from a great hero’s broken sword.

A completely mundane acorn that appears to be magical to anyone who observes it.

A five inch metal gear that turns on its own when exposed to sunlight.

A amateur’s woodcarving kit containing simple but serviceable tools

A backpack filled with old scraps of cloth. If examined, they may be placed together to form a map showing the location of an ancient hobgoblin tomb.

A red silk veil that was once worn by a genie.

A small pouch containing a few dozen ball bearings that look like miniature glass eyes

A bag of charcoal made from a church’s burnt rafters.

[paulbenedictblog]

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Bbc news 2019 en noticias: los premios alternativos de fin de año

Bbc news

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Congratulations, you may perchance well delight in made it by every other three hundred and sixty five days of recordsdata.

We tag it wasn't persistently easy, so right here is a reward: our round-up of the moments that put aside quite of smile on our faces in 2019. Many of them, inevitably, contain animals.

Bbc news Animal rescue of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

Image copyright Berufstierrettung Rhein Neckar

Spare a notion forthe center-broken fleshy rat of Bensheim, which grew to change into caught in a German manhole in February. She was once finally freed, nonetheless now not before passers-by took embarrassing photos of her predicament. "She had a wonderful deal of cold weather flab," one rescuer acknowledged, compounding the humiliation.

Runner-up (1)

Image copyright ViralPress

Oil rig workers 220km (135 miles) off Thailand's wing bought a shock in April after they seen a brown dogs paddling in the sea, presumably after falling from a trawler.

They plucked him to security and named him Boonrod, a Thai discover that roughly translates as "the saved one" or "survivor".

Runner-up (2)

On this case, the animals had been the rescuers quite than the rescued (effect of).

Looking ahead to the threat of wildfires later in the three hundred and sixty five days, workers at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in California hired a hungry herd of 500 goats to spend flammable scrub across the constructing in Might per chance also.

And so, when fires did strike in October,the library was once saved on narrative of the fireplace damage the goats had createdby ingesting the flammable scrub. Nice one, goats.

Bbc news The 'image says it all' prize

Winner

Support in August, millions of you studythe adventures of 5-three hundred and sixty five days-conventional Lucie, whose before-and-after photos from her first day encourage in college had been picked up by a newspaper in her native Scotland, then shared across the world.

When her mum saw her return home, she asked what Lucie had been as much as. "Nothing unprecedented," came the acknowledge.

Runner-up

Image copyright Edi Okoro

Edi Okoro, who tooksecret photos of his girlfriend with an engagement ring for a monthwith out her noticing. She finally acknowledged "sure".

Bbc news Wearing feat of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

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Media captionSarah Thomas was once many cases stung by jellyfish during her swim

Appropriate a three hundred and sixty five days after being handled for breast cancer,Sarah Thomas grew to change into the first individual to swim the English Channel four cases non-pause. She did so over 54 hours, after which she acknowledged: "I'm quite tired lawful now."

Runner-up

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Media captionNow not featured: The pigs Jasmin Paris hallucinated

It was once a finish-trudge thing, pun intended.However all credit goes to Jasmin Paris, who broke the memoir for a 268-mile trudge by extra than 12 hours. Whereas stopping frequently to particular breast milk. And hallucinating. On only three hours' sleep. Within the center of writing her PhD thesis.

Bbc news The most unearthly headlines from Wales

Bbc news The most inventive response

Winner

Image copyright Josh Thompson

Copywriter Josh Thompson may perchance well perchance look for the writing on the wall at work when he was once known as in for a gathering: he was once facing redundancy. His managers impressed him to lift a "give a spend to individual" to encourage cushion the blow, an option that's legally required in New Zealand.

However quite than lift a member of the family, a buddy or even a pet, he splashed out NZ$200 (£100) on a clown known as "Joe", who sat making animal balloons throughout the assembly. The screeching sound proved to be quite of a distraction.

"Boy, oh, boy, are they noisy," Josh acknowledged.

Runner-up

Top marks to Eimi Haga, a Jap student of ninja history who handed in a easy paper. Her professor realised the essay was once written in invisible ink, following the ninja strategy of "aburidashi", which involves spending hours soaking and crushing soybeans to function ink.

Bbc news The uplifting reports of the three hundred and sixty five days (tie)

1)=

Jordan Kinyera, the Ugandan man who was once only six when his father lost his land in a appropriate dispute. After Jordan trained as a attorney and took on the case,the family gained encourage the land this three hundred and sixty five days - 23 years later.

1)=

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Media captionHan Young-hee has been delivering yoghurt and serving to the elderly for 16 years

The South Korean ladies who ship yoghurt from motorised fridges, and defend an glimpse out for the country's most isolated other folks.

1)=

South African Uber driver Menzi Mngoma loves singing arias to his passengers - and after he featured in a video that went viral this three hundred and sixty five days,he auditioned for the Cape Town Opera and was once invited to fabricate across the country.

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Media captionThe singing Uber driver is now plot for the opera stage

Bbc news The 'hiding in undeniable look for' prize

Winner

When archaeologists began an investigation right into a stone circle found in rural Aberdeenshire, they notion they had stumbled across a plot that was once thousands of years conventional.

So it came as a disappointment after they learnedit was once, in fact, only about 20 years conventional, and put aside there by a farmer.

Runner-up

When South African comedian Trevor Noah presented the Finest Image nomination for Shaded Panther at the Oscars in February, he quoted a asserting in the Xhosa language.

"Abelungu abazi ubu ndiyaxoka," he acknowledged, "which map: 'In cases love these, we are stronger when we fight collectively than when we strive to fight aside.'"

However that's now not what that phrase with out a doubt map. Its valid translation is: "White other folks don't know that I'm lying," and no-one in the viewers picked up on the laughable narrative.

Bbc news The most adventurous animals of 2019

Winners

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Media captionRats power little plastic cars round a lab in the US

Raise a extremely little glass forthe rats that in actuality feel much less pressured after they power minute cars.

Runner-up (1)

The Russian eagles fitted with SMS transmitters who migrated quite additional than anticipatedand ran up wide recordsdata roaming costs.

Runner-up (2)

Image copyright Getty Photography

Image caption Drift on, little water endure

What better gallop than a day out to the Moon? It emerged this three hundred and sixty five days that thousands of Earth's most indestructible animals - tardigrades, or "water bears" -had been on board an Israeli spacecraft which fracture-landed on the Moon.

Tardigrades are minute creatures with eight legs and are presumably livid at having been dumped thus removed from home.

Bbc news The Biggles Prize for unprecedented aviation circulate

Winner

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Media captionFootage from throughout the aircraft confirmed it inserting birds after spend-off

Rapidly after spend-off from Moscow's Zhukovsky airport in August, an Airbus jet with 233 other folks on board struck a flock of gulls, causing both engines to fail.

With the jet burly of fuel, the pilots managed to fracture-land in a corn self-discipline in a belly-flop with out reducing the wheels, to handbook definite of debris flying off and rupturing fuel tanks.

Right here is how they pulled it off, and why it was once known as a miracle landing.

Runner-up

This gutsy helicopter pilot who rescued an injured skier from a steep slope in the Alps in January.

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Media captionFrench Alps skiers rescued in dramatic helicopter manoeuvre

Bbc news Scientific advancement of the three hundred and sixty five days

Winner

There will almost definitely be only one: the first ever describe of a gloomy hole. Gaze, the blazing home doughnut:

Image copyright EHT

What's unprecedented extra spectacular is that the gloomy hole is 500 million trillion kilometres away, and about three million cases the dimensions of our planet.Right here's how the describe was once taken.

Runner-up

This was once a severely finish contest, nonetheless the invention that males's left testicles are a little bit warmer than their lawful is correct edged out of first put by the gloomy hole describe.

This study fervent getting French postmen to stand naked for 90 minutes, because sure, why now not?

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[thealfanator]

The Steel that Warmed Us in the Night Time ~ Chapter 10

Dandelion burst through the wooden doors with amazing speed, panting like a panther and almost tripping over his own footsteps.  The cold, night-time air hit his face unexpectedly like a ton of bricks, though that was the least of his worries.  Shortly, his crimson clothing became black with mud as he regrettably slipped over a tiny bit of wood that stuck out of the ground before the steep hill which he now rolled down.  Startled, he pushed himself from the wet, muggy floor and desperately retrieved his bearings like a terrified animal.  He was the sheep amongst a pack of hounds; choosing whether to focus on looking behind him or run faster to his destination.  Coughing and splattering weakly amongst his sprinting, he struggled further towards the weak sunrise.

           Geralt and Yennefer watched the sunrise quietly and in tranquillity.  Anyone would suspect that they’d drunk a thousand bottles of wine, though they hadn’t. They just perched there all night, dawdling over memories like a wizard would loiter around their flasks and archives from previous experiments.  Abruptly, Geralt sensed quick, panicked footsteps from a mile away.  He thought it would be Ciri… or the horse, Roach, but no… He lifted his head and looked in the direction of the sounds.  Yennefer, oblivious to the event, continued to see into the distance with tired eyes.

“Sir, Geralt. Sir…” the man stuttered through frequent breaths.  He dropped his hat carelessly and wiped sweat from his brow.

“Who are…” Geralt started, proceeding to stand and disturb Yennefer who also sighed and stood up. He soon stopped when the witcher recognised the face.  “Dandelion, what brings you here?” he sighed again reluctantly like a king being dragged to a music festival.

“It’s Ciri.”

Geralt, ignoring Roach, rushed with Yennefer and the bard towards the direction that Dandelion indicated.

“Wait, Geralt.” Dandelion stopped, “Can I leave my lute on your horse?  Is it safe?”  Geralt almost laughed at the irrelevance of the matter.

“Yeah, whatever.” He excused as he turned broke into a run.  Dandelion sighed, whispering a brief apology before latching on his lute and following the pair.  After a few minutes of running, they saw the mansion in sight.  Unbelievably, Dandelion frequently stopped of exhaustion and was surprised at how far Geralt and the sorceress could run without tiring. Nevertheless, he barely managed to keep up.

“Wait, stop!” Geralt sounded, stopping in his tracks and clutching his medallion.  Yennefer angrily looked at him.

“Why are we stopping?” she shouted, “We have to find…” she was suddenly cut off by the brief explosion that occurred.  Dirt in eyes and mouths, they were all distracted.

“Ekimmaras!” Geralt roared through clenched teeth – simultaneously drawing his sword.  The small, bug-like creatures skittered around them, circling them effortlessly.  Despite their ambush, they were easily sliced by the powerful silver which slashed at their skin by the Witcher.  Yennefer cast a few spells in aid whilst Dandelion crouched down, covering his head and shouting in terror.  Without batting an eyelid at the matter, Yennefer quickly recovered and dashed towards the haunted mansion, continually shouting and screaming her daughter’s name manically.  Geralt pushed Dandelion to follow the sorceress whilst he held back to fight off the rest of the spawning Ekimmaras.

           Yennefer dashed towards the mansion with lightning speed, uncaring of her physical tiredness but instead just wanting to reach her daughter.  When she reached the house, she saw the front door half on the floor after Dandelion busted it off its hinges when exfiltrating the building previously.

“Stay here.” Yennefer indicated to the bard whilst gesturing with her hand to stop him in his tracks, “Trust me, you don’t want to be caught up in this!”  The bard was helpless to do anything; as much as he wanted to help, he knew Yennefer was correct.  The raven-haired sorceress took one more sympathetic glance at him before turning and proceeding into the building.  Thankful for the instructions from Dandelion, Yennefer swiftly found her way to the place which Cirilla was caught.

“Hello?” Ciri whispered after she heard movement.  She heard Yennefer’s voice and immediately sighed pleasurably as if a huge pressure had been released.  “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“We’ve got to get you out.” Yennefer yelled in concern.  She felt the wooden, sturdy wall where she could hear Ciri’s voice. She, unfortunately, noticed that the wall that caged her was too thick to destroy alone.

“It’s fine, really.” Ciri chuckled, “I have a lovely looking item here – and it’s actually quite cosy.  Just get me some water and I’ll be great!”  Despite her efforts to lift the situation, Yennefer failed to laugh and scoffed at her attempt.  She stopped suddenly when she thought she heard a noise…

“You shouldn’t waste your time trying to do that.” A voice said, “You should at least try to find a lever to open the hatch.” Yennefer turned.  A silhouette stood not too far away from her across the hallway.  A candle wasn’t necessary as the moon conveniently lined up through the stained window behind the man, resulting in a menacing shadow which struck the floorboards.  Yennefer knew exactly what it was.  She turned her head back again – against the figure.  She grew angry.  A higher vampire.  Using her anger, she aggressively twisted her body around and drained all her effort in frustration to hurl sparks in its direction.  Unusually, but to Yennefer’s knowledge, he disappeared without effort.  She swore profusely at the air just before Geralt came into view and looked at her strangely, squinting slightly at the darkness of the building.

“What happened?” He swiftly asked as he swept to Yennefer.  She composed herself, avoiding the Witcher’s gaze.

“A higher vampire. There you go, Geralt.” She said half sarcastically, half in dread of the situation. “Get your sword out, you can deal with this; I’m sure this is an easy task for you.” She continued – voice of ice.  Geralt nodded, motivation drowning him with only one goal: to save Ciri.  He found an empty room and started unpacking multiple tubes of potions and blade oils.  He lit a candle.  Not quite a campfire, but it’ll do.  He knelt and exhaled, slowly closing his eyes.

           Geralt drifted off into relaxation yet staying perfectly awake; detecting noises and almost flinching like a cat – alert.  He stayed, kneeling, breathing in and out. One… Two… Three… One… Two… Three… Beside him lie bottles, potions and dusty boxes that scattered themselves around him.  Although there were a few rough edges and worn sides to the items, they were evidently well kept.  He additionally tried to keep his mind off Ciri in fear that he may become distracted later by the thought of her.  He’d learned that emotion is highly volatile.  Yennefer silently sat on the other side of the melancholy room, staring Geralt up and down.  Dandelion also sat beside her.  It was a long, bare room with a gloomy layer across it.  Light shone in, casting shadows and ironically revealing more darkness than light.  Large, wooden columns stood ominously and danced in all their glory whilst showing their glistening, precious items inside their glass cages.  Carpets rested on the floorboards but looked scruffy and unkept; although they all suspected that nobody in the room seemed to care. Holes were cast upon them at some point, followed by trips and tosses – scrunched up all over the floor.  It felt like hours had past.  Maybe they had.  Next time Yennefer looked, Dandelion had started to snore and his head hung over his knees.  Yennefer also felt tired but the sense could not win her over.  She fought the fatigue with eyes of ice.  She thought of Ciri; she fought within her – took over her mind. Endless thoughts.  She hung her head down, equal to the bard, and protruded an invisible tear that she hid from view.  She mindlessly fiddled with a piece of leather that was carelessly placed there before they arrived, but was conveniently next to her when she sat there.  Another tear fell.  Then it happened.  A gust of wind woke them all like a storm of icy water.  Dandelion scurried up and awkwardly asked if he’d missed any action, standing poised and ready to attack.  Yennefer silently noticed Geralt open his sharp eyes.  He knew.  Swiftly and in what seemed like one smooth movement, he struck upright and juggled conversation.

           “Yennefer, barricade the door.” He said, “Dandelion, clear the room!”  They both obediently did what he asked of them – with the same goal in mind. Laughter sounded from the air whilst flames from the candles quivered and waved.  They were ready.

“You think that will stop me?” the voice scoffed, becoming clearer and clearer until he materialised in front of the witcher.  He saw his pale skin and black slick hair which frolicked around his white, elegant collar and just touching his black, exquisite costume and blood-red cape. Unfortunately for him and to Geralt’s realisation, the suit he wore was stylish but not very protective against swords. Geralt laughed at his face, deliberately so the vampire could feel his breath.  Geralt touched the hilt of his sword.  Before he knew, he was lying on the floor – sword on the other side of the room.  Winded, Geralt also recollected that his ears were ringing and that the vampire was darting around the room with incredible speed.

“Geralt!” Yennefer sounded, diving for the sword.  Geralt caught it from her and used current momentum to attempt another swing. Shit.  It went right through him.  Another try.  Swing. Miss.  Swing.  Miss. The witcher saw the figure of the enemy but could not hit it.  It whirled around the room, hitting the sorceress in the back with incredible speed. She wailed as she smashed to the floor. Geralt wanted to help but he tactically saw that it was inefficient and that he concluded that the hostility needed to be eliminated as quickly as possible.  A few more swings of swords and claws occurred until Geralt realised he’d been pinned up against the wall with the unusually strong grasp of the enemy.

“It was really nice meeting you.” He said, humorously and grinning; showing his fangs.  Geralt closed his eyes and retreated his head as far as it would go.  More seconds passed.  His throat grew tighter.  The only noise that could be heard was the groaning of the floorboards.  Wait… he could breathe.  He opened his eyes cautiously.  He failed to see the vampire but instead he saw Dandelion standing over the corpse with a bloody candlestick.  Geralt stood motionless for a second before glancing at Yennefer, who had recovered from her fall, and laughed immensely.  A grinding noise occurred a few rooms over.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Yennefer’s voice was barely heard due to the muffled sound produced when she hugged Ciri.  Ciri, behind Yennefer’s back, tossed the amulet at Geralt’s chest and grinned. Geralt joined slowly, also smiling.

*

Geralt, Yen and Cirilla took turns in saying farewell to the bard who nervously clutched his journals and maps, looking pale as a ghost.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” He said faintly, “I promise I won’t get into any trouble… at least for the time being!” he chuckled, looking at Geralt.  The witcher wasn’t convinced, emphasising the raise of his eyebrow.  They continued to talk for the time being from outside the mansion, joyously breathing the fresh air of the Isles and realising that they never knew they missed it before it was gone in the stuffy atmosphere of the castle.  Then, the trio looked at their list of amulet locations cautiously for their next move.

You are nearing the end of this series!  Only two more chapters left.  Nevertheless I hope you are enjoying it and feel free to leave me any feedback if you wish!  Take care :)

[ajumamezthis]

Light of the Island Sun

The man facing her at the back of the cave had cold, glittering eyes. There was very little human in them, which made perfect sense all things considered. The cave itself was richly furnished and she inwardly sighed. Something about evil people always made them go for opulence. "So. The Vigil found me, did they?" His voice was like chips of ice as it crackled out from beneath full dark lips. He was either bald by age or by choice, but Ajuma suspected it was more thanks to what he was. Undead, or on his way. Filthy creature. The medallion swinging from his open-throated jerkin's unlaced eyelets spoke everything she needed to know. A crescent. One with a skull carefully embossed. It bore some resemblance to the old discs of the sun which the Elonian Sunspears had once so proudly borne, and that, really, was the point. The Mordant Crescent. Palawa Joko's answer to the Sunspears he'd purged from the three kingdoms he conquered. The amazonian Istani guardian regarded the minion of her peoples' uttermost enemy. She prowled a pace nearer, as coy as a stalking panther. Her enemy's hard muscles visibly coiled. "Halt, Vigil fool." He ordered, and her smile deepened in her own dark face. Eyes as hard as his lifted to lock with the fallen creature's, but where his were empty of humanity, Ajuma's sparked with all-too-human emotions above her high cheekbones. Her armor was, typically, doing exactly what she intended it to. She tilted her head, feeling braids slither along plate mail shoulders. Stretched in a show of utterly casual buffoonery. Marketh al-Razthar fell for it. Perhaps he wasn't undead enough yet to have forgotten the pleasures of the flesh, but for the time that the sleekly muscled young woman took to deliberately stretch, her bared sides flexing, the light caressing over skin like the richest dark honey, the most highly polished mahogany... he hissed in a breath and for a moment, let his guard down as he let his hard stare do what his hands suddenly ached for. Ajuma was statuesque. She knew exactly her effect on men of a certain stripe. It was pride of course, and blood that gave her what she used every bit as deftly as her weapons. The second was all it took. His weight had shifted imperceptibly to the left, hip sagging just a trifle to her hawklike stare veiled behind seductive eyelashes. Another swaying step, mimicking dewy intrigue. The Vigil's rank and file were notorious for their appetites, and being more muscle than brain left a Vigil trooper a fine lusty beast.. or so the rumours went. To Ajuma's absolute disbelief, Marketh continued to buy the act. She'd expected to fence with words, to cross swords even, but this was absolutely unbelievable. She inwardly shrugged and wet her lips, feigning shy fascination. She was within a yard of him, and the tool of Joko groaned suddenly, openly. "I mustn't.. no pleasures of the.. " It was the sound of a damned soul inside the frozen shell of corrupt flesh. He'd been a man once. He remembered that time, and if he hadn't, she wouldn't be this close. In visible and completely unexpected anguish, Marketh moaned again and clenched his eyes as if fighting some hideous compulsion. It was all she needed. The towering Istani beauty lunged the last few feet and drove her gauntleted fist into his face. Joko's defiled Sunspear roared in outrage, his baffling confusion of heart vanished in the face of an outward attack. Ajuma's weapons were by the mouth of the cave where she'd placed them. Her brief advantage of surprise wouldn't last long. In and amongst the cushions and tapestries, she glimpsed her salvation: a greathammer. Eyes flicking back down to the former human under her, she drove a few more punches into his unprotected face for good measure, until the necromantically strengthened tissue gave way with a ripping sound under metal-shod knuckles. Malachi had always hated her fists. She spared a brief internal smile of memory for the only man who'd broken her heart, before she ducked at a bolt of lurid green that pulsed out from Marketh's hands as the undead finally rallied enough to lash back. The first bolt bubbled on the stone ceiling, and he followed it up with a second and a third and a fourth in quick enough succession that the Guardian knew she might be in trouble. He was considerably older than she'd estimated. Also more powerful. Ducking and rolling, she bent like a salmon and then jacknifed her way erratically toward the pile of cushions where she'd seen the hammer. Screaming flashes of black and green lanced past her, narrowly missing only by dint of her unpredictable motions. Every nerve in her was howling as the stinking bolts flew past. Her hand closed on the haft of the hammer, and Ajuma spun without warning, changing course, trusting only in her superb conditioning to keep her alive. A cushion disintegrated behind her as she faced Marketh. His face was torn open, dull yellowed bone revealed under the dark flesh which was ripped like a roll of waxed paper over it. A fairly macabre sight. no question. Good thing she had a strong stomach. The second generation Istani glared at him. He hissed again, seeing her, something impossible to read in those inhuman eyes. An incoherent mumble, and he leveled his hands for another barrage. Ajuma met it this time with great swings of the hammer, calling forth the protective power of her own magics into warding against which the necromantic bolts were showers of iridescent green, like a million exploding beetles. Step by step she advanced, employing an old pattern of strikes, each of which left a warding veil between them. He didn't move to avoid her, and seemed surprised even when the head of the huge hammer drove upward into his ribcage, shattering it with a devastating force. Another blow to the toppling necromancer's face, pulping his head, and it was done. Ajuma spat down at the ended undead, battle-fury still singing in her veins. "The Order of Whispers sends our best, honey." It felt wrong though. This whole damned thing felt wrong. He hadn't remotely reacted predictably. He'd let her destroy him. Casting the hammer's haft down to fall with a clatter, Ajuma swore violently. Turning, she stomped to the various riches adorning her fallen enemy's cave dwelling, booting aside half melted pillows or waterpipes which had been in the way of his attacks. And kept swearing as she rummaged for some clue, any clue, to why Marketh al-Razthar had let her defeat him. She could have done it properly without a question, but had been expecting to emerge with a scratch or bruise at least. He'd let her do this. That was what was so maddening. Nothing. Spitting in her fury, the Istani turned and stomped back to the shattered body of the necromancer, and bent to heave up the hammer she'd used to crush his heart and brain. She brought it down once more on the crescent glittering in the oozing hole in his chest, leaving a puddle of wet flesh and ichor and worse as she stomped out of the cave toward her comrade Aziz, who'd accompanied her to the lonely cave. Behind her, in an alcove over the necromancer's well concealed bed, hidden by shadows and a natural curvature of the rock face, a very old oil painting hung. It showed a tall, beautiful dark-skinned Istani with high cheekbones and dark warm eyes, and beside her, a bald smiling Vabbian man with full lips and a cooler stare. They were arm in arm, each wearing Sunspear pendants, each in the armour of their order. It looked old, almost as old as the beginning of Palawa Joko's conquest of Elona. Almost as old as the family Mezthis, whose children had fled upon the murder of their Sunspear matriarch by her partner and fellow Sunspear, his name struck forever from the ranks and lost to time and memory.

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Connor McHockey Saves Fantasy Teams (March 25)

Connor McDavid is your new NHL scoring leader, thanks to two goals on Saturday. That gives him 38 goals and 96 points on the season. There may be a debate as to who the NHL’s most valuable player is, given how much certain players have had to do with the fortunes of their teams. Hockey’s best player is clearly McDavid, though. He’s 30 points clear of the Oilers’ next-highest scorer. Only Anze Kopitar and Taylor Hall have a larger gap on their respective teams. Could we still not make a Hart Trophy argument for McDavid, even with the Oils missing the playoffs? Think about where they would be without him. Wow.  

Most even-strength points this season:#Oilers Connor McDavid: 77 Nathan MacKinnon: 62 Nikita Kucherov: 61 Anze Kopitar: 60

— Sportsnet Stats (@SNstats) March 25, 2018

This is incredible if you’re an advanced stats kind of person. Maybe not so much in multicategory fantasy leagues, as it also means that McDavid isn’t elite when it comes to power-play points. As in 16 PPP, which is barely inside the top 100. The Oilers’ 14.3 percent power play (dead last in the NHL) might have something to do with that. More on that further down.  

You’ll know that it is no fun if you are facing McDavid in a head-to-head playoff battle right now. That’s the situation I’m in right now, where I am losing by a small margin to a McDavid owner. The guy also owns Nathan MacKinnon, Auston Matthews, and Nico Hischier thanks to last-place (or near-last place) finishes the last several seasons, along with trades for more top draft picks. It’s basically been a five-year rebuild for this team, and it’s just coming to fruition now. So if he can hold off my late-week charge, hats off to him for sticking through the rebuild.

So in that head-to-head match it was his first period McDavid goal, followed by my Jeff Carter assist less than a minute later. Then in the second period his McDavid goal, followed by my Jeff Carter goal just over two minutes later. Life happens quickly.

Speaking of which, Carter has been scoring at a near point-per-game pace (13 points in 15 games) since his return from injury. Carter’s return has also boosted Tanner Pearson, who has five goals and three assists in 12 games this month.

They may not be household names in most fantasy leagues, but Pontus Aberg and Ethan Bear are both receiving first-unit power-play minutes in Edmonton. It’s understandable that they are there for the Oilers, who at this point should be experimenting with anything to ensure next season’s power play is a vast improvement over this season’s. Aberg is a speedy talent who just couldn’t find room on a deep Nashville roster, while the rookie Bear’s shot from the point could prove to be an asset going forward.

By the way, Aberg has seven points (2g-5a) and a plus-5 over his last four games. So there’s some sneaky good value if you’re looking for it.

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Evander Kane’s fantasy value was falling as the season went on in Buffalo, so his fantasy owners should be relieved with his trade to San Jose. Kane continues to be a great fit for the Sharks, scoring another two goals with 11 penalty minutes on Saturday. That gives him seven goals and 12 points in 12 games with his new team. Kane has also been shooting a ton with the Sharks, averaging over four shots a game since the trade.

Before the trade, things weren’t trending in the right direction for E-Kane with just six points in 23 games over January and February with the Sabres. Even though he had racked up over 200 shots before the trade, Kane had averaged one shot less per game with the Sabres than he is now with the Sharks. It will be interesting to see where Kane lands in the offseason, but his keeper owners have to be pulling for a return to the Bay Area.

Brenden Dillon has been in the NHL long enough that we know that he’s not in the lineup for his offense. But it’s worth mentioning that with a goal and an assist on Saturday, he now has eight points over his last seven games. That puts him at a career high of 20 points. None of those points have been on the power play, so you shouldn’t ever be targeting him in pure points leagues. But he consistently reaches 60+ penalty minutes and 150+ hits, so he might be worth a look in those leagues while he’s hot.

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The Flames will have to play out the string on a disappointing season without Sean Monahan, their second-leading scorer. So how does Monahan’s absence affect the Flames’ line combinations?

17.63%  EV           GLASS,TANNER – HATHAWAY,GARNET – SHORE,NICK

16.99%  EV           BENNETT,SAM – GAUDREAU,JOHNNY – LAZAR,CURTIS

15.71%  EV           BACKLUND,MIKAEL – BROUWER,TROY – FROLIK,MICHAEL

14.74%  EV           FERLAND,MICHEAL – JANKOWSKI,MARK – STEWART,CHRIS

As expected Sam Bennett moved up to Johnny Gaudreau’s line, while Mikael Backlund moved up to the first-unit power play. It didn’t help either player, as both were held without a point and were minuses (Backlund was a minus-3). Backlund has been without a point in his last nine games, while Bennett is without a point in his last seven games. Not much to see in Calgary, so it’s probably best to move along.

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In his return to the Senators’ lineup after losing his unborn son, Erik Karlsson recorded an assist in 24:45 of icetime. Karlsson missed two games after the unfortunate news. Given the Senators’ situation, I would have thought Karlsson would decide shut it down instead. There shouldn’t be any precedent when something like this happens, though, as everyone handles grief differently. Jordan Staal missed a similar amount of time after losing his infant daughter, so maybe playing through after a short grieving period can be therapeutic for some. Best wishes to both Karlsson and Staal.

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Evgeny Kuznetsov returned to the Capitals’ lineup after missing the past week with an upper-body injury, scoring two goals. As we found out with Taylor Hall, streaks aren’t really streaks if they’re interrupted by injury. So to word it correctly, Kuznetsov has recorded multiple points in each of the last four games he has played in. That’s a total of nine points over his last four games.

Nicklas Backstrom recorded four assists on a depleted Habs team. After a stretch of six games without a point during February, Backstrom has been helping your team in March with 15 points (4g-11a) in his last 11 games.

Tom Wilson has reached must-own status in leagues that count penalty minutes. Wilson is second in the NHL with 181 penalty minutes, quite a distance from third-place Antoine Roussel and his 121 penalty minutes (the league leader is Micheal Haley with 203 penalty minutes, but just nine points). With two goals on Saturday, Wilson is up to 13 goals and 33 points, which nearly holds his own scoring-wise in medium-sized leagues.

How high will you rank Carey Price in your fantasy drafts next season? He could potentially be all over the map.  

Stat of the day. Carey Price has given up 4 goals or more in 17 of the 44 games in which he has started. #ouch #FallinForDahlin @smn013

— PJ Stock (@PJStock28) March 25, 2018

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One more injury return: Marc-Andre Fleury returned earlier than I had expected after taking a shot to his mask earlier in the week. He stopped 29 of 30 shots in what eventually became a shootout loss to the Avalanche.

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How’s this for a turnaround: Jake Allen has wins in five consecutive games and seven of his last eight games. Sometimes it helps to wait it out, as I had seen Allen banished to the waiver wire in at least one of my leagues. The turnaround was driven at least partially out of necessity, as Carter Hutton has been sidelined since early March, forcing the Blues to turn to Allen.

Compare his splits over the past three months:

January: 0-2-0, 4.93 GAA, .871 SV%

February: 1-5-0, 3.32 GAA, .877 SV%

March: 7-2-0, 2.00 GAA, .927 SV%

You would have struck gold if you picked him up at exactly the right time. I know firsthand that he was a significant reason that my season ended in one head-to-head league as my opponent (he will know who he is if he’s reading, and you may know who he is if you follow my timeline since he’s well-known in fantasy circles) did exactly that.

Allen and the Blues snapped Columbus’ ten-game win streak. No relief to those facing Cam Atkinson in head-to-head playoffs, though. Atkinson scored again, giving him six goals over his last six games. Because he won’t come close to reaching his 35 goals and 62 points from last season, Atkinson should fall a ways in single-season drafts next season. That could make him a great rebound candidate and value pick. Dobber would agree.

Since being acquired by the Blue Jackets, Thomas Vanek has nine points (4g-5a) and a plus-9 in 13 games. Playing for his 17th and 18th NHL teams this season (okay, I’m slightly exaggerating), Vanek has quietly put together another 20-goal and 50-point season. That’s inexpensive production, as he’s only 15 percent owned in Yahoo leagues.

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After a stretch of 13 games without a goal, William Nylander has scored three goals in his last four games. A considerable portion of that slump was without Auston Matthews in the lineup, so any future Matthews injuries should be viewed as a resulting hit to Nylander’s value.

Here’s a nice goal that involved the two young Leafs.

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It’s all or nothing with Jimmy Vesey in March. From mid-February to mid-March, Vesey recorded just one point in 13 games. Then on March 12 he posted a hat trick. Then four more games without a point. Then Saturday when he scored two goals and added an assist. Among players who have at least 17 goals (which Vesey has), only Michael Grabner has fewer assists than Vesey’s eight assists. But with a minus-22, 16 penalty minutes, and just one power-play point, Vesey isn’t going to help your team beyond the goal department.

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The Coyotes had a 2-0 lead on the Panthers after two periods. Then Vincent Trocheck took over, scoring two goals and adding an assist. Trocheck continues to get better and better, as he has now reached 30 goals and is on the verge of reaching 70 points. Trocheck does so much for his real-life team with over 21 minutes of icetime per game, which is top 5 among forwards. He has also been providing for his fantasy teams, as he is a near top-10 option in shots on goal and a top-20 option in power-play points. He won’t come nearly as cheap in fantasy drafts next season, as his average draft position was 168 in Yahoo leagues – yes, that's correct!

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For more fantasy hockey information, you can follow me on Twitter @Ian_Gooding.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-connor-mchockey-saves-fantasy-teams-march-25/