#I have really specific changes in mind for how I would redo miraculous

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, controversial topic. taking in count that in a month, the webcomic "scarlet lady" is gonna end ¿what are your feelings about it?

I know that there's people out there that don't like it for the chloe salt, but i have to admit that the damnation that chloe went through, at least for me, gave her more agency than canon, for the fact that it wasn't manipulated by outside forces like canon did, it gave her the right to choose to be better or worse.

Another great element is that it does what canon refused to do: five back Adrian his agency by letting him vent his frustrations AND let him realize that his father is a bastard.

If you don't agree, that's more than excellent, i want to know your take in this topic, that being positive or negative 😄👍

My friend, you are talking to a big Scarlet Lady fan, so I'm happy to give my thoughts! Get ready for some gushing and in-depth discussion of the adaptation process. That's really what all fanfiction is, but Scarlet Lady is more of an adaptation than most since it's a true canon rewrite that often requires you to know canon to fully appreciate its jokes and meta commentary.

Before we get into it, I want to give a link to the comic for those who haven't read it. The artist/writer is @zoe-oneesama and this is page one of the comic. I'd follow the comic link if you haven't read it as the comic is nearing its end, so going straight to Zoe's page will spoil you on elements of ending.

General Thoughts on Adaptation

Adaptation is an art, not a science. There are things that are objective elements of a story. Things you really cannot change if you want people to feel like you're telling an adaptation of a given tale. But there are also plenty of elements that are more subjective. Things some people might consider vital, but that aren't truly necessary to stay true to the story's core. (Yes, the character core thing applies to stories too!)

For example, to be a Cinderella adaptation, you need to have some sort of big reveal moment where "the prince" finds Cinderella, but that moment doesn't need to involve a slipper and the prince doesn't need to be an actual prince. My favorite modern Cinderella adaptation is A Cinderella Story: Once Upon a Song and it twists both of those elements while keeping the major story beats in place, making it fully deserving of the Cinderella label while also being its own unique story that isn't a straight retelling, it's an adaptation.

I bring all this up because, as readers of this blog may have already guessed, Scarlet Lady does a lot of things that I personally would not do when adapting Miraculous. A big one being that I prefer a more complex take on Gabriel, but that's simply a matter of preference. A complex Gabriel is not a requirement for adapting Miraculous. Complex Gabriel vs comedic villain Gabriel is just a choice you have to make when it comes to adapting canon because canon is such a mess that both options have straight up backing in the source text. Even if they didn't, Gabriel's core role - villain - is one that leaves you a lot of room for interpretation based on other factors that we'll talk about in a second.

I'll close off this section with this: having read all of Scarlet Lady, I'll be so bold as to say that Zoe and I almost perfectly align when it comes to identifying the flaws in Miraculous because I've agreed with pretty much every change she's made. She did a fantastic job staying true to the core of canon while also telling the story she wanted to tell. It's not the way I'd redo canon, but it doesn't need to be for me to call it a fantastic story. Plus a lot of the different choices I'd make come down to narrative style and tone.

Narrative Style and Tone

I'm a novelist at heart, which means that I favor serialized storytelling. For those who don't know that word, it means stories that are one coherent whole just broken into chunks. Stories where the order matters. You can't start watching at a random episode, you have to start at the beginning. And skipping an episode usually means that you'll have no idea what's going on.

Miraculous is not a serialized show. It's primarily an episodic show, a word that means that episode order doesn't matter. Every installment stands alone.

Obviously Miraculous isn't completely episodic, but that's fine. Purely episodic narratives are rare these days. Most stories have at least minor serialized elements even if those elements are often ignored for multiple episodes at a time. This is where both Miraculous and Scarlet Lady fall. They're mostly episodic stories with serialized elements popping up every now and then.

Miraculous does this element poorly because it acts like it's a purely episodic show and then takes that to an absurd extreme. Rules, characters, and lore can never be counted on to stay the same from episode to episode even though that's not actually how episodic stories work. Scarlet Lady doesn't make this mistake. It understands that episodic narratives should have STORIES that stand alone, but that the WORLD the stories take place in must stay consistent.

Now that we've gone over the basic format stuff, let's talk about tone.

Generally speaking, tone is the vibe of your story. It can be serious, silly, dramatic, and so on. One of Miraculous' biggest flaws is that its tone is all over the place. It's a silly romcom that brings in serious topics in serious ways and then handles them with all the grace of a hippo performing ballet in a china shop because of course it does! Those topics are horribly suited to the show's overall tone so it has no way to properly address them.

This is one of the many things I love about Scarlet Lady. It takes the show's absurdist tone and honors it. That's why Zoe's version of Gabriel works so well! He's a silly cartoony villain in a silly cartoony comic as he should be. It's also why my versions of Gabriel tend to be more complex. More serious serialized narratives are where more serious complex villains thrive. Neither option is better than the other, it all comes down to how you're adapting the original work. Zoe's choices are perfect for her version's style and tone. If mine are even close to that good for my preferred style and tone, then I'll be a happy author.

Narrative Weight & The Chloe Thing

This is getting long, so I'll end with a note on Chloe since you brought her up as it's another great example of the fact that there are very few choices that are inherently right or wrong when it comes to adaptation.

I don't know if I'd say that I'm a Chloe fan, but I certainly don't hate her. I also love what Zoe did with the character! It's a prime example of a thing that I've talked about before: the issue with Chloe is not a lack of redemption. The issue is that Chloe was given too much narrative weight to be what canon made her.

Quick definition: narrative weight is the importance a narrative places on a person, event, thing, etc. The more time you dedicate to an element of your narrative, the more weight that element has in the eyes of your audience. The more they expect the element to matter. The way that you develop the element will also shape audience expectations.

In the context of canon, Chloe has more development than almost any other side character. We know more about her family, her childhood, her personality, and so on. This was an absurd choice for canon to make because Chloe is not actually important to the story they told. You could pull her out of canon and almost nothing would change. Gabriel can make akumas do whatever he wants so, lore wise, he didn't need Miracle Queen. In fact, he arguably shouldn't have made Miracle Queen. He could have just taken the miracle box and jumped right into the plot of season five. Similarly, Chloe being mayor was an absurd one-note moment that's easily replaced with something more logical.

Because of this, there are a lot of things you can do when adapting Chloe. Everything from turning her back into a one-dimensional mean girl to redeeming her to what Zoe did: take Chloe's narrative weight and petty brat behavior and lean into both to make Chloe a main antagonist while also acknowledging the fact that Chloe is a messed up teenage girl who needs some serious help. I'm super excited to see the end of Chloe's arc in Scarlet Lady as I think it's going to be one of my favorites in the fandom. That is admittedly not a high bar as I'm very picky when it comes to Chloe content. I think most of it falls flat because most of it fails to let Chloe hit some sort of rock bottom when she absolutely needs to if you want to do anything interesting with her. She's not the kind of person who will easily change or see the error of her ways.

Conclusion

Scarlet Lady is a fantastic adaption of Miraculous and Zoe is a fantastic and funny adapter. The comic might not be to your tastes - and that's fine, nothing has universal appeal - but it's still a great example of how to honor source material while doing your own thing with it, which is a true skill. One of the problems with many modern retellings and reboots is that the people running the show don't understand how to adapt a narrative. They take far too much creative freedom and end up with something that doesn't feel anything like the source.

If I found out that Zoe somehow got hired to adapt something I love, then I wouldn't have any concerns. I'd have no idea what she'd do with it, but I'd be confident that it wouldn't spit in the face of the thing I love. I'd personally read a hundred Miraculous re-imaginings with her at the helm.

[teawinx]

Hey, I just wanted to say that all of your redesigns are absolutely amazing!

You put so much passion and love into your art and I love how you convey character and story through the designs.

But I wanted to ask about Kagami’s redesign, more specifically her hero costume’s color pallet.

In canon, we’ve got three female Asian superheroes, Marinette as Ladybug, Kagami and Ryuko, and Fei Wu as Ladydragon, and all of them wear red as the primary color in their superhero costumes.

While red dragons do exist in East Asian mythology and folklore, they’re more often associated with the sun, like Zhulong, or are consider symbols of good luck and prosperity, which is supposed to be Ladybug’s shtick. The Dragon Miraculous has weather based powers, and Asian dragons associated the weather, like Shenlong, are traditionally depicted as blue, green, or azure.

Just something to keep in mind if you ever consider redoing some of your redesign or get to redesigning Fei Wu.

Hi hello yes!

First of all thank you so much!!! You're so sweet and I'm so glad you enjoy my redesigns!

And yes that is an excellent point! I think it's really really lame how all the Asian superheroes are in red and/or dragon themed. I'm honestly shocked Sabine hasn't become "Mother Dragon" or something yet.

I do plan on working Fei Wu and the Prestigious (or whatever it's called) into my redesigned au. And I have plans to radically change the power and animal association, and the colours. I won't say too much for now because I'm actually not 100% certain of any details and don't want to confirm something that's liable to change.

A blue green or azure dragon sounds so gorgeous and it would be a shame to let that go to waste.

I decided that animal breeds vary depending on the wearer in this au. Ex the dog breed changes to reflect the wearer's personality. And this will extend to colours. So when I eventually do Dragonbug, she's also going to have some very different colours from red.

Ryuko is on a list called "Re-redesigns that are subject to change in the future" (tm), if I ever do rework her I'll keep your advice in mind!

Thanks again!

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 34 - Heartbreaker

Author’s Note: This chapter is mostly hero interactions. There isn't too much Lila, you're welcome. As I'm sure you guessed from the title, we've got an akuma, so the reference slides are here.

Chapter Summary: All five heros go on patrol.

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“Well, this is the first patrol with all of Paris’ new heroes,” Ladybug declares after a quick introduction.

Kit Mime whoops excitedly, and Honey Bee and Tortue Verte high-five.

“Chat and I are very excited, we’ve never had patrol with five heroes before, and we’ve obviously never been on a patrol with all of you specifically.”

“The point of a patrol,” Chat adds seriously, “is to fit in as many puns as you can. If we are successful, we may get Ladybug to smile - or even laugh - at one. This is the highest honor.”

Tortue nods. Honey Bee and Ladybug groan.

“Challenge accepted!” Kit cheers.

“This is going to be the end of me,” Honey sighs, and Ladybug pats her comfortingly.

“I lost my job at the bank on the first day. A lady asked me to check her balance so I pushed her,” Chat starts.

Kit grins. “Well they just didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation.” “Wow! Would you look at the time! We should really start pa-” Ladybug is interrupted as Kit and Chat speak in unison.

“Pawtrol!”

Ladybug sighs, swinging to the next roof. The rest follow her.

“Two windmills were standing on a wind farm. One of them asked the other what kind of music they liked and it said ‘I’m a big metal fan’.”

That one earns a laugh from both Tortue and Chat, as well as a speed increase from the girls.

“Hey, Honey, what do you call a bee that can’t make up her mind?” Chat calls.

“You just call her a bee. No. Puns.”

“A maybe!”

“When the past present and future go camping they argue. It’s intense tense in tents.”

Chat nods solemnly, “It’s too time-consuming, so the past and future go in opposite directions, and the present just stays there.”

Tortue claps. “Good job on th’ tag teamin’ with that one!”

“Let me tell you about my grandfather, he was a good man, a brave man. He had the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the zoo.’

Chat laughs, “That one was good.”

Unnoticed by any of them, Ladybug smiles softly at Chat’s laughter. It had been too long since she’d last heard that.

Eventually, the puns die down in favor of a proper conversation. It’s hard to do the usual get-to-know-you questions when they aren’t supposed to know too much about their civilian sides.

After they struggle for a little bit, Ladybug looks up some on her yo-yo, “Alright, if you could hire someone to help you, would it be with cleaning, cooking, or something else?”

“Cooking,” Chat says immediately, “Not only am I terrible at it, but it’d be a good excuse for my friend to come over more.”

“Ooh, that’s a fair point. Very claw-ver. Just ‘hire’ them to make something crazy easy and then you hang out for the rest of their ‘shift’.”

“I’m not sure if I’d need a ton of help with either of those.” Honey shrugs, Ladybug nods in agreement.”

“Probably cleaning, but it wouldn’t be too important,” Tortue decides.

Kit nods, “Same here, though my friends would probably argue that it’s very necessary.” Ladybug nods, “As a kid, did you eat the crusts on your sandwich or not? I did.”

“Oddly enough, I didn’t,” Honey says, “I think I was rebelling or something. One of my friends didn’t either, maybe it was a solidarity thing?” “I did,” Tortue and Chat chime in.

“Nope!” Kit adds, “I was stubborn about it.”

“If you only had one of the five senses, which would you want? Touch, taste, sight, smell, or hearing?”

“Ooh, uh…” Tortue pauses, considering.

After some deliberation, Ladybug speaks up hesitantly, “I’d have to go with sight. It’d be pretty necessary for one of my hobbies.”

“Same here, but with hearing,” Honey agrees.

“Ever since getting my miraculous, I’ve had better sight and hearing, so they’re both important to me, but I’m with you - hearing,” Chat says. Then he winks, “I guess I was blinded by your beauty, my Lady.”

She sighs, ignoring her blush, “I was probably deafened by your terrible puns.”

Tortue is still thinking, “It’s odd that of the five senses, we all kinda’ disregarded three o’ them. It’s between sight an’ hearin’ and we all kind’ agree that the others aren’t necessary - least in comparison.”

“That is kind of weird - that we all value sight and vision over the other three.”

“Ooh!” Kit jumps, suddenly thinking of something, “Would you rather have sight and hearing, but no touch, smell or taste, or have touch, smell and taste, but no sight and hearing?”

“I’d have to go with sight and hearing…” Honey decides. The others nod in agreement.

Chat turns to Tortue and Kit, “Okay, but if you could only have one of the five sense, which would it be? You guys haven’t answered yet.”

“Hearing,” Tortue says.

Kit’s tail flicks indecisively. Similarly to Chat’s belt, the length of fabric seems to be both part of the costume and an addition to his body. He could probably move it purposefully if he thought about it.

“Ughhhhh, I don’t know… I guess… sight?”

The others nod in acceptance.

Ladybug smirks at her screen as she looks for the next one, “I think they phrased this one wrong, because it’s sort of… well here, I’ll just read it. If you could snap your fingers and instantly make the world better, what would you do?”

There’s a brief pause, then in unison, the other four say, “...snap my fingers?”

She snorts, “Exactly! Alright, here’s a better one. If you could relive one moment of your life, which would it be and why?”

“Can we relive it to change it, or relive it to just be there again?” Chat asks.

“How about one of each?” Honey Bee suggests, “Something to change and something to relive.”

Ladybug nods. “Just remember to be vague.”

Chat smiles softly, “I’d relive the last time I saw my mom.”

The new members look at him in surprise, processing his statement and everything it implies. Ladybug just smiles at him, “Good choice, Kitty.”

Kit, Tortue, and Honey nod.

“Probably when I first saw my little sister,” Tortue says, “To relive, that is.”

Ladybug looks towards Chat, but not quite at him, “This may seem odd, but the Heroes’ Day when all those people got akumatized? Outside of the attack, especially afterwards… it was a nice day.”

Chat is the only one to catch the slightly wistful look on her face, and squeezes her hand softly. Ladybug leans against his shoulder.

“When my little brothers were born. They aren’t twins, but I just can’t choose, so both,” Honey decides.

That leaves Kit the only one left to decide a moment to relive, and all of them a moment to change.

“Hmm, if Honey can choose multiple moments that are similar can I? ‘Cause then I’ll choose the times I met each of my friends.”

“I’ll accept that,” Tortue says. No one protests, as it’s really not like there’s any reason to be entirely strict about it.

“I know what I’d change. When I first went into class at the beginning of the year one year, I yelled at some boy that looked like he was trying to put gum on my seat. Turns out I had jumped to conclusions - he’d been trying to remove it.”

Honey shakes her head in sympathy, but Chat smirks, “My Lady, are you telling me you want to change the first time we met? I’m hurt!”

“Wait! You yelled at Chat Noir the first time you met as civilians?!” Kit yelps.

Ladybug groans, “Yeah. That was before even Stoneheart though, so technically he wasn’t Chat yet.”

Tortue whistles, “That was a while back then.”

“Mhm.”

“I missed one day the first day back this year, and uh, something eventful happened to say the least. I’d want to be there,” Chat decides. Ladybug frowns.

That wasn’t his fault.

“I met someone new last year. At first they seemed somewhat annoying, and then they revealed that they were an actual monster, so uh, I’d like to slap them across the face the first time I saw them or something,” Honey Bee says flatly.

“That’s not very nice,” Tortue reprimands half-heartedly.

“Well, neither are they.”

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’ll go next!” Kit chimes in, “Hmm, I think that if I could redo any part of my life, I would- oh I know. I’d have myself watch where I’m stepping more. For my dignity and secrecy’s sake I won’t go into detail, but I tripped over something and it was… bad. I was fine, but the things around me?” They shake their head.

“I’d’ve started therapy earlier,” Tortue shrugs, “I spent too long overthinkin’ it.”

Ladybug pulls a few more questions, and eventually they call it a night.

“One last thing, I felt it would be nice to let you know that I may be calling on you a little more frequently for some time. Something has come up in Chat’s civilian life, and it’s unlikely he’ll be able to join me for most battles.”

The others nod, then, as planned, one after the other they take off, taking a slightly extended route to their homes so as to not get an idea of where the others live. Chat and Ladybug come by, take their miraculous, help them from their roof to a window, and go.

Chat retrieves the Fox and the Turtle, while Ladybug grabs the Bee. She’s got a promise to keep.

“Chloe? Are you still up?” The heroine knocks on the window.

The blonde steps out onto the balcony, “Ladybug?”

Ladybug smiles, “A while ago I made a promise,” she pulls out the box, “Chloe Bourgeois, this is the miraculous of the Bee. While it is currently not in urgent need, I am trusting you to use it simply to talk to Pollen, the Bee Kwami.”

Chloe is nodding tearfully, and only reaches to grab the miraculous when Ladybug holds it out to her. As the yellow glow indicates Pollen’s arrival, Ladybug walks a few meters away to give them space.

After a few minutes, Chat lands beside her. He takes in the sight before him.

Chloe has stopped crying, and is chatting animatedly with Pollen, who seems just as happy to see her.

“So, Bug, you’re letting her say goodbye?”

She nods, “She deserves this at least.”

When she yawns, he gives her a look.

“I’m fine, Kitty. You know I won’t have much stamina until spring, that’s all.”

He crosses his arms. “Mhm. Well, I’ll be taking Pollen back to Fu either way. You’re going home to rest.” He pauses, ears flattening, “You deserve a chance to rest before I leave you to fend for yourself. Please don’t overwork yourself.”

She puts a gentle hand to his arm, “It’s not your fault. Remember that.”

“I could get away-”

“But we both know that would only make things worse. No, as awful as this is, it’s for the best.”

“I still feel bad,” he mutters.

“That’s because you’re just good like that. I can’t tell you what to feel, and I won’t try to, but can I at least have you promise to remember that I’m not mad at you about this? It’s for the best that you don’t give those two any more chances to do anything.”

He smiles, “When did you become the one comforting me?”

“When a cat rewrote some dumb rules I had in a book.”

Chat breaks into a wide smile at her words. This is the first time he’s heard her mention the rules without putting any credence in them. He laughs in excitement, sweeping her up into a big hug, “Bugaboo, I’m so proud of you!”

She laughs, returning the hug as he sets her down.

After a few more minutes, Chloe approaches.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir, here’s the miraculous back.”

She hands them the comb, back in the still-open box. Pollen hugs her cheek, and the two say their final goodbyes. Ladybug waits until they wave at each other before shutting the box.

Chloe takes a shaky breath, “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, Chloe. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

She nods at them both, “Goodnight both of you.”

With that she turns around and heads back inside.

As Chat turns in the direction of Fu’s place, Ladybug grabs his arm gently, “Chaton, come back to my place tonight. You shouldn’t have to be alone in that place any longer than you need to be.”

Chat smirks, wiggling his eyebrows, “Goodness, Ladybug! At least buy me dinner first.”

She turns as read as her suit, “Th-that’s not what I m-meant and you know it!”

“It’s still fun messing with you.”

She huffs, scowling.

“I will though. Thank you,” he whispers more seriously.

---

“I am Heartbreaker! No one else will have to be in a relationship with anyone other than their soulmate!”

Adrien is honestly somewhat happy to see this akuma. Maybe if he and Lila get hit, the date can end early.

He and the girl are standing just outside of the cafe that they just exited. The akuma before them is dressed in various shades of red and pink, with black thrown in for good measure. You know, because otherwise you might think this is a love akuma, but with the black, well obviously it’s completely different.

Applause for Hawkmoth, everyone. Color genius over here.

The woman’s skin has turned pink, and her hair is a similarly dark shade of pink, pulled back into two braids along the side of her head before simply becoming pigtails. The bodice is a purpley-red color that turns to black as it falls down, covering the skirt. The bodice turns into a broken heart shape on both sides, the jagged split down the middle giving the dress four long tails that drag behind her. The skirt itself, poofy and wide, is brighter pink, each layer of it being darker until it becomes a dangerous shade of red and ending at her knees. Her black tights cover her legs, and she’s wearing black heels.

In her hand is a wand. It has a heart as the topper with a crown shape around it, only there’s a split down the middle.

With such an obvious theme, did she really need to announce her name?

Before he can decide anything, and before Lila can pull them into some confined space to ‘wait out the attack’, a red figure lands beside them.

Ladybug looks at them, as if surprised, “Oh, you two were just on a date, weren’t you? Well, it’s not safe for you two to be together, given the nature of this akuma. Mr. Agreste is certainly more recognizable than you, Ms… Rocky? It’d be safer if I take him to a secure location. You can wait out the attack inside.”

Then, before either can even process all of that, Adrien is swept up and away to the rooftops.

“Hey, thought I’d do some extra heroing on the side. How are you holding up?”

“I- uh, what? Better now I guess,” he’s still processing. Whenever he’s on a date he kind of just… leaves his own mind for the most part. Switching out of that state suddenly is a bit startling.

She frowns, clearly still unhappy about the Lila arrangement.

“Bug, as much as I appreciate the rescue, shouldn’t you have left me with her? She’ll get me in trouble when my phone tracker isn’t working,” he points out.

To his surprise, Ladybug smirks, “That’s true, she will try to track your phone. It’s such a shame then that she’s got your phone. Tsk, tsk. What is she to do?”

Adrien pats himself down, quickly realizing that he does, in fact, seem to be missing his phone.

Plagg flies out, cackling, “That was slick, Baby Bug!”

“Anything for my partner. Anyways, I’m going to head to the akuma, and you can join me in a few so it doesn’t seem suspicious.”

---

The attack finally ends when the akuma finally hits them with a beam from her wand. When other couples had been hit, they’d seen the faults of their partner so clearly that many were overwhelmed and broke up on the spot.

Plenty seemed fine, but had still needed a moment to adjust to viewing their significant other in a new light. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just different, and change will always need adjustment time.

When Ladybug and Chat get hit, turn to each other, and see… each other. Sure, there are faults they noted, but nothing that they didn’t already have an idea of. They’ve been together for a long time, and spent almost an entire summer as each other’s sole company. They’ve helped each other at their lowest, and already know the other through and through.

The akuma is shocked, and seems to be growing angry. Before she can do anything however, Ladybug shoots out her yo-yo, stealing the wand and snapping it over her knee.

Purifying the akuma, she waves at the white insect, “Bye bye, little butterfly. Miraculous Ladybug!”

Chat comes up to her side, “Pound it!”

“I can help her, you’d better go somewhere and pretend you were waiting out the attack. Don’t forget - Lila took your phone. She didn’t want you to be distracted.” Ladybug winks, then heads over to the victim.

He nods, hesitating momentarily to take one last look at his Lady before hurrying off to a much less pleasant activity.

---

Author’s Note: Lila is no match for our resident phone thief over here.

Someone didn't promise not to overwork herself~

In case you guys were wondering what Kit Mime was trying to reference for what he'd change, it wasn't something from the story. I decided that in one of his early performances, Child Claude tripped over something and everything went wrong. Disastrous.

Akuma reference slides here!

I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

EDIT: Someone drew Heartbreaker!!! You can see her here! She’s gorgeous, and I love her so much!!

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[deadinsidedressage]

Anonymous Barn Drama #28

The Worst USPC Show Jump Rally, Literally Ever: Part 2

You’ve Never Seen a Little Kid Truly Devastated Until a Whole Team of Them Are DQ’d

Well, the Rally rolls around.  Let me start with a really brief breakdown of how Rallies function: 

Everyone has to arrive before a certain time, you can overnight or morning of.

Everyone has to set up all their stalls and tackroom/feed room between specific time parameters (generally it’s roughly an hour to do so)

Parents are not allowed. At all. Ever. Trainers are not allowed outside of the warm-up ring.

You have 3 rides in a Show Jump Rally: Equitation, Take Your Own Line, and Normal Knockdown w/ Jump Off

The morning competition starts (or at times the night before, wholly dependent on whose hosting the Rally & official times, OR both) everyone has to do official jogs and get their horses passed for competition. This literally involves SOME version of everyone being in a line for way too long.

Horse Management judging breaks down like this:

Your tack trunk/feed room/WHOLE setup is judged all at one time. You can regain points if you can prove they just missed something, usually your Stable Manager helps walk them though.

Your cleanliness of stalls & overall well-being of the horses is generally judged at least once more in an unannounced walk-through, sometimes they do 2 or 3 walkthroughs

You have an official judging of you cleanliness and turnout ONCE the whole weekend, other times you are just given a safety check before riding. 

You are judged on the condition of your horse, tack, & boots an HOUR after your last ride of the day is completed (Rallies are generally 2 days of riding)

NOW, keep all the above in mind.  So, let’s start with the night we all roll in. We’re allowed to bring in the tack trunk but not set it up, are allowed to set up the feed room since we have to feed and at this Rally everyone had to be there by 8pm or something stupid like that because it was SUCH a big Rally that we needed to start riding ASAP in the morning. The horse I brought is on the smaller end, BUT has horrible, horrible ground manners. Charges the stall door when opened, kicks at anything and everything, and desperately wants to bite everyone to death. Obviously none of the kids can or should be handling this horse. Which also means... I can’t help them because I’m too busy keeping this horse from going on a murder spree. Now the OTHER upper level riding brought a 17.2hh RIGHT off the track OTTB. Literally, it’s been maybe 2 full months AND he was raced up until the end. He’s TOO big for his own good and just the flightiest, stupidest motherfucker. Clearly none of the children can or should handle him either. Which means SHE also cannot help any of the children.  Our Stable Managers (SMs) consist of one 17 year old and one 7 year old. The 7 year old is useless. Cue one 17 year old trying to user 8 horse & rider combos down to jogs with the appropriate footwear, helmets, gloves, and competitor numbers. Cue all but one of the 6 children combos not being used to leading their ponies EVER and therefore this being an impossible task. Imagine my 17 y.o. SM singing “The Impossible Dream” and sobbing as she tries to herd one thousand cats that are just spraying piss and that’s probably a pretty close mental image to how this went down. We all end up being cleared, BUT we’re not cleared until almost midnight. We’ve been in that line since 8:30. All those kids were tired. I was tired. My friend was tired. The two green jackasses were somehow NOT tired and had never ceased their shit.  So it’s day one of riding. We have the EQ & make your own course rides. Already in the morning everything is a clusterfuck. One of the ponies does not have a breakaway halter and NONE of the ponies have emergency contact on their halters. If you do not have these things, you lose points. We make tape tags and realize we’re already off to a bad start with our Horse Management (HM) score. At some point between either taking the 6 children to get either their coursewalks in or hot chocolate OR a group pee break... the pony without the breakaway has a... different fucking halter on...  The only way that pony had a different halter on would be if a parent came into the barn and changed it. Parents are not allowed in. The entire team will be disqualified, not allowed to ride, and sent home if someone finds out a parent came in. We’re paranoid as fuck and make the pony another tape tag. We pray this doesn’t happen again. But it does. Approximately three more times. Two of which happened inbetween judges coming through so we lose a total of 4 points for this pony’s halter because the two times they come through the pony has a different non-breakaway (-1) and non-tagged (-1) halter. Jesus fuck.  They started with the super high classes, came down to about 3′3 (1m) at this Rally before then building back up from the trot poles. Idk what the method to their madness was, but I just remember we had a pretty long time before we needed to actually get ready for inspections and our first rides.  During ANOTHER break for either food or peeing or the kids wanted to look at the people selling sweatshirts... we come to find a pony has disappeared. The three young adults are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT until the little girl who belongs to that pony goes “Oh, he needs to be lunged before I ride him so my trainer probably came in and took him.” What. The. Fuck. 

Again, if this was discovered we would ALL be disqualified and sent home. The official ruling at the time was that if a horse needed to be lunged it could be lunged by anyone on the team who was a C2 or above BUT couldn’t be lunged by someone not on the team. I was a C3, my friend was a C2, my SM was an HB. One of us could have legally lunged that pony...  Oh and it should be noted that the trainer who lunged the pony ended up not even being the same trainer we had paid to coach our team. One of these girl’s mom’s literally paid her regular trainer to drive a 1 1/2 hour distance to lung this pony ILLEGALLY for 30 minutes.

This is where the real fun begins. Formal inspections. So, as stated in the last part of this story; my friend and I are competing at a lower level than the children on our team which means we have to leave to do formals and ride before them. WHICH MEANS we cannot help get any of them ready. We are not able to get any help while tacking up our horses because of aforementioned issues with the horses themselves BUT ALSO a) My SM is literally have to babysit 7 kids b) These kids don’t know how to tack up c) Even if my SM could help, she wouldn’t have time to help 2 riders AND have enough time to get 6 kids ready. She starts trying to orchestrate 6 kids getting ready when both of us upper level girls are about halfway through getting ready. We with her godspeed and leave.  We both end up having GREAT formal inspections, both get a lot of exceeds standards and no loss of points. We ALSO both have amazing EQ rounds. We’re feeling like we’re on cloud nine! We go back into the warm-up arena to cooldown and all 6 children are THERE, so that’s GOOD. When our horses are chill, we leave and prep for the upcoming follow-up inspections.  What we learn upon returning: There wasn’t a single child who didn’t manage to get at minimum 5 points off. This is thanks to none of them knowing how to put ANY tack on their horse, insisting they HAD to have their standing martingales on (NOT LEGAL TACK, -1 AND REMOVED), and apparently readjusting a bunch of shit on their horses after the SM had put them in line for their formals and since they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing they just fucked it all up.  My favorite is the girl whose trainer insisted her horse needed SMBs put the SMBs on backwards. As in the part the fetlock clearly goes in was on the front of the ankle. She was the oldest kid too.  What we learn upon ride scores being posted: All of the kids were at minimum 90 seconds over optimum time (factored into the EQ score) because they apparently refused to canter and the trainer being  used as the coach for our team thought there was somehow a different optimum time for ponies despite IT BEING LISTED THAT OPTIMUM TIME SHOULD BE DOABLE FOR PONIES and the THERE’S ONLY ONE OPTIMUM TIME. So, we’re already completely fucked over for placing in this competition. Both teams are so dead last it’s laughable because there is no way in hell we will ever catch up to any of the other teams. We’re just in competition for who between our two teams will be second to last.  We manage to be successful in not racking up anymore bad points for the “turnback” inspections (which are basically, hey is your stall clean did you clean your horse and did you clean your tack again). Miraculous. HOWEVER... during the inspections of our tack trunk/everything else we manage to earn over 20 negative points PER TEAM.  PER GODDAMN TEAM. So all the stuff that we didn’t have that that one mother offered to buy? She didn’t. She bought like one tube of neosporin and called it good. The grooming boxes we wanted to go through with the kids? Yeah, none of the kids had the right brushes... or wash buckets and sponges... OH AND, when they checked the overall cleanliness of the stalls, well that was after the one competent SM had trucked 6 kids down to get their formals done and she hadn’t had time to pick out 6 stalls yet. Cause... none of those kids were going to do it. In fact they straight up refused.  So we are SUPER fucking deadlast.  Second round of rides are Take Your Own Line, I grew up knowing that if you didn’t want to put any effort into designing a course you could just redo the EQ course and it was FINE. No one CARED. You don’t get extra points for creativity. Right so, all 6 kids want to come up with some special course. None of these kids understand crossing their line. Apparently when they have the coach review their courses he doesn’t notice it either. He ALSO doesn’t notice that the start/end line is just the middle of the direction and you have to pass it FACING the gate to start and pass it AWAY from the gate to end. He ends up okaying 7 courses that are going to get disqualified for crossing the line or not entering the start flags.  Now, side note: I hate this coach and did not pay for his coaching and refused his coaching. I try and point out the start/finish line but he fucking hates me back so he insists he’s correct. I’m like okay whatever I’m repeating the EQ course but making sure I cross this way instead. SIMPLE.  My friend gets DQ’d for not crossing start before going over her first fence. All 6 kids get DQ’d for that OR if they make it past that they get DQ’d on their 2nd or 3rd fence for crossing their line.  I had a really super round if anyone cares.  We end up doing a team/club dinner when we’re dismissed for the night and it consists of 6 children sobbing about the unfairness of the world because they were all DQ’d and had the worst EQ scores I’ve ever seen at a USPC Rally thanks to the optimum time shit. The coach is too ashamed to show his face.  BUT WAIT, IT ONLY GETS BETTER ON DAY 2 OF RIDES!

[kivaember]

Title: Ascension Summary: Azamat takes on a seemingly simple job: retrieve an ancient relic for the First God’s cult. Unfortunately, this relic is valuable enough that everyone in Sodom wants it, including himself. Now he’s just got to figure out how to find it, shake the babysitter his employers sent with him to watch him, and get made for life. A/N: I HAVE DONE A COMPLETE OVERHAUL ON THIS. So my old original fic… I was redoing some parts, and then I decided to completely overhaul it. Some parts are the same, like Azamat being a greedy asshole, but Geis’s character has changed a bit, as well as Azamat’s siblings, and the general plot has been adjusted as well. I prefer this a lot better, since I feel this way would allow more world-building and explain the plot a bit better as it advances. Anywho, please enjoy…!

The clacks of bamboo striking bamboo echoed around the crumbling courtyard. In the centre, with the blazing Sodom sun glaring down at the cracked flagstones, two small figures whirled around in graceful, sweeping movements, swinging the bamboo sticks in a flurry of motions, striking rapidly and harshly against one another. Their blinding white robes made them seem ethereal, sunlight glinting off of their metal rings clamped around their thin ankles and wrists, bare feet stirring up clouds of dirt that muddied the very hems of those robes.

Azamat watched these figures from the shadow of a stone arch, the door long since rotted away into nothing. His blue eyes tracked the dancing figures’ movements, the spin of the bamboo and the sweep of the white robes, his handsome face set in an expression of intense curiosity. Those figures were disciples of God Irre – the very first god to preside over Sodom – and, if Azamat recalled correctly, those disciples, human children no more than ten, were practicing one of the basic tenants of Irre’s religion:

“Thou shall take the blade and turn it upon those with unclean blood. Wash the streets with filthy red, until the cries of the heathens fill the sky!”

Of course, not much heathen killing happened in the name of Irre anymore, but the tradition of being skilled with the sword remained in his loyal followers. Irre… the first god, but certainly the maddest. The amount of people killed during that god’s lengthy reign was mind-boggling. Sodom had been reduced to a land of pillaging and bloodshed – exciting place to be at the time. But, that had been twenty thousand years ago. Humans were a lot more… sophisticated now.

Supposedly.

“Mister Azamat?”

The voice, young and male, pulled Azamat out of his thoughts, and he turned away from the swirling figures to behind him, where a man in his early twenties stood. Just like the children in the courtyard, he was dressed in blinding white robes, metal bands clamped to his ankles and wrists – a blood red sash was tied around his waist, and to that, the glint of a long, curved blade hung from it. Blessed metal – it would injure even a demon severely. On Azamat, it was utterly useless.

He smiled.

“That’s me. Are you the one who requested the job?”

The young man shook his head, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. The stink of anxious fear hung around him like a toxic cloud, and Azamat’s lips curled in malicious amusement, lifting his hand to idly toy with the soft fabric of his crimson scarf. The human watched his movements with a sharp gaze, his hands relaxed by his side and his body loose, even with the stink of nervous sweat about him. Impressive. To another human, he would’ve appeared utterly calm.

“The one who requested it is the master of this temple,” the human said, tilting his chin proudly. Azamat tutted softly, “I ask if you could please follow me, Mister Azamat.”

“Certainly. But allow me to clean myself up first,” he purred, taking great, slow care to straighten out his appearance, as if preparing to meet with a VIP. He was, temple masters were greatly respected in the human community, but Azamat held nothing but disdain for them, and he showed it in his slow, methodical movements, his expression mocking as he grinned at the young disciple. A tweak of his tie, adjustment of his black vest, a fidget of his white sleeves’ cuffs… he took his time.

The disciple was trembling in frustration, but he held for an impressive three minutes. “…are you finished?” he finally snapped.

“Yes,” Azamat brushed his hands down his vest, and tilted his head, “Lead the way.”

They walked inside the temple – where the outside was hot, the inside was cool, the cramped stone corridors lit by candles. It seemed electricity hadn’t been introduced to Irre’s temples – though they had taken a more peaceful interpretation of Irre’s bloody-minded religion, they still stuck to the strict laws of anti-technology. No modern medicine, no electricity, no amazing science – it was a shame really, as humans’ main talent, in Azamat’s opinion, was their ability to tear past their mundane limitations with the power of science, and not magic.

It was so musty too. Azamat could practically feel the dust clinging to his perfect, expensive clothes… they would have to be dry cleaned the minute he left this crumbling ruin.

Azamat was drawn out of his internal pouting when the disciple drew to a sudden stop before a narrow hallway that was more like a crack in the wall. His nose twitched at the smell of divinity wafting from this crack, and when the disciple squirmed in, Azamat… hesitated. There was a faint stirring in his stomach, something that begged caution, and, for the briefest moment, he was tempted to ditch the job and leave the temple as swiftly as his feet would allow him.

But this job promised money, only a million shards but, money was money, and…

In the end, greed overcame common sense, and Azamat stepped into the crack, the walls seemingly bending away from him so he didn’t have to squirm. Deeper and deeper into the depths they went, until they came into a tiny room – dark and stinking of stagnant blood, the crooked form of a wizened old man stooped over an empty altar – and a body, white robes torn and limbs eagle-spread, the insides strewn over the stone altar’s sides.

Azamat didn’t even blink.

“Temple master, I presume?” he said, his voice loud in the small room. “Lovely sacrifice there – digging the entrails.”

The disciple made a hissing noise, but the old man raised a gnarled hand, silencing the young man. Azamat shot him a smug little grin, just because he could, revelling at the spike of anger buzzing around the human like a swarm of hornets. Beautiful. Humans were so easily antagonised.

“Azamat, I’m glad you have come. I require your services.”

“I know,” Azamat’s pale eyes slid back to the old man, evaluating the stooped figure. He smelled old, he looked old, he felt old. The old man’s face was sunken, cheeks hollow from a mouth long empty of teeth, and his milky white eyes stared at nothing, straggles of grey strands hanging from his chin in an attempt at a beard. Gnarled hands clung to the knotted top of a walking stick, and at his side hung a small dagger, tied to a red sash. He looked like he would crumble into dust if Azamat even so much as poked him, and, admittedly, the thought was tempting.

The old man wheezed, “This disciple on the altar, he was murdered last night whilst performing a sacred duty.” His voice sounded like sandpaper, and he breathed heavily, as if that single sentence robbed him of any stale air left in his lungs, “The duty of protecting the last of Irre’s earthly remains in Sodom.”

Now that – Azamat immediately stiffened, his shoulders drawing taut as if in preparation to take flight, “What? Irre’s corpse is in the graveyard. All of it.”

“His corpse is there, yes,” the old man conceded, “Yet a part of Irre remained here. It was his blood, bestowed upon our last prophet before the god’s demise. We have guarded it for thousands of years in utter secrecy, and yet… last night, somehow, someone discovered its existence and stole it.”

There was silence in that room as Azamat digested this information. Irre’s blood, huh… the very first god’s essence in someone else’s hands? That essence would sell for billions, no, trillions on the black market, and if Azamat had heard of this miraculous thing prior to this, he… probably would’ve stolen it in the middle of the night as well. To have a piece of God in your hands – in demons, it would give them horrific powers beyond mortal comprehension, and in Fallens, they could blossom into Godlings, and humans… who knew what a human could do with it? Rend time and space apart, most likely.

Anyone would steal it – everyone in fucking Sodom would steal it.

“So, this job you’re offering…”

“We wish for it back,” the old man coughed, “Before it’s too late. Nothing but disaster will befall Sodom if that blood falls into the wrong hands. We are not a rich temple, but, please, Azamat, I beseech you. We will pay whatever price you name to the best of our ability.”

Azamat doubted it would top whatever price he could get for Irre’s blood, but he wisely didn’t voice this; “Why me? You must know that I am not exactly the most… honest of mercenaries.”

“Because you can function outside the laws of Sodom,” the old man said, “A normal Fallen cannot harm a human, but you can.”

True. Azamat had quite the kill count under his belt – enough for him to be banned from entering certain neighbourhoods in specific districts. He rubbed his bottom lip, his gaze settling on the gutted corpse on the altar, watching as flies buzzed around its open stomach.

“So, you suspect a human did this?”

“Only a human could do this,” the old man replied, “A demon cannot step on holy sites, and Fallen cannot kill humans.”

“But Godless Fallen can,” Azamat reminded him softly, “I’m not the only one within Sodom.”

“This is true,” the old man coughed, and banged his walking stick against the stone floor. It echoed hollowly, “But Rapatiel and Herar would have reduced this temple to a smoking hole, if it had been them.”

Yes, Azamat’s fellow Godless loved to cause widespread destruction wherever they walked. That was why they remained in Sawyer’s district, a massive wasteland brimming with demons – just slaughtering mass swathes of corpses for days on end. Personally, Azamat didn’t see the appeal, but, perhaps it was something old men did. Azamat was still a ‘child’ by his brothers’ standards.

“So a human stole it,” he concluded, his mind mulling over this unique situation. A piece of God was in the hands of an unknown human, or – it was possibly stolen by a human on orders of a demon, or a particularly sinful Fallen. Humans were considered good, expendable minions, very versatile, very numerous and easy to please. Already, a short list was forming within Azamat’s mind on who the possible supernatural perpetrator could be. “And you want me to find this human and bestow some biblical punishment on his ass?”

“A life for a life,” the old man said solemnly, “That is our faith. Return the injury that he inflicted upon our brother, and return our God to us before Sodom falls into ruin.”

“Sure,” Azamat smiled, extending his palm towards the old man. Behind him, he sensed the young disciple shift in alarm, but he didn’t touch the Temple Master. No, he merely held out his hand expectantly, “But first, you should know that you need a deposit before I start my jobs. Three million shards.”

“T-Three million-?!” the disciple squeaked indignantly.

“A bit too low, I know,” Azamat hummed, “But I give 50% discounts to religious men. You should be honoured.”

The Temple Master gazed at him for a long moment, before rasping; “Five million, with a stipulation.”

Azamat, who had begun beaming at the higher price, paused warily, “What kind of stipulation?”

“I know what you’re like, Azamat,” the old man said, having the gall to look grimly amused, “You said it yourself. You’re a dishonest mercenary. I’m not ignorant as to the… market price of our host holy of relics.”

Damn.

“You think he would steal it for himself?” the disciple questioned.

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Okay then,” Azamat cut in irritably, “So why bother with me, then, if you can’t trust me to complete the job?”

“Yes, why trust him?” the disciple demanded, “I mean no disrespect, master, but if this-” he cut a scathing look Azamat’s way, “-Fallen would sooner claim the relic for himself, then shouldn’t we employ someone more trustworthy?”

“A mere human wouldn’t succeed in this task,” the Temple Master rasped, “But, you do raise a point. Azamat, we cannot trust you. I would be a fool to. So, the stipulation is this: you will earn triple your pay, as well as a five million deposit, if you take along one of my own to observe your actions.”

“You want me to accept a tag-along?” Azamat frowned, “I’ll probably be going to dangerous areas, y’know. I can’t really, uh, promise they’d survive or anything…”

“Don’t worry. Geis can take care of himself.”

“You’re sending Geis?” the disciple gasped, “Master, he’s… well, a little…”

“He’ll be able to keep up with you, Azamat,” the Temple Master continued, ignoring his disciple’s uncertain mumblings, “He fully embodies Irre’s teachings, and will ensure that you complete your job… correctly.”

Azamat paused to think. Even with the added funds this old man has thrown in to sweeten the deal, he would still earn hell of a lot more by selling Irre’s remains on the black market. His plan was still the same, really, get the relic and sell it on. He’d lose out on a big chunk of money, but he should get his return with the relic…

But, this tag along… some humans could be terribly tenacious when it came to “duty”. Demons were fine to deal with. Be annoying enough and they just gave up, whereas humans were like a dog with a bone. The moment they wanted to sink their teeth into something, there was just no shaking them off unless you dumped their body in a ditch somewhere. Well… hm, Azamat will burn that bridge when he got there, he supposed. It wouldn’t be hard to deal with Geis, he was sure.

“Fine, deal,” Azamat grumbled, making sure to seem a little disheartened. It wouldn’t do for the old man to think he was preparing for one of his own’s murder, “But if the idiot gets himself killed trying to whack a demon or whatever, it’s not my fault.”

The Temple Master bobbed his head in a painful looking nod. Hell, Azamat could practically hear every joint in his body creak from the movement.

“A deal, then. Lloyd, please take Azamat back to the entrance. The promised shards, and Geis, shall be waiting for you there.”

“Yes, Master.”

As they squirmed their way out of the room, leaving the crumbling old man behind, Azamat could help but needle a little; “You have a guy named Geis, but your name is Lloyd? That’s weirdly normal.”

“Shut up,” the disciple grumbled.

It didn’t take long for them to retrace their steps back to the entrance. The sparring children were gone from the dusty courtyard, but underneath the shadow of the stone arch, Azamat could see a figure standing, staring off into the street past the rotted door.

“Hoy, Geis,” the disciple called as they drew near.

The other disciple, Geis, turned to them, and Azamat gave him a quick once over. He was dressed in the typical garb of an Irre cultist, except that the sash around his waist was gold instead of red – If Azamat remembered correctly, that meant he was lower ranked than Lloyd. Geis was also quite lean and well-toned, something Azamat could appreciate, with a surprisingly delicate looking face; high cheekbones, almond shaped, blue eyes, thin eyebrows… hm, he’d tap that.

“Lloyd,” Geis murmured, surprisingly soft-spoken, “I assume this is Mister Azamat.”

“Yes, but don’t bother with the Mister,” Azamat said cheerfully, “If we’re to be working together, I’d prefer us to be informal.”

Lloyd gave him a suspicious look; “But not too informal,” he said stiffly, “Remember, Geis, you are to watch him. He cannot be trusted.”

Geis nodded, “Understood.”

“Geeze,” Azamat huffed, “Way to ruin a good first impression, asshole.”

“I have your deposit here, Azamat,” Geis said, either oblivious to, or ignoring the way Lloyd bristled, “Do you wish for me to hold onto to it?”

“No. Gimme.”

Geis obligingly handed over a baseball sized orb to Azamat’s greedy hands. It was warm to the touch, and its surface was shifting, oily silver. Azamat held it up to the light, inspecting it closely. Humans could never correctly count the amount of soul shards when placing them within these orbs, so he was pleased to see that he could sense five million within there. How a religious cult, albeit one built on violence, gathered so many, he wouldn’t know. Not that it was any of his business, really.

“Mm, yup, everything seems to be in order,” Azamat said. He brushed his fingers over the surface, and with a small flash of light the orb vanished. Pocket space was so convenient. He had no idea how humans survived without it. “I’m satisfied.”

Geis nodded, “Then, what is our first destination?”

“Beatrice’s place. She’s got a strangle-hold on the black market in this district, so anything being sent through there, she’d know.”

“The Demon Lord?” Lloyd looked a bit apprehensive, “Dallying with her is a little… dangerous.”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea,” Azamat couldn’t hold back a grimace; “I hate dealing with her, but, needs must.”

Geis looked utterly unmoved. Really, it was quite strange. Lloyd, while possessing an impressive poker-face, was easily sensed to be frightened or nervous. But this Geis, it was like a blank slate. Nothing. Azamat could admit that it unnerved him a little. Unreadable people were unpredictable people, and unpredictable people were dangerous people, even if they did have a criminally beautiful face.

“We should make haste,” Geis said.

“Yes, we should. If we take too long, she might eat it or something,” Azamat scoffed, “C’mon, half-pint. Let’s roll.”

And with that Azamat abandoned Lloyd, grabbed Geis by the scruff of his neck, and whisked him away with a cheeky Dimensional Hop. What? He wasn’t going to walk all the way to Beatrice’s HQ like some plebeian human. Cheating space and time was far more fun anyway.

If only he could say the same about their visit to Beatrice’s…