#the heart one feels oddly steampunk

[wiiggleworm]

all of my pastel kandi so far ♡

[cactusspatz]

Fic Tag Game

Thanks to @cortue​ for tagging me! I always feel self-conscious writing about writing because even though I like doing both, my brain is convinced that people aren't interested - but at least one person is! so here goes.

Name: Spatz, from the German word for ‘sparrow’. I learned the word in Austria on a student exchange trip the summer before I picked my LJ pseud, I love sparrows, I wanted something short and elemental/related to nature, and it sounded like ‘spaz’ which teenaged-me thought was funny because I’m a klutz. I was actually thespatz on LJ before I managed to snaffle spatz back from the user who squatted on the blank journal for years, (much like @spatz here; yes I'm still bitter, but at least I nailed my name down on AO3) so I had people think both that I had thespian interests and that I spoke/was German, neither of which are true, but otherwise it's served me very well for almost 20 years.

Fandoms: SO many, jfc. In terms of 'things I've read fic for', I've got 370 just counting my Pinboard tags, with many more than that unbookmarked. The intense ones that really latched onto my brain, lasted months or years, and inspired me to read/participate/create the most are probably Supernatural (S1-5), the MCU (mostly Phase 1 + TWS), Person of Interest, Mad Max: Fury Road, and The Untamed. Then there's fandoms I had really intense flings with and recommend to all comers, like Nirvana in Fire, and fandoms that are old friends that I'm always happy to see but don't spark fannish creation in me, like Leverage and Avatar: the Last Airbender. There's also a lot of fandoms (often small/Yuletide fandoms) that own well-worn corners of my heart that I revisit semi-annually and sort of catch up on, like Banlieue 13 or Temeraire or The Goblin Emperor or NIF. tl;dr I'm a fandom butterfly/hoarder.

The other nice thing about small/Yuletide fandoms where you’ve written a good story is that when you’re feeling insignificant, you can go to that fandom tag, sort by kudos/comments/bookmarks/whatever, wait for the story to turn up near the top, and go ‘Aha! I wrote That One Story Everybody Likes!’ and get a little ego boost.

Tropes: ...All of them? *laughs* Hurt/comfort is at the top of the mountain, for sure, though that might be a genre more than a trope. If we're going with specific story tropes, Hero with Bad Publicity is my JAM - I imprinted on The Fugitive and Spider-Man (2002), and as you can see The Untamed is also hitting that button perfectly. (Intersects with my love for the wounded protector characters who are traumatized/have been through some shit but are still trying to do the right thing, as well.) I'm also super weak for the full spectrum of amnesia tropes, from Anastasia AUs to everything Winter Soldier to Bourne Identity to Hollywood temporary amnesia nonsense. The questions of identity, nature vs nurture, choice vs history, and belonging that amnesia stories provoke are so good for me. Oddly, I've never written it - though I do have a Wangxian Anastasia AU prodding at my backbrain that I'm trying to resist because it wants to be ridiculous and steampunk.

I'm also bizarrely fond of the really specific 'X character got turned into a cat/small animal and then picked/taken care of up by their nemesis/crush, and oh no, they have too many feelings about this'. (I think that one's exclusive to fandom, but if anyone knows an actual canon that this came from, please share) Perhaps that's part of a larger love for the 'character changes their mind drastically about another character' aspect of Hero With Bad PR - not necessarily enemies-to-lovers, I like the gen version too, but that's within the circle.

Fic I spent most time on: Hmm. Probably Learning Curve (MCU) which was inspired by @arsenicjade's SES-verse fic, so I spent a long time re-reading and mining the originals for compelling tidbits and details and then expanding on them. thrill as only we know how had a lot of tricky plotting, but it was co-written with @inmyriadbits so I don't remember it being as much work because we were bouncing off each other.

Fic I spent least time on: Probably one of the short MCU fics I wrote for a kissing meme back in the day.

Longest fic: thrill as only we know how (Mission: Impossible 4), at 28K. I'm a terse writer who’s bad at finishing things.

Shortest fic: Pass the Hat (Alice 2009), my one true 100-word drabble.

Most hits: Learning Curve, by quite a lot. Since AJ is a much more popular author than me, I get more people through the related work link on The Goat's Back than I normally see on my stories. And that series in particular seems to draw re-readers, judging by my own comments.

Most kudos: also Learning Curve, followed by Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fryer, which was a well-timed Clint/Coulson fic that I posted right after The Avengers premiered. I love my terrible pun title.

Most comments: thrill as only we know how, which is chaptered, followed by Trust Fall, my other chaptered and only serially-posted fic.

Most bookmarks: Learning Curve. I love all ya'll re-readers.

Favorite fic you’ve written: Probably still Precession, a Yuletide fic I wrote for the TV show Life. I got hit with Yuletide magic and wrote the post-canon Dani/Charlie story I really wanted, and there's a casefile and canon-typical motifs and Dani sorting through the glass shards of her trauma to realize that what she wants isn't going to hurt her this time. I'm really proud of thrill as only we know how, but all of my favorite bits are the ones @inmyriadbits wrote, so I feel like it doesn't count here. *laughs* In terms of stories of my own that I’ve re-read most lately, both Seed (Nirvana in Fire) and a fight you can't win (Untamed) came from my id in a strong way and so I come back to them.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Hm. I don't really feel the urge to re-write things, once it's posted I can resist the urge to fiddle with it, and I never posted any of the terrible fic I wrote when I was younger. I'd maybe expand Occam's Razor? There's a tragic lack of always-a-girl fic in The Losers fandom, and the fic was a fun start but I didn't know where I'd go with it, since canon would go pretty much the same, just with Cougar having less facial hair. Solar Wind Rising might get a short sequel, we'll see how inspired I am the next time I re-watch NIF.

Share a bit of a WIP: This one’s from an Untamed AU where Lan Wangji arrives just a few minutes earlier at Nightless City after the Wens die -

“From now on, you and I will never stand on the same side!”

High above on the roof, Wei Wuxian laughed and jumped up to stand. Lan Xichen felt the hair on his neck stand up at the mad, uneven sound of it, the drunken sway of the Yiling Patriarch as he stood on the ridge above his audience. How had such a bright young man fallen so far?

“You say you admired me?” Wei Wuxian called out. “How come in the time you admired me, I've never seen you? But once I'm hated by everyone, you jump out to wave your little flag?” He started laughing again, even more high and jagged than before.

Lan Xichen's eye caught on a flicker of white in the sky above the palace, and his stomach clenched in terror as his brother flew down to land on the ridge across from Wei Wuxian, Bichen sliding neatly back into its sheath as Wangji's feet touched down.

Wei Wuxian laughed again, short and sharp, like it had been struck out of him. “Ah, Hanguang-jun. I should have known you'd come. Your hatred and admiration are not as cheaply won as that man's, so what shall it be? Will you and I not stand on the same side again?”

“Hanguang-jun would never stand on the same side as a scoundrel like you!” Sect Leader Yao shouted next to Lan Xichen, and he winced.

On the roof, Lan Wangji hesitated – and then reached behind himself to slide Bichen into the back of his sash.

Tagging @louciferish, @primarybufferpanel, @arsenicjade, @inmyriadbits, @pluckyredhead, @philomytha. No pressure, ya’ll, have fun or don’t bother <3 And anyone else who wants to play please do!

[skylarpalooza]

I’ve taken to writing short scary stories recently. This is my first, constructive criticism always welcome.

I used to like the tube.

It was a Tuesday. I’m only mentioning this because no one ever thinks anything of consequence happens on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are perfectly normal days, filled with tired business people on tubes and trains and buses, fuelled by various hot beverages.

Or at least, that was my Tuesday. That was my specific Tuesday.

It was about 7am, I was heading to the hospital on the bakerloo line, changing at Baker Street when I saw it.

I’ve been doing this journey for months now, doing this change hundreds of times already and I’d never see the gate before. Maybe I was never paying that much attention, but it was a big gate, floor to ceiling, pumping out little puffs of dust as the tube whittled out, and I wasn’t really paying attention that day either.

But either way, I saw it that day.

I was the last on the platform, having just gotten off the tube and was meandering my way to the other platform. I have a dodgy knee so I was walking considerably slower than the other commuters, who power walked everywhere, and was alone on the platform when I glanced to my left and saw the gate.

It was one of those huge underground gates that lead into various other tunnels, black with soot and filled with wires and machinery and a distinct lack of lighting.

At first I thought it was very cool, creepy and dirty, but cool in that steampunk horror kind of way. There were two tunnels, one heading straight from the gate and another turning left. Further down the left tunnel there must have been some kind of dim light, as it threw the faintest shadows into the junction I could see but it was still rather dark. I was looking deeply into it as I slowly walked past, even slower now to have a proper look.

And then I saw it.

At first I just thought it was a worker, you see them slipping in and out of closed doors across tube stations, rattling keys and torches as they go, but as I blinked I realised it was no worker. So I stopped. Honestly, at that point it was still mainly curiosity that had stopped me, but the longer I looked the quicker it turned into fear.

It was so far back in the furthest tunnel it was hard to properly see anything in the darkness, but I knew it was pale because the whiteness of its skin shone oddly even in the darkness. It was easily 7 feet tall, head bent slightly just to fit in the tunnel. I could also see that it didn’t look like it was wearing any clothes, as the white reflection of its skin stood in a tall, thin column from floor to ceiling. I don’t think any clothes would fit it anyway. It had long, skinny legs no thicker than my own skinny arms. Long, bony, limp hands hung by his sides with what looked like clawing finger nails, and I looked up to see if it had a face.

It didn’t. Or if it did, it’s head was so encased in darkness that even it’s pale skin couldn’t shine through. All I could see were two large, glowing yellow eyes that stood out like street lights.

An announcement played in the background but it was just a rumbling to my ears, I couldn’t even tell if it was the male or female recording. It didn’t sound far away or anything it was just... noise. I could see nor hear anything except this... thing in front of me.

My periphery was suddenly non-existent and my hearing concentrated on the somewhat laboured breathing of the thing in front of me, uneven like it only remembered to breathe every minute or so, sometimes deeply sometimes a quick intake.

My heart was pounding and my skin was cold despite the muggy air of the tube and my wool coat. My blood pounded like ice through my veins and my knees were shaking. Every physical response to fear present.

And yet I wasn’t exactly afraid.

Not consciously, anyway.

I still wasn’t properly afraid even when it slowly, so slowly I didn’t even notice at first, raised its hand, palm up, to me. Offering. What it was offering I didn’t know, but yellow eyes bore into me as it’s long, bony fingers stretched out to me. It wasn’t anywhere near close enough to touch, but still it held its hand out to me and I could imagine how those skinny fingers would feel like, rubbery and almost fake, beneath my hand. I raised my foot slightly and I honestly wasn’t sure if it was to run or step closer. My own thoughts were buried deep beneath the sight and sound of whatever creature stood before me.

I wasn’t afraid until it whispered. It was at least 9 or 10 feet away from me but I felt it’s whisper right in my ear as if it were behind me. It was deep, a growling grumble in my ear, and had a weird crackle to it like electricity. My ears rang after it spoke, all other noise gone except for a slight tinny ringing.

“He wants you” it whispered through the ringing in my head. It’s voice was slow, somewhat male and perhaps even seductive if I couldn’t see the thing it came from.

I even felt it’s breath in my ear but I was still looking at it through the gate, not even within arms reach. It’s eyes narrowed and I saw a mouth slowly open, a gaping hole with two rows of yellow, pointed teeth in the darkness. Each tooth looked about as long as my little finger, put pointed like a dagger. Made for ripping flesh from bone.

I whimpered softly.

It smiled at me, teeth parted slightly in a mutant grin but mouth unmoving as it spoke and whispered again “he wants you to come”

And then I felt true fear.

I felt my hands clinching my stupid little llama lunch bag so hard my nails bit into my skin around the rough cord, shaking like and seizure, cold sweat dripping down my back and my eyes so wide it hurt. I was cold with dread and as a pink pointed tongue slipped out from jagged teeth I slowly lowered my eyes, inch by agonising inch, to the ground and turned to face the rest of the platform. I turned slowly, still trying to watch him out the corner of my eye, but he remained still. Hand reached out, glowing eyes and gleaming smile. He remained that way as I slowly walked past the gate and down the first turning I came across.

I crossed the platform for the next tube and got on it, I didn’t even care where it was going or even what line it was. I could still hear a ringing in my ears, drowning everything else out like a muted radios. As I stepped onto the tube, one trembling foot still on the platform I heard it whisper in my ear “next time then”

I didn’t turn around. I stepped on the tube and stood with my back to the platform until the doors closed behind me. And I stood that way, spine rigid and shoulders high, head bent and back to the door I had got on, until I got to the end of the metropolitan line half an hour later.

That was two years ago now. I’ve never got off at Baker Street since, I even close my eyes and put my hands over my ears on the rare occasions I have to go past it. I even moved flats so I didn’t have to use the bakerloo line anymore. But I’ve never seen or heard that thing ever since. I have no idea who this “he” was that wanted me, and I hope I never find out. I just know that I’m not crazy, I didn’t imagine it and it really did happen. I’ve never told anyone because they’d think I really was crazy but I know. I know what I saw and I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

Sometimes, at other stations, between grates and gates and other tunnels , I’ll sometimes catch a flash of bony white hands or glowing yellow eyes. I’ll walk fast with my head down and pray to a God I don’t believe in that this won’t be the “next time” it had mentioned.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

Chasing Feelings

Ladybug sorts through her thoughts but still has time to play a game of Chat and Bug with a trust fall.

Ao3

Chapter 2 - Trust

Pink streaks from the lingering setting sun danced along the blue and purple skyline. The lights from the buildings started to flicker on in a soft white and yellow glow. Surrounding the monument were lingering tourists making their way back to the neighboring arrondissements before calling it a night. In between it all was Ladybug sitting on top of the Arc de Triomphe, her eyes shut as she listened to the hum of traffic below her.

The quietness surrounded her in a welcomed embrace. Her thoughts were fleeting in and out of what transpired over the last few months. Adrien, Luka, Chat Noir, Kagami, Alya, Nino, Lila, Chloe, Hawkmoth, Mayura, Master Fu, the guardianship, commissions, bakery work, being a kid, being a superhero – all thoughts that flooded her mind, making her dizzy and tired as she tried to sort it out in front of her. Today was particularly long and hard, and the static noise that played in the background of her thoughts only made her want to run away from it all. But she trudged forward, focusing on what she can while thinking of the more important factors of her life. But right now, the calming hum and slight breeze on this tower was enough to calm her down. That was until the image of a black cat clouded her mind, springing her eyes open as she furrowed her brows.

The thoughts of Chat enveloped her. From the little bits of information that he had shared with her in both sides of the mask, he seems to have such a sad and sheltered life. She’s always been fond of Chat – he is her best friend after all. Alya has some fierce competition, she joked to herself and giggled at the thought. But she can’t help the little pings of fondness that appear to be doing wonders to her heart. The feeling of longing trying to reach out to her, wanting to help heal whatever pain he hides behind his mask.  

She’s come to realize her thoughts on her partner are starting to overwhelm her, just like the thoughts of Adrien had. The two boys are competing for space in her head and her heart and there are days when she can’t separate the two. It’s like she’s merging them together as one. There were days she wished she could reveal herself to him and hope and pray that he would reveal himself to be one in the same. But she always thwarted those ideas aside. Fear controlled her desires of knowing even if it would only strengthen their bond at this point. Even Wayzz and Tikki thought so. Besides, she couldn’t be that lucky.

Breathing a sigh of tension out of her chest, Ladybug stood up and launched her yo-yo, whipping her up and out into the now dark skyline. Landing onto the nearest building, she ran to her heart’s content. Seeing the chimney stack ahead of her, she sprinted a little faster, launching herself into cartwheel and backflip combo, stretching both her arms and legs as she vaulted over the flutes. Landing into a squat, she quickly jumped back up into another sprint and hopped over to the next building.

She felt like she could go for hours. Her mind was continuing to reel with both anxiety and stress. Throwing her thoughts of Chat aside, her mind brought her back to this morning.  

Marinette arrived to school earlier than normal thanks to an early morning akuma. She was eagerly sketching a steampunk style gown that was inspired by the akuma (sometimes they have good fashion choices – rarely, of course) when she heard the saccharine voice of that lying brat. She was going off about one of the latest modeling jobs Gabriel had signed her up for - some ad for the upcoming Valentine’s Day line that was supposed to be secret. Marinette had muttered to herself and of course Lila just had to hear it. She twisted her words, making Marinette look like the bad guy. Luckily, the class have all but given up on the feud between the two girls, choosing to take no sides and let them work out their problems on their own.  

Trying to take the high road, as Adrien had put it, was becoming harder and harder to do. But Marinette couldn’t sit there and allow the liar to continue. So, she got up with her hand tightened into a fist ready to pounce the liar with some harsh words, only to be pulled out of her dark thoughts when Adrien walked up behind her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder.  

Anger started to bubble in Ladybug’s chest when she thought of that moment. She whipped her yo-yo to a balcony when it came into view, using it as a leverage to push her further towards her next destination. The wind whipping against her cheeks felt good and reassuring. Vaulting towards the next arrondissement, the thoughts resumed. But this time, the anger subsided and a smile curled her lips with the reminder of what happened next.  

“I don’t think my father would be pleased to know you are talking about this. He has been known to fire production crews and designers if a smidgen of word got out regarding a new line.” Adrien said in a tone laced with heavy warning. “That goes for models too.”  

Lila froze with a glimmer of worry that only Marinette and Adrien caught before she straightened her poise and backtracked with a lame attempt at a lie. A little more bantering between the three transpired before Lila gave up with one last excuse.  

A pang of warmth filled Ladybug’s chest. He was finally standing up to Lila. Maybe he realized that the high road wasn’t worth taking anymore. But there was something different about this whole thing. Something that felt familiar and close, yet it still felt so far away. There was an unspoken connection when they looked at each other, blue eyes lost in the emerald greens, which led them to silently nod and smile before retreating back to their seats.  

Ladybug vaulted over another chimney when she heard a set of quick footsteps rushing on the rooftop parallel to hers. Ladybug smirked deviously towards her partner as she hopped over to the next rooftop, inciting a mirroring smirk from him. Nodding to each other in silent understanding, the two raced against the dark skyline. The sound of a baton extending and propelling along with the clang of the yo-yo reverberating in the silent air was all that was heard for the next half hour.  

Ladybug reached the Eiffel Tower first, allotting her a second to retract her disc onto her hip. Chat arrived a second later, breathing heavily in tandem as he watched her every mesmerizing movement. She caught her breath before speaking to Chat. “Do you trust me?”

“Always, My Lady.”

Without a moment to think, both Ladybug and Chat Noir hurled themselves off the beam, free falling for a few exhilarating heartbeats before Ladybug grasped onto her partner. She waited for the last possible second before launching her yo-yo to a beam above them. Ladybug tightened her grip and whisked them both back up towards the rafters, right back to the beam they just jumped from. Chat held onto her as they neared the landing, protecting his lady from the hard surface as they rolled along the ground in a tangled mess. The juxtaposition of adrenaline and fear coursed through their veins as they laughed against each other in hefty breaths.  

Trust. That was the feeling. That sensation she had felt earlier with Adrien. It was oddly familiar to her partnership with Chat Noir. They worked together in perfect harmony, not being afraid to be tossed around in dangerous situations knowing that they both had each other to fall on. Just like this moment. The cat and mouse chase and free falling into possible oblivion, but yet they both knew they wouldn’t be harmed in any way. It was all based on trust.  

Peering through her lashes as her laughter turned to soft giggles, her resolve softened as she took in Chat’s relaxed form. She thoroughly enjoyed watching Chat in this way. It reminded her again of that overwhelming feeling in her heart that she thought was only reserved for Adrien. The silly cat has snuck his way into her heart and she can’t help but hold onto it as of it would vanish the moment she stopped looking at him. They laid under the stars, relishing in the silent comfort of their company before they went their separate ways for the night.

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB Steampunk AU Fanfic- That’s Not Your Brother

A gift fic for @just-steams-and-shapes .

Both of the muns of that blog pretty much shattered my heart with angst, so I decided to return the favor. 

Also, Happy Fresh Friday!

((Once again, I must say that Feeling Blue is on temporary hiatus. I know how I want the story to end, and I WILL FINISH EVENTUALLY, but at the moment, I have no motivation to continue the story... sorry for the wait.))

Description: Belle comes home to find a Deceora in place of her brother. However, it doesn’t want to hurt her, and it seems oddly familiar...

Warnings for SLIGHT BODY HORROR and canon-typical violence.

Luce’s arm hurt.

It’d been aching all day, from his elbow to his wrist, ever since that accursed Deceora sunk its fangs into him the night before. It’d managed to get in through the window, out for blood and indiscriminately raiding houses. Judging by the amount of carnage done to the foliage outside, it’d run amok for awhile, although no other shapes had been harmed, at least not as much as him.

It’d managed to tear into his arm with its fangs before he managed to subdue it. A few swipes and a devastating bite to the wrist left him reeling, and even now, hours later and running on painkillers, he was feeling the effects.

He’d tried bandaging it, but eventually, the adhesives had just caused more irritation, and the wound needed to breathe, lest it get infected. So the most damaged areas were in full view, looking like shattered glass sticking out of his arm, an obvious allure for a nosy older sister.

He hissed under his breath as Belle prodded at his forearm, looking up to see her sticking her tongue out. She had her lucky wrench in hand, and her outfit was stained with motor oil. She’d dragged herself away from her work to mess with him. How sweet.

“That’s gonna leave a gnarly scar, bro.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face, her purple eyes narrowing. “Next time, just call me for help… facin’ a Deceora’s no walk in the park…”

Luce recoiled, drawing his arm back as his sister reached to poke at it again. His horns lowered, the heart rate monitor in place of his eye starting to quicken in pace, showing his annoyance.

“I shattered it, didn’t I?” He reached for a pen, hoping that he could at least distract himself by drawing up some blueprints; he was thinking of weapons, feeling quite destructive at the moment. “Having an arm cannon comes in handy…” He scowled when he heard Belle chuckle, adding as an afterthought, “No pun intended.”

Belle shot back, “Whatever you say, dork.”

All she got in response was a flustered grumble. Luce’s voice sounded a bit shriller than usual, but Belle amounted that to his irritation, not to mention the pain he was in.

The purple cyclops rolled her eye, one of her cybernetic arms reaching up to brush her hair out of her face again. It was quite messy, and a plain ponytail wasn’t cutting it anymore… she didn’t care much about fashion, but as an inventor who worked around gears and moving parts, she couldn’t afford to risk getting her hair caught.

“Y’know what… I think I’ll go out to town… buy some hair products.” She ran a hand through the purple locks, huffing. “Something’s gotta tame the beast.”

She stood, folding her main pair of arms. Luce didn’t look up at her, his heart monitor slowing to a steady, calm beat as he fell back into focus with his work. A twinge of annoyance hit Belle’s core, but it was quickly encompassed as she watched her brother sketch, a small part of herself marvelling at his intuitive ability.

He was only twelve, nearing thirteen in the coming months. It was a wonder that a kid his age knew how to competently work some of the machinery he lived around, let alone create blueprints for it.

He had to learn quickly, though… without parents to properly teach him, the two of them had picked up quite a few skills just to survive...

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, Belle started towards the door, momentarily pausing to run through her list of errands. She glanced over her shoulder, looking over Luce, who was too absorbed in his sketching to pay her much mind.

For once, her schedule was clear, aside from her personal quest. She’d be home soon, and she doubted Luce could get himself into any trouble like this… the likelihood of a second Deceora attack was slim, anyway.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Luce,” she called. She added with a chuckle, “Don’t get yourself shattered.”

He waved halfheartedly, one of his horns flicking up in acknowledgement. He really seemed to be absorbed in his work. Rolling her eye once more, Belle departed, trusting that her brother would be safe…

~~~

~~~

As the minutes passed, Luce found it progressively harder to focus. The once minor stinging in his arm had developed into shooting, burning pain, which pulsed with his heartbeat, as if his veins were pumping acid instead of blood.

He forced himself to ignore it, at least for a while. He was being productive this way, having churned out five whole blueprints in the hour. They were a bit messy, given the pain in his arm, but he was proud of himself, having finally found a way to effectively distract himself.

However, as the time ticked past, the minutes rolling into hours… the pain had become pure agony, and he finally tore his eyes away from the paper to glance at his arm.

He was willing to bet that it’d started bleeding again, given how high his blood pressure was. His nerves were shot, and as his gaze darted from the blueprints to his forearm, he jolted in shock, catching a flash of greenish blue among the pink flesh.

“What… in Paradise?” He turned his arm around slowly, trying to see if the blighted color was a trick of the light. However, instead of going away, the hue only seemed to spread, forming in rough patches around the wounds. “What.”

Luce’s eyes glistened with a confused light, his horns drooping slightly as he stood, dropping his pencil.

“Where’s the mirror?” He paced almost aimlessly, beginning to feel a deep, paranoid fear. “Where’s the Treeangle-blighted mirror?!”

The lagoon tint had begun to infect more of his arm, spreading like a rash up to his shoulder. It burned, and Luce found himself scratching at the afflicted areas, becoming increasingly irritated as his mind buzzed with frantic thoughts.

His claws felt sharper than normal. He was unsteady on his feet… These seemingly minor realizations drilled themselves into his head, and he was unsure when he started to hyperventilate, his balance becoming skewed.

Luce staggered around the house, his mind reeling, each step sending a shockwave of pain through his form. He was terrified to look, but he had to see what was happening to him. He nearly tripped, locating a sizable mirror as he limped into the bathroom, looking himself over in the reflective glass.

His eyes widened, his heart rate nearly flatlining as he forced himself to stifle a shriek.

“Shards…” He hissed under his breath. His eye was flickering between a sickly lagoon and a frenetic pink. Luce choked, laughing nervously, “This is bad… this is real bad…”

He wanted to scream, but he was afraid of his own voice, unsure where his imagination ended and the real change began.

Luce backed away, trying to steady his breathing. He smiled, although an anxious ache made itself known in his core as he realized… how sharp his teeth looked.

“A’right… You’re fine,” he assured himself. “We’re good… everything’s okay…”

He winced, hearing a loud, resounding crack sound from within himself, nearly forcing him to his knees. His legs really, really hurt…  It was clear that he wouldn’t be standing upright for long…

Growling, he shook his head, returning his gaze to his reflection. In just a few minutes… he looked less like a shape and more like… a Deceora…

“You’re okay,” he repeated, snarling. His horns flicked backwards, a growl spilling from his maw as he shook his head, finding it progressively harder to focus. His heart rate quickened, the monitor over his bad eye starting to beep loudly as his core lurched. He ground out his mantra, forcing himself to stay awake, “Nothing. Is. Wrong.”

A sudden, acidic agony roared from the young shape’s core, and he heard himself shriek, his eyes going wide as he instinctively clutched at his chest. His cybernetic hand flew up to cover his mouth, and he shuddered, terrified.

He coughed violently, flinching as lagoon corruption came away on his hand. There was no denying it. That Deceora had cursed him as soon as it sunk its fangs into his arm. Belle was right; he never should have tried to handle things himself… he was just a little kid.

“E-e-everything…. Everything is… is f-fine…” He hugged himself, trying not to focus on what was happening. His voice was a whisper. Anything above a quiet rasp, and he’d be able to hear the growl in his tone. He wanted to tear the corruption out, but it’d already reached his core… all he could do was hope he could fight it off. “It’s…. O-o-o-okay… i-it’s okay…”

It was getting harder to speak… oh honey butter biscuits, his face was a Tree-forsaken muzzle.

“You… you’rrreeee….” He trailed off with a whimpering croon, shaking his head. “Hhh.. you’rreee… o-okayyy… Yo….Rrrr...o-kayyyyyy…”

Tears rolled down his face, and Luce gave one last, defeated scream, hoping dearly that someone, anyone would hear him. For all he knew, he’d lose his mind and hurt someone… if no one came to shatter him now…

But with his current luck… what were the odds of that?

~~~

~~~

Three hours later, the door creaked open. Belle peered inside, looking around in hopes of seeing her little brother waiting for her, as he normally did. A small part of her expected to see him still sitting at that desk, scribbling away at blueprints. Maybe he actually tried to build something for once and set the house on fire.

As she pictured the possible outcomes, she couldn’t help but grin, wondering what amusing predicament her baby brother could’ve gotten himself mixed up in today.

However, when she entered the house, she was greeted with complete, eerie silence. The lights were all out… the curtains were closed. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw the darkness, her greeting dying on her tongue as her eye darted around, trying to find a reason for the seemingly abandoned state of the house.

She hoped that Luce was merely asleep on the couch or something, that he’d decided to be responsible for once and turn out the lights when he left the room. The chances of that were slim to none, and Belle’s anxiety whispered in the back of her mind, sending her into an instant panic.

“Luce?” she called cautiously. She heard her own voice echo through the building, and when there was no answer, she found herself worrying even more. She walked towards the kitchen, concern riddling her features. “Luce? Where are ya, you little demon child?”

Not even his nickname stirred a response. Belle growled to herself, picking up her lucky wrench. If Luce was just tricking her, she’d clock him in the horns for it… and if he wasn’t, she had a feeling she’d have to fight someone.

He’d just been injured, and it was obvious that he was still in pain. If any rogue or feral shapes had broken in, he wouldn’t stand a chance... Belle started off towards the workshop, hissing under her breath.

“This better not be a prank…” As she inched towards the entrance, she heard a sudden crash, her eye lighting up in tentative hope. “I’m warning you…”

She weighed the odds. On one hand, that sound could’ve been Luce trying to hide, what with the little trouble-maker he was. She had poked fun at him earlier, and he was known for getting petty revenge. It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that he was planning to scare her, just to send her flying into a tizzy over nothing. He wasn’t evil by a longshot, despite Belle’s constant prodding, but he lived up to his nickname as the “demon child.”

Belle felt her smile threaten to return, but she shook her head.

Nonetheless, the other possibility send fear rushing through her, quickly eclipsing all humor. It was rare to see a Deceora this far away from the Corrosive Valley or the Badlands… the odds of it coming with a pack were slim, but it was still possible.

Shattering the first creature would just summon the pack, if they were in the area. And in his current state… Luce would’ve been instantly incapacitated… shattered. Belle steeled herself for what she might see, be it shards or her brother. She’d dealt with loss before, and while she never wanted to lose another loved one, she prepared herself for the worst.

“A’right… I’m givin’ ya five seconds to show yourself…” she yelled.

She heard the scrabbling of claws against tile, and she twitched, trying to restrain herself from charging. It was a Deceora alright.

“One… two… aw, blight it… FIVE!”

Belle let out a battle cry, rushing through the entrance in an attempt to startle the monster. Her eye was blurred from the tears that she’d been holding back, but she kept swinging, suddenly glad to have extra arms. If that thing tried to come at her from behind, she’d knock it silly.

She heard a gutteral shriek ring out as one of her fists met scales, and she reeled, her eye snapping open. The Deceora was quite small for its kind, looking pathetic compared to the monster that had attacked the night before. Perhaps the first creature had been its mother. Chances were, this small, unassuming monster had wandered to their home, searching for its fallen parent. It was too young to fight properly, but a single good swipe from those wicked claws could knock out any shape, even if the intent wasn’t to kill.

In any other occasion, Belle might’ve spared it, knowing what it was like to lose a parent, but now that it entered her home, now that it had possibly killed her brother, all mercy flew out the window.

She narrowed her eye, rage filling her heart. It was hard to focus on the thing, her gaze darting around in search of any sign of her brother. The Deceoras were merciless hunters. It was likely that, if he was in shards, they’d either been devoured or trambled, leaving no traces behind.

Even if this one was unwilling to fight, its instincts would have driven it to feed as soon as the blood was spilled. Luce was as good as dead.

“I know ya can’t understand me…” Belle snarled. She lowered her wrench towards the monster’s snout, her tone venomous. “So I’m giving you five seconds to clear out before I shatter you. Limb. By. Limb.”

It suddenly squeaked and reeled back, nearly tripping over its own legs. It was definitely young and probably hadn’t ventured into civilization before, unable to properly maneuver on a smooth, tiled surface.

It stumbled, the spikes around its head drooping as it stared up at her, almost sad. Belle knew better than to falter, her voice ringing out as a threatening yell as she grew more frantic.

“I don’t care that you’re a baby, I’ll shatter you like you did to my brother!”

At that, the Deceora seemed to understand, if only through the aggression in Belle’s tone. It backed away, drawing in on itself, a small, rumbling whimper echoing from its core. Belle had never seen a Deceora whimper, even when injured. They were natural killers, and they never showed weakness. However, this creature didn’t seem like it wanted to fight at all...even to defend itself… It was truly at her mercy.

She grinned, despite herself. A malicious, vindictive urge welled up in her heart, and she advanced, a wicked sneer spreading across her face. She raised the wrench again. While she was sure she had other, quicker means to dispose of this thing, she wanted to cause it just as much pain as it’d caused her brother. Slowly.

“You probably won’t even fight back, eh?” She chuckled as the monster suddenly squeaked, frantic. “Good. That makes it easier for me.”

She swung. Metal met bone as the wrench made contact with the Deceora’s plated back. It was sent flying, shards bursting from the impact as it hit a wall. It scrambled to stand, a constant, pitiful whimper pouring from its jaws. It refused to run, however, staring up at Belle with those melancholy, distressed eyes.

Belle approached it again, laughing almost madly.

“Not so tough now, huh?” She reveled in the fear that blossomed in the monster’s gaze as she held her makeshift weapon high, preparing to strike. “That’s what you get for SHATTERING MY BROTHER!”

This time, the wrench came down upon the monster’s back, near the base of its neck. It crumpled, a hissing screech ripping from its throat as it covered its head, panicking. Dusty shards sprayed from the bludgeon wound, and parts of its shell were dented and cracked.

Still, it refused to attack… it almost seemed to be pleading her to stop.

“Hhhh….” Its breaths were ragged with pain. It tried to make itself seem small, terrified. “Nnnooooo. Noooo… mrrrrrr….”

Belle relented. She could let it go with a warning, but it’d likely just return when it was old enough to fight. She raised her hand again, scowling.

The helpless Deceora cowered, shaking its head as if in disbelief. Startlingly, tears flowed from its eyes, and as it looked up at Belle, she thought she saw a flicker of pink in its foggy, soulless gaze.

She faltered, glancing at its arms. One of its forelegs was cracked rather severely, from the elbow to the wrist. Belle was sure she hadn’t hit it there. She’d only gotten two good swings, and both had cracked against its shell. That wound was strikingly familiar, looking quite recent...

Shaking her head, she prepared to land a final blow, tiring of toying with the monster. If it kept screaming, it’d alert the rest of the pack… and she’d learn just how threatening a group of protective monsters could be.

“Enough playin’ around…” She squeezed her eye shut. Something felt very wrong. “T-time to die…”

However, as she readied herself, she heard a frantic, hissing squeak that made her stop in her tracks.

The Deceora suddenly shrieked, shaking its head in a frenetic attempt to stop her. Its stubby tail was tucked between its legs in its fear, and its entire form was quivering.

“Nooo… mrrr….. No morrreee!”

Belle backed away, watching it. That was the most sentient display of fear she’d ever seen from a feral. She expected it to go down fighting, but in seconds, any fight that it may have put up dissolved into pathetic whimpers.

Its flailing, panicked state reminded her of a child’s tantrum, and the more it screamed, the less guttural its cries sounded.

“Mowww!” it cried. It let out a sharp exhale, shuddering. “Hhhhh…. hhhhuuurrrrt.”

“What?” she deadpanned. She glared down at the creature, waiting for some sort of response. It probably couldn’t comprehend speech, but she supposed that this particular Deceora had more than a few surprises up its sleeve, and perhaps sentience was one of them.

Its teary eyes glimmered with tentative hope as its attacker faltered. Squealing, it sat up on its haunches, wincing a few times as its cracked shell protested. It looked up at Belle, its eyes continuing to flicker with that too-familiar pink hue, which was slowly encompassing the lagoon shade.

It squeaked, trying to form words, “... E-Eeellllee….” It shook its head, trying again. Its maw clicked and rattled with the effort, the gaps between its fangs producing an odd, whistling sound. Its lack of intelligibility frustrated it, and it hissed, “Eeellee…….it meeee...”

Belle tilted her head, backing away. She cautiously placed her wrench down, folding her arms. Something about the sound the thing was making was unsettling, and she felt a paranoid, upsetting fear beginning to settle in her core. It was almost… dare she say...familiar.

“What… what are you trying to say?” she questioned softly. The gruff, threatening tone had dropped from her voice completely. She was filled with a curious, almost fearful collection of thoughts, her mind buzzing. “Are you trying to speak to me?”

The Deceora whimpered, pointing at her with a shaky claw. Belle instinctively flinched, grabbing for her wrench. The thing just cowered, squealing. It drew back, shuddering as it attempted to speak again.

“E-e-elle…” It perked up as it pronounced something coherent, hesitantly pointing at the purple shape. “Elle… Elle!”

Belle’s eye went wide, and she faltered. “Me?”

The Deceora nodded wildly, trotting towards her. Before she could react, it slumped its entire weight against her leg, wrapping its lanky arms around her in a haphazard embrace. Belle nearly kicked it in reflexive action, only stopping herself when she heard the affectionate purr that rumbled from the thing’s core.

This wasn’t an attack… it was a hug. This creature trusted her, even after she attacked it. Not only was it unwilling to harm her; it was fully willing to risk its life to show her… something...

“M… meeee… Luuucccceee…” Its words were slurred, laced with hisses. “Luucceee...Elle… brr-rrooww… brrrrooootheeer….” It trailed off with a mournful croon, its spikes curving downwards.

Belle looked down at it in trepidation. Its eyes had started to glow a solid pink, its voice slowly losing the gravelly tone.

“Are you… are you trying to say… my name?”

It nodded, then tried again. “Luce… me…” It covered its face, wiping away its tears. “Ssscared…. Hurrrrtsss…”

Those few words made Belle choke on her breath. Without further warning, she reached down and picked up the strange Deceora, placing it… him… on the work table.

Voice breaking, she addressed it. “What… what are you?” She forced herself not to cry, her mind coming to a terrifying conclusion. “Why can you understand me?”

He pawed at some blueprints, trying to make the connection between Belle’s brother and himself. As he looked over the papers, his eyes welled up with tears again, and a whimper spilled from his maw. He looked up at the purple shape, holding a blueprint in his jaws as he frantically pointed at himself. Belle shook her head, her mind reeling as she tried to process everything.

Somehow, this was her brother. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt tears welling up again, her expression set in a tight frown. She’d heard tales of shapes mutating into Deceora-like beasts, but in all cases, they lost their minds and became part of the pack. Luce was still conscious, still trying to speak to her, to convince her not to harm him. He didn’t even lash out… and yet, she nearly killed him in a fit of vengeful rage.

As she failed to respond, the Deceora grew frantic, tears falling from his eyes. His jaws clattered as he gave a rattling hiss, pawing at where his name had been scrawled upon the blueprints, until his claws tore through.

“It… me! Yrrr… brro...brroothheerrr…” He whimpered, eyes shining. “Luuuccee…”

Belle snapped out of her trance, backing away a bit as she looked over the beast. He was unrecognizable, save for the pink hue in his gaze. While his form was monstrous, his body language was frustratingly familiar, obviously that of a sentient child… not a predatory beast. He was so frantic, trying to communicate his identity, but the words scrambled, leaving only a guttural hiss, which only aggravated and distressed him further.

No matter how much Belle tried to convince herself otherwise, there was no denying it; the Deceora sitting before her was her brother.

“No. You don’t need to convince me anymore… I know it’s you, Luce.” Her voice shook as she looked him over, feeling quite guilty for attacking him. He hadn’t even put up a fight to defend himself. He was willing to die instead of harm his sister. “How… how did this happen?”

The creature whined, its horns drooping. It held up its injured arm, showing off the bite marks that lined its flesh. The wounds looked fresh, and if Belle looked close, there was still pink blood among the green ooze that dripped from the cracks.

“I… don’t… know…it jussst… hh-hurts...”

Belle shook her head, growling. “That’s not an answer, Luce! Why are you... Why is my baby brother a Deceora?!”

Luce squeaked, then looked down at his arm. The corruption seemed to be centered around the wound. There was no doubt in his mind that the bite had changed him… somehow.

“A-afterrrr...Yoouu… leave. A-arm h-hurt. Change… into this.” He seemed to be getting used to his new mouth, although his words were still labored. He looked down, ashamed of himself. “M-m-monster…”

Tears finally spilled from Belle’s eyes, and she pulled Luce into a hug, hearing his shaky, rasping breaths. A deep, instinctive fear welled up as she heard the Deceora hiss, although her sisterly love overtook that, her embrace only tightening as she realized that… no matter what form he took, this was her brother, and he’d never hurt her.

She pulled away, finding it hard to look him in the eye, not wanting to see his sentient, deep sadness within those predatory orbs. She didn’t want to see her brother staring through her, unable to communicate. It hurt to see him like this...

“Are you okay?” She instantly winced. Of course he wasn’t okay. He turned into a Tree-blighted Deceora. She sheepishly added, “Sorry… standard question.”

Luce huffed, his tail tapping against the desk as he allowed himself to laugh, his chuckles sounding like staccato growls. As soon as he laughed, however, his eyes went wide. He instantly covered his mouth with a paw, whimpering.

“Not… scare… you…” He whimpered. “I… sound  scary… monster...”

Belle sighed, rubbing her temples as her horns drooped.

“You’re not a monster, Luce. Stop saying that.”

He looked away, his voice airy. “You said… it…” He growled slightly as a twinge of pain raced through is back. “Said… I hurt…. Someone.”

Belle followed the Deceora’s gaze to the bloodied wrench on the counter, feeling a swell of guilt settling in her core. Robotically, she reached for the tool, turning it around in her hand. Luce winced, that pitiful whimper beginning to spill from his jaws again. The purple shape faltered, her eye narrowing. Her gaze softened, and she tossed the wrench in the nearest trash bin.

“There.” She folded her arms. Luce tilted his head, perplexed as to why she’d throw away her favorite tool. She scoffed, a tiny grin starting to quirk at the edges of her mouth. “Anything used to hurt my baby bro is trash, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hearing this, the Deceora’s tail started to wag, rapping against the metal table in a series of rhythmic thumps. Frustrated, Luce turned and hissed, trying to stop the newfound appendage. Nothing worked, and he pouted, looking quite silly. Belle watched, stifling a chuckle; this was her brother, alright.

She suddenly reached for Luce, picking him up before he could protest. He was the same weight, perhaps a tiny bit lighter from the energy burned in his change, as well as the shards he was missing. He whimpered, afraid of being dropped, but Belle just chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m not lettin’ you go again, ya dork.” Her second pair of arms reached to better hold Luce, and he grumbled, his lanky arms dangling. “I see what happens when I leave ya alone… ya go and turn into a Hue-forsaken Deceora, of all the things.”

Luce huffed, and Belle grinned, glad to see him returning to his normal, snarky self. She carried him to the kitchen, dropping him rather unceremoniously onto the tiled floor. The drop wasn’t high enough to hurt him, but he squealed, scrambling to his feet as he was deposited.

“What… that for?” He hissed, arching up. “Rrrr…”

His Deceora instincts seemed to be shining through a bit, yet Belle found herself uncaring of the threat, her back turned to him as she started to search through the cabinets for anything suitable for a predatory animal. Luce would normally eat a bagel or something. In his current state, Belle wouldn’t be surprised if he requested the souls of the innocent, just to mess with her.

“I’m getting you something to eat, ya demon child.” She chuckled, looking over the refrigerator door to see the Deceora snarling at her, his maw agape. “You don’t scare me. I fought off far larger threats before, and you couldn’t even raise a claw to me.”

He halfheartedly swiped at the air, grumbling. He was, admittedly, quite famished. He wasn’t sure if that was to be attributed to the energy lost in his transformation or just the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. Judging by how empty his stomach was, it was probably both.

He perked up at the smell of steak, tilting his head as Belle grabbed a plate of the rarest meat she could find, undoubtedly the unwanted leftovers from one of her attempts at cooking. While she was a wizard in the engineering field, the same couldn’t be said for her culinary skills.

She set the plate down in front of Luce, who growled softly, pawing at it.

“You need a fork, or…?”

He shook his head, grinning with rows of deadly fangs. Belle raised her hands in surrender, before turning back to grab a half-eaten muffin. Of course, the little snack was pushed all the way back, and so she had to take a minute to dig through old cartons of juice and milk, not caring as she heard tearing sounds around her.

When she looked back, the steak was already in shreds, the Deceora just looking hungrier from the appetizer. He hissed, his eyes flaring a predatory lagoon as he announced his dissatisfaction, arching up a bit.

Belle winced, her eye going wide as she whispered, “Luce?”

The action reminded her of normal Deceora behavior, and for a moment, she thought that he’d finally lost control of himself. Deceoras were prone to tearing their prey into shreds, decimating them like land-borne piranhas. A twinge of worry hit Belle, and she backed up slightly.

However, just as soon as he’d snapped, Luce seemed to regain his senses.

He seemed to notice what he’d done, whimpering slightly and turning away.

Belle’s expression softened, and she kneeled, looking into his eyes. His magenta gaze was fearful, even now, and he drew in on himself a bit, whimpering.

“Not… okay… can’t think…” He held his head, his eyes flickering between lagoon and pink. He couldn’t decide what urge to act on; the will to flee or to lash out.“Don’t want… to be… monster…”

“You’re not a monster-”

Luce cut her off with a sudden, guttural hiss. Belle reflexively flinched, her eye glimmering with fear as she momentarily forgot who she was looking at. The fear in his sister’s gaze only made Luce cover his face, his form shaking with raspy sobs.

“Don’t want… to hurt you…” He whimpered, his breaths labored. “Can’t control… it...wantsss to hurt you…”

Belle pulled him into another hug, and he squealed, flailing. He rested his head on her shoulder, shuddering violently.

“I… scared…” His voice faltered, dissolving into wordless whimpers and sad purrs. “Rrrr….”

Belle sighed. “I know… I’m scared, too…” She looked away. “Don’t worry… I’ll find a way to fix this… we’ll find a way, together.”

Luce crooned dejectedly. “No… I monster… forever.”

“You… you say that as if you haven’t always been… my little monster…” Belle hugged him tightly, her breaths shaky. “I promise I’ll reverse this… somehow. As long as you have your memories, I won’t give up on you.”

Luce let out a low trill, huffing in disbelief. In all the cases he’d heard of shapes becoming feral, none of them had reverted to normal, even after their ultimate deaths. Then again, none of them had retained their minds, either…

“I’m not giving up on you, Luce… just because you’re a Deceora on the outside doesn’t mean you are on the inside. No measly bite is gonna change that, got it?”

Luce pulled away, averting his gaze. Belle huffed indignantly, narrowing her eye.

“You fought off Deceoras before like nobody’s business. Are you really going to let the least threatening one of them all take you down?”

That got her a laugh. The creature’s horns flicked up, and he glanced at her, tilting his head incredulously.

“Me..?”

Belle grinned shakily.

“Who else, ya dork?” She crossed her arms. “Now, what are ya, a cowardly Deceora… or the best baby bro in the universe?”

Luce finally faltered, turning around. His horns folded back, and he gave a non-threatening growl, pouncing into Belle’s embrace. He shook, although he didn’t seem as distressed as before, having been convinced.

Belle stood, holding Luce for what felt like an eternity. She could hear his heartbeat, and from where she stood, she spotted a few broken pieces of metal under the table. Realizing what the metal was, she put the Deceora down, sighing.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that for awhile, I’ve gotta make ya some new cybernetic enhancements… your old ones don’t fit anymore, eh?”

Luce perked up, his stubby tail wagging. He trilled in excitement, following Belle to the workshop.

While this was in no way the best situation, they had each other, just like always. And as long as they held on, kept trusting each other and clinging to hope, they’d get through anything… they always did.

[myselfinserts]

“The rain smells better in the countryside.” //maybe some super fluffy ballet!AU...? as a treat? haha, just kidding... unless???

The rain was starting to come down heavily by the time they made it inside the country house. A beautiful building that used to be a dance academy, but had been closed down for the last fifty or so years. At least, until Mirage came to town. It was a rather expensive remodel, but they were rather proud of it. The exterior still presented the elegant detailing of the original woodwork, but with some of the more weakened and molded parts of wood replaced with fresh, sturdy pieces. The interior only needed some serious cleaning, along with some updates to the insulation and kitchen. The rooms that changed the most, unsurprisingly, was the practice rooms and on site stage, which needed to be completely overhauled to be up to code.

But when it was all finished, it felt so much like home that L never wanted to leave. The first thing she did upon entering the building was hang her coat in the closet, followed by an immediate dive onto the couch in the lounge room, sinking into the plush cushions just as Phoenix lit the fire. She let out a contented sigh, glancing at the shelves of books and trying to decide which one to read first.

"I missed this place," L said softly. "It's such a nice change of pace from the city."

Aizawa glanced around, arms crossed and a finger tapping his upper arm. "This place is a little…big, for a country house." He looked over his shoulder. "Adaire's frozen in place in the foyer."

"They'll get used to it," Phoenix snickered, curling up beside L. "How about some tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," L cooed.

"Perfect. Zawa, make us some, would ya?"

“That’s not part of my job,” he grumbled. 

L snuggled in closer to Phoenix, resting her head against her head. “Relax, Mr. Aizawa. Lana should be in the house. Just go to the kitchen and ring one of the bells, and she’ll take care of the tea.”

“Fine. Don’t move from the couch until I get back, okay?”

“We won’t.”

Phoenix watched as he headed towards the kitchen, waiting until he was completely out of earshot before nuzzling L closer. “You bully. You know Lana’s gonna give him the run around before teaching him how to do the housework himself.”

“Did I?” L hummed. “No worries. Gives us some time alone to relax, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm, it does.” Phoenix adjusted their positions, slipping her arms around L’s waist and handing her a book. “Picked up the newest romance book you and Ceri were talking about. It’s about a lovely lady alchemist in a steampunk world. Heard it’s supposed to be very steamy in more than just setting.” 

L smiled brightly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

As L made herself comfortable and began to read, Aizawa eventually came back carrying a tea tray, which had both tea and cocoa to choose from, along with a plate of small cakes and cookies. Upon request, he opened the window slightly to let the air in, before being promptly dragged out of the room by his ear by Lana, who was already going over the rules of the house in great detail. Felix stopped by a little later to re-stoke the fire, informing them of the dinner plans before bidding the girls good evening. 

By the time dinner time was about to start, L had completely abandoned the book, having gotten a good two chapters in before throwing herself completely into Phoenix’s embrace, resting her head over her partner’s heart. Phoenix kissed her forehead, breathing in the soft scent of jasmine and petrichor.

“The rain smells better in the countryside,” L sighed. “Fresh, untainted by exhaust and despair. Pure as crystal, cool against the flesh...”

“Getting a little poetic, are we?” Phoenix teased. 

L hummed. “Perhaps a little. And a tad melancholic, I suppose. I enjoy coming here, but...”

Phoenix nodded. “Wish it were under better circumstances, huh?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course. But...” she tilted her chin up, looking her straight in the face. Despite the mask she chose for today, Phoenix knew her eyes were absolutely gleaming. “What matters is we’re here now. Together.”

L managed a smile. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

The sound of a slight click stirred the two from their wonder, turning their attention to the window that had been open just a moment ago. The green haired maid adjusted her glasses, turning to the dancers with a slight bow. 

“Pardon me,” Lana said. “I’m afraid we’ll be expecting rainstorms for the next two days starting early tomorrow morning. Windows will have to remain closed until it passes. You both know where the emergency kits are across the house, but if you need anything in case of an emergency, let me know and we’ll have it brought immediately. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Would you like to eat here or at the dining room table?”

“We should probably head to the table,” Phoenix said, glancing at the empty foyer. “Drag Adaire off from wherever they ended up.”

“Agreed.” L slowly wiggled free of the warm arms. “They should get used to eating with everyone. And after everything the last few days, sharing a nice, quiet meal together should do us all some good.”

Lana nodded. “I shall inform them right away.” Lana took a few steps away before stopping. “By the way, L. That bodyguard Monsieur Allard hired for you. He’s rather skilled with a broom, but is abysmal at making tea. I shall rectify this so Aizawa is as acceptable as a butler as he is a guard. See you at dinner.”

As Lana continued on, Phoenix and L shared a giggle at the mental image of Butler Zawa and made their way to the dining room. 

It was nearly three in the morning when Phoenix woke up to the sound of heavy rainfall and thunder. The sound softly echoed through her room, causing a gentle reverberation that added to the dark, yet oddly comforting atmosphere. 

The thunder wasn’t what woke her, however. No, what had caused Phoenix to stir was the feeling of the blanket moving. A weight against the mattress not her own. Hands wrapping around her like vines, legs tangling together, holding her tightly in place. And the soft, dark hair completely covering the extra pillow beside her head. 

Laying there in her bed, holding her for dear life, was Lady L herself, trembling ever so slightly. 

“L?” Phoenix muttered. “L, what’s wrong?”

L curled in closer, burying her face into Phoenix’s shoulder. Her voice soft and airy, warm against her skin. It was all Phoenix could do not to blush. 

“Can I stay here for a little longer?” L whispered. “I don’t want to be alone right now...”

Phoenix gave her a warm smile, pulling her closer. “Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” 

They didn’t say anything more. Phoenix focused on lightly rubbing L’s back, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles as she hummed a simple lullaby. L eventually stopped trembling, her entire body relaxing as she slowly drifted back to sleep. 

On stage, she has a presence big enough to fill the entire stage. But here in the dark tonight, she’s as small as a newborn kitten. And I won’t forgive the bastard who put her in such a position.  

Phoenix gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, closing her eyes and falling back to slumber herself. Her last thought, a heartfelt promise. 

Don’t worry L. I’ll be here to protect you for as long as I’m able. We’ll continue dancing together, no matter what. 

[shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl]

Navigator and Wild Card

hiru and Impostor for dangan thieves AU

A lot of extra sass quotes for Mahiru because navi’s talk a lot apparently and Twogami has a different kind of mementos chats hmm...

“A gun’s not that different from a camera... Just point and shoot.“

“Current society needs reformation and I shall lead the revolution!“

Mahiru Koizumi Codename: Scope or Viewfinder Arcana: Priestess

Mahiru is an unlockable party member who you can get through a Mementos request. She put up the request to change Sato's heart (partly for personal reasons and partly for the ulterior motive of apprehending them). At the time, she's been conducting an independent investigation on the Dangan Thieves and she has more or less narrowed down the suspect list. Once her request got approved online, she started stalking Hajime and friends until she followed them into Mementos where she did not expect to encounter Shadow Sato. Now Shadow Sato is a tricky bitch because she keeps switching weaknesses and shit so they only get to beat the crap out of her when Mahiru finally awakens.

[[special thanks to @annsparksthegmr for inspiring this idea! that was a very productive chat! you inspire me!]]

Mask: More of a helmet than a mask, similar to the close helmets of late medieval. Although it covers her whole face, it has a split visor which she raises whenever she needs to summon her persona and see more clearly.

Outfit: A cross between steampunk and vintage fashion. A bodice made of gears and a simple frilly white dress underneath and knee-high boots.

Persona: Theia, greek goddess of sight

*NOTE: Unlike other personas, Theia takes the form of an object. At first it just modifies Mahiru's camera but upon second awakening, it transforms the camera into a sniper rifle that oddly enough, feels like a camera in Mahiru's hands.

Skillset: 

Bird’s Eye View:  Chance to fully map a floor of Mementos when entering that floor.

Close-Up: Analyzes enemy for weaknesses and resistances.

Burst Mode: Chance to instantly Hold Up enemies when starting a battle. 

*Red-eye Reduction: Chance to cast buffs or party-healing magic during battle.

Autofocus: Backup members may now Charge or recover SP.

Time Lapse: Chance to revive search objects in the area after battle.

Parallax: Chance to swap current party with backups when 2 or more people are KO'd.

Shutter Lag: Chance to nullify a fatal attack to a current party member.

*All-Out Attack Card: "Always take the shot!" captured in a polaroid photograph background and she says, "Smile for the camera!"

Awakening Scene: Theia: What are you going to do? Are you going to stand by and watch... again? Is that the type of person you truly are? The kind of friend that watches over their friend's corruption? For someone who can see more than meets the eye, you sure act as if you're blind. Tell me, will you turn a blind eye to this too?

Mahiru: No... Never again. Holding back... Pretending I didn't see anything... Doing nothing... I am done with all of that! I can't stand it anymore! I don't want to see my friend suffer like this! I can't just overlook something so terrible especially not when it's right in front of me!

Theia: It would seem that the fog that filled your vision has finally lifted. Oh how I've long waited for this day to come. At last we can see eye to eye now. I art thou... thou art I... To see clearer than ever is to acknowledge even the most painful of visions. However, to look forward despite the horrors, that is where your true power lies. Do not lose your sight again.

Mahiru: I won't look away. This time I'll look at the truth and stare it down with my own eyes. And once I've set my sights on it, I know that I can change it! Let me see, Theia!

Quotes: "Why do we even bother? Let's go." "Looks like I'm getting stronger!" “A new skill! I wonder what this one does.” "There's a treasure chest! We should check it out." "A safe room. Finally we can rest. Is everyone still okay?" "Don't get too carried away while exploring. Everyone please be careful." "I think I can go for a long walk." "Don't underestimate me, I can still walk a few miles." "Maybe we should stop and take a breather." "Enemy spotted. Are you prepared?" “We've been spotted? How could you have been so careless!” “They're weak so don't overdo it.” "Don't get too cocky. These guys are actually strong." “This feels like a crucial fight. Double check everything first.” “We won! That was amazing!” "Nice teamwork everyone!"

Entering a battle via Ambush: “We have the upper hand. Don’t screw it up.” Getting ambushed: “A surprise attack? And whose fault is that!” Rush: “Let’s just get this over with quickly.” Encountering the Reaper: “Do you want to die?! Don’t drag us into this!” Attempting to escape from battle: “Give me a sec. I’m searching for an escape route.” Party manages to escape from battle: “There’s an opening. Get out now!” An enemy flees in a Palace: “It ran away! Get back here and fight us like a man!”

*Recovering party's HP: “I told you guys not to push yourselves ragged. Hang in there.” *Recovering party's SP: “You’re going to need this, don’t waste it.” *Giving buffs: “I can’t believe I’m giving a pep talk mid-battle. Just go do your thing!” *Bestowing Concentrate and Charge to party: “If you still can’t win with this then you need to up your standards.”

Bird’s Eye View: “Let’s see… And done. Here’s a map of the floor.” Time Lapse: “Here, more treasure so don’t go ignoring this opportunity.” Close-Up: “Nothing escapes my sights. I can see its weakness!” Burst Mode: “Caught you in a candid shot, didn’t we?” Parallax: “I’ll do something about the enemy, just go and switch right now!” Shutter Lag: “Not on my watch! Photo manipulation can be handy at times like these.”

When someone’s health is low: “Someone’s dying. Well? Don’t just stand there, do something!” When someone is incapacitated: “They died? What are you doing? Hurry up and help them!” When someone exploits a enemy weakness: “Alright! Doing something right for once!” When someone's weakness is exploited: “Huh? How could you let them take advantage of you like that!” When someone misses: “You missed? At least try and aim next time.” Performing 3 Baton Passes in succession: “Look at you guys on a roll! You look like you’re having fun.” Announcing All-Out Attack: “Alright, now’s our chance. It’s payback time!”

Burn: "Someone’s burning up! Quick, get them some ice!" Freeze: “Someone’s below zero! Anyone who could warm them up?” Shock: "Someone’s shocked! They can’t move!" Forget: "Someone’s got amnesia! Don’t forget important things at a time like this!" Charm: “Someone’s charmed! Seriously, now’s not the time to be flirting with the enemy!” Rage: “Someone’s enraged! Calm down, don’t let them get to your head!” Despair: "Someone’s in despair! Where did all that hope talk go?" Hunger: "Someone’s too hungry! Feed them something already!" Dizzy: "Someone’s dizzy! Get yourself together before aiming!" Sleep: “Someone’s fallen asleep! Take a nap after the fight!” Silence: “Someone’s been inflicted with silence! Oh so NOW you’re quiet?” Mouse: "Someone’s been turned into a mouse! Cute but still, fix it!”

Mementos Chats: "From smiling people faces to shadows... not all with faces. When I started photography, I certainly didn't expect this career path change." "Who knew that my camera would be this handy in the cognitive world? Now if only there weren't any life-threatening shadows to use it against with." "So I guess I'm using a sniper rifle now... It's actually not that bad as a camera. I could get used to this." "Ugh, why does everything have to look so dark and bleak over here? So glad the pictures I take aren't actually getting saved." "Being a Dangan Thief is not as bad as I thought it'd be. But as expected, I have to look out for you or else you'll do something crazy the moment I look away."

Mahiru: You know, for a leader you're not so bad. Could use some more backbone but you haven't gotten us killed yet so you're doing an amazing job. Hajime: Thanks? Coming from you, that's the best praise I've ever gotten.

Hajime: Umm, quick question but... are we lost? Mahiru: You weren't paying attention again, were you? Seriously, how unreliable can you get?

Mahiru: You're dozing off again. No wait... no way. You're still playing even while half-asleep? Don't do that! You'll never know when we'll get ambushed or something. Chiaki: Oh, don't worry. This is a visual novel so there are no ambushes and the auto save function is really helpful.

Mahiru: It's actually a relief to see a familiar face around here. How's it going for you, Heartbeat? Are they treating you well? Tsumiki: Ehehe, t-thank you for your concern. I'm doing f-fine! They're really nice p-people.

Nagito: Your hope is outstanding! To think that such a mundane yet extraordinary skill could transform into an even more overwhelming power here! Truly your hope is shining brighter than ever! Mahiru: I'm sorry but... why is this guy here again?

Peko: With accuracy of this calibre, I would take caution should one day I find myself within your scope... especially if you plan to use an actual sniper rifle in the future. Mahiru: Um, thank you? I think that was a compliment, right? Don't worry, I wouldn't want to use a real sniper rifle anytime soon... or ever in fact.

Fuyuhiko: So your camera turns into a gun but instead of shooting bullets, it shoots pictures instead? I'm sorry but. what. the. fuck? Mahiru: Language! And don't ask me! I don't make up the rules on this but you know what already established rules we do have? Respect. So tone it down, will you?

Mahiru: Someone has to tell him about Blackjack. Chiaki: No, not yet. That's story event not bonus dialogue.

Mahiru: I'm used to taking pictures of people but it feels weird when you're all dressed up in costumes. Hajime: Wait you were taking pictures? Since when?!

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

Impostor (as Twogami) Codename: King Arcana: Emperor

Mask: Masked Crown of the Unknown King by OsborneArts @deviantart

Outfit: Royal knight armor complete with chainmail, red robe, and golden insignia, silimar to his mask, sewed on the chest.

Persona: Vishnu

*NOTE: Impostor is secretly the Wild Card, because of his talent of copying identities, by extension he carries many masks within himself and can use multiple personas. Although he himself is aware of this ability from the start, he doesn't reveal this power until much later on in the game. If you max out his confidant (last rank is unlockable near the end of the "game") only then can you use his Wild Card ability. Still, all throughout the plot, there will be hints to his hidden power.

Skillset: No particular strengths or weaknesses, jack of all trades master of none type. Defense is slightly higher but HP and SP are evenly distributed.

Weapons: Claymore and arbalest

All-Out Attack Card: "Long live the king!" written on a castle wall background and he says haughtily, "Well aren't you a royal pain?"

Awakening Scene: *NOTE: It's not clear yet but I'm considering that Impostor joins the party already awakened since it is spoiler-filled.

Vishnu: I've been waiting for you to call my name. At last you realize that the common faces you don are mere child's play. Do you seek to wear a different mask? Surely you must be tired of wearing others' masks. Why not wear your own? A mask that rather than hides, it shows your true self instead?

Impostor: Hmph, if such a mask truly exists... then I'd like to see how it fits me. My own mask... Something truly unique to me. I'll wear it with pride!

Vishnu: Haha! Splendid! Then let us form the pact and get on with it! I am thou! Thou art I! From this day on you are no longer than just a "copy". You are the original deal. Your mask is yours alone and none shall be the wiser.

Impostor: Finally, a mask to call my own. Ha... Truly we must commemorate today. Now then, let's see what my mask looks like and demonstrate just how much the others pale in comparison! Show me your form, Vishnu!

Quotes: "Such trifling matters. Let us move on." "Hmph, my increasing power is to be expected." “A new skill? Very well, I accept.” "Getting excited over a treasure chest? I suppose you knaves need the money." "A safe room. It's rather cramped but this will do." “Do not waste my time. Let us continue exploring.” "A king leading his army, wouldn't that be suiting?" “I suppose I shall humor you and help with the expedition.” "This is unacceptable. Someone else should do the gruntwork." "An enemy approaches. What is the plan, my strategist?" “We've been caught? They would regret choosing to defy us!" “They're hardly worth the effort. Ignore them.” "They seem to rank higher. A challenge every now and then wouldn't hurt." “Don't go foolishly charging in just yet. Prepare yourself.” “Another victory. Well that's to be expected.”

*BATON PASS!* "A true King leads his people to victory!" *PROTECT* "Ace! Move aside!" *ENDURE* "I cannot die... I have a duty to protect everyone." *PERSONA!* "Reveal yourself, Vishnu!" *Follow Up* "Shall I finish them off for you?" *Cover Fire* "Perhaps my assistance is needed." *Harisen Recovery* "Pay attention, knight!" *low on health* "Such form is unbecoming of a king. *healing someone* "Steady yourselves!" *getting healed* "Thank you. I shall remember this debt.” *giving buffs* "Hold your heads up high!" *attacking* "Feel the weight of my power!" *attack misses* “Impossible! How could I miss?” *couldn't finish off enemy* "Unacceptable. Someone finish them off!" *fainting* "How vexing... I've turned out to be a king in name only." *getting resurrected* “To think that I am still needed. Thank you, I shall not fail again."

*status ailment* "A quick meal will fix this." Burn: "Ha! I've eaten much hotter food than this!" Freeze: “I crush ice with my teeth. This coldness doesn't bother me at all.” Shock: "I'm paralyzed? How preposterous..." Forget: "Who am I again this time?" Charm: “It seems the other side is far better suiting to my tastes.” Rage: “Do not test you peon!” Despair: "In the end, I'm just faceless after all..." Hunger: "This hunger... Where are the fats that I can trust?" Dizzy: "It's harder to aim with this vision." Sleep: “Zzz... Snore... Mmmmfood... ” Silence: ... Mouse: "SQUEAK."

Mementos Chats: "To think that I'd have a mask of my own. How ironic, a mask that reveals rather than hides. I... I could get used to this. " "Perhaps one day I'll show you my true form..." "It's important to prepare one's body for this. So let us feast!" "I've brought us suitable rations. Do not hesitate to ask for more." "The flavors in the cognitive world are most extreme. Perhaps this is because the sense of taste is heightened. Ha, this could prove valuable to us." "I've been in many roles before but never did it cross my mind that I would become a Dangan Thief. It's quite the eye-opening experience I suppose."

Impostor: Perhaps I should choose a different codename. I do not want to start a riot against your authority. Hajime: Don't worry about it. Everyone knows that we shouldn't take the codenames literally.

Impostor: So Ace has a second mask. However it seems that his functions differently? Nagito: Differently? Oh, sorry for eavesdropping but I couldn't help my curiosity. Anyways, you were saying? Impostor: Nothing. I was saying nothing of that importance.

Impostor: ...Can I help you? Chiaki: Oh, sorry. It's okay, your secret's safe with me. Impostor: Excuse me? Chiaki: Don't worry, it's not in my character description to reveal yours.

Mahiru: Uh, okay I might be new at this but what's King doing? Nagito: Hm? Oh, that. He does that a lot. Just spacing out. Usually happens at the entrance before we do anything. Tsumiki: We tried um, asking him one time b-but he said he was just... thinking about things. Peko: Perhaps it's his way of mentally preparing for the battles. Fuyuhiko: Weird but so long as it ain't bad then we ain't dissing. Besides, a few minutes wouldn't hurt to prep. Chiaki: It feels like this is something important though. The kind of mystery that main protagonists usually have... *stares* Hajime: What? What are you looking at me like that for?

Fuyuhiko: I know I say this a lot but what the fuck just happened? Mahiru: Did that shadow just disappear? But why so suddenly? Peko: No, it looked like it dissolved into a mask... and into King's own mask. As to how though... Tsumiki: B-But all King did was talk to that shadow. Ah! I'm so sorry! I just said something completely o-obvious! Nagito: Hm? Could it be that King has been hiding something from us all along? I wonder... Impostor: Don't be ridiculous. All I did was talk down the shadow to surrender. Clearly it acknowledged my authority and trembled into submission. Chiaki: If you say so... Hey, Ace. Aren't you jealous that King can do that? Hajime: Again, why are you singling me out like this?

[zionmantis]

Anybody interested in my OCs?

I’m working on the last humorous fandom suggestion that I got; I’m not getting a lot of traction with that (you’re still more than welcome to send me funny fandom-related things that you want to see me draw; I can think of things myself, but I feel so much better about drawing something if I know at least one other person is going to enjoy it,) so maybe I’ll post some of my OCs and see if people want to see me draw any of them, in any situation.

The Zion Mantis and Kid Ant - Fallout:New Vegas; Honest Hearts OCs. The Zion Mantis is a White Leg who helped destroy New Canaan but was later abandoned by her tribe after she became ghoulified. Kid Ant is an eight-year-old orphan; one of the last living Mormons left in the settlement. Anuk (The Zion Mantis) ends up taking care of him, and he decides they should be ‘superheroes’ going around and doing good deeds. (Whether or not Anuk totally understands this is somewhat up in the air; her English is very poor.)

Kellmar ‘Skinny’ Three Creeks - Fallout: New Vegas OC. Former Blue Horn (my made-up Fallout tribals,) one of the many absorbed into the White Glove Society. Was their original chef and considered quite good, but decided after a few tries with it that cannibalism just wasn’t for him. Has a naked cat named Stew Cat that he was originally going to eat after escaping the Strip, but she grew on him and now she’s his Stew Cat. Although he’s generally pretty easy going, he HATES the Fiends’ chef, Cook-Cook, and very much wants to murder him. ...Whether this is entirely due to Cook-Cook’s sullying of the names of chefs everywhere by being a rapist and not washing his hands, or if it’s professional jealousy, or a mix... this is also somewhat up in the air. ‘Skinny’ is a misnomer. 

Peaches - Kind of a take on Fallout 4′s MC, but with a different twist. Peaches was definitely frozen in 111, but was more of a bored stereotypical housewife than a lawyer. Wears thick glasses and complicated blonde hair. Has an unabashed ghoul fetish. 

Lulu - My Fallout 3 OC. Dark-skinned, 19, and good with machines but bad at judgment. She also wears thick glasses, probably because I like to wear glasses in Fallout games. 

Josiah C. Asher and Garrett Finch - These are not actually my OCs but my take on the main characters of Heather Albano’s excellent novel/game A Study in Steampunk. (They’re also the subjects of the last scenario-related suggestion I got.) I picture Garrett Finch like a blonde, curly-haired, mustachioed Sherlock Holmes and his husband Josiah is a gigantic behemoth of an awkward doctor who later becomes a gay serial killer before converting to the sun temple (because that’s how I like to play my games.) 

Gretel - my Baldur’s Gate (DnD universe) half-orc. She’s good at making weapons and yelling. All the guys and gals think she’s hot. 

King Andrew - part of Sugar Isles before that died after an episode of mine and a  couple hospitalizations last year (WOO ENOUGH OF THAT,) but he still holds a diabetic place in my heart. Pear-shaped 1950s greaser gang leader who nonetheless dresses like a bowtied dork and ends up sucked into a fantasy sugar-coated world of talking gummy bears and made their king. Will eat, like, pretty much anything. 

Silver Blitz - Young speedster leader of a gang of unregistered chaotic-good superheroes called Lawless. Exists in the generic superhero universe that exists in my mind and in both DC and Marvel universes, (because I can’t decide.) Has the typical speedster attitude but is also on a massive quest for personal fame (kind of like a female version of Booster Gold, but in a lower income situation.) I came up with her after playing DC Online for like two weeks back in 2014 and @mxcatterbug (very rightly) told me that my original hero name, Red Rush, sounded like a time-of-the-month thing. Anyway, Blitz is... annoying. And silver. 

Commander Lacer - My newest OC since me and @mxcatterbug started a Mass Effect RP. Lacer is the Salarian commander of a new Council-based mission, part of a pilot program similar to the Specters, except with more oversight. A Lawful Good, knightly-type of character completely loyal to the council who is oddly (for a Salarian) not very good with intellectual pursuits. This may have to do with his backstory - he’s actually secretly Lystheni (Mass Effect fandom-wiki rules,) and falsified his credentials so he could work for the council a few years ago. Unlike most salarians, who only live to be about 40 or so, Lacer is 300+ years old due to the krogan DNA re-sequencing of the exiled Lystheni. Has a hard time pretending to be a normal salarian due to his perceived ugliness by other salarians (’he’ll never be chosen for breeding rituals!’) and the fact that he needs a good 8+ hours of sleep a night, not the normal salarian’s 1 hour. This leads to a lot of mistakes. Nevertheless, he is an utter sweetheart. 

Veer Etna - A male, stubby Volus (well, I don’t think they come in any other body type,) who was quite the formidable assassin among his own people, but is more of a laughing stock now that he’s attempting to ply his trade out there in the galaxy. *heavy breathing*  

I have a ton more but I think this is enough for now. Unfortunately, as much as I adore it, I don’t have any Dishonored ocs. Always looking for Dishonored suggestions, tho! Please message me if you want to see any of these characters in any situation you might want to see them in. 

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, Paranormal, Romance

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Synopsis:

A vampire hive descending into madness. A beautiful spy with a sparkly plan. The bodyguard who must keep them from killing each other. New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Gail Carriger brings you a charming story of love, espionage, and Gothic makeovers set in her popular Parasolverse. SPY Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott, code name Honey Bee, is the War Office's best and most decorative fixer. She's sweet and chipper, but oddly stealthy, and surprisingly effective given the right incentives. VERSUS KNIGHT Sir Crispin Bontwee was knighted for his military service, but instead of retiring, he secretly went to work for the War Office. Mostly he enjoys his job, except when he must safeguard the Honey Bee. Neither one is a vampire expert, but when the Nottingham Hive goes badly Goth, only Dimity can stop their darkness from turning bloody. And only Crispin can stop an enthusiastic Dimity from death by vampire. In a battle for survival (and wallpaper), Dimity must learn that not all that sparkles is good, while Cris discovers he likes honey a lot more than he thought. "This intoxicatingly witty parody will appeal to a wide cross-section of romance, fantasy and steampunk fans." ~ Publishers Weekly, starred review (Soulless) Spinning off from the Finishing School series, featuring deadly ladies of quality, this story stands alone, but chronologically follows Poison or Protect before the start of the Parasol Protectorate Series. It's Cold Comfort Farm meets Queer Eye meets What We Do In The Shadows from the hilarious author of the Parasol Protectorate books, perfect for fans of Julia Quinn, Jodi Taylor, or Meljean Brook. Delicate Sensibilities? Contains fraternizing vampires and one very curious young lady, who asks about seduction, sometimes in detail but mostly in retrospect. May also involve excessive use of velvet, melodramatic poetry, and the strategic application of interpretive ballet.

*Opinions*

The second novella is the Delightfully Deadly series follows Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott as she is activated by the War Office to look into the Nottingham Hive and attempt to prevent them from going Goth. The War Office is also sending Sir Crispin Bontwee as her safety, to protect and extract Dimity, codename Honey Bee, if the hive cannot be saved. While that would be dangerous enough, both Dimity and Crispin cannot deny that the biggest danger to both of them is getting their hearts broken by the other, though neither wants to admit it. However, with Dimity’s unending optimism and Crispin’s refusal to fail, neither problem stands a chance against the Honey Bee and her knight. 

I have to say that I was extremely excited to see a novella completely focused on Dimity as she was one of my favorite secondary characters from The Finishing School series. While she was underestimated by Sophronia, to begin with, it became evident that she was a very skilled intelligencer with just a different skill set than her best friend. They always complimented each other beautifully, but it is nice to see that Dimity has been very successful on her own and while she is not an assassin or a physical powerhouse, she is able to complete missions with unwavering kindness, optimism, and chattering, though she will set boundaries forcefully if the situation calls for it. Too many times “strong female characters” are stripped of these traits because they are seen as a weakness, but Carriger makes them a strength, which I very much enjoy. Also, I was happy to see Pillover make an appearance and that he is still delightfully mopey. 

The character of Justice was an absolute delight and I’m happy to see that the topic of sexuality and gender identity were not shied away from nor turned into some dramatic tragedy. Justice is a trans woman and as soon as she is permitted to be who she wishes to be, the proper clothes are obtained and she is able to court her love, who is just as delighted with Justice as he was before she was able to express herself. I think it was expertly handled and made me very warm and fuzzy for all the right reasons. All the vampires of the Nottingham Hive were delightfully ridiculous, but if one is going to live forever and your Queen has gone underground, one is allowed a few eccentricities. 

Speaking of romance, I am a huge fan of mutual pinning when it is done correctly, which I feel that Carriger does in this novel. While constant miscommunication can take mutual pinning into very annoying territory quickly, in this novel we have a man attempting to figure out the intentions of a woman trained to seduce and deceive and a woman who is attempting to figure out a man who refuses to be anything other than a gentleman because he father was an absolute rake and all-around horrid human being. It’s not miscommunication so much as fear of rejection and being exactly what you fear you will become, which is very understandable and makes you feel for the characters. Also, who doesn’t love a good fake marriage trope, am I right?

Unlike Poison or Protect, the plot and mission are not lost in the tread of the romance, which I was very pleased about. While Crispin and Dimity are figuring out their arrangement and feelings, they are also still working to bring the Nottingham Hive back into working order and there is the constant ticking clock of a sundowner showing up to eliminate the hive altogether. When Lord Maccon arrives, it is obvious that while Crispin and Dimity are having a lovely time, they still have a mission to complete and they are still surrounded by supernatural creatures that could hurt them if they wanted. There is a satisfying conclusion to their mission and a happily ever after that is desperately needed these days. 

This was a very delightful novel about love, redecorating, and the importance of relationships and fashion. It is a good balance of romance and solving the mystery of the Nottingham Hive going goth. It wasn't very serious, but not everything needs to be morose and serious, especially given how the world is these days. I am excited to move onto the Parasol Protectorate series and see how London is progressing after the events of The Finishing School series, though I think there are few short stories before Soulless. 

[topfygad]

New Zealand’s Wild Cities: A Kiwi Kinda Adventure

Short drives from Wellington, Dunedin and Christchurch lead visitors to rare penguins, sea lions play-fighting on beaches, and fur seals having a lovers’ tiff.

  Wait long enough in the discreet sheds built along the Otago Peninsula and you’ll see yellow-eyed penguins waddle out of the sea after a hard day’s swim. They’re among the rarest in the world, but Otago gives visitors ample time to observe their adorable antics. Photo By: Xavier Fores-Joana Roncero/Alamy/Indiapicture

Dunedin

Come hail or harsh sun, the Otago Farmers Market pops up outside Dunedin Railway Station every Saturday morning. Its stained glass windows perk up when the morning light hits its early-20th-century facade. In the lawns, out come pumpkins the size of doll houses, Pinot Noirs from the Central Otago Peninsula, and buskers with guitars and voices like honey. A Frenchman hands me two crêpes: one with poached pear bundled in chocolate sauce and custard, another packed with Jerusalem artichokes, pork, cheese and egg. People’s purses balloon with jars of fragrant honey made from manuka bushes. A man with crinkly eyes doles out bacon butties, pepper pâté, and a smile each. And pies, oh there are pies everywhere. I try the traditional hangi (Maori feast) pie with beef, pumpkin, kumara (sweet) potato, and carrot. I feel I’ll never be able to eat another meal again. Until I move to the next truck.

It has been a long time since a group of Scottish settlers came to this part of Maori land in the mid-19th century and named it Dunedin (‘Dùn Èideann’ is the Scottish Gaelic name for Edinburgh). Today, the city is a peppy university town, with ringing pubs, stunningly preserved Victorian and Edwardian buildings, a castle, and even its own kilt shop.

But I am here for Otago Peninsula, a mere 30-minute ride yet a world away, where the van waiting outside the railway station will take me.

Beyond the window of this little shed is a world that was never tamed. Cliffs so high that they’d tingle toes; the sea so blue that it can see into your soul. Dusk makes the ancient bays and beaches of the Otago Peninsula seem a bit broody. The wind howls and roars, but the green and gold tussock by the harbour bears it stoically.

I peer a few feet ahead, at the sea. Anytime now.

A yellow-eyed penguin emerges; it toddles slowly with hunched shoulders, as if walking back from school after flunking a maths test. I can sympathise: it has dived into the sea 200-300 times today, swimming 65-230 feet each time in search of seafood. It comes close enough to the shed for me to see its rad yellow eyebands—which gives it its name. Its irises too are the colour of van Gogh’s “Sunflowers.”

The royal albatross (top)—one of the world’s largest birds—and cheeky Hooker’s sea lions (bottom) are some of the creatures that call the Otago Peninsula home (bottom inset). The peninsula is a mere 30-minute drive from Dunedin (top inset). Photo Courtesy: Dunedinnz (Albatross); Photos By: Michael Rucker/ImageBroker/Getty Images (sea lions); Daniel Harwardt/iStock/Getty Images (coast)

Knee-high in size, this penguin species is believed to be the world’s rarest; about 3,000-odd ones are found only here, in New Zealand, on the eastern and southern coasts of South Island. I’m incredibly lucky to see them like this in the wild, where they roam free and are at home.

In seconds, more and more cuddly creatures rise from the sea, some strutting like calendar models, oblivious to me and my guide silently whooping in the hide. Mark, the guide, has seen this hundreds of times; he taps my arm when one penguin throws back its arms à la Shah Rukh Khan, and emits a long shrill cry. “Their Maori name is hoiho, which means ‘noise shouter’,” Mark whispers as the penguin sings with rockstarish head-shaking. Hoihos aren’t very sociable; I watch one accidentally headbutt a sheep on its way up the cliff behind us, waddling on quickly without meeting its eye. At the top, one curious lone penguin stands like Christ the Redeemer. For 15 whole minutes.

All life in the 33-kilometre Otago Peninsula revolves around preserving its creatures—the yellow-eyed and little blue species of penguins, New Zealand fur seal, New Zealand sea lion, and royal albatross. Large stretches are unpaved and settlements are small; it’s heartening to see some private properties have walking tracks for the easy passage of tourists. Trench-like hides built at various beaches and corners along the peninsula ensure that some wildlife (penguins in particular) rarely comes in direct contact with visitors. Operators like Mark’s company, Elm Wildlife Tours, are visibly passionate about ecotourism.

At the northernmost tip of Otago Peninsula is Taiaroa Head. The main attraction on this windswept piece of land jutting from the coastline is The Royal Albatross Centre, the only breeding colony on a mainland for the world’s largest seabird. Their wingspans are more than 10 feet (that’s twice the size of my mother). Rob, a guide at the centre, leads me to a viewing room with a glass panel. A young chick is huddled outside on a patch of grass, looking like it were made of cotton balls. Adult albatrosses spend almost 80 per cent of their time at sea, returning only to feed their young. They divvy up parenting, like the progressive spouses they are. Rob speaks of these gentle giants as if their lives are no less gripping than his favourite soap opera. “Royal albatrosses, or toroa, have a three-year mating period, so if you get bored of your partner, it’s going to be a while before you’ll settle down again,” he says. His favourite albatross here, he adds, was the one called ‘Grandma’ because she raised her last chick at 62. “She divorced one of her partners, but got back again. Then there’s one here in his 30s, who is bereaved and hasn’t put himself out there again,” rues Rob. As the perfect ending of his story, an adult toroa comes soaring in a circle, and swoops in towards its chick. I see its grace. These “ocean wanderers” fly 1,90,000 kilometres a year; I think of how, in less than eight months, a strong gust of wind will launch the baby albatross on its maiden flight.

Exploring the Otago Peninsula largely on foot, beside empty beaches, inlets, and dreamy purple clusters of hebe blossoms, feels more intimate than a safari. It also drives home an important lesson: that it’s me who’s on the turf of these creatures. Making myself invisible—huddling in hides, standing behind glass panels—is key to understanding them.

So I feel oddly exposed when Mark walks down Papanui beach in long strides, towards two, five, nay, nine sea lions roaring and gamboling in the sand. “They are endemic, the Hooker’s sea lions; confident around humans. Maintain safe distance, and you’re fine,” he says, coaxing me to stand about eight feet away from one that weighs at least 350 kilograms. He takes photos while I look over my shoulder at the way the creature bullies and playfights smaller lions around him, throwing sand over them, barking and chasing them. Almost all sea lions at Otago, I learn, are related to ‘Mum,’ a female who had a pup here in 1993—the first to be born on the mainland in over 100 years (https://ift.tt/1bDQ61i; tours from NZD122/Rs5,760 adults, children NZD112/Rs5,300).

All you need to observe New Zealand fur seals along Tongue Point, a 20-minute drive from Wellington (inset), is curiosity and a healthy 15-foot distance. Photos By: Skyimages/iStock/Getty Images (seal); Fotoshoot/Alamy/indiapicture (boy)

From the airplane, you can see the Hollywood-style sign perched on a hillside. ‘Wellington’ it reads, the last two letters askew, floating skyward. On ground, the world’s windiest city pops with Victorian homes along its harbour.

That evening, my walk from Wellington’s waterfront to Cuba Street passes through revolving doors of the world: Japanese, Vietnamese, Moroccan, and Indonesian food aromas come drifting, transporting me to secret kitchens. Coffeemakers hiss with head-clearing Cuban coffee at Fidel’s café; a puppeteer pulls strings to make her puppet paint a portrait of a little girl standing close by, sending her into squeals of disbelief. At Cuba Street’s night market, a persistent steampunk jewellery artist, a bookshop, and a paella stall tug at my heart and purse strings.

They say you can walk from one end of the Kiwi capital to the other in 30 minutes, and I do. The morning after, I book a tour with Seal Coast Safaris to look beyond the windy city. In just 20 minutes, Kent, my guide for the three-hour tour, drives the 4WD to a wind turbine on Brooklyn Hill, through private farmlands with ostrich and red deer. Soon, I see old mountains lick the waters of the South Coast. Wellington seems far away, and this place its rustic sibling—no golden sand beaches or sunbathers, no people at all.

Just the sea pummelling grey outcrops and hills that look a giant’s hairy back. When Kent stops along one of the beaches, at Tongue Point, I get out and—with a shock—realise I am surrounded by at least 15 New Zealand fur seals. Some look out at the robin’s-egg blue water. Others yawn as I tiptoe towards them, but begin hissing and spitting when I get too close. Two fur seals seem to be having a lovers’ tiff, smacking and flapping their flippers at each other. Another one scratches its neck and looks bored with their drama (www.sealcoast.com; tours from adults NZD125/Rs5,900, children 14 and under NZD62.5/Rs2,950).

A 1.5-hour drive southeast of Christchurch takes visitors to Akaroa, whose waters host the Hector’s dolphins—the world’s rarest and smallest. Don’t miss Akaroa’s other attraction: a whimsical sculpture garden with mosaic figures, the Giant’s House (inset). Photo Courtesy: Graeme Murray (dolphin), Photo by: Dennis Macdonald/ AgeFotostock/ Dinodia Photo Library (mosaic statues)

Roses bloom outside colonial homes in Rue Balguerie, and onion soup bubbles in old-timey cafés in nearby Rues. Iridescent paua shells mark some graves in the Old French Cemetery up the hill. I haven’t woken up in France, but it’s easy to forget that in the little town of Akaroa, a 1.5-hour drive away from Christchurch, South Island’s largest city.

Hewn from a volcano, Akaroa tucks charm in the little things—a walk to its lighthouse that watches over Caribbean-blue waters of the Banks Peninsula; stories of how French settlers arrived at its shores in 1840 only to find that the British had beaten them to it; or at the Giant’s House, a sculpture garden with Gaudi-like mosaics and Dali-esque whimsy.

Akaroa is catnip for another, significant reason—it is the home of the rare Hector’s dolphins, among the world’s smallest at five feet and endemic to New Zealand. When a Black Cat Cruise ship takes me and other visitors into the bay, cathedral-like coves and mystical orange-brown volcanic formations surround us. Seals scamper as our boat inches closer to the rockface. And then, as suddenly as they rose, the grey-black bodies of three Hector’s dolphins sink into the waters ahead of us. The boat stops, and a little girl beside me giggles every time the dolphins hiss and pop up like a jack-in-the-box of the sea. Our skipper points out their black dorsal fins—rounded, instead of pointed. Some cruises offer a chance to swim with Hector’s dolphins too (blackcat.co.nz; cruise NZD85/Rs4,015, children 5-15 NZD35/Rs1,650).

Flights between Delhi or Mumbai and New Zealand’s capital, Wellington—or Christchurch in South Island—require at least one layover in a gateway cities such as Sydney or Singapore. Dunedin is connected to Christchurch by regular domestic flights and two buses a day (6 hr; www.intercity.co.nz). Self-drive is the most popular way to travel within New Zealand. Indian travellers can apply for a New Zealand visa online (www.immigration.govt.nz). A month-long visa costs NZD246/Rs11,435 and is processed within 28 working days.

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from Cheapr Travels https://ift.tt/2mF9p5d via https://ift.tt/2NIqXKN

[topfygad]

New Zealand’s Wild Cities: A Kiwi Kinda Adventure

Short drives from Wellington, Dunedin and Christchurch lead visitors to rare penguins, sea lions play-fighting on beaches, and fur seals having a lovers’ tiff.

  Wait long enough in the discreet sheds built along the Otago Peninsula and you’ll see yellow-eyed penguins waddle out of the sea after a hard day’s swim. They’re among the rarest in the world, but Otago gives visitors ample time to observe their adorable antics. Photo By: Xavier Fores-Joana Roncero/Alamy/Indiapicture

Dunedin

Come hail or harsh sun, the Otago Farmers Market pops up outside Dunedin Railway Station every Saturday morning. Its stained glass windows perk up when the morning light hits its early-20th-century facade. In the lawns, out come pumpkins the size of doll houses, Pinot Noirs from the Central Otago Peninsula, and buskers with guitars and voices like honey. A Frenchman hands me two crêpes: one with poached pear bundled in chocolate sauce and custard, another packed with Jerusalem artichokes, pork, cheese and egg. People’s purses balloon with jars of fragrant honey made from manuka bushes. A man with crinkly eyes doles out bacon butties, pepper pâté, and a smile each. And pies, oh there are pies everywhere. I try the traditional hangi (Maori feast) pie with beef, pumpkin, kumara (sweet) potato, and carrot. I feel I’ll never be able to eat another meal again. Until I move to the next truck.

It has been a long time since a group of Scottish settlers came to this part of Maori land in the mid-19th century and named it Dunedin (‘Dùn Èideann’ is the Scottish Gaelic name for Edinburgh). Today, the city is a peppy university town, with ringing pubs, stunningly preserved Victorian and Edwardian buildings, a castle, and even its own kilt shop.

But I am here for Otago Peninsula, a mere 30-minute ride yet a world away, where the van waiting outside the railway station will take me.

Beyond the window of this little shed is a world that was never tamed. Cliffs so high that they’d tingle toes; the sea so blue that it can see into your soul. Dusk makes the ancient bays and beaches of the Otago Peninsula seem a bit broody. The wind howls and roars, but the green and gold tussock by the harbour bears it stoically.

I peer a few feet ahead, at the sea. Anytime now.

A yellow-eyed penguin emerges; it toddles slowly with hunched shoulders, as if walking back from school after flunking a maths test. I can sympathise: it has dived into the sea 200-300 times today, swimming 65-230 feet each time in search of seafood. It comes close enough to the shed for me to see its rad yellow eyebands—which gives it its name. Its irises too are the colour of van Gogh’s “Sunflowers.”

The royal albatross (top)—one of the world’s largest birds—and cheeky Hooker’s sea lions (bottom) are some of the creatures that call the Otago Peninsula home (bottom inset). The peninsula is a mere 30-minute drive from Dunedin (top inset). Photo Courtesy: Dunedinnz (Albatross); Photos By: Michael Rucker/ImageBroker/Getty Images (sea lions); Daniel Harwardt/iStock/Getty Images (coast)

Knee-high in size, this penguin species is believed to be the world’s rarest; about 3,000-odd ones are found only here, in New Zealand, on the eastern and southern coasts of South Island. I’m incredibly lucky to see them like this in the wild, where they roam free and are at home.

In seconds, more and more cuddly creatures rise from the sea, some strutting like calendar models, oblivious to me and my guide silently whooping in the hide. Mark, the guide, has seen this hundreds of times; he taps my arm when one penguin throws back its arms à la Shah Rukh Khan, and emits a long shrill cry. “Their Maori name is hoiho, which means ‘noise shouter’,” Mark whispers as the penguin sings with rockstarish head-shaking. Hoihos aren’t very sociable; I watch one accidentally headbutt a sheep on its way up the cliff behind us, waddling on quickly without meeting its eye. At the top, one curious lone penguin stands like Christ the Redeemer. For 15 whole minutes.

All life in the 33-kilometre Otago Peninsula revolves around preserving its creatures—the yellow-eyed and little blue species of penguins, New Zealand fur seal, New Zealand sea lion, and royal albatross. Large stretches are unpaved and settlements are small; it’s heartening to see some private properties have walking tracks for the easy passage of tourists. Trench-like hides built at various beaches and corners along the peninsula ensure that some wildlife (penguins in particular) rarely comes in direct contact with visitors. Operators like Mark’s company, Elm Wildlife Tours, are visibly passionate about ecotourism.

At the northernmost tip of Otago Peninsula is Taiaroa Head. The main attraction on this windswept piece of land jutting from the coastline is The Royal Albatross Centre, the only breeding colony on a mainland for the world’s largest seabird. Their wingspans are more than 10 feet (that’s twice the size of my mother). Rob, a guide at the centre, leads me to a viewing room with a glass panel. A young chick is huddled outside on a patch of grass, looking like it were made of cotton balls. Adult albatrosses spend almost 80 per cent of their time at sea, returning only to feed their young. They divvy up parenting, like the progressive spouses they are. Rob speaks of these gentle giants as if their lives are no less gripping than his favourite soap opera. “Royal albatrosses, or toroa, have a three-year mating period, so if you get bored of your partner, it’s going to be a while before you’ll settle down again,” he says. His favourite albatross here, he adds, was the one called ‘Grandma’ because she raised her last chick at 62. “She divorced one of her partners, but got back again. Then there’s one here in his 30s, who is bereaved and hasn’t put himself out there again,” rues Rob. As the perfect ending of his story, an adult toroa comes soaring in a circle, and swoops in towards its chick. I see its grace. These “ocean wanderers” fly 1,90,000 kilometres a year; I think of how, in less than eight months, a strong gust of wind will launch the baby albatross on its maiden flight.

Exploring the Otago Peninsula largely on foot, beside empty beaches, inlets, and dreamy purple clusters of hebe blossoms, feels more intimate than a safari. It also drives home an important lesson: that it’s me who’s on the turf of these creatures. Making myself invisible—huddling in hides, standing behind glass panels—is key to understanding them.

So I feel oddly exposed when Mark walks down Papanui beach in long strides, towards two, five, nay, nine sea lions roaring and gamboling in the sand. “They are endemic, the Hooker’s sea lions; confident around humans. Maintain safe distance, and you’re fine,” he says, coaxing me to stand about eight feet away from one that weighs at least 350 kilograms. He takes photos while I look over my shoulder at the way the creature bullies and playfights smaller lions around him, throwing sand over them, barking and chasing them. Almost all sea lions at Otago, I learn, are related to ‘Mum,’ a female who had a pup here in 1993—the first to be born on the mainland in over 100 years (https://ift.tt/1bDQ61i; tours from NZD122/Rs5,760 adults, children NZD112/Rs5,300).

All you need to observe New Zealand fur seals along Tongue Point, a 20-minute drive from Wellington (inset), is curiosity and a healthy 15-foot distance. Photos By: Skyimages/iStock/Getty Images (seal); Fotoshoot/Alamy/indiapicture (boy)

From the airplane, you can see the Hollywood-style sign perched on a hillside. ‘Wellington’ it reads, the last two letters askew, floating skyward. On ground, the world’s windiest city pops with Victorian homes along its harbour.

That evening, my walk from Wellington’s waterfront to Cuba Street passes through revolving doors of the world: Japanese, Vietnamese, Moroccan, and Indonesian food aromas come drifting, transporting me to secret kitchens. Coffeemakers hiss with head-clearing Cuban coffee at Fidel’s café; a puppeteer pulls strings to make her puppet paint a portrait of a little girl standing close by, sending her into squeals of disbelief. At Cuba Street’s night market, a persistent steampunk jewellery artist, a bookshop, and a paella stall tug at my heart and purse strings.

They say you can walk from one end of the Kiwi capital to the other in 30 minutes, and I do. The morning after, I book a tour with Seal Coast Safaris to look beyond the windy city. In just 20 minutes, Kent, my guide for the three-hour tour, drives the 4WD to a wind turbine on Brooklyn Hill, through private farmlands with ostrich and red deer. Soon, I see old mountains lick the waters of the South Coast. Wellington seems far away, and this place its rustic sibling—no golden sand beaches or sunbathers, no people at all.

Just the sea pummelling grey outcrops and hills that look a giant’s hairy back. When Kent stops along one of the beaches, at Tongue Point, I get out and—with a shock—realise I am surrounded by at least 15 New Zealand fur seals. Some look out at the robin’s-egg blue water. Others yawn as I tiptoe towards them, but begin hissing and spitting when I get too close. Two fur seals seem to be having a lovers’ tiff, smacking and flapping their flippers at each other. Another one scratches its neck and looks bored with their drama (www.sealcoast.com; tours from adults NZD125/Rs5,900, children 14 and under NZD62.5/Rs2,950).

A 1.5-hour drive southeast of Christchurch takes visitors to Akaroa, whose waters host the Hector’s dolphins—the world’s rarest and smallest. Don’t miss Akaroa’s other attraction: a whimsical sculpture garden with mosaic figures, the Giant’s House (inset). Photo Courtesy: Graeme Murray (dolphin), Photo by: Dennis Macdonald/ AgeFotostock/ Dinodia Photo Library (mosaic statues)

Roses bloom outside colonial homes in Rue Balguerie, and onion soup bubbles in old-timey cafés in nearby Rues. Iridescent paua shells mark some graves in the Old French Cemetery up the hill. I haven’t woken up in France, but it’s easy to forget that in the little town of Akaroa, a 1.5-hour drive away from Christchurch, South Island’s largest city.

Hewn from a volcano, Akaroa tucks charm in the little things—a walk to its lighthouse that watches over Caribbean-blue waters of the Banks Peninsula; stories of how French settlers arrived at its shores in 1840 only to find that the British had beaten them to it; or at the Giant’s House, a sculpture garden with Gaudi-like mosaics and Dali-esque whimsy.

Akaroa is catnip for another, significant reason—it is the home of the rare Hector’s dolphins, among the world’s smallest at five feet and endemic to New Zealand. When a Black Cat Cruise ship takes me and other visitors into the bay, cathedral-like coves and mystical orange-brown volcanic formations surround us. Seals scamper as our boat inches closer to the rockface. And then, as suddenly as they rose, the grey-black bodies of three Hector’s dolphins sink into the waters ahead of us. The boat stops, and a little girl beside me giggles every time the dolphins hiss and pop up like a jack-in-the-box of the sea. Our skipper points out their black dorsal fins—rounded, instead of pointed. Some cruises offer a chance to swim with Hector’s dolphins too (blackcat.co.nz; cruise NZD85/Rs4,015, children 5-15 NZD35/Rs1,650).

Flights between Delhi or Mumbai and New Zealand’s capital, Wellington—or Christchurch in South Island—require at least one layover in a gateway cities such as Sydney or Singapore. Dunedin is connected to Christchurch by regular domestic flights and two buses a day (6 hr; www.intercity.co.nz). Self-drive is the most popular way to travel within New Zealand. Indian travellers can apply for a New Zealand visa online (www.immigration.govt.nz). A month-long visa costs NZD246/Rs11,435 and is processed within 28 working days.

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source http://cheaprtravels.com/new-zealands-wild-cities-a-kiwi-kinda-adventure/

[topfygad]

New Zealand’s Wild Cities: A Kiwi Kinda Adventure

Short drives from Wellington, Dunedin and Christchurch lead visitors to rare penguins, sea lions play-fighting on beaches, and fur seals having a lovers’ tiff.

  Wait long enough in the discreet sheds built along the Otago Peninsula and you’ll see yellow-eyed penguins waddle out of the sea after a hard day’s swim. They’re among the rarest in the world, but Otago gives visitors ample time to observe their adorable antics. Photo By: Xavier Fores-Joana Roncero/Alamy/Indiapicture

Dunedin

Come hail or harsh sun, the Otago Farmers Market pops up outside Dunedin Railway Station every Saturday morning. Its stained glass windows perk up when the morning light hits its early-20th-century facade. In the lawns, out come pumpkins the size of doll houses, Pinot Noirs from the Central Otago Peninsula, and buskers with guitars and voices like honey. A Frenchman hands me two crêpes: one with poached pear bundled in chocolate sauce and custard, another packed with Jerusalem artichokes, pork, cheese and egg. People’s purses balloon with jars of fragrant honey made from manuka bushes. A man with crinkly eyes doles out bacon butties, pepper pâté, and a smile each. And pies, oh there are pies everywhere. I try the traditional hangi (Maori feast) pie with beef, pumpkin, kumara (sweet) potato, and carrot. I feel I’ll never be able to eat another meal again. Until I move to the next truck.

It has been a long time since a group of Scottish settlers came to this part of Maori land in the mid-19th century and named it Dunedin (‘Dùn Èideann’ is the Scottish Gaelic name for Edinburgh). Today, the city is a peppy university town, with ringing pubs, stunningly preserved Victorian and Edwardian buildings, a castle, and even its own kilt shop.

But I am here for Otago Peninsula, a mere 30-minute ride yet a world away, where the van waiting outside the railway station will take me.

Beyond the window of this little shed is a world that was never tamed. Cliffs so high that they’d tingle toes; the sea so blue that it can see into your soul. Dusk makes the ancient bays and beaches of the Otago Peninsula seem a bit broody. The wind howls and roars, but the green and gold tussock by the harbour bears it stoically.

I peer a few feet ahead, at the sea. Anytime now.

A yellow-eyed penguin emerges; it toddles slowly with hunched shoulders, as if walking back from school after flunking a maths test. I can sympathise: it has dived into the sea 200-300 times today, swimming 65-230 feet each time in search of seafood. It comes close enough to the shed for me to see its rad yellow eyebands—which gives it its name. Its irises too are the colour of van Gogh’s “Sunflowers.”

The royal albatross (top)—one of the world’s largest birds—and cheeky Hooker’s sea lions (bottom) are some of the creatures that call the Otago Peninsula home (bottom inset). The peninsula is a mere 30-minute drive from Dunedin (top inset). Photo Courtesy: Dunedinnz (Albatross); Photos By: Michael Rucker/ImageBroker/Getty Images (sea lions); Daniel Harwardt/iStock/Getty Images (coast)

Knee-high in size, this penguin species is believed to be the world’s rarest; about 3,000-odd ones are found only here, in New Zealand, on the eastern and southern coasts of South Island. I’m incredibly lucky to see them like this in the wild, where they roam free and are at home.

In seconds, more and more cuddly creatures rise from the sea, some strutting like calendar models, oblivious to me and my guide silently whooping in the hide. Mark, the guide, has seen this hundreds of times; he taps my arm when one penguin throws back its arms à la Shah Rukh Khan, and emits a long shrill cry. “Their Maori name is hoiho, which means ‘noise shouter’,” Mark whispers as the penguin sings with rockstarish head-shaking. Hoihos aren’t very sociable; I watch one accidentally headbutt a sheep on its way up the cliff behind us, waddling on quickly without meeting its eye. At the top, one curious lone penguin stands like Christ the Redeemer. For 15 whole minutes.

All life in the 33-kilometre Otago Peninsula revolves around preserving its creatures—the yellow-eyed and little blue species of penguins, New Zealand fur seal, New Zealand sea lion, and royal albatross. Large stretches are unpaved and settlements are small; it’s heartening to see some private properties have walking tracks for the easy passage of tourists. Trench-like hides built at various beaches and corners along the peninsula ensure that some wildlife (penguins in particular) rarely comes in direct contact with visitors. Operators like Mark’s company, Elm Wildlife Tours, are visibly passionate about ecotourism.

At the northernmost tip of Otago Peninsula is Taiaroa Head. The main attraction on this windswept piece of land jutting from the coastline is The Royal Albatross Centre, the only breeding colony on a mainland for the world’s largest seabird. Their wingspans are more than 10 feet (that’s twice the size of my mother). Rob, a guide at the centre, leads me to a viewing room with a glass panel. A young chick is huddled outside on a patch of grass, looking like it were made of cotton balls. Adult albatrosses spend almost 80 per cent of their time at sea, returning only to feed their young. They divvy up parenting, like the progressive spouses they are. Rob speaks of these gentle giants as if their lives are no less gripping than his favourite soap opera. “Royal albatrosses, or toroa, have a three-year mating period, so if you get bored of your partner, it’s going to be a while before you’ll settle down again,” he says. His favourite albatross here, he adds, was the one called ‘Grandma’ because she raised her last chick at 62. “She divorced one of her partners, but got back again. Then there’s one here in his 30s, who is bereaved and hasn’t put himself out there again,” rues Rob. As the perfect ending of his story, an adult toroa comes soaring in a circle, and swoops in towards its chick. I see its grace. These “ocean wanderers” fly 1,90,000 kilometres a year; I think of how, in less than eight months, a strong gust of wind will launch the baby albatross on its maiden flight.

Exploring the Otago Peninsula largely on foot, beside empty beaches, inlets, and dreamy purple clusters of hebe blossoms, feels more intimate than a safari. It also drives home an important lesson: that it’s me who’s on the turf of these creatures. Making myself invisible—huddling in hides, standing behind glass panels—is key to understanding them.

So I feel oddly exposed when Mark walks down Papanui beach in long strides, towards two, five, nay, nine sea lions roaring and gamboling in the sand. “They are endemic, the Hooker’s sea lions; confident around humans. Maintain safe distance, and you’re fine,” he says, coaxing me to stand about eight feet away from one that weighs at least 350 kilograms. He takes photos while I look over my shoulder at the way the creature bullies and playfights smaller lions around him, throwing sand over them, barking and chasing them. Almost all sea lions at Otago, I learn, are related to ‘Mum,’ a female who had a pup here in 1993—the first to be born on the mainland in over 100 years (https://ift.tt/1bDQ61i; tours from NZD122/Rs5,760 adults, children NZD112/Rs5,300).

All you need to observe New Zealand fur seals along Tongue Point, a 20-minute drive from Wellington (inset), is curiosity and a healthy 15-foot distance. Photos By: Skyimages/iStock/Getty Images (seal); Fotoshoot/Alamy/indiapicture (boy)

From the airplane, you can see the Hollywood-style sign perched on a hillside. ‘Wellington’ it reads, the last two letters askew, floating skyward. On ground, the world’s windiest city pops with Victorian homes along its harbour.

That evening, my walk from Wellington’s waterfront to Cuba Street passes through revolving doors of the world: Japanese, Vietnamese, Moroccan, and Indonesian food aromas come drifting, transporting me to secret kitchens. Coffeemakers hiss with head-clearing Cuban coffee at Fidel’s café; a puppeteer pulls strings to make her puppet paint a portrait of a little girl standing close by, sending her into squeals of disbelief. At Cuba Street’s night market, a persistent steampunk jewellery artist, a bookshop, and a paella stall tug at my heart and purse strings.

They say you can walk from one end of the Kiwi capital to the other in 30 minutes, and I do. The morning after, I book a tour with Seal Coast Safaris to look beyond the windy city. In just 20 minutes, Kent, my guide for the three-hour tour, drives the 4WD to a wind turbine on Brooklyn Hill, through private farmlands with ostrich and red deer. Soon, I see old mountains lick the waters of the South Coast. Wellington seems far away, and this place its rustic sibling—no golden sand beaches or sunbathers, no people at all.

Just the sea pummelling grey outcrops and hills that look a giant’s hairy back. When Kent stops along one of the beaches, at Tongue Point, I get out and—with a shock—realise I am surrounded by at least 15 New Zealand fur seals. Some look out at the robin’s-egg blue water. Others yawn as I tiptoe towards them, but begin hissing and spitting when I get too close. Two fur seals seem to be having a lovers’ tiff, smacking and flapping their flippers at each other. Another one scratches its neck and looks bored with their drama (www.sealcoast.com; tours from adults NZD125/Rs5,900, children 14 and under NZD62.5/Rs2,950).

A 1.5-hour drive southeast of Christchurch takes visitors to Akaroa, whose waters host the Hector’s dolphins—the world’s rarest and smallest. Don’t miss Akaroa’s other attraction: a whimsical sculpture garden with mosaic figures, the Giant’s House (inset). Photo Courtesy: Graeme Murray (dolphin), Photo by: Dennis Macdonald/ AgeFotostock/ Dinodia Photo Library (mosaic statues)

Roses bloom outside colonial homes in Rue Balguerie, and onion soup bubbles in old-timey cafés in nearby Rues. Iridescent paua shells mark some graves in the Old French Cemetery up the hill. I haven’t woken up in France, but it’s easy to forget that in the little town of Akaroa, a 1.5-hour drive away from Christchurch, South Island’s largest city.

Hewn from a volcano, Akaroa tucks charm in the little things—a walk to its lighthouse that watches over Caribbean-blue waters of the Banks Peninsula; stories of how French settlers arrived at its shores in 1840 only to find that the British had beaten them to it; or at the Giant’s House, a sculpture garden with Gaudi-like mosaics and Dali-esque whimsy.

Akaroa is catnip for another, significant reason—it is the home of the rare Hector’s dolphins, among the world’s smallest at five feet and endemic to New Zealand. When a Black Cat Cruise ship takes me and other visitors into the bay, cathedral-like coves and mystical orange-brown volcanic formations surround us. Seals scamper as our boat inches closer to the rockface. And then, as suddenly as they rose, the grey-black bodies of three Hector’s dolphins sink into the waters ahead of us. The boat stops, and a little girl beside me giggles every time the dolphins hiss and pop up like a jack-in-the-box of the sea. Our skipper points out their black dorsal fins—rounded, instead of pointed. Some cruises offer a chance to swim with Hector’s dolphins too (blackcat.co.nz; cruise NZD85/Rs4,015, children 5-15 NZD35/Rs1,650).

Flights between Delhi or Mumbai and New Zealand’s capital, Wellington—or Christchurch in South Island—require at least one layover in a gateway cities such as Sydney or Singapore. Dunedin is connected to Christchurch by regular domestic flights and two buses a day (6 hr; www.intercity.co.nz). Self-drive is the most popular way to travel within New Zealand. Indian travellers can apply for a New Zealand visa online (www.immigration.govt.nz). A month-long visa costs NZD246/Rs11,435 and is processed within 28 working days.

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