#while it might also be true that he left for marigold to try to figure out what's going on over there from the inside; as suggested.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelofthequeers · 4 years

Note

How is Zoe's comic racist? (sorry don't mean to question you, genuinely curious) Also, I admit I was also sucked into the salt fic whirlpool, but quickly left after I realized how toxic it was being. Could you also elaborate on GalahadWilder, if it isn't too uncomfortable for you? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, or ask uncomfortable questions.

I can’t point out everything off the top of my head but the racism (along with everything else but that’s not the focus) is a large part of what made me throw my hands up and write this. And I won’t be answering any more asks about any of this because I just want to get it out there so people know (because of how many people genuinely don’t see it) and then go back to trying to forget that this shit ever existed, rather than dragging out some new fandom drama. Also keep in mind that while I’m West Asian/Arab, I’m also white-passing so if I get anything wrong, I appreciate call-outs. (Also I finally got my laptop charger today so I can snip my posts again 😭)

Her treatment of Max in ‘Gamer’.

It’s not unique to her; it’s a very common salter thing to utterly tear into Max for being a “sexist jerk” and daring to underestimate princess Marinette because she’s a girl. Never mind that they canonically aren’t close friends because of Chloé’s bullying, so Max probably had no idea that Marinette’s liked video games all this time, where Adrien is the new boy so it’s just one more thing to learn about him.

It’s especially heinous compared to how the other classmates are treated far more leniently for their own mistakes - they still get salted on but Max, aka the Black boy, always seems to get singled out and held to higher standards. Just look at ‘Chameleon’ and how the other classmates are mildly to moderately attacked by salters but Max gets utterly ripped to shreds because he “should know better”. (Never mind that just because he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s good at human interaction. They just want to attack him).

It also angers me because people like Nathaniel and Ivan are absolved of what they do as akumas (like kidnapping others and literally forcing someone to go on a date with them) because they couldn’t help it, yet Max is literally held responsible for what he did when akumatised (because he dared to go after Princess Marinette) and even for daring to get akumatised in the first place. Both these things just make him a sore loser, apparently.

So SL ‘Gamer’ was the final straw for me, especially with how she characterised Max as a smug arsehole, and it made me so angry that I just exploded to my friends, but I didn’t know how to directly call it out without looking like a petty bitch.

Here’s a post I made about salters and ‘Gamer’ if you’re interested in a more coherent and in-depth thing about it.

Alya’s treatment throughout the whole thing.

In canon, she’s an enthusiastic and passionate girl who sometimes gets carried away and goes too far and who idolises Ladybug because Ladybug stands against evil. Here? She’s treated as the butt of the joke for being so starry-eyed over superheroes that she idolises Scarlet Lady while Marinette mocks her behind her back. Never mind her iconic line of “all that is needed for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing” and this is why she loves Majestia in the first place. Never mind that she loves Ladybug because Ladybug is kind and passionate and strong and creative. Canon Alya wouldn’t want a bar of Scarlet Lady, who just sits around complaining, and yet SL!Alya worships her because...why? Running joke? The only Black girl in the series is treated as a gag to be made fun of by someone who’s supposed to be her best friend, just for the audience’s amusement. Marinette’s probably meant to look funny and relatable here, but she just looks like a major bitch to her new friend. Alya’s flaws are basically blown up and exaggerated for comedic effect, while Marinette in contrast is airbrushed to perfection, with no flaws and no anxiety that was only alleviated in canon by - guess what - being Ladybug.

It’s like Zoe wants to stick to canon while adding her own little “fun” twists for humour, like making Marinette snarky and perfect (which just makes her look like an utter bitch) and in the case of Alya, it does her so dirty that even Lila is more sympathetic. LILA. After SL humiliates Lila, Alya looks doubtful but buys some bullshit excuse so that she can continue to be the Scar-worshipping idiot. And then in the aftermath, her concern isn’t for Lila, the girl who was humiliated and bullied by a literal superhero and then ended up sick. No, she’s angry because...Lila lied on her blog. The blog that doesn’t have nearly as much recognition as in canon because SL would never validate her, unlike Ladybug. So her passion for her blog is exaggerated to imply that she’d say that a girl deserves to be bullied and sick because she told a few lies (since at this point, Alya doesn’t know about any possible malice on Lila’s part, just as in canon. All that’s known is the lying for attention).

It’s horrible hypocrisy, where Alya is held to higher standards than the other (white) characters and when she fails to meet those standards, she’s torn into. She’s not afforded any sympathy for being hurt that Lila lied to her; in fact, she’s demonised for feeling hurt, especially because of the running joke that her blog is focused on someone so horrible and she doesn’t see that. Lila is presented as the sympathetic one here. LILA. Just because Alya dared to believe her in canon.

Also, how she’s constantly trying to either tease Marinette for having a crush or insist that Marinette’s only doing what she does because of a crush...even though according to this ‘verse’s canon, Marinette is too good to make mistakes and do obsessive stuff over a crush, which is why canon Alya thinks this about her in the first place. That didn’t just come out of nowhere in the show purely for “woe is Marinette, her best friend doubts her”.

Like in the first part of ‘Gamer’, where she’s accusing Marinette of only entering the tournament to flirt with Adrien while Marinette so “coolly and calmly” rebuts her...why? By the ‘verse’s own logic, Marinette isn’t a flustered mess around Adrien. The only purpose of this scene is to glorify Marinette and her amazing calmness while making Alya look like a nosy idiot who dares to doubt her best friend. The logic of the ‘verse and of canon clash really jarringly in moments like this, and it becomes clear that the only purpose of these moments is to make Marinette look better at the expense of others. Most often her best friend, who’s an utter idiot for not seeing Scarlet Lady’s true nature and just can’t keep her nose out of Marinette’s business and so comes to wrong conclusions. Why are Marinette and Alya even friends in this ‘verse? SL!Marinette’s been nothing but condescending towards Alya most of the time.

Uh, and also the way she occasionally whitewashes Alya. Just look at the SL headers. She literally made Alya, aka a Black girl who’s one of the good guys, lighter than Lila, aka a white girl who’s one of the bad guys and not even that tanned in canon. Why do people make one of the villains darker and often whitewash one of the heroes? It’s not that hard to figure out.

(Also the way she really played into the aggressive Black girl stereotype in ‘Horrificator’ over a minor argument, even physically threatening Nino. Why? Literally why did she have to go full-on aggressive instead of just looking angry and scolding him or something?)

This all might not be conscious on Zoe’s part but the way Alya is treated is still disgusting, especially if you’re operating on internalised salt from other aspects of the salty fandom. I’ve seen her claims that she’s trying to help Alya improve and she’s not being salty but...even if she’s not being consciously salty, her salt is definitely still leaking over it and part of that salt includes racism. I also don’t see how making Alya a joke and exaggerating her flaws is helping her to improve when there was plenty to go off in canon but, well, that might just be me.

Even Marinette, who’s pretty much treated as white for 99% of it.

Marinette, aka the girl who’s only made visibly “Asian/Other” in SL ‘Reflekta’ with her Chinese-inspired Black Cat suit and name which is a one-off, while her permanent Bee outfit is just the bland tight suit that salters criticise Ladybug for having and her name is just Marigold. It comes across as using “Asianness” as a costume and it really didn’t sit right with me at first, but it took me a while to tease out why exactly this made me feel ick.

There’s nothing wrong with touching more on Marinette’s heritage and expanding on it in ways that the show doesn’t, especially because this is a big sticking point for salters, but again...it’s only a one-off. A costume. There aren’t casual hints sprinkled throughout the comic that just normally establish Marinette as half-Chinese, aside from like a page or two in ‘Timebreaker’ showing Sabine’s outfit. It’s another ‘Kung Food’ where it’s slammed into one episode and shoved into our faces that Marinette Is Chinese and it’s really jarring and unpleasant.

It just comes across as fetishising, is all. I don’t think it’s something most people would pick up on unless they’re used to being able to see this kind of thing.

Master Fu. Oh, Master Fu.

From an old man who made mistakes but tried as best as he could with the limited knowledge he had, he’s now a bumbling idiot who...put the earrings in Marinette’s bag instead of her room for some reason? To kickstart the plot? Especially because the ring was still in Adrien’s room. It’s very, very contrived.

And then in one of the most recent updates, Zoe has Adrien - a white boy - physically threaten Fu, aka an elderly Asian man. It’s disgusting. I was gobsmacked when I first saw it. And that’s the thing with salters: they tear into Adrien for being a white boy so they can look Enlightened when he hasn’t actually done anything racist, yet they then turn around and perpetuate actual racism in trying to “fix” him

There’s probably more but those are the examples that jump out at me of the racism in SL. There are plenty more problems but...whatever. I’ll be here all day if I try and cover those.

As for the Galahad thing...it’s personal. That original post was as much as I was comfortable revealing.

#ask #aotq babbles #miraculous ladybug #ml fandom salt #yeah there’s a lot here lmao #cw racism #antiblackness #ml analysis

64 notes · View notes

rohirric-hunter · 3 years

Text

Hathellang of Bree-land (Léonys of Rohan Pt. 7)

Part 1 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 10

So far I’ve only encountered one quest in LotRO that I found myself disagreeing with entirely. It’s during the Epic questline, just before the Battle of the Pelennor fields, and it’s called Reserves of Courage. The game has you encouraging some soldiers who are about to give up with rousing tales of your adventures, featuring such exemplary stories as: Balrogs, which TBH the soldiers probably didn’t think existed anymore. Mordirith, who you just found out yesterday is still alive and also can’t be killed and also is leading the assault on this city. Dol Guldur and its associated Nazgûl. Also the PC is explicitly losing hope themselves, and while there’s something to be said for a narrative of someone going through the motions to encourage other people with platitudes they don’t believe, I don’t feel that angle was effectively played. So. Yeah. This is my response to that quest.

The thing you gotta understand about Tolkien and LotR is “Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures” and also “I do not expect 'history' to be anything but a 'long defeat' - though it contains .... some samples or glimpses of final victory” but at the same time “the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.” Hathellang has always been much more “in tune” with LotR’s core themes than Léonys, a bit more hobbit-y, if you will, which is hard to showcase when the story isn’t told from his point of view (which is because I hate writing in his voice but that’s a whole other rant).

***

This is how it is to be Hathellang of Bree-land:

The basket in your arms is a heavy burden, and you gladly set it down with a dull rattling noise on the battlement beside Celonor, who gives you a quizzical look. You can’t blame him; you’d hardly explained yourself before heading off to the Thirsty Seer to fetch it. You draw back the cover and produce two mugs in one hand and a large jug of beer in the other -- nothing fancy, as you have precious little money left, but you tasted it and it’s of decent quality, something of a nuttier, lighter version of Barliman Butterbur’s favored homebrew.

Celonor and the men behind him brighten up as they realize what it is you’ve brought, and gather around, taking the mugs of ale you hand out and then spreading out around the walltop again, still eyeing you curiously as you fill one for yourself.

You settle down on the battlement, swinging your legs around so you’re facing out, eastward towards Osgiliath and Mordor beyond it, and you can’t help but suppress a shiver at the sight. The men behind you have given into despair. How can you hope to have victory, indeed? Somewhere in the ruined city across the smoking Pelennor fields stands Mordirith, returned from death somehow, unable to be killed, and the drink turns to ash in your mouth.

Léonys had stood before Mordirith in Angmar, hurling insults and threats even as the terror forced her to her knees, crouched over the body of Lorniel or trying desperately to distract him from Golodir when the Ranger was broken by false visions of his daughter. You had stood behind her, and behind every word she spoke, but that is how Léonys channels her courage; through anger, and through determination, and through fighting every step of the way, even when victory seems impossible. You have never been so strong.

You think, wryly, that you ought not to have followed the Grey Company at Léonys’ urging. Blind devotion had overridden the voice of sense in your head that whispered that she ought not to be left alone, not after the way she had followed Gimli out of the caves in the back of Helm’s Deep like a skittish goat, eyes darting everywhere and seeing nothing, and the high-strung way she had spoken to you and managed to say everything and nothing at once. Perhaps it would not have if you had known then what she had left behind in those caves. Even now you know very little, an incomplete and hastily told account from Candaith, who had not been present for most of the events he spoke of, and had been reluctant to tell you what Léonys had chosen not to tell for herself. If you could do that morning over, perhaps you would have chosen differently, but you cannot, and you did not, and now you must play the hand you have been dealt.

You straighten your shoulders and lift your mug to your mouth again, stirring yourself from the memory. How can you hope to have victory? There is no hope for victory. You do not belong here. You are not a warrior or a leader; you are a thief, and your skills lie in hiding and lying and misdirection. But there is no leaving the White City now.

“You said that Echadon wished for you to speak to us, but you have said precious little,” Celonor says. “Is it true then, that there is no hope?”

You close your eyes, and then open them, drawing your gaze closer, to one of many towers of smoke rising from the fields below. “What was the Pelennor like?” you ask.

“What?” says another voice, from behind you and to your right.

“Before… everything,” you say. “What was it like?”

Some shuffling and murmuring. You do not look back. “Andor lived there,” someone says. “Tell him, Andor.”

Another pause, and then another voice speaks, of an older man, tinged with fear. “I own -- owned a farm, to the south, over there. “We grew… beans mostly, but my wife had a flower garden.”

You look back to follow where Andor is pointing. In the darkness you cannot make out the farm, if indeed anything remains to be seen, but you nod knowingly anyway. “What kind of flowers?” you ask.

Andor looks at you the exact same way Keeper Brombard Foxtail had looked at you when you had asked him about Mithril from the Michel Delving Mathom house, and it is that, more than anything, that brings the light back to your heart in that single moment as you stifle a laugh. “Primroses, mostly,” he says. “Snake’s head. Mostly primroses.” For a moment, silence reigns, and you scan the faces, confused, fearful, and heartbreakingly sad.

Andor continues. “There are great clusters of wood anemone beneath the Rammas in the south. She did not grow them; they are best kept away from farmland, and they don’t grow well in the open fields. But she loves them, and they are quite beautiful. Have you seen them?”

You are reasonably certain that you have, but you shake your head anyway, and Andor comes and settles on the battlement beside you. He is grizzled, not shaven well due to a scar that runs across his chin, and his skin corroborates his tale of long hours spent working in the sun, though he wears his armor with a comfort that speaks of habit. “They blanket the grounds beneath the wall, and in the woodlands beyond, clusters of leaves of the boldest green, and small white flowers with six petals. Our daughter calls them the eyes of the land, watching out for us.” He takes a long drink from his mug and then sighs. “I suppose it’s all dead now, though.”

You set your mug aside and draw your legs up onto the battlement, wrapping an arm around them. “I wish I could see it,” you say, and take a deep, shaky breath. “It’s beginning to be springtime, where I’m from. The wildflowers will be blooming in the fields; violets, marigolds, primroses. Mostly violets.” You raise your eyes to Osgiliath again as you continue. “Helena -- my sister, I suppose -- Helena will be starting her garden. She grows potatoes and onions, but last year she tried her hand at carrots. They were terrible. I can’t figure how you can ruin carrots but she did it, somehow. There’s a festival in the springtime; a hedge maze, baking and eating contests, horse races, dancing. Drinking. Lots of drinking. The winter rains move off and the new rains are gentle and warm.”

There’s an eerie silence on the walltop now. Even the wind seems to have fallen silent. You shiver in the suddenly chill air.

You drag your gaze away from Osgiliath and turn, looking at the eight or so men that stand behind you. Their eyes are bleak, as bleak as your own must be. You can read on their faces that they know what you are thinking. They do not -- cannot know about Angmar, or the Barrow-downs, or the orcs and bandits that roam freely across the fields around Bree-town, but they know that there is evil there, read the fear in your voice that upon your return, if you do return, there may no longer be eating contests, or a hedge maze, or horse races. And even if there are, if these things persist for a little in the face of Sauron’s inevitable power, how long? How long before even the memory of them fades?

This, then, is the difficult bit.

You throw back and drain your mug, setting it down with a harsh clatter on the battlement beside you. A stiff gust of wind sweeps past and you stand up, and draw your cloak about yourself.

“So there is no hope.”

It is not a question, but you respond anyway. “Not really, no.”

“Then why do we prepare for battle?” someone demands, and you hear the clatter of another mug hitting the stone of the battlement.

You shrug, turning back to face the men behind you. “What’s the other choice?” you ask.

Andor looks about, eyes darting shiftily, before speaking. “The Withered Tree promises mercy if we surrender.”

“Well, that’s definitely not going to happen,” you say, matter of factly, “if your orcs are anything like the ones back home.” There is some disgruntled murmuring; they can read the truth in your voice as clearly as they read the doubt. “It’s how most things worth doing get done,” you say. “You’ve come this far, so you might as well go a step further, and then a step after that. We’re here, and we can’t leave, so we might as well fight.”

There’s a long pause. “You are not a strong motivator,” Celonor says.

“Oh, that’s very true,” you reply, picking up the jug and pouring a little more beer into your mug. “I’m right, though.” You don’t wait for a response before forging ahead. “I probably won’t go home. It’s too much to hope for. But it’s what I want. And I want it enough to fight for it, even if I don’t expect it to happen.” You hold out a hand for Andor’s mug. “Does the Withered Tree promise a farm that grows beans and a flower garden with primroses and wood anemone in the woodlands?”

The man shakes his head as he hands you the mug, smiling grimly and sadly. “You have only been here a few days. There is no victory against the Enemy.”

“Of course not,” you say. “But there’s no victory in surrender.”

Celonor frowns. “And you’re willing to die for that -- for a hope that you don’t believe you’ll ever see?”

“I’m willing to live,” you correct him. “If I was dead, then I wouldn’t be worrying about any of this.” The mugs are plain clay, cracked glaze offering textures that you run your fingers over contemplatively for a moment before handing Andor his refilled cup. “I have a great deal to live for, and it would be nice, if I could see it again.” You meet his eyes, and the eyes of the men behind him. “Do you have nothing to live for?”

“You are right in this,” Celonor says, looking out over the field. “Men of Minas Tirith have much to live for. Let it never be said that we quailed before the hosts of Mordor, not while the White City yet stands.”

Andor nods as well. “My wife and daughter traveled westward, with the last of the wains. I would see them again, and no orc-host will let me live in peace with my family.”

Murmurs of agreement rise from the walltop, and with a small twitch of your lips you raise your mug. “To living,” you say. “Even if it’s not for much longer.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Celonor says.

“Aye,” says Andor, and mugs clink against each other, a tiny spark of life amid the dread that hangs over the Tower of Guard.

Part 1 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 10

#lotr #lotro #lord of the rings #lord of the rings online #lord of the rings online fanfiction #lotr oc #leonys of rohan

6 notes · View notes

kelelamentia · 5 years

Text

Plant Charming

Because I want to add to Marinette’s growing list of admirers.

@ozmav

On a street in Paris:

A male figure stood.

“She’s here, I hope I don’t scare her.” He walked toward a very specific bakery.

On Marinette’s balcony:

Marinette was tending to her garden; watering and weeding, and just enjoying here flowers. This was something Lila and her class couldn’t take from her; just like designing, it gave her some peace of mind. Tikki was flying around the flowers like she was dancing, when she stopped.

“Marinette I’m going inside to eat some cookies, would you to come?” Tikki asked.

“No thanks Tikki, I want to stay out here a bit longer.”

“Okay Marinette have fun.” With that Tikki disappeared down the hatch.

Marinette was left alone with her garden. As she went about her business Marinette was singing a soft tune, never noticing a large vine growing until a voice came.

“My, what a lovely voice.” Marinette turned around, almost throwing her watering can, and saw a boy about her age standing on a large vine. “Hello, are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

He had long red hair that just reached past his shoulders in a pony tail, green eyes and pale skin. He wore a white buttoned-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, a pair of nice light blue jeans, and some brown loafers.

“Y-Yes, I am, who are you?” Was he an Akuma, Marinette wondered?

“I am Emmanuel ‘Mandrake’ Isley; but you can call me Manny, I am the son of Gotham’s Poison Ivy and I’m here to thank you.” Manny greeted giving a slight bow to Marinette.

Marinette was put high alert as soon as he said ‘Poison Ivy’; he was much more dangerous than an Akuma, but him wanting to say ‘thank you’ through her off.

“Thank me?” she asked.

“Yes, you remember your trip to Gotham?”

Marinette nodded yes.

“So, you remember how you organized the mass clean up of Gotham’s parks; when no one else would, after my Mother and a few others went on a rampage?”

“I didn’t plan it alone, I had friends helping me.” Marinette informed.

Manny just nodded his head.

“True, the Wayne family helped, but you were that driving force weren’t you; you even managed to set up a better recycling system for Gotham’s park’s, and that’s more than my Mother has ever done and for that I says thank you.”

“You don’t sound like you’re happy with your mother…” Marinette commented.

“She is my Mother and to some degree I do love her,” Manny sighed, “And I share her love of plants and her idea of eco friendly things, but with the way she handles her reaction to pollution and litter; it is a miracle that the people of Gotham aren’t terrified of going green.”

Manny stood up straight and Marinette in the eye; still standing on the vine and said.

“So please, Marinette don’t be afraid of me. I am not my Mother; I plan to help the green movement the right way.”

He sounded so pure in his intentions, so Marinette was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt.

“It’s nice to meet you Manny.” Marinette smiled “I’m Marinette, but I guess you already knew that…”

“You just a lovely bloom, aren’t you?” Manny laughed softly. “I wish I could say my intentions here were completely unselfish, but I was hoping I could have your help as well Marinette.”

“With what?” Marinette asked, tilting her head to the side.

“May come on to your balcony first? This might be a long talk and my vine will likely attract some attention.” Manny made a gesture with his hand, indicating to her balcony and his vine.

“Oh! Sure!” Marinette was so used to Chat just coming on to balcony; into her space, that she never thought about anyone asking for her permission.

Manny thanked her as he hopped down; the vine receding from once it came.

“Thank you, lovely Marigold.”

Marinette blushed at the nick-name but did her best to focus.

“What would you like me to help with Manny?”

“Many things really, but todays goal would be to create a logo.” Manny admitted.

“You want to start your own awareness group?” Marinette asked.

“Yes, I want to do this the right way and I’ll start from the bottom up.”

They sat down on a bench Marinette had set up there to discuss what Manny wanted his logo to look like. It was not a quick talk as Marinette keep giving new ideas and a outside perspective for Manny. Eventually they came up with a logo for Manny to use and he had to leave.

“Please forgive me my lovely Marigold, but I must leave.”

“It’s fine Manny.”

“At least let me pay you.”

“No Manny, you’re starting from the ground up; with who you’re related to acting as an obstacle. Let this be my good luck gift to you.”

Manny gave Marinette a charming smile.

“You really a bloom amongst the weeds Marinette, at least let me give you this.” Manny reached out his hand over her flowers, after a moment a vine curled up and around his hand; creating a circlet. After the circlet was complete flowers began to bloom; marigolds more accurately.

Once the flower crown was finished Manny placed gently it on Marinette’s head.

“For the lovely queen Marigold, to repay her kind heart.”

Marinette was blushing hard at Manny’s words.

Manny smiled once more at Marinette before walking to the edge of her roof, he got up on the railing and turned to face her. With her attention on him he gave Marinette a wink and salute just before flipping off the roof saying.

“Adieu”

Then he was gone.

Marinette just stood there, she couldn’t believe what had just happened to her.

“Marinette?” A small voice sounded from the roof hatch.

Turned and went to her room.

“I’m sorry Tikki, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Tikki flew up and cuddled Marinette’s cheek.

“Its fine Marinette but that was a risk.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed, “But he didn’t feel dangerous.”

“He’s from Gotham, right? Maybe call Damian and ask about him.”

“That’s a good idea Tikki, I’ll do that.”

"Granted, you were going to call him no matter what, you miss him."

"That's true." Marinette nodded her head.

"Now if only you could ask him out."

"TIKKI!"

Later with Damian when Marinette called:

Marinette was on speaker phone with Damian and his family.

“Emmanuel ‘Mandrake’ Isley? Yeah that’s Poison Ivy’s kid, but he doesn’t seem to want to follow in her foot steps; he even left Gotham, no one knew where he went until you called Marinette.” Tim explained, looking at a computer, not giving out any more information than what a normal civilian would know.

*Is he going to hurt anyone? *

“No, you’re in the clear on that one Mari. He really doesn’t want to be like his Mother, he’s even been cleared by Batman…mostly.” Tim confirmed.

*That’s good; I’d hate to think that his kindness was all an act. *

“Kindness?” Damian asked.

*He asked for permission to jump onto my balcony and he wants to start his own ‘Go green’ campaign from the ground up. He came to me to get help with a logo, he was very much a gentleman the entire time. *

“That’s good to hear he didn’t try anything Marinette, promise to let us know if that changes; okay?” Dick said, watch Damian’s eye twitch in irritation.

*I promise, you guys will be the first to know. *

“Good.” Damian stated bluntly.

“Hey Short-Stack?” Jason asked. “How did he pay you for the logo?”

*I didn’t accept payment from him; even though he said he wanted to. He’s starting from the ground up with nothing to really back him besides his mother’s reputation, which isn’t a good thing. *

“That’s very kind of you Mari.”

*Thank you, Dick, but since he could pay me; he gave me a flower crown he grew right in front of me, it was very sweet. *

Dick, Jason and Tim were watching Damian start to seethe.

*And he seems to like calling me Marigold; that is what the flower crown was made of, actually. *

“How the h*ll did I miss the obvious nick-name!” Jason groaned, “It literally has the word ‘Mari’ in it.”

*Sorry Jason, but you won’t be able to use it now. *

Damian was starting to look apocalyptic and Dick and Tim were trying to keep him from exploding which Marinette was on the phone.

*I should go now; I have some homework to do before bed. *

“That’s I good idea Mari, it was great talking with you!” Dick chirped, while having his hands firmly on Damian’s shoulders.

*Night guys! Night Damian! *

“Night Marinette!” Was the group farewell.

Once the phone call was disconnected Jason decided it would be fun to take a few shots at Damian.

“Looks like Demon Spawn had some competition for Pixie-dusts attention.”

“Jason!” Dick scolded.

“He’s right you know, and Mandrake is apparently better at talking to people as well, the Brat is at a disadvantage.”

“Die Drake!” Damian launched himself at his brother.

“I’ll go ask Bruce to book a trip to Paris.” Dick sighed, walking out of the room, leave Tim and Damian brawling and Jason laughing.

Next Day in Paris with Manny:

Manny was in the park exercising another one his powers; talking to plants, he asked them about the lovely Marigold.

‘She’s sweet.’ They said.

‘She’s kind.’ They praised.

‘She’s hurting.’ They grieved.

“Hurting?” Manny asked.

They spoke of a liar; one of stories that were far too good to be true, of classmates with no common sense, and of a boy with false promises.

“This cannot be allowed to continue.” Manny murmured.

The plants told Manny of the liar’s favorite lie, one he would very good at exploiting.

“Thank you, my friends; this gives me chance to help Marigold remove the weeds in her life.” Manny looked towards the sky, “I should also make my intentions towards her clear, I would hate for her to misunderstand me.”

After school with Marinette:

Marinette was happy to rush out of school, but unfortunately Lila and her herd of sheep were right behind her.

“Prince Ali said we should get together soon again; apparently he misses me.” Lila was boasting about her green program with Prince Ali again, and the class was eating it up.

“You’re so lucky Lila.” Rose sighed.

“Girl you are something else.” Alya cheered.

Marinette rolled her eyes, a quick web search would be all it would take to debunk that lie, but if she were the one doing it, they would never even listen. Since Marinette wasn’t watching where she was going, she bumped into someone at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette apologized, not looking at the persons face.

“Its fine Marigold, my plan was to ‘Bump’ into you anyway.”

Marinette shot up at the voice.

“Manny!” Marinette blinked in surprise, “What brings you here?”

“Why? Can’t I visit you Marigold?” Manny questioned, delivering a kiss to the back of Marinette’s hand making her blush.

As Marinette tried to stammer a reply, the class; Lila mostly, saw the scene. They were surprised to see a handsome young man giving a kiss to Marinettte’s hand. Lila was not about to allow Marinette to have any happiness.

“Hello there, are you new?” Lila asked, in a very fake sweet voice.

Manny only gave her a passing glance.

“Don’t mind me; I’m just here to talk Marigold about a ‘Go Green’ program.”

Lila thought this was perfect.

“I could help you; you know. I helped Prince Ali with a GLOBAL green program a couple years ago.”

Lila was wrong.

“Really? What the name of the program?” Manny asked, now looking directly at Lila.

“N-Name?” Lila stuttered; she never came up with one.

“Yeah, the name; how else am I to look up and join your ‘Global’ program if I don’t know its name?” Manny inquired.

“Umm…I don’t remember it?” Lila tried.

“What? You don’t remember the name of your OWN program?”

Marinette was staring in awe at Manny; did he some how plan this?

“Well, I can get very busy…” Lila began, Manny never her finish.

“I suppose that is understandable, but a quick web search should clear everything up. I mean there can only be only so many green programs Prince Ali is a part of.” Manny offered.

“To bad my phone died earlier, so I can’t do that right now.”

Lila was getting nervous, this conversation with this guy was drawing a crowd; normally something she would like, but he is poking holes in her story she wasn’t prepared for. No one had thought about ‘joining’ her ‘green program’.

Alya ended up being Manny’s ally and Lila’s enemy.

“Don’t worry girl! I got your back!” Alya yelled, whipping out her phone.

After a couple a minutes Alya started frowning.

“What’s wrong Alya?” Rose asked.

“I went to Prince Ali’s website,” Alya started “But, there’s nothing about a green program there; any green program…”

The class looked over at Lila.

“H-He hasn’t had anyone update the site in a while.” Lila excused.

“In years?” Manny’s question came out more as a statement.

Marinette was quiet, watching as one of Lila’s biggest lies crumbled; other members of the class were now pulling out their phones to double check. Why didn’t they do that when Marinette said she was lying?

“Why would you lie about that Lila?” Rose was near tears.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lila faked sniffed. “But I promise; I did meet Jagged Stone and traveled the world. I’ve even met the Wayne family, the youngest; Damian, just loves me!”

The class; ever the sheep, began to close in on Lila in admiration when a hard voice growled.

“I’ve never met you before in my life, you lying harpy!”

Everyone to see a very angry Damian Wayne; dressed in a polo shirt and some slacks.

“Damian!” Marinette cheered. “I didn’t know you were coming to Paris!”

“I wanted to surprise you Angel.” Damian faced Marinette with a smile, the complete opposite of what he was giving Lila, before turning back to the class. “Don’t EVER use my name; or that of my families, for your gain. If I find out that you have continued along ridiculous tales, you will be hearing from the Wayne family lawyers.”

Lila was turning white in the face, well as white as her tan would allow her to be.

“Two very massive tales you’ve told have turned out to be lies; one of them being a few years old apparently.” Manny tutted.

“She probably has more lies she’s told; anyone who’s willing to tell such big lies always have multiple stories, I know the type.” Damian sneered.

“When you first started talking, I thought you were just a weed growing in the garden, but it is clear to me now that you are nothing but a slug; gnawing at the roots of plants, destroying them for your own nourishment.” Manny stated, shaking his head.

Damian turned to face the class.

“Did ANY of you check anything?”

The class looks sheepish.

“Disgusting; next she’ll be saying she knows Jagged Stone.” Damian turned his nose up at the class.

"Ah, it seems you missed that part. She said that just before you got here." Manny informed.

"Really?" Damian said sarcastically. "How did she meet him?"

"She rescued his kitten from an airport runway, he even wrote a song about her!" Alya argued, deep down praying this was true.

Damian and Manny looked at Alya in disbelief.

"Oh God," Damian choked out. "Aren't you the supposed 'journalist'? The creator of the 'Ladyblog’? A quick search would have told you Jagged Stone never had a cat, he doesn't like them."

"Not to mention that civilians aren't allowed on runways." Manny chipped in.

"And did you really not ask Marinette?" Damian continued. "Someone who knows him PERSONALLY; as in HAS HIS NUMBER!"

"W-We forgot?" Alya tried, though it came out as more of a question.

"Forgot or chose to ignore?" Manny asked.

The class couldn’t give an answer that didn't sound bad.

"Okay, maybe Lila lied about meeting people, but she saved Max from losing an eye!" Alya insisted.

Damian was intrigued.

"How did she 'save' him?"

Lila winced, know what was about to be said sounded out right dumb.

"She kept a napkin from hitting his eye and cutting it out."

Alya looked very proud when she said that, but the looks she got from Damian and Manny, Marinette was just shaking her head, dimmed the pride she felt.

"A napkin? She 'saved' him from a napkin?" Manny heard about this from the plants, but to hear it out loud was a different thing.

Damian had a look of horror on his face and turned to Marinette.

"Angel, I can't in good conscience let you continue going to this school, it lowers your IQ and removes common sense. You are brilliant and I would never be able to live with myself if you lost that because of something that I could have helped you avoid."

"HEY!" the class out raged.

"He's right, you know." Manny defended. "Which one of you is Max?"

"I am." Max stepped forward and Manny took a good look at him.

"How is it possible to lose an eye to a NAPKIN?! And even if it were possible; you're wearing glasses, so you would have had protection from it in the first place!"

Max could only squirm in place at Manny’s statement.

“Right then,” Damian nodded his head. “Marinette will ask Father to transfer you to Gotham Academy. You will have nothing but the best for you there.”

“Damian, that’s very sweet of you to offer, but I couldn’t leave Paris and my parents just yet.” Marinette gently objected.

“She also wouldn’t be safe in Gotham Wayne,” Manny cut in. “Not to mention that Gotham Academy would do nothing to help her with her dream of being a designer.”

“Then I would be happy to help her to get into an art school in Paris Isley” Damian said, looking up schools on his phone. “Here is an excellent one Angel and it’s not too far from your home.”

“Guys please! It is very sweet of you to offer, but I want to get in on my own merit; not because of who I know.”

Damian and Manny gave a soft look to Marinette.

“Of course Angel, it was rude of us to assume what you want.” Damian apologized.

“Forgive us Marigold?” Manny asked.

“I forgive you, but please try not to do it again; okay?” Marinette asked at the end.

“Promise.” They said in synchronise.

“Thank you.”

With the promise made Damian and Manny looked back at the class; who were on their phones trying, and failing, to find SOMETHING to support Lila.

They found nothing.

Marinette’s classmate’s felt horrible, what have they done...

“Marinette...” Alya started, but was cut off by the girl herself.

“No Alya, you could have done all this when I first said she was a liar 2 years ago; all of you could have, but you CHOSE not to because you liked her words better than the truth. So the way you’re feeling now is not my fault, it’s yours.”

Alya and a few others started to tear up. Adrien tried to come to their rescue.

“Come on Marinette they feel bad enough as it is.”

“Again, that is their fault, not mine. Marinette stood strong, having long gotten over Adrien.

“But...”

“No, no ‘buts’’. This has been a long time coming and now they’re facing the results of their actions. Part of the reason it’s this bad is because of you Adrien.”

Adrien jerked back like he was slapped, the class gasped.

“You were the one to say we shouldn’t expose her lies remember; because ‘They’re not hurting anyone’. It hurt me when I was sent the back without being allowed to give any input, it hurt me when my ‘friends’ just dismissed me as jealous until they needed something from me, it hurt me when you promised to have my back only to go back on it not a moment later.”

Adrien gulped, he didn’t want to believe what Marinette was saying.

“Lila could have been Akumatized...”

“I WAS NEARLY AKUMATIZED 6 TIMES YOU JERK!!!!!” Marinette finally yelled “Do really not care about my safety?!”

The entire class recoiled, 6 near misses, they could have encountered an Akumatized Marinette. Someone who’s smart and creative, someone who could give Ladybug a run for her money; and they almost had to face her.

“I...” Adrien started.

“NO! No more fake apologies, no more false promises. I’m no longer going to be this class’ doormat and scape goat, if you want something from now on; you have to earn it like a normal person!” Marinette finalized.

Marinette was panting after her rant; Damian wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“We should get you away from these people Angel; they are clearly bad for your health.”

Manny gently grabbed one of the fists she made during her rant and began trying to rub the tension out of it.

“Wayne is right Marigold, this much stress will cause you to wilt.”

They began leading Marinette away; back to her family’s bakery, not before throwing a hard glare back at the class.

The class watch the trio walk away, some with tears running down their faces, knowing they blown it with their Everyday Ladybug; all for some girl with pretty words and no proof.

At Marinette’s Famliy Bakery:

All three people were sitting on Marinette’s balcony; the girl tired from her emotional outburst, was leaning on Damian’s should to her left and to her right Manny was playing with her fingers.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Marinette finally breathed.

“Don’t be Angel, you needed to let that out.” Damian comforted.

“There is no shame in expressing yourself Marigold.” Manny assured.

“Thank you Damian, Manny.”

They sat quietly for awhile before Damian asked a question.

“Were you truly nearly turned into that monster’s minion 6 times Angel?”

“...Yes” Came the hesitant answer.

“Why didn’t tell me Angel? My family and I would have done something!”

“I didn’t want to worry you or your family Damian. Besides what could you have done?”

“A transfer of schools would have happened.” Damian admitted.

“Yes, because Gotham is a safe place.” Manny said sarcastically.

Damian shot him a look.

“Guys please don’t fight; I really don’t have the energy to keep up with you right now.” Marinette interrupted.

“Fine.” The boys agreed.

“Thank you.” Marinette sighed.

They stayed like until Marinette fell asleep. That’s when a discussion started between the two young men.

“It seems we both like this lovely bloom.”

“I suppose it is to be expected, Marinette is an Angel.”

There was a brief pause.

“You shouldn’t be near her; your life is dangerous.” Damian started.

“And you should? Your family is one of the biggest targets in Gotham.” Manny quipped back.

They were at a stalemate.

“You know,” Manny began. “Neither one of us is really gets to decide this.”

Damian reluctantly nodded his head.

“True and in the end, it is her happiness that matters, but it doesn’t mean I won’t try for her affections.”

“Then we understand each other Wayne.”

The next day:

Marinette was walking into her classroom, on time for once, greeted by stares and silence. She expected that, but what she didn’t expect was the large bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. It was beautiful, roses, lilies, snap dragons, marigolds all combined together.

Marinette walked up the stairs, becoming more aware of the looks she was getting with each step. Once she reached her desk Marinette saw a note, opening it; it read:

To the lovely Marigold,

May these flowers brighten your day, like your smile brightens mine.

Sincerely,

Manny.

Marinette couldn’t help but turn slightly pink, why did Manny have to do this?

“Hey girl, who’s it from?” Alya asked.

“That’s none of your concern Alya.” Marinette huffed, she couldn’t believe she was going to try and act like nothing had ever happen between them.

Alya flinched, but backed down, the teacher came in and the lesson began.

Time flew by rather quickly and soon it was after lunch and everyone was returning to their classrooms, only when Marinette walked in there was a second surprise waiting for her.

There sitting on her desk, beside the flowers, were three bags. Upon opening them Marinette learned the bags contained various pieces of high-quality fabric; again, there was a note.

To my beloved Angel,

I hope this helps bring your dreams into creation.

Yours truly,

Damian.

Marinette turned a bright red; she knew Damian was a sweet heart.

“Marinette, who is it from?” Adrien asked this time.

“Again, its not any of your concern.” Marinette stated.

Adrien didn’t seem ready to back down, but the teacher came and started class again.

After class:

Marinette was making her way down the front steps, gifts in hand, with Adrien close behind her.

“Marinette, those things…”

She stopped him before he got any farther.

“These are gifts Adrien; you have no say in them, and I didn’t ask the people gifting them to do so during school. That was their own decision. And if you try to make it seem like this my plan to make the others feel bad you will be leaving with a limp.”

Adrien took a couple steps away from Marinette hearing that.

“None of this is my fault Adrien, it’s Lila’s. All she had to do was not lie and be a decent person and none of this would have happened, but I suppose it’s a good thing she did lie. She just proved to me how little I meant to you or the class outside what I can do for you and guess what? I decided I deserve better friends and partners.”

Marinette’s rant was firm, not loud, but Adrien felt like it was shouted next to his ear.

A slow clap from behind Marinette reached them, they turned and saw Damian.

“Well put Angel, but I feel it was a little understated; you deserve the world in my opinion.”

“Damian!” Marinette greeted. “I wasn’t expecting you here!”

“I came to help get you home, I didn’t want my gift and you school items to drag you down.” Damian said, walking over to her, he glanced at the flowers she was holding as well. “Though it seems I’m not the only one who thought you deserved a gift.”

“Apparently…” Marinette trailed off, unsure how to answer Damian.

“They are lovely though,” Damian admitted, grabbing a lily and placing it in Marinette’s hair; causing her to blush. “and I adore seeing you happy above all.”

“Damian.” Marinette sighed.

“I best be getting you home now Angel, unless there was something else you wanted to do before that?” Damian asked.

“No Damian, home sounds wonderful.” Marinette smiled.

Damian nodded his head and started leading Marinette to a car nearby. He helped her place her gifts in the back and held open the passenger door for her to get in. But, before the door closed Adrien heard Marinette ask.

“Damian, I have a great idea for a suit I would like to make you, would you like to see it?”

“I would love to Angel.”

Damian then closed the car door, got in on the other side and drove away; leaving Adrien standing at the school alone, with the understanding that he was not going to get his way.

The next several days were very similar, Marinette would find flowers on her desk from Manny in the morning and a range of gifts from Damian, from sewing supplies to some small pieces of jewelry. Marinette was flattered, but she didn’t want material objects.

One day she finally got to meet with them in the park.

“Guys, this very sweet of you, but I don’t need all this.”

“We know that Marigold,” Manny said. “We want to do all of that though.”

“Indeed Angel,” Damian agreed. “like I said before, you deserve the world.”

“What am I going to do with you guys?” Marinette moaned, turning a bright red.

“Well…” Manny started. “There is something.”

“What?” Marinette asked.

“You can answer a question Marigold?” The red-haired boy asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you attracted to either one of us? And if so, would you like to go on a date with that person?”

Marinette was stunned at Manny’s question, Damian saw this and explained.

“Angel, we both have feels for you and we both want you to be happy. If you say ‘No’ to one or both of us we will back off.”

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it, and then released it.

“First of all, both of you are wonderful people, you respected me and stood up for me when I needed it, any person would be lucky to have a relationship with you.”

She turned to Manny.

“Manny you are charming and sweet, you have a wonderful dream and are well under way to achieving it, but I’m sorry; I’m not attracted to you.”

Manny gave a sad smile.

“I understand Marigold, may I still call you that?”

“You can Manny.” Marinette confirmed, nodding her head.

Marinette then turned to Damian.

“Damian you are a strong, kind (in your own way) and a driven individual. Since I’ve met you, you’ve listened to my ideas, you’ve mdke me smile and you’ve challenged me to do my best. I am attracted to Damian and I very like you as well, I have for a while, but I never worked up the nerve to ask you out.”

Marinette was blushing as she finished.

Damian was wide eyed in awe, Marinette; his Angel, liked him. He could have asked her out sooner and she would have said yes! He wasted so much time!

“You honor me Angel.” Damian said, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. “I promise to be the partner you deserve.”

Manny was still smiling sadly, but, like Damian said earlier, Marinette’s happiness and consent was the important part in all of this.

“Just be aware Wayne, you break her heart; I’ll break you.”

Damian looked Manny in the eye.

“If I break her heart, I’ll come find you so you can.”

“I’m glad we understand each other Wayne.” Manny turned to Marinette. “I think its time I move on from Paris Marigold, I have many ventures to take and more people to talk to.”

“Good luck Manny.” Marinette smiled.

Manny gave one last salute to Marinette before leaving.

Once he was out of sighted Marinette sighed.

“Why do I feel like I just chased him out of Paris.”

“You didn’t do that Angel,” Damian assured, wrapping his arms around her. “His plans for a good ‘Go green’ program involved him traveling around and talking to all that he could.”

“True,” Marinette agreed. “I hope he finds happiness though.”

“I’m sure he will Angel.” Damian nodded his head. “Now, would the lovely Angel Marinette accompany me on a date?”

Marinette giggled.

“I’d like that Damian.”

Marinette began guiding Damian to her favorite café for their first, and proper, date.

End.

That was Pant Charming.

Also

Extra 1:

Why there was no Akumas:

Hawkmoth – Go my Akuma darken their heart.

Butterfly - *Gets eaten by a strange Venus fly trap*

Hawkmoth – Right…Let’s try this again, go my Akuma darken…

Butterfly #2 - *Gets eaten by a strange Venus fly trap*

Hawkmoth - *Eye twitching* R-Right, third times the charm, go my…

Butterfly #3 - *Gets eaten by a strange Venus fly trap*

Hawkmoth – You know what? I think I’ll just stop for today.

Extra 2:

Mari - *Looking up new schools*

Tikki - *Looking over her shoulder* This is a nice Marinette.

Mari - *Nodding her head* Yeah it is, this is the one Damian was talking about.

Tikki – A new school will be good for you and it’s an art school, so you’ll have more subjects focusing on fashion.

Mari – Yeah and it will be nice to get away from that toxic class. Just because they know Lila’s lying now, it doesn’t change what they did to me.

Tikki - *Angry* - They got away with a slap on the wrist if ask me.

Mari – Maybe, but I don’t think they would survive anything designed by you…or Damian…or Manny…or Damian’s family…

#maribat #DamiMari #maridami #Daminette #OC #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake

1K notes · View notes

graaythekwami · 4 years

Text

Love Square Fluff Week: Day 3, Flowers

Also read on ao3!

Paring: Ladrien

Note: This takes place in an animal/shapeshifting AU I’m working on. Instead of superheroes their Miraculouses turn them into animals, and the general public is scared of them and their powers.

-----

“This is getting ridiculous!” Plagg snapped. “Utterly ridiculous!”

“Thanks Chloe,” Adrien said as he added his order to his cart, clicking to go pay. His kwami was hovering in front of his computer screen, paws crossed. “Don’t you have any cheese to go eat?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than work on your fake garden!?”

“Why are you so opposed to it?” Adrien snapped.

“I’m not an idiot, kid!” Plagg growled. “I’ve been alive longer than you could comprehend. I’ve seen you Googling ‘what plants attract ladybugs’ and ‘what flowers do ladybugs like’, and you’re an idiot to think it’s actually going to work.”

“It already has worked,” Adrien replied, gesturing to below his window, which had been converted to a miniature garden of potted plants– several of which he had found ladybugs crawling on before.

It had taken Nathalie some convincing when he had first started ordering seeds, pots and potting soil– but after making up something about reading an article about having natural plants within your home could help you have clearer skin she had relented (on the condition that he didn’t get his room or clothes covered in dirt). Everything had to be contained to the long table that now rested below his window, but it was more than worth it.

Gardening had become a fun pastime for the long hours he was locked in his room, especially since he had been forbidden from a young age from helping out in the mansion garden by both his mother and father. As much as they loved the natural beauty on their property, they didn’t like it on their son. Still, some of his fondest memories with his mother had been them wandering out in their garden together, so having flowers and plants right in his room brought back some happy memories.

He also wondered if gardening was a fashion trend at the moment, as he noticed both Marinette and his father had an increase of potted plants on their balcony and office.

“There’s a difference between ladybugs and Ladybugs– she’s not about to come flying into your room because you have a bunch of cosmos planted,” Plagg said in exasperation. “Just because you can turn into an animal doesn’t mean you act like them.”

“Catnip,” Adrien said simply, which shut Plagg up– they had both agreed not to talk about the catnip incident after all.

He stood up, making his way over to his miniature garden. He had a variety of flowers: cosmos, marigolds, geraniums, and more. It was more than just garden of flowers too, fennel, cilantro, among other plants could be found in his collection. It all smelled quite nice (horrendous, in Plagg’s opinion), and helped to cover up the smell of Camembert that lingered on him and in his room (much to Plagg’s disappointment). They were all plants that were supposed attracted ladybugs, and while he wasn’t a hundred percent sure all the websites were true it seemed to have done its job, because he had found a few of the beetles in his little garden on days when he left the windows open.

None of them were Ladybug, though.

Perhaps it was a bit of wishful thinking, that Ladybug would just turn up in his room because of some plants, he was sure she wasn’t about to go flying into someone’s room (and why would she even be near his house?), but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t holding out that she might turn up. Sure he saw her quite often when they went to battle, but it wasn’t often they could just be together. The thought of seeing his Lady made his heart race, and just the knowledge that she was okay helped soothed nightmares of the battles they had faced.

Plagg let out a huff as he picked up his watering can to tend to his plants, diving into a laundry basket saying it smelled too fresh in here. Adrien could only smile, before staring out his window.

He wondered if infesting his plants with aphids would attract more ladybugs.

-----

Adrien grew bored of his piano practicing half way through it– so he switched on the recording of him playing and flopped onto his bed. Before school and Hawk Moth he had been content with playing the piano, but now that he had tasted freedom he found he grew bored much more easily. It wasn’t like he hated the piano, but his father’s expectations were too much at times.

He couldn’t turn on the TV, games, or music– that would be a dead give away for his fake practice, so he just laid there staring at the ceiling. Strange how doing nothing was more appealing than doing what he was told at times. Of course this only lasted for a couple of minutes, and he rolled off his bed to do his favorite thing his room had to offer: gardening.

His new supplies had arrived this morning, and he was happy to get to work planting the cosmos seeds he had just gotten– specifically white cosmos– which apparently were better at attracting ladybugs than the other colors he had. He didn’t know how true it was, but he was more than happy to try it. He filled up his newest pots with soil, humming to himself as he did so. It had taken him a while to learn not to over-water plants and sometimes he had forgotten to water them, but now he felt he was pretty good when it came to gardening.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw a small red figure on one of his marigold’s leaves.

It was a little ladybug, small enough to sit on the tip of his finger. Most people probably wouldn’t even blink at it, but all it took for him was a glance to recognize her. A shade of red that was so familiar it was comforting, five black dots that were perfectly round and perfectly symmetrical– two on each elytron, and one in the very center. A scientist would say that it didn’t resemble any known species of ladybug, but to Adrien all he saw was a being that meant nothing but safety and trust.

“Ladybug,” he whispered in awe, barely believing his eyes. She was here in his garden, Ladybug was right in front of him!

She stiffened up slightly as he spoke, before continuing to crawl along the leaf without a care, clearly just trying to act like a normal bug. He bounded over to her, kneeling down so they were closer to the same level, but he didn’t reach out to hold her like he often did when a ladybug found its way into his room. He stared at her for a few seconds, before realizing how creepy that probably was, and pulled back slightly.

It took everything he had not to say ‘My Lady’, because Plagg would probably Cataclysm him then and there for being such an idiot. He shifted back and forth, not quite sure what to do. He wanted to talk to her, but he also didn’t want to scare her off with being recognized.

“Um...” he began uncertainly, before clearing his throat. “Um, hi Ladybug. I know it’s you, er, by the way.”

The ladybug froze up once again, scurrying across the leaf, before once again trying to act like a normal bug that most certainly did not understand him and that he most certainly had misidentified. He had to hold back a laugh, because he knew that Ladybug had never been recognized when she was normal sized, only once she augmented did people realize she was one of the magical creatures that roamed the city.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I... I honestly don’t know what to say. Er, thank you? I guess. For protecting Paris, you don’t get nearly enough credit as you deserve.”

Ladybug went still once more, recognizing that she had truly been recognized. She turned on the leaf she was on, staring at him with a look he couldn’t read. He found himself straining his mind, waiting to hear her words in his head, but he couldn’t unless he transformed himself. His heart sank slightly because of that, but still he smiled at her.

He wondered what he looked like to her with her so small. He knew her eyesight wasn’t like a regular ladybug, his research said they saw in black and white, while his Lady said she still saw in color. It was the same for him, he saw the same range of colors as when he was human, though his eyesight was much sharper when transformed.

“I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I was actually hoping that you’d show up in my garden,” he said, rubbing the back of his head again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come though, but I planted it with you in mind. All these plants are supposed to be ones that ladybugs like– do you like them?”

He could see her hesitate, swaying slightly in place, before she gave a nod with her tiny head. It was hard to catch with her small form, but he knew it was a yes.

He smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Um... could you go bigger? It’s kind of hard to see you when you’re so tiny.”

Again she hesitated, swaying adorably on her leaf, before going still. The center spot on her back vanished, and she slowly began to grow in size. A moment later there was a four-spotted ladybug clinging to the leaf, now roughly the size of a bottle cap– still small enough to be nimble and generally out of sight, but much too big to be a true ladybug.

He smiled. “That’s so cool,” he said, even though he could do the same himself when transformed, but he knew how nice it was to have a civilian that didn’t stare at them like they were a mutant. “It must feel pretty weird, I hope it doesn’t hurt.”

She shook her head from side to side, and her elytra flared open. She flew up and landed on top of a pink cosmos, staring at him. She circled around the petals, which dipped under her weight, until she settled in the middle.

“Pink suits you,” he blurted out suddenly, and he felt a blush appearing on his face. “I m-mean it looks really nice with your red. You can keep the flower if you want, this garden was made with you in mind after all and–“

He fumbled, reaching for the scissors he used as garden clippers, and clipped the cosmos stem. He lifted the flower up, and found himself stuttering for words with her so close. He mentally face palmed, he was never like this around her when he was transformed! Why was he like this now?

“W-wait, you can’t carry it, can you,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–“

She flicked her elytra open, and he saw another one of her spots vanishing as she began growing once more. This time she was bigger than his fists, and her wings were making a clear buzzing sound as she hovered there in the air. It was a mere fraction of the size she could manage when facing an akuma, but yet still giant for a bug.

He held out the flower, and she wrapped her six legs around the stem. She took a moment to find her balance with it, but seemed to have no real struggle carrying it. He smiled as she watched him, and she gave him a nod of acknowledgement, before turning towards the window.

He stared after her as she flew away, disappearing out of sight as she flew up and over the mansion. Adrien couldn’t help but let out a sigh, grinning from ear to ear as he sank down onto his couch.

“Isn’t she amazing, Plagg?” He asked in a soft voice.

“She’s a good Ladybug,” Plagg acknowledged. “But you’re ridiculous.”

He just let out another sigh, his thoughts on Ladybug and the flower. Would she keep it after she detransformed? Would she mention to Chat that she had been given a flower? Okay, maybe that last one was wishful thinking, but so had been her showing up and she had! He found his mind constantly turning towards turning towards Ladybug and the cosmos, hoping at the very least it had made her happy in some way.

Yet strangely when he went to visit Marinette that night his mind wasn’t on flowers, and he didn’t even blink at the pink cosmos sitting in her room.

#lovesquarefluffweek2020 #ladrien #ml ladrien #day 3: flowers #adrien agreste #ml adrien #ladybug #ml ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #ml marinette #ml animal au #ml shapeshifting au #my fics #miraculous fanfic

22 notes · View notes

sintheyokai · 5 years

Text

El Día para La Glotonería y La Lujuria

Oct 19th: Food play || Sounding || Rimming/Analingus

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Suitor: Arthur x Karmick (OC)

Dedicated to: @alloveroliver

Additional tags: Semi public sex, orgasm denial, quickie, AU! (in which everyone makes it out the door, so we’ll call it modern AU for now), this is just fluff with a bit of a quickie at the end and I’m convinced it’s my worst one.

*Karmick is my OC and the female presenting form of Gluttony

**Y’all this is for Day of the Dead! Y’all I did more research on this to refresh myself!! Although I’m ashamed that I had to because I myself am half Mexican.

***(Bold writing such as this are translations. The title translates to: The Day for Gluttony and Lust)

He stared at the brightly colored paper cutouts that hung on a string above him. So intricate, perhaps Vincent would learn to make some. He suddenly heard his name.

“Aaaaaarrrrrrthuuuuuuuur!”

He turned to see his girlfriend, Karmick, running over to him, carrying a large sack.

“There she is, the love of my life! Why the sack?”

“Oh this? It’s cempasuchitl!”

“Se- Sem what?”

Mick drooped her head, but perked back up almost instantly, “Cempasuchitl! Sem-pah-soolt-chee! Marigolds!”

“Ah! Well, you could’ve simply said marigolds, Mick.”

“Yeah, but they’re very specific! This holiday only uses this specific variation of marigold.”

Arthur nodded as they began to walk down the crowded street.

“What is this holiday, anyway? You never did tell me in your call.”

Mick bounced up and down, running ahead to turn around and walk backwards with a huge grin plastered on her face.

“This, Arthur, is el Día de los Muertos!”

He grew puzzled but smiled.

“Muerto… That sounds like what Leonardo has said, morte.”

“Well they mean similar things! ‘Morte’ is death, while ‘muerto’ is dead. ‘Los muertos’ is ‘the dead’. 'Día’ means 'day’ as I’m sure you assumed.”

“So… 'Day of the Dead’?” He asked. Mick nodded, and he looked around.

“Why is everyone celebrating? You would think a holiday of death would be mournful and calm.”

“Well, in my experience, it’s calmer at night. But to answer your real question: People celebrate it because it’s the day their passed loved ones get to visit from the Land of the Dead-that’s what the cempasuchitl’s for!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Since they’re bright and pungent, they guide the souls to their ofrendas-their memorials.”

“And these… ofrendas, what are they decorated with?”

“Lots of things! The dead’s personal belongings, their favorite foods, candles, pictures, the like! C'mon, here’s a street with some.”

And sure enough, upon turning a corner, there was a small neighborhood, littered with the brightly colored petals leading to an assortment of equally bright ofrendas. He took a deep breath, various scents filling his nose.

“Smells good, right?” She asked, “Everyone on this street knows me, so I can stop by any house to grab some food in exchange for the cempasuchitl.”

“Then perhaps we can… try something new~”

“You’re implying something and I’m not sure I know what it is.”

Arthur put an arm around her shoulder as they walked down the street, “Well, a little angel told me about how you and him did this thing called food play last year on Hallow’s Eve. I like the idea, personally.”

Mick was silent for moment as they approached the first house and rang the doorbell.

“I’ll have to tell La Catrina why we’re late then. I always visit her-she’s kinda like the goddess of Día de los Muertos.”

Arthur smirked, “Fine by me!” he said, nipping at her neck enough to get her worked up as the door opened to reveal a rather short elderly woman.

“¡Ay, Karmick!”‘ she cried, pulling the demon into a near suffocating hug.

“¡Hola, Abuelita! Estoy aquí por la comida.” (Hello, Granny! I am here for the food.)

The old woman laughed and smacked Mick in the shoulder, “¡Gracias por ser honesto conmigo! Dios mío…” (Thank you for being honest with me! Jesus Christ…)

The woman walked in, with Mick close behind, but Arthur stayed outside. That is, until Mick turned around.

“Arthur, you can come inside! Abuelita says her door is always open to friends of mine!”

As he took a step forward, he heard an accent from the back, “Oh? Does he not speak Spanish?” Abuelita peeked her head out from the kitchen. Karmick shook her head.

“No. Es de Europa. Un gringo blanco.” (No. He is from Europe. A white foreigner.)

Abuelita snorted, “¡Callete, tú también una persona blanca!” (Be quiet, you are also a white person!)

Now it was Mick’s turn to snort, only much louder than Abuelita. The latter approached Arthur and hugged him.

“Hola, chico, my name is Rosita. But, as you’ve heard from Karmick, you may call me Abuelita.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Arthur. I’m one of Mick’s lovers.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow and turned to the demon, “¿Tienes más de uno?” (You have more than one?)

Karmick nodded before holding up two fingers. The old woman’s eyes widened.

“¿Dos?¿Quién es el segundo?” (Two? Who is the second?)

“Vincent, Abuelita. Te hablé de Vincent, él es un ángel.” (Vincent, Granny. I told you about Vincent, he is the angel.)

“Oh, the sunflower angel? And who is this then?” she glanced back at Arthur for a second before returning to Karmick. A mischievous smile crept onto her face, and Arthur suddenly feared for his safety.

“Es un hombre fácil coqueto.” she said. (A flirtatious manwhore.)

Rosita whipped around to look at him. He figured he was in trouble.

“What did I do?”

“I called you a manwhore. Don’t worry Abuelita, he’s changed since he met me.”

“I would hope so!” she cried, “Dios mío, come along now! You came to pick up food.” the trio made their way to the kitchen, “I assume you have the petals? I’m running low again this year- I think your sibling has been taking them.”

“Indi es el pecado de la codicia, Abuelita, tú sabes esto.” (Indi is the sin of Greed, Granny, you know this.)

“Sí, pero ojalá tuvieran algo de moderación.” (Yes, but I wish they had some restraint.)

A wave of different scents hit Arthur as he entered the small kitchen, both savory and sweet.

“You’ve never tried any verdadera cocina mexicana, have you?” Rosita asked. Arthur desperately wanted to answer, but couldn’t find the words to answer.

“No, he hasn’t. You don’t get true Mexican cuisine in America and Europe, Abuelita.” Karmick smirked. Rosita pulled out a basket. It smelled amazing.

“Hay tres pasteles de tres leches, empanadas, churros, pan de muertos, tamales, y calaveras. Y…” (There is three milk cake, empanadas, churros, bread of the dead, tamales, **sugar skulls, and…)

She discreetly put something in Karmick’s hand. She peeked for but a second before going red.

“Abuelita no.”

“Abuelita sí. Tomarlo. Necesitarlo.” she pushed Karmick over to Arthur, then proceeded to shove them out the house, “Now go! Go and have fun, you two!”

Now outside, the demon found herself being dragged off by the author to a back alley a few blocks away from Abuelita Rosita’s house. She nearly dropped the basket as Arthur pushed her up against the wall, immediately kissing her neck and moving her top and skirt out of the way.

“A-Arthur!” she moaned, managing to place down the treats, “C-Can’t you wait?”

“I think not, love~ We already have so much to use, I’d hate to wait and see what’s left- let’s use it now!”

With that, he opened the basket of goodies, pulling out a slice of tres leches cake and a spoon. Slowly, he took a bit of the fluffy, creamy icing and spread it over her rosy buds. As he took one into his mouth to suckle, he spread more down her stomach and over her wet slit.

“Ah, it’s so sweet, Mick! Your Abuelita must be a master at baking: the icing only makes me want you more~”

She flushed, moaning as he sucked her other bud clean before lapping up the cream further down. Down, down, down until he was breathing heavily on her warm folds

She didn’t have time to register his tongue sucking and licking furiously at her heat, as Arthur suddenly spread her lips and put a churro in between them. Karmick’s hand flew to her mouth as she gave a loud moan. But it was out of her almost as soon as it was in, and she whined.

“Arthuuuur~ Come o-ah!”

Arthur had shoved his tongue deep inside her, pumping it in and out, making sure to not miss a single speck of cream or a grain of sugar.

She was so close, she could barely stand the pleasure, she felt the pleasure grow, and grow, and just as it nearly tipped over the edge…

His tongue was out.

She cried out in frustration, not caring if anyone heard. She pouted at him, sticking out her bottom lip. Arthur chuckled.

“Now Mick, don’t give me that look!” he smirked, picking up the basket and standing over his girlfriend, “I’ll give you plenty more after our visit to your friend, La Catrina.”

She nodded in agreement, albeit still giving him a pouty lip. He handed her the container that held the now nearly naked slice of cake.

“Care to finish this off, dear?” he asked. She nodded, taking the whole thing with her hand and practically inhaling it. Chuckling, the duo exited the alley, making sure no one came and spotted them. As they did, Arthur felt the need to ask.

“What is my primary sin?”

Mick raised an eyebrow, but answered anyhow, “Well, it’s a tie between Greed and Lust. I’d kinda have to go with Lust.”

“And what, might I ask, is the spanish word for Lust?”

“La lujuria. Or simply lujuria.”

And how do you say Gluttony?” he then asked.

“La glotonería. That’s also a way of using the word Greed.”

“So we are Lujuria y Glotonería!”

Karmick laughed, and a they continued on their way as she said:

“Sí, Arthur, la lujuria y la glotonería están caminando por la calle.” (Yes, Arthur, lust and gluttony are walking down the street.)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp arthur #ikevam arthur #ikevamp oc #ikevam oc #AllOverKinkTober #kinktober #my smut #smut

17 notes · View notes

shoogharashk · 4 years

Text

18 February 3998

Last night, I met up again with my new compatriots. I have now learned their names and will record them here, lest I forget any of them as that would be terribly embarrassing:

The gnome: Pallabar, an merchant, alchemist, and artificer

The halfling: Thea, a cleric, of which god or godling I do not yet know

The elf: Hyla, a ranger and druid of Erymbar, and her companion, a large cat named. Mr. Mugglesworth

The orc: Throckmorton, a rogue and thief who told little else of himself

We decided to split up and lay low for the day yesterday. I returned to the Marigold to find my remaining belongings had already been removed from my room,and were unceremoniously thrown in a heap beside the bar. I walked in and Peony, the barmaid, looked at me disdainfully. After the chaos of last night, I knew that my stint performing at this particular inn was definitely over. Sheepishly, I swiped them up and tossed a gold piece her way for the trouble before heading outside of town to make camp for the day.

I knew word would have spread amongst the guards of our prison break last night, While most of the others could potentially hide among the crowds, and Throckmorton seemed to have skill at hiding beyond the rest of us, my chances of remaining undetected or else being mistaken for some other giant dragon-man were sadly quite low. However, the edge of town wasn’t far, and I quickly found a quiet grove to hunt for lunch and wait out the day.

But to wait! When I knew such adventure awaited in the evening! The day was nearly impossible to bear.

As the winter sun began to sink over the horizon, I knew it was time to head to the meeting spot. Hyla had informed us all last night of the location of Tavern Number Three, and it wasn’t difficult to locate. A large building bustling with evening traffic. Hyla met me there, and I grabbed an ale before we spotted our contact, the short hooded figure, sitting in a corner booth. For a while, I was unsure if the rest of our companions would show, but soon Pallabar entered with his…...friend? assistant? manservant?.....a half-elf he introduced as Belfyr. Throckmorton followed shortly thereafter. The halfling was nowhere to be found. After a few minutes, we decided we could not wait for her any longer and joined our contact at the table.

Though his face was not visible under his hood, he seemed distressed to see Belfyr rather than Thea. “Five,” he croaked, “but wrong five!” As though on cue, Thea burst into the room and we waved her over quickly. He looked her over. “Six? Six...ah, six fine.” He then handed Pallabar a letter. In return, Pallabar offered him an ale, which he drank heartily as Pallabar read the letter aloud.

In it, Sullivan congratulated us on our escape and expressed his regret that he could not meet us here himself. He gave us another task - to acquire the research of a man by the name of Clever, who frequented this tavern, and to bring especially one particular object that Sullivan’s employers desired. We were to bring the research and this artifact to the docks, where we would meet a Captain Isolt Taylor and her first mate, Augmak. They would then get us out of Beckryde, and we would gain employment from Sullivan. The letter also introduced our new friend as Pogano and said he too would accompany us out of the city.

As we listened, I noticed Pogano’s hands for the first time. They were gnarled and ended in very familiar-looking claws, and I realized our friend was a goblin. It had been so long since I have conversed with a goblin! While goblin clans were very common near home, in the more “civilized” areas I had recently traveled near the coasts, goblins were few and far between. I knew he was trying to conceal his nature from the patrons, but his grasp of the common speech was shaky at best, and I could not resist quietly speaking to him in his own tongue. “Greetings, friend Pogano! It is wonderful indeed to meet you.”

His eyes widened as he turned to look at me. “Finally, someone well-versed!” he exclaimed, clearly unaccustomed to speaking with others outside his own kind in Goblin. “You understand, yes? Understand the letter? Do as the letter says, meet Pog at the boat. The boat!” I assured Pog we understood, and that we would be seeing him again as soon as we acquired the research of this “Clever.”

Pallabar wasted no time in striking up conversation with the barkeep, a halfling who introduced himself as Ferry. He said a contact had told him to get in touch with Clever, and asked where we might find the man. The halfling nearly fell off the railing he was using to reach the bartop and shouted down to the other end of the bar for a man who was presumably another regular, a human he called Amos. The two despaired that they hadn’t seen Clever in months, and that they missed him, “horns and all.” That caught my attention. Horns? Was he dragonborn, like me? Some sort of fey? Or a tiefling, the half-devils that I knew also frequently sported horns? Regardless, he seemed to be the sort of fellow that drew attention.

Pallabar was able to get Clever’s home address from them, as they were so concerned by his absence that they would appreciate any help in checking in on the man. We made our way to the home, which we found in remarkable condition given that its owner had been absent for months. A knock at the front door went unanswered, so we tried around the back side. Two locked doors met us there, and Throckmorton scaled up the side of the house to a rooftop terrace that had a broken window. After a brief trip inside, he reported that he had heard someone else in the house. We all decided to enter through the same window and see if we could catch the presumed intruder.

The broken window came into a bedroom long in disuse. A painting of a human man and a she-devil was above the bed (confirming my suspicions that Clever was likely to be a tiefling), and Pallabar started shuffling through the desk and found two journals that he began to read through. The second floor also contained a library, and a smaller bedroom that appeared more recently used. Probably Clever’s. The footsteps Throckmorton had heard earlier seemed to have moved downstairs, so we followed.

Downstairs, we entered the foyer between a dining room and a lounge, and split up to try and follow the footsteps. The home was not terribly large, and as I examined the small conservatory full of alchemical ingredients, a thunk came from behind, in what we all soon realized was the kitchen. We rushed to that room to find it empty, with a door that could only lead to a basement and a small larder being the only unexplored exits. The larder was quickly revealed as a dead end, though someone had clearly been here recently -- half a bacon sandwich was left on the counter.

Then, the most beautiful thing, laying on the floor near the counter, caught my eye. What has become the newest addition to my collection -- a garnet the size of a human fist, perfectly cut to reflect the tiniest bits of moonlight coming through the windows. I was admittedly entranced for a while, and though we were not here to loot the place I was unable to resist pocketing it. The rest of the party then caught my attention at the basement door, and Pallabar told me that the door appeared to have an enchantment on it. Any attempt to touch the door was repelled as though by an invisible shield. Our only clue was a sign above the door, reading “The search for truth has led me Astray.”

I brought the garnet near to the door, wondering if it was perhaps a key of some kind (it seemed too perfect to be merely a mundane gem) but the magic did not respond. None of our party had the skill necessary to dispel the magic, so we began searching the house for clues that might help us get through to where this “research” was almost certainly kept. Pallabar began flipping through the journals again furiously, searching for any clue that might be the key to the door. I went back up to the library, which had been thoroughly ransacked, and found a number of journals belonging to Clever’s father Finneus, describing how his research had led to his assistant becoming trapped in the Material Plane. I also found a spell scroll, and a rather stunning collection of beetle carapaces, which I admittedly was also too weak to avoid hanging on to.

I then found another journal, which described Finneus’ efforts to help his assistant, now also his partner and Clever’s mother, return to her home plane. It referred to her alternatively as Anakis, or as Astray. This seemed to be the key. Returning to the kitchen with the journal, I spoke what appeared to be her true name, Anakis, and the magic faded, allowing me to open the door and head down the stairs.

We had clearly found what we were looking for.

A large transmutation circle filled the majority of the room, with a central pedestal holding a silver pitcher. To the right side of the stairs, several large bookshelves were packed full of journals. To the left, several alcoves held potions and alchemical supplies. But by far the most striking feature of the room was the human man encased entirely in amber, clutching his throat as he stood frozen next to the pitcher.

The pitcher was obviously what we were here to get. But touching it seemed...unwise.

As the others followed down the stairs, we explored the room. An exquisite set of gold alchemical tools seemed like it would be good for Pallabar. The journals down here, unlike the ones upstairs, clearly belonged to Clever himself, and we grabbed the few that were most recent. The last entries described a trip to Greentide where he recovered this artifact, and his determination that it was too dangerous for a mortal man to drink from. He planned to strike out for Mor Tiroedd, where he would seek a human man rumored to have lived far longer than a human should.

Finally, we had no choice but to address the umberhulk in the room: the frozen man and the pitcher. We had determined that crossing the circle didn’t seem to have an effect, but it was unclear whether the pitcher itself or its contents were responsible for the man’s state. Carefully, we wrapped it in a tablecloth and secured the lid, and made our way towards the stairs to head out, when Thea, at the lead, was stopped by a tall human man with his reddish hair styled in a mohawk and his companion, a half-elf!

After a brief exchange, we learned they were associates of the frozen man downstairs, and that they were here to retrieve him. The man with the mohawk seemed to recognize Thea as a cleric, said they had been searching for someone to help their friend, and demanded that Thea heal him. He said that he came to be in his current state after drinking from the pitcher, which they had also been hired to obtain for a different party. We seemingly had little choice but to comply. Thea didn’t seem sure she could help, but a healing spell caused the amber shell to dissolve into thin air, and the man broke gasping from his frozen state.

It was then that Mohawk demanded we hand over the pitcher and we could then go our separate ways. That, of course, was not going to happen. A brief, but firm standoff resulted in him admitting it wasn’t worth fighting over, and taking off up the stairs with his compatriots. I wanted more information, and clearly Hyla did too, as she stuck out her foot to trip the half-elf as I attempted to cast Hold Person on Mohawk, but neither of us were successful and they eluded us. By the time we got up the stairs, they were too far ahead of us, but we decided to let them go rather than risk losing our prize by pursuing them.

Our next objective was the docks. The earliest sparks of dawn were starting to creep over the horizon, and we needed to get out of Glory Fall before we were discovered. Thankfully, Belfyr had already found the captain and her first mate by the time we got there. Isolt was a human woman, with dark hair, skin approximately the tone of my scales, and small gold piercings across various parts of her face.

Her first mate, Augmak, however, was striking; I’ve never before met a man I had to look up to meet eyes with. He was bald-headed, with an ashy complexion and many tattoos, and I reflected on rumors I’d heard of giant-men that lived in a land far across the southern ocean. I’d never given much thought to whether those rumors were true but the evidence seemed to be staring me in the face with a giant grin as he laughed heartily and made “little man” comments at Pallabar that Isolt had clearly heard many times before. Introductions were made, and Pogano appeared covered in splotches of white paint, assuring them that we were Sullivan’s newest employees.

Isolt informed us that the boat in front of us, a three-masted schooner whose name had just been painted over, was Sullivan’s personal yacht, and advised us that before we could go further, we needed to agree to the terms of employment. The boat would be ours to use as we saw fit, as long as we handed over our findings and committed to serve the mission of Sullivan’s employers, to find a source of immortality. The lot of us agreed, and were led aboard as Belfyr and Augmak loaded Pallabar’s cart into the cargo hold and Augmak began what I assume will be a beautiful friendship with Hyla’s cat. Pogano produced a small sack, and instructed us to place in the sack what we had been tasked to retrieve. I carefully placed the pitcher in, and in doing so realized that the sack was far larger than it appeared. The pitcher vanished. I then added the most recent of Clever’s journals, but held onto the older ones; the information could help us in our goals.

As our reward, we were given 200 gold pieces each, and offered free use of the ship. We instructed Isolt to make for Stonebanks just to get out of town and resupply while we studied the remaining journals to decide where to go next. We were told to name the ship, as an effort to disguise its ownership, and we chose the Winchester, after a pub that three of our party had coincidentally visited on separate occasions. We each selected our rooms, and set sail. Pog even taught Hyla and me a lovely game of his own invention!

This evening, Pog produced a letter from Sullivan, which he drew from the same unusual bag. Sullivan welcomed us to his formal employment, and thanked us for the items we provided him. He confirmed the terms of the deal that Isolt had provided earlier, and gave us the additional clue that a forge-mark on the pitcher was something he had previously seen coming from Brother Heights, in Landfall Crag.

It will be the day after tomorrow when we reach Stonebanks. As we travel, we will study the journals, and begin the task of learning to sail, as we are to be the crew of this vessel as well. Adventure awaits us!

-NS

#episode 1

1 note · View note

throughtheglassdarkly · 5 years

Text

Roadblocks, part 1

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.” – Anne Lamott

Hey, you’re back. Welcome to hell.

So, after Pam got the note from Cassi, we all settled into our usual routine for a couple of days, but all of us were on edge. Bella ended up going back to work but asked us for some space. I started doing a little digging into some questions I had about what happened after I was taken. The others focused on getting their own projects done.

Our next big adventure started on an otherwise lazy Sunday morning. After the blowup with Day’s and Bella’s Fetches and hearing from Yova how her Fetch went bonkers, I realized I couldn’t ignore my Fetch anymore and I needed to track it down. My Facebook page gave me a few hints. Before I was taken, I had posts set to private, but check-ins and some photos were public. My Fetch hadn’t changed the security settings, so I was able to see that it was still doing things. I figured the best way to look for it was to simply re-trace my steps and go to the places I used to go before I was taken.

I ended up striking gold at my old apartment building. I was waiting around for about twenty minutes, trying to see some sign of life (the fading “O’NEILL, D.” sticker next to the buzzer at least let me know it hadn’t moved on) and was about to give up, when I saw it coming down the street carrying a couple bags of groceries. As it got up to the front of the building, it dropped its keys and sighed, kneeling down to pick them up. I steeled myself and stepped up, asking, “Need some help?”

It looked up at me and its eyes went about as wide as I’ve ever seen. Looking down at it was – unnerving. It was just like looking at myself before I was taken. A couple of years older, but the same messy hair, same beard growth, even the same glasses. The feeling passed after a moment, but for a second it was like I was questioning who I was. The Fetch started freaking out, trying to grab its keys and telling me it didn’t want any trouble.

I let out a sigh and reached out, jiggling the doorknob to the front door of the building in the way it used to let you open it even if you forgot your keys and propped the door for the Fetch. It looked wary but picked up its groceries and stepped inside. “Thanks,” it said, still looking like it was going to bolt at any second. “So why are you here?” I shrugged and said, “I got back. Wanted to see what was going on. If you were still here.” It shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I’m here,” it said. “You still doing data entry?” I asked. “Yeah,” it said. There was a minute of silence. I exhaled and asked the question I didn’t really want the answer to: “Let me guess, mom and dad haven’t reached out to you at all, have they?” It paused for a second and said, “No. And I feel like I should be pissed about that… but I’m really not.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. I haven’t told you a lot about my life before I got taken, but cliffs’ notes version is that my entire extended family is blue-collar Catholic mill workers and my folks didn’t react well at all when I came out. Not in the “Get out, we’re never talking to you again” routine, but in some ways that would have been easier. They just had a blow up and then refused to ever acknowledge it again. And over time, that turned into not really acknowledging me at all. When I learned that they hadn’t tried to contact me for the entire two and a half years I’d been gone, it… felt like something broke. Like it was just more confirmation that they really hadn’t cared about me at all. They didn’t even notice I was gone because they’d barely even noticed I was there.

My Fetch was waiting for me to say and do something, so I shook my head and told it that it could have my life, that I didn’t want it back. It slammed the door to my old apartment and I heard the deadbolt turn. I turned and started walking off. As I did, I saw a sleek red Mustang across the street, definitely a car that was out of place in my old neighborhood, with a driver wearing a scarf over her head and giant sunglasses, but she drove off before I could get a good look at her. My hands were shaking, so I put them in my hoodie pockets and just kept heading away.

While this was going on, Day was fixing up his office. He’d gotten a new ID and name, Lance Wilde, which I’d helpfully pointed out was also the name of several fine performers in man-on-man pornographic features. His office was nicely decorated, courtesy of Yova, but he’d been having trouble getting clients to come in. He heard a knock at the door and opened it to see Brenda standing there with some coffee. They had banter about his terrible new name and how she’d make a good wife someday. She ribbed him about not having any clients and he said, “Hey, it’s gonna happen! I just need a few high-profile clients!” “High-profile clients. In Albany,” she deadpanned.

It turned out that Brenda hadn’t just stopped by to give him a coffee – Bella’s parents were in town from Chicago and they’d filed a missing persons report. “They say she’s been missing for something like a few days now,” she said. Day took in a deep breath and said, “Oh, shit. That’s a big problem.” Brenda told him that she couldn’t dissuade them from looking for their kid, and that they were not going to just go away.

“Can’t we fake it by sending a note or something, make it look like she’s okay but going to be away for a while?” Day asked. Brenda scoffed and said, “You haven’t met her parents. And there were at least three siblings waiting outside while I was talking to them.” “Man, when things go wrong,” Day said, downing his coffee. Brenda said that she had to go to work and he asked if she wouldn’t mind going out to breakfast with him. “Do you actually want me to hang out with you?” she asked. He scoffed but admitted he missed their banter and she agreed to go get a breakfast sandwich with him. “Yes! You’re paying, right?” he asked. “Dude, I still have your tab from before you got grabbed,” she kvetched as they headed out.

Bella and Yova were having quiet mornings. Bella was at work, selling crystals, sage, and delicate hand-blown glass pieces that were totally not bongs to anyone who was stopping in. Yova was in DIY mode, hunched over her sewing machine and making a very fancy outfit for the upcoming Winter Formal. (She’d shown me some sketches and I told her that Marigold was going to be completely swept off her feet.) Both of them, however, were about to have things turned completely upside down, as were Day and I. And who was responsible for this? Dear, sweet, I-don’t-wanna-be-a-bother Pam.

Pam was having a rare lazy morning, sleeping in well past the time she’d set her alarm for. Changelings have pretty much near-control over our dreams: we can make them just how we want them to be, featuring anyone and anything we want in them. Pam was dreaming about the wonders of space, sitting and watching the stars and the expanse of the universe, while sipping a nice apple cider that maybe had just a touch of brandy in it. And that’s when the trouble started.

As Pam was enjoying her stargazing, she felt a ripple in the air and suddenly saw mossy greens growing up into her dreamscape. The path of stars she was sitting on became a forest floor and the comets started to become vines. She saw a small figure walking ahead, looking confused and walking around. Pam stood and walked toward the figure, closing the distance a lot quicker than she should have been able to, and greeting whoever it was. The hood the figure had on fell back and Pam saw Cassi, an absolute shit-eating grin on her face. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe that actually worked!” she said.

Pam gave Cassi a huge hug and told her how good it was to see her. Cassi squeezed back and said, “You would not believe the crap that’s been going down. There’s not a lot of time to explain, I don’t know how much time I’ve got here. Crap, where do I start? Quick, ask me a question.” Pam was a little startled, but asked, “How’s everyone doing?” “I’m fine, I think Adrian and Luca are fine, Belle’s probably not fine, but she’s never really been fine, so that’s not new. But yeah. Amberleigh’s still a bitch and everybody else is just trying to keep her happy, as far as I know. It’s been a while since I’ve been at the keep.”

“And you said you’re working on getting out, right?” Pam asked. “Yeah, actually, that’s a work in progress,” Cassi told her. “It’s more I’m trying to bust them out. When you guys left, Amberleigh went, like, shit hit the actual fan and she wasn’t too happy about us letting you guys go. I managed to get away, but she’s got the others locked up somewhere. I don’t know. I can’t get in, they shut off that cave entrance. There’s not a lot in the way of safeness for one changeling in the whole of Arcadia. So, I’m working on it.”

“And how did you find out about your dad?” Pam asked. “Well, I’m not exactly good at getting things in, but Adrian’s good at getting things out,” Cassi said with a sly smile. “He finds a way. I don’t know how he finds me – well, that’s not true, psychic, but that’s not important – the thing is I need help.” Pam promised to help and asked her what she needed. “I need people here. I need some sort of allies or tools or something to be able to get back in, but I don’t want – I can’t actually get back here if I leave. It’s weird, like only the fae know how to get back to Arcadia. Or only the people they let know. So, any way you guys can try to get back here would be great.”

Pam thought for a second and said, “I think Yova might know something about this.” She told Cassi about the Summer Court and its ideals, which Cassi thought was awesome. “But I don’t have a lot of time. I bought this dream teleporter thing off some weird guy and it’s probably going to blow up if I use it too much.” She told Pam to tell the rest of us she missed us and that when we got in, she was hiding near the border between Scáthach’s and Lamashtu’s territory. “Amberleigh’s been doing what Scáthach did, trying to snap up whatever she can. She’s actually doing a lot better job of it than Scáthach ever did.” With that, she vanished.

While Pam was dreaming a little dream of Cassi, Yova got a text from Marigold, asking her if Brenda was free for the interview she was hoping for that day. She signed off as she always did, “Best regards, Marigold.” Yova cooed a little over that, then told Marigold she would check in with Brenda. She called Brenda, who was halfway through Day eating the restaurant they were in out of house and home. Brenda told Yova that she could meet Marigold around dinnertime because she had a long shift ahead of her.

While Yova was on the phone with Pam, Pam sent out a group chat message to all of us, giving us the skinny on what her dream had been about. I was a few blocks away from my old apartment when I felt my phone buzz, pulled it out and stopped dead in my tracks, my head feathers sticking up and out in every direction. Day got the message and swallowed a sausage roll whole, making his way over to Pam’s quickly. Yova grabbed her work clothes and sped over in her new car (RIP her crappy Jeep, which met an ignoble end after it wouldn’t start in the Arby’s parking lot). I decided to run, burning up the pavement as fast as I could go. Day saw me coming down the street and started saying, “Hold up there, I don’t see a coyote.” I was in no mood, so I just kept going straight at him and jumped with all my force, barely clearing his head and continuing on up to Pam’s door. Yova pulled up just after this. Day seemed nonplussed.

You might notice that there’s one of us who didn’t react much to what was going on. Bella was at work and just kept going about her business, not responding to Pam’s text. It wasn’t long after this that she heard the bell chime and saw two uniformed police officers come in. Trying to play it cool, she said, “Oh, welcome! Can I offer you something from our selection of frankincense or sage? They’re very good at warding off malevolent spirits.” The cops looked like they wanted to say something snarky, but one of them said they wanted to talk to her about a missing person. Around this time, Professor Fauxlawney came in and asked what was going on. The cops filled her in and Fauxlawney asked Bella on the DL if she needed an immigration lawyer. Bella managed to keep from punching her in the face, suggesting that she spread some lavender. One of the cops asked Bella if she would be willing to come down to the precinct to answer some questions about a missing person she resembled. She agreed to go if they would let her call “her roommate.” She dialed Day’s number.

Back at Pam’s apartment, she was finishing up telling those of us who made it over what Cassi had told her. I would really love to say that I was keeping calm and collected, but I’d needed a paper bag to breathe in and out of since about halfway through her story. Yova and Day both came up with the idea of going to the Summer Court and asking them for help, though Yova also pointed out that Aurora could be a way to get back into Arcadia, and that we had the list of locations Buck had provided us about where she might be. Day’s phone rang and he got the call from Bella, who was trying to let him know how much shit was about to hit the fan. He got her to describe the cops and realized he knew one of them from his time on the force. “Okay, listen to me. You are obviously not who they are looking for, so just go along with them and we’ll figure some way to get you out of this,” he told her. They hung up and she agreed to go along with the cops. We all piled into Yova’s car and drove off to the station, putting a pin in our rescue planning for the moment.

On the way over to the station, the cops were trying to talk to Bella about who she was with the usual gentle coaxing they do to try and convince you that you aren’t in trouble. She managed to stay clammed up the entire time, so they just escorted her inside. And then the trouble started.

Bella saw her oldest brother, Antonio, arguing very heavily with one of the beat cops. And Bella, beautiful idiot that she is, immediately cracked. She called out to him and he ran over, scooped her up, and gave her a huge hug. She started crying. He asked her where she’d been and she pulled the classic little sister move by crying so loud the glass in the station windows started cracking. Through her hiccoughing and crying she asked him if they could go somewhere else and he practically dragged her outside.

In the car, we were discussing the various ways in which we might try to get Bella out of this mess. And it was around then that I heard my phone ding. I looked at it and saw a message from Bella. “Hi, Derek! I’m with my brother outside the station right now!” along with a couple of happy emojis. I paused, staring at it for a few minutes. Then when Yova came to a stop at a red light, I said, “Hey guys? I just got a text from Bella. She’s hanging out with her brother right now.” All the oxygen got sucked out of the car. Yova wordlessly reached over to the Bluetooth and changed the song playing to “O Fortuna.”

I texted back, “Just stay where you are, don’t say anything crazy, and try to stay calm so that when we get there, we can strangle you properly.”

Antonio and Bella ended up sitting in a park outside of the station and he asked her what the hell happened. “Why did you guys freak out so bad?” she asked. He told her that she’d dropped off the face of the earth and hadn’t posted on Facebook or Instagram for two days and wasn’t answering her phone. “If you’re getting second thoughts, that’s one thing, but you can’t just leave and not tell anybody,” he told her. This, combined with the ring, finally made the synapses in her brain connect and she realized her Fetch did get engaged.

“No, I don’t want to get married,” she said. “Oh, thank God,” he said. He told her that he could cover for her until she broke things off with Carlos, but that they should get dinner that night and that almost their entire family was in town. “What? Why are they all here?” she asked. “We were worried,” he said. Bella wasn’t sure about dinner and was particularly worried about her dad, but Antonio told her that their dad was probably going to just be glad she was alive. “Carlos wasn’t… hurting you, was he? Because if I need to break some knees…” he said. She cut him of at the pass and said absolutely not, that she just realized she was not ready at all to get married.

“I’m just glad you decided on things a month in and not right before the wedding,” Antonio told her, much to her relief. He realized she needed some space and said he would head out, but made her promise to call him later that day. “I’ll talk to mom and dad, but you know we’re not getting out of dinner,” he said. “Maybe I can postpone it a couple of nights, but they’re going to want something for coming all the way out here.” As he was about to leave, he took a second look and asked, “By the way, when did this goth look happen?” She shrugged and said, “Well, it’s kind of always been in there, but when you have to be a certain way for everyone else…” He gave her a hug and told her he’d call her later before he made his way off.

We’d pulled up outside the park shortly before Tony left and Yova was the one to take the lead, heading up to Bella and sitting down next to her, asking if things worked out okay. Bella was still shaken but realized things worked out better than they might have. “And apparently she got engaged to somebody,” she told Yova. Yova gently tried to remind her that we told her about that the night of the rave. “I don’t remember any of it,” Bella said. She squared her shoulders and told Yova how Tony wanted her to go have dinner with her family. “Do you want to go have dinner with them?” Yova asked. Bella started crying, talking about how much she missed her family, and Yova hugged her, suggesting they go back to Pam’s and talk about something else so she could get her mind off it. Bella agreed and we all got back into Yova’s car, heading to Pam’s.

Our first order of business was trying to figure out who, if anybody, we could call about getting backup on storming the castle. Pam reiterated what she’d told Cassi about the Summer Court and Day and Yova both agreed that it sounded like something along the lines of what the Summer Court was all about. “Do you think the Autumn Court might also be able to help?” Pam asked me. I thought for a second and said, “I’ll try calling Stella. She’s not going to want to come, but she might be able to tell me who can help us. Or who can help us crack the riddle about getting them out. And I’m going to call Evain, too. He’ll definitely be on board.”

I stepped out onto the balcony for some privacy and called Stella’s number. It rang and rang and just as I thought it was going to go to voicemail, she picked up. “It’s Stella, state your business,” she said with her trademark warmth and sympathy. “Hi, Stella, it’s Derek. I was wondering if maybe you could help point me in the right direction of anyone in our Court who knows how to deal with a couple of things that might seem completely unrelated at first but actually have a lot more to do with each other than it looks,” I said. “Speak,” she told me. “First, anyone who might be able to help us get back into Arcadia and break out some of our friends who we had to leave behind when we escaped, and second, anyone who might know how to untangle contracts and agreements with the True Fae.” There was a single beat of a pause. Then she said, “As to the first inquiry, are you insane? And as to the second, possibly. I will look into it and call you back within the hour.” I got out, “Thanks, Ste-” before I heard the *click* on the other end.

The second call I made was to Evain. Like Stella’s call, it rang for a few times before he answered, saying, “Hey, Derek, what’s up?” I said, “Hey, buddy. Wanted to let you know we’re about to break back into Arcadia to try and bust Cassi and our other friends out and I was checking to see if you wanted in?” A full thirty seconds of dead silence went by. Then he said, “Yes. Yes, I do. Holy shit. I would be insulted if you thought I didn’t want in.” We talked for a few minutes about supplies or anything we might get and he told me that he’d ask around, but things were probably going to be difficult to find outside of the Goblin Markets. “Oh, and just so you know, Cassi says she’s punching you in the face when she sees you,” I said. He paused for a second and said, “Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve it.” “You totally do. Catch you soon, dude,” I said.

While I was doing this, Yova was calling the Summer Court. She only had the one number to contact and was hoping to get Cahir and not Dania on the line. However, she ended up hearing a new voice she hadn’t encountered before, a woman’s voice that was inviting and oily all at the same time. She introduced herself as The Red Lady and asked Yova what she could do to help. Yova explained the situation and the Red Lady said, “Interesting. I’d love to hear the story, but I’m frankly not sure what the benefit to our Court would be and the resources spent would be extreme, to say nothing of the risks.” Yova was grinding her molars by this point, but she had to admit The Red Lady had a point when she said, “We’re here to keep the Fae at bay, not to pick fights.” Yova did her best to schmooze The Red Lady by asking if there was any information or advice she could get, which The Red Lady seemed to think was fair enough. She thanked Yova for passing the information along and hung up.

Yova joined me out on the balcony, where I was white-knuckling the railing. She pulled out a cigarette and asked me if I wanted one. “No thanks, I don’t smoke, even though I would look so grown-up doing so,” I said. She gave me a look and held it out. I sighed and said, “Fine,” then took it and put it in my mouth, chewing on it. Pam, Bella, and Day came over to the frame by the balcony and we tried to figure out what our next step was going to be. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s time for us to pay an old friend a visit,” Yova said. “Yeah. She is definitely overdue on hearing from us,” I said. “This whole thing is freaking nuts,” Day said. “But what choice do we have? We can’t leave them there. We already left them there once,” Yova said.

I straightened my back, looking out over the city and thinking about what had happened that day. From the queasiness over talking to my Fetch to Bella actually managing to get her life back to the possibility of getting everyone – especially Adrian – back, it had been a complete roller-coaster of a day. “Yeah. We’re not leaving them there. I’m not going to leave them there,” I said.

And that’s as good a place as any to stop for now. Next time, war preparations and other shenanigans. Until then, stay safe and may you never get snubbed by your doppelganger.

#Changeling: The Lost #ctl #changeling #ic #recap #the answer is yes stella we are completely insane for even attempting this

1 note · View note

riddledeep · 5 years

Photo

LONGWOOD AND ANTI-CORIANDER: IN SHORT

Brief bios about the Vice President of Pixies Inc. and Foop’s “betrothed”

MISTER MARKELL LONGWOOD

Occupation: Vice President of Pixies Inc; Head Pixie II (Presumably)

Birthday: Autumn of the Tall Cedar; celebrated once a decade on February 12th

Height: 4′2″ (Average for a pixie; tall for a fae)

Age During Frozen Timestream: 251,649 (Mentally 22)

Age As of Devil’s Backbone: 414,909 (Mentally 37)

Alignment: True Neutral

MBTI: INFJ

Love Language: Physical touch

Handedness: Left dominant

Hometown: Inkblot City - Pixie World’s bustling capital city; contains the buildings seen in show canon

Core: Rolled scroll

Core Color: Pink

Crown Lift: Very low

Wand Type: Ipewood / Platinum

Fagiggly Color: Lavender

Preferred Shapeshifting Form: Gray wolf

Bio: Longwood is the fourth offspring of Fergus Whimsifinado, raised as his boss’s intended successor practically since birth (much to firstborn Sanderson’s chagrin). He’s shy, easily distracted, a hopeless romantic, has little to no preening drive, constantly forgets his coworkers’ names, and has a selkie girlfriend he dares to hold hands with in public- all of which make him extremely unpopular among the other pixies. Despite this, Longwood is open, friendly, and quick to compromise. He prioritizes others’ needs above his own (which often gets him into trouble as a potential leader, but makes him a figure outsiders are happy to communicate with).

Longwood narrates several chapters of Devil’s Backbone, as well as the occasional 130 Prompt or Pink and Gray chapter, and will write one of the final chapters of Origin of the Pixies (“One Heckuva Gated Community”). He has asthma due to surrendering a large portion of his magic thousands of years ago. He’s also a pacifist, which is simultaneously a relief for H.P. (who prefers a successor less likely to kill him) and a massive concern (since Longwood might not defend himself in a fight). Rumor has it that H.P. might name another pixie, Smith, his heir instead of Longwood at the last possible minute, no longer needing a pacifist around once he’s on death’s doorstep. Longwood lies awake at night wondering if his position has been a joke all along and making plans to escape Smith, who will certainly kill Longwood if he does indeed take over.

Ironically, despite Sanderson’s life revolving around one-upping Longwood and seizing the vice president position for himself, Longwood barely registers Sanderson as a threat and views him more as someone to be protected. Longwood has his grievances with Sanderson, seeing the older pixie as an enabler of H.P.’s vices, but he wouldn’t call him a rival. Rather, Longwood sees Smith as his competition- Smith is first in line to be Head Pixie after Longwood, and has even overthrown him and H.P. numerous times before being knocked down again. When you’ve got someone like Smith breathing down your freckled neck, you don’t have time to worry about your whiny roommate.

Longwood is more critical of his boss than most pixies are, though he wisely keeps his mouth shut about it. He considers H.P. a highly flawed individual and believes the Pixies are viewed as a flawed species as a result. He disagrees with H.P.’s obsessive desire to regulate magic and control the cloudlands and only goes along with his boss’s plans to keep the peace. H.P. has always seen Pixies as an orderly race who combat chaos as opposed to a neutral race who stand between good and evil. However, Longwood’s plan is to emphasize the neutrality of the Pixies one day and refuse to take sides with either Fairies or Anti-Fairies, merely existing as an independent nation that can’t be bribed or baited easily. That’s if Smith and Sanderson don’t take him out first, at least.

Assuming Longwood does become Head Pixie II someday, he will thereafter be addressed as H.P. and the former H.P. will reclaim his old name (Fergus). Since Longwood is a kleptomaniac with an impulse to steal from superiors, time will tell how long his desired neutrality holds.

Full Character Profile || Lineage || Apartment Layout || Pixie Class Overview || Gen 2 Pixies List || H.P.’s and Sanderson’s Bios

ANTI-CORIANDER ??? ANTI-WINDSKIMMER

Occupation: Surgeon in training; future High Countess (Potentially)

Birthday: January 13th, Winter of the Leaning Maple

Height: 3′6″ (Average for a fae)

Age During Frozen Timestream: 8,428

Age As of Devil’s Backbone: 171,688 (Mentally 15)

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

MBTI: ISTJ

Love Language: Quality time

Handedness: Right dominant

Hometown: Feels no strong ties to location since she travels on a regular basis; would probably name the Anti-Fairy capital city, Luna’s Landing, as a place of stability even though she didn’t grow up there

Crown Lift: Average

Wand Type: Ebony

Fagiggly Color: Midnight blue

Preferred Shapeshifting Form: Goat

Bio: Anti-Coriander was born during Anti-Fairy migration season at Cedarcross Point to a loving mother who always encouraged her to follow her dreams, even if they go against traditional Anti-Fairy society at times. Though she’s never known her biological sire, her colony’s creche father took her under his wing and helped her gain the hands-on education about Anti-Fairy medicine she was hoping for. Anti-Coriander made her official debut in the 130 Prompt “Live For the Moment,” where she and Foop first meet at the Autumn Masquerade. Following that piece, Foop and Anti-Coriander began officially courting in the public eye. Still, Foop refuses to make marital arrangements and keeps Goldie Goldenglow’s counterpart, Anti-Marigold, as his secret mistress.

Anti-Coriander expressed an interest in healing from a young age despite being born in the Year of Leaves, the year on the fae zodiac associated with Thurmondo, the nature spirit of creativity, science, and invention. Foop was born in the year of Breath, the year of teaching, rest, and medicine. As he grew older and expressed increasing interest in science and inventing, it became increasingly obvious that the universe intended these two opposite zodiacs to be together and balance one another out. Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda met Anti-Coriander during her studies of medicine, and have given their blessing for her to join their family someday (though Foop still has hesitations of such finality). Anti-Coriander gets along very well with her presumed father-in-law-to-be, Anti-Cosmo; he’s deeply pleased by her gentle fruit bat heritage.

Gentle, graceful, delicate, a lover of nature and the arts, quick to support her superiors, and able to host a social event with ease, Anti-Coriander embodies the essence of the perfect Anti-Fairy wife. Foop respects her for that and they get along very well, though he considers Anti-Coriander too diplomatic and submissive for his liking. Anti-Coriander sees Foop as delightfully intelligent, but also a stuffy bore who lets his parents tread all over him. While Foop sees himself as tactfully patient, Anti-Coriander believes his biggest flaws to be weak-willed cowardice and crippling sentimentality.

On occasion, the two argue over whether it was right for Anti-Coriander to part ways with her old colony and leave care of her aging mother in the hands of unrelated individuals (a fate Foop would never dream of dropping on Anti-Wanda). Nonetheless, there’s no denying Foop and Anti-Coriander view one another in a fond light and do honestly consider each other good friends. They make a point of expressing affection in public, though rarely do so behind closed doors, where they struggle to analyze their true feelings for each other.

In accordance with Anti-Fairy customs, Anti-Coriander used her middle name only until age 150,000 before switching to Anti-Coriander. Because Foop only met her after she took her adult name, not knowing her private name is a constant source of irritation for him; he deeply craves the intimacy of knowing someone’s private name and is constantly trying to wheedle it out of her. Anti-Coriander tactfully maintains Anti-Fairy tradition by withholding it until the day comes when she and Foop feel intimately comfortable with one another. She finally reveals her name in the 130 Prompt “Forever”... albeit not to Foop.

Full Character Profile || Anti-Fairy Class Overview || Foop’s Bio || Anti-Marigold’s Bio

#RD side characters #RD Longwood #RD AntiCoriander #RD short bios

0 notes

theinsanecrayonbox · 7 years

Photo

Aressa the Glamazon:

Born a Glamazon, daughter of the queen of the Glamazons Harmonia, she was trained as a warrior from a young age. During WWII, a plane crashed on the Glamazon’s hidden island of Themascara. The pilot, Black Cat Jack, told the Glamazons about the war going on outside their borders. Aressa escorted him back to Europe, where the joined up with his smuggling partner and fellow (legitimate) pilot Manish Joshi. She wound up taking up arms and throwing herself into fighting in the war. Her efforts would gain the attentions of the fledgling S.T.A.G.E. when they were gathering super powered individuals to fight for the Allies as a team they called the “Power Pals”. After the end of the war, Aressa stayed with the Power Pals for a short time, before she returned to Themascara. In the 70s, Aressa left Themascara again, at first to attend the funeral of her old war buddy Jack, and then stayed after she got roped into investigating a mystery with a local detective. She presumably never returned to Themascara.

Wondergal, The Spirit of Victory:

Shannon Karter was an assistant curator at the Museum of Antiquities. Her boss made her stay late to catalog a new shipment of artifacts from a lost tomb in Greece. As she spent the night working through the crates of artifacts, the Museum was broken into by a couple of thieves (who would later be revealed to have been hired by the curator). In the struggle, several artifacts were broken, but in a twist of fate they released several trapped spirits, most of whom were evil and possessed the thieves present (and several other people as the series went on), but the lone guardian spirit tied to guard the evil ones, went into Shannon, transforming her into the ancient Greek warrior-goddess Nike. From then on, Shanon lived a double life, answering to the name Wondergal (given to her by the media) to hunt down the escaped evil spirits, while trying to maintain her day job.

Joan Jett:

Hermia was born on Themascara, island of the Glamazons, to Aressa. She watched her mother leave one day, and for a few years she watched the sea daily for her return, as her grandmother the Glamazon Queen wouldn’t let her leave. Finally, Hermia had enough and stole her way off the island. She never found her mother, but instead joined the Power Pals. As she grew up, she shed the name of Wondergal, claiming it was too juvenile; when she started using her pseudonym Joan Jett was when she revealed her true back story…which caused a rift between her and Super Sam for a short time, due to the history he had shared with her mother. She took a short time away from him and the team, presumably to either return home or look again for her mother, but she eventually did return and remained working with the Power Pals up until her death.

Goldenlocks:

Marigold Lockheart learned at a young age that she was adopted, being hurt in an accident that would normally require a blood transfusion which neither of her parents could help with…until she woke up perfectly fine. She never really recalled that event until many years later when she was working as a civil advocate, taking on a case concerning the foreclosure of a library which housed some hidden artifacts, one of which was a dagger that once belonged to a great Glamazon warrior (which was suggested to be Aressa). Marigold took the dagger home with her that night, but she was attacked; whether it was the artifact or the situation it’s never really known, but her hidden Glamazon heritage was awoken and she fought back against her attack. It turned out that the person who attacked her was actually sent to do so to stop her from her work with the library. She managed to figure out who was pulling the strings, and tried to confront them at a gala; there she was mistaken for a superhero in a white and gold gown for the first time. After managing to save the library the proper way, she decided to take the time to try to figure out what was happening to her. Her searching led her to the Glamazons, where Queen Harmonia discerned that Marigold was indeed her granddaughter. Months later, Marigold returned and started calling herself Goldenlocks, and teamed up with Catman, who then introduced her to the Crimson Chin whom she began a romantic relationship with. Together, the three of them reformed the Power Pals, and she even took on Wondergal as a protégée, up until her death. For a short time, she tried to be the mentor to another young heroine, Goldengal, but that partnership sadly did not last long. Goldenlocks and Crimson Chin eventually did get married; unfortunately a super human civil war broke out as they were about to honeymoon. In the series of battles, both literal and political, they became separated as it was felt that Marigold would be safer if she went back to Glamazon island. After the Civil War, Goldenlocks has still yet to return from the island, waiting on word on her husband being found.

Wondergal:

After the deaths of the majority of the Power Pals, S.T.A.G.E. Labs tried to recreate their own super powered hero to fill the void. What they created was Wondergal, aka Trixie Tang, a clone created from the genetic materials of Super Sam and Joan Jett. She was imprinted with a memory template based on the Lab director’s daughter Trisha Tang, so she was not aware of her true origins. Wondergal became Goldenlocks’ sidekick for a short time, before forming the Super Tween Team with some of the other sidekicks. Trixie kept a close relationship with Marigold, forming a sisterly bond almost with her. She also developed a romantic relationship with the Crimson Chin’s sidekick, Cleft, over their years of working together. Unfortunately, that relationship was used against them when the Nega-Chin, moving to weaken the heroes to begin the plot to bring about the Nega-War, killed Wondergal to tear Cleft and the Chin apart, as well as to destroy the STT. S.T.A.G.E. tried to recreate Wondergal, but the new Trixie didn’t seem to have any of the powers the original had, and they set her up in a foster home on the off chance that she might develop powers over time. They lost track of her for nearly a year when the Purple Lightbulb Core found her and took her off world for her training to become Star-Gal. But once again, the second Trixie was not imparted with the knowledge that she was a clone, nor that her previous incarnation was Wondergal; this information came out during the events of the Civil War, and caused her to have a psychotic break. Through an accident, she also was left without powers after the events of the Civil War, and still struggling to figure out if she is Wondergal, Star-Gal, or something else completely.

#Fairly Odd Parents #Fairly Oddparents #fop #superverse #my art #digital art #My writing #sdcc2017

5 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

Text

catch my hazy silhouette through a rain-obscured window on a dim evening as i thoughtfully pace hands clasped behind my back through the accusing parlor

that is to say: back at it again with mitzi and mordecai's murder mystery marination and musings, because putting down a lot of thoughts does in fact still help sort things out even without any clear conclusions reached

what i've expounded upon enough to imo warrant further whole separate posts is a point touched upon in some tag which is that like, i'm honing the "but why would mitzi have some secret here re: atlas's death with mordecai, of all former fellow associates" wherein i don't think there can be any purely Logistical reason. like how there's plenty of other associates to choose from, and the only thing that particularly differentiates mordecai would be like....what, precision? in taking a shot or cooking some books? that's possible, but mordecai has to have some motivation to be aligned with her as well, but what we also have on hand to consider is the way they're Still aligned enough to keep this secret, despite now being professional rivals and there being no apparent personal attachment Directly between them, or even like, communication.

so the theory here is that their connection to have this secret in the first place And to still be keeping it is an emotional alignment which they mutually understand/recognize. which, it would seemingly follow, is about atlas. even if you take the [hmm did mordecai originally land in trouble by embezzling; was he doing it again?] idea into account, and, say, wonder if they arranged to kill atlas before he could figure that out, or because he had, why would mordecai then leave lackadaisy. while it's also true that he wasn't So loyal to lackadaisy overall to refuse to leave it, so that doesn't really make sense as a motivation, but he also clearly didn't join marigold with "time to be peak loyal to Them" ambitions alone (which came from Where, since he'd been with lackadaisy for so long / could've left prior. and if he killed atlas so that he could get a totally different type of job: well he didn't do that. and if he killed him so that he could do that same job somewhere else: why, and also, he doesn't seem that enthused, and also mitzi doesn't seem to act like that's her understanding of his motivations)....all to say that mordecai's motivations then and now don't make sense if trying to look at it through the realm of All Business Logistics, and it's further unlikely b/c that would be more boring lol

and that, again, with mordecai being a business rival and not obviously her bestie or something, what kind of Just Business incentive would allow them to not only agree to work together in some fashion at the time, secretly, but both feel secure enough re: their Both keeping the secret. apparently mitzi has cause to think mordecai Could tell asa/marigold anything about it, but she doesn't suspect hard enough to seem to worry about it after he says "of course not," even though she thinks that mordecai might want to destroy lackadaisy because of whatever he considers her Culpable for surrounding atlas's death, which isn't the same as everyone else just suspecting mitzi killed atlas outright, so it's not like she thinks it's any loyalty to or interest in lackadaisy itself that guarantees he'll refrain from telling marigold anything about whatever happened re: atlas's death. which could be a matter of like, well, maybe it's something he wants secret for his own sake then, but we also have mitzi refraining from telling anyone anything about the secret, even wick. they have to have some reasons for not throwing the other under the bus, and for expecting the other to not do the same to them, and i guess a perfect alignment of [well, it'd have negative consequences for both of us] is possible, but still doesn't seem likely with how they both seem this assured that, even though either of them Could share something, they won't

then there's also More Clues to consider

sure seems like Something to give mordecai's little portrait a defining quality of Grief. which i feel secure in presuming is about atlas. but which isn't the word used for anyone else out here, even like, atlas's widow, so seems significant b/c of that as well. and it Would make sense if mordecai left lackadaisy if because of Grief Over Atlas, when he Doesn't seem so antilackadaisy that he's actually interested in / intending to destroy it, while, at least passively, he Does seem to at least prefer that everyone just exit the stage as painlessly as possible, though that doesn't preclude kneecapping viktor or raiding the armory to try to push that along....but he's also not sharing anything about how mitzi's Actually involved in atlas's death even though he blames her for something in that area, nor even willing to stoke the general assumption / rumors that she killed him, despite this apparent defining grief over it, even

Much To Consider here

first of all, don't think gracie's right that mordecai went over to marigold to spy on them, since he seemed to only be set on this path after that brunch with asa saying he warned atlas of Something. and with his saying right here that there wasn't reason to suspect anything, and also wanting actual answers rather than to let gracie pin the murder on marigold (which theoretically means mordecai isn't Most Motivated by even covering up this murder. when also like, this one might be higher profile, but he's doing a lot of those. and is only Not doing another one right now b/c of the possibility of more answers). there's also the fact that technically neither mitzi or mordecai have unequivocally acknowledged that they even indirectly killed atlas, but the "she wasn't there" remark sure does seem to mean that mordecai Was there when atlas died, and in tandem with "it was a private affair" (though, Trail Offs & Rephrasings Alert with him saying "it was all... it was a private affair" like what were you going to have initially said) seems to mean that mordecai Knows who Was there, and he must be so confident that there are no other loose end attendees / witnesses running around that it "should be impossible" for marigold to know anything about it. and there's some wiggle room for Possibility i suppose, but seems to add up to Only mordecai being there. and there was a gun (and its handoff) involved in mitzi & mordecai's murder mystery secret, so it sure seems like that also adds in mordecai shooting atlas. but still, the key points seeming to be that he Was there, and is sure of What happened himself

also again establishes that mordecai blames mitzi for something, but won't say she was the one who killed atlas. meanwhile, some kind of emotion beyond "that's factually inaccurate" to Emphasize the "no" about the concept that mitzi left atlas for mordecai, which, otherwise some [kill your husband b/c of our romantic entanglement] sure would be an explanation for their sharing this secret involvement surrounding atlas's death. but, again, if the emotion is "[mitzi hater voice] NO" he's never been [mitzi hater voice] trying to throw her under the bus re: atlas's death, actually go after lackadaisy, etc....could be the asexuality, &/or could be the this bitch gay....up next is another Trail Offs & Rephrasings Alert with "i worked for him. atlas. i worked closely with him." which could suggest like, his concern being because he just feels he Should Know, maybe also b/c his proximity to atlas endangers him as well. but, in all this discussion, the Closeness and changing of "for" to "with" is, i'm supposing, about the emotional factor here, with the Grief and everything. as well as the emotional drive of bothering to take off a glove to pose pensively and disheveledly about it all. oh, and also kind of having a half literal bloody heart situation atm, and not just the sense that one's heart is ideally always literally bloody

what's the situation, fellows....could be like, yeah what's special to me is someone who doesn't care if they find me personable or not if i can & will kill people good enough on their behalf. taking on mortal peril too for someone tolerating your professional association? that'd go for any lackadaisy associates, and he's not staying there for any of them, despite the Grief over another. just some loyalty, but he wasn't loyal enough by extension to commit to staying at lackadaisy no matter what. does seem to be most compelling either that possibly he's like, nice, a substitute father vs my presumably deceased, to even reduce that [cool. just like a dad] concept to being a source of financial support (if you kill people really good on his behalf) which sure is relevant when atlas was the one out here restoring mordecai to life when being as good as dead over efforts to procure money for his family. or else, there's the option of mordecai having an Emotional Alignment with mitzi here and cause to be driven by Grief of being somewhat in love with atlas, with the restoring to life and apparently Literal shirts off his back and all, and again intriguing to compare his & mitzi's being materially supported by atlas, naturally, though in her case through being his wife and all. in whatever case, including "or some third compelling thing" that's not so clearly defined, i think it's relevant that mordecai and mitzi were both proximate to atlas and privy to a lot, and that i'm definitely suspecting that the "why would mitzi have this entrusted secret with mordecai of all people" answer of "because of emotional alignment" also involves mordecai's alignment having enough of a similar depth to that emotion as in mitzi's case, such that their Understanding of this similarity is what let & continues to let them trust each other with this secret, and such that mordecai's motivation is Grief over atlas

of course, it's all very obfuscating that we see so little of atlas, including his interactions with anyone. i don't really get the impression of him as being a very warm person, which adds in turn to the mystery of mordecai grieving him. mitzi has this affection for / attachment to atlas still, but it's not exactly clear that atlas ever returned so much of it, like his Fancy Gift Giving may have been the primary medium of any courtship there, certainly apparently the intiation of it; with mitzi seeing that necklace as representative of the Possibility / improvement of circumstances she found through atlas, now potentially through lackadaisy. and there's the fact she still regards him this way despite mordecai saying that things had deteriorated between them before atlas died. and that, in turn, also raises a question of how mordecai would know that; entirely possible that it stemmed from like, possibly being something of a bodyguard, could've included picking atlas up / seeing him off wherever he lived, and things just being obvious from that vantage point. i am doubting it's because, other way around, atlas took up with mordecai instead, though now i'm wondering like, where'd mordecai live at first. could've been set on his feet so fast that atlas Immediately got him a room, from a hotel even, but. anyways, that's to say that any reciprocated, realized romance Between atlas and mordecai doesn't seem to fit here, but again it's like, mordecai being privy to a lot, mordecai and mitzi kind of similar in terms of [atlas's veritable shirts off his back], mordecai being so proximate and often around atlas; i don't imagine it was exactly an affectionate dynamic, but i'm not really counting on atlas's and mitzi's marriage being really that affectionate beyond the surface / performance of romantic gestures / material offerings, on atlas's end anyways, and so like, it's easy to imagine that if mitzi did love him, it was Somewhat unilateral, and they were even married and all; so unilateral feelings being just as motivating for mordecai, who was supported by atlas too, around the same age as mitzi (probably, within a decade almost surely, but i'm estimating more like half a decade at most. while the character sheets suggest, if humorously, that mitzi would claim to be actually at least a year younger than him) around him a lot and privy to a lot, and it would all sure point to a potential specific version of understanding of emotional alignment between the two of them.

but we sure can't exactly know at this juncture, and the theory here just hinges on "mitzi and mordecai had equivalent / aligned Enough emotional attachments to atlas, and their Knowing It led them to have this secret involvement in atlas's death, and to continue keeping the secret, despite their not seeming to keep that secret b/c of a direct emotional attachment to each other, nor necessarily an It's Just Business or It's Just Murder practical, nonemotional shared motivation" like so let's simply phrase it as, tl;dr they both loved him, and knew that....they had to have talked enough to coordinate whatever they did in the first place, to know whyever they both were willing to coordinate it, and feasibly could've shared whatever info before that.

obviously a mystery that remains in this [mordecai and mitzi were both involved b/c they both knew they loved atlas, or at least have enough of this Loyalty to him specifically and precisely] theory is like....their alignment thusly then leads to their being so involved in atlas's death that mordecai knows it was a private affair, mitzi wasn't even there, it should be impossible marigold knows what happened, and yknow, had a gun. why kill him, when mordecai then apparently leaves lackadaisy over Grief about it, and when clearly the way they both talk about implies that this is a sore topic, mordecai considers mitzi culpable / her phrasing it as "reassurance that it's still my fault," they both seem to still regard atlas positively Enough....why have been so proximate to his death and not stopped it, much less possibly, maybe probably, been the ones to cause it

puzzling about this and it's like, of course we have any number of completely missing pieces, but things like "uhhh to preserve some concept of him by completely precluding him doing something or other to conflict with it??" seems like a stretch....and so far all i can think of that'd fit is that Atlas was also in on atlas's death. it's possible for one that he didn't even really die, see: that it's definitely true that none of what mitzi or mordecai has said has decisively, exclusively meant either of them killed atlas, or even that Anyone did, even that he died; i.e. it could be some coverup, Staging atlas's death so that atlas could evade [xyz]....trusted people, already close to him and already privy to a lot, who Would do something like that for him, might be people he'd turn to like hey mind if you help orchestrate what seems to be my demise and then i maybe disappear from your lives forever? but there's still the question of What Was Mitzi's Fault that mordecai maybe thinks led to the circumstance of atlas's death, seemingly or for real, which so aggrieved him that it's his main motivation as we know him, but he also doesn't actually completely hate her....could still be something that atlas just wanted to Disappear over. it's Thematically Apt if, for whatever reason, atlas was like "well i want out of This Life" before either dying for real, or else successfully Pretending to die, to instead facilitate enough of an actual escape: that he was either like reaping what he sowed, when what he sowed was people being stuck on this one path because it benefitted him and they didn't have a world of options, certainly not ones they could see, like that ultimately he'd be stuck in this literal dead end too...or just be killed by others, to be less stuck on his path, specifically. see serafine talking about being obliged to [atlas]; extricating oneself from that Obligation by killing him....or else atlas being also stuck on this one path, But that because he's the one with the money and the one chasing more plentiful opportunities vs clinging to the only one they see and he's the one with collected strays obliged to him, he's the one able to escape, with their help, but perhaps wherein also they just know it's not really up to them to be able to refuse to provide that help, rather than that atlas successfully heartstrings tugged anyone along either (or knowingly, in mordecai's theoretical case anyways)

it's also possible that atlas being in on it also entails him having actually died, and him knowing that was going to happen and for some reason not preventing it, or even being the one to request it. this could line up with both mitzi and mordecai being involved over some shared emotional motivation over atlas, and their both being unhappy with the situation afterwards. of course still mysteries there like "what was mitzi's fault that could lead to atlas dying" and "why's mordecai blame her but will keep this secret and not accuse her to randos or marigold or actually try to destroy lackadaisy to get back at her (lattermost could be for others' sake, e.g. viktor, ivy, even atlas still)" but those were Already mysteries anyways....does seem to me like mordecai's involvement here is b/c of some emotional matter for him, that that's also how he's aligned with mitzi, and so then it does seem to be the most feasible that somehow atlas dying, or disappearing, was something atlas wanted to have happen. including that it could simply be an On My Terms thing even if he really died, like he thinks Someone's gonna kill him, he'd rather avoid suspense and possible suffering, ask his wife to do it, ask his bookkeeper bodyguard hitman to do it, ask his wife who knows she can ask the other guy to do it instead and that he'll agree....

there's also the Big Mystery of "what Did asa have to warn atlas about; and how Does it figure in"....can mordecai have been present at atlas's death, or at least been certain of who was & wasn't so as to think it was impossible marigold knew how it happened, and now have that confidence throw into question If asa had something he warned atlas about??? it confuses me. it'd seem that atlas would be warning atlas, and now theoretically mitzi in turn, about some threat external to lackadaisy, while seemingly mitzi and mordecai's secret suggests that his death came about internally re: lackadaisy. can mordecai think marigold a) was involved in atlas's death without mordecai knowing and b) without marigold knowing mordecai was involved??? what was the private affair mordecai thought he knew of, in that case, if we suppose it involved [not mitzi], [maybe even not mordecai], [not marigold, so he thought]....i suppose it's uhh possible atlas shot himself directly, not even w/the middleman of mordecai doing it With atlas's knowledge / at his behest. hadn't actually considered that before now. the benefits of writing it out! but even then, what's the mysterious gun handoff in the rain between mitzi and mordecai? possible simple evidence disposal one way or another, but how much difficulty would one have when it's like, throw it in a river....

and it's entirely mysterious too like, what New Thing does marigold have to warn anyone about, or mysteriously cull lucrative associates over, the thorn in its side, the undiscerned source of agitation....is it just so New to have an ambitious federal agent in town who'd refuse to be paid off? as ever, there's still the mystery of who runs marigold, since asa's the night manager who gets to keep secrets from mordecai, for one. would be funny if it's wick, with a quarrying front, but yknow....still, that hypothesis doesn't betray, or even suggest, any motivations lol. the secrecy could just be a matter of insulating the owner from any investigations; if someone doesn't know who they're working for, or at least what the overall gameplan is, they sure can't give it away to that federal agent, or anything. but was drago in town back then? he doesn't actually seem interested in lackadaisy now, so even if he would've been when atlas was alive, he's not here to investigate atlas's death, or you'd think he wouldn't just be like "oh you work there? lol. anyways bye"....i'm trying to work out how atlas being warned of Anything is a concept that could make mordecai think marigold might know how he died? since the warning would've come before atlas's death anyways?? i Suppose it could suggest that asa simply doesn't think mitzi killed him, which is supposed to be the rumor that everyone's assuming is true..........

it's also hardly clear that mordecai's worried that, instead, marigold thinks (or knows) mordecai killed atlas? he certainly seems Potentially concerned about that, but why is he interested in some guy's federal agent contact instead? why, more specifically, is he interested in this realm of "what's agigating marigold Now" since the answer is definitely not "him" and seems to uncoincidentally actually be "drago trying to meet up with some informants....who don't necessarily have anything useful to give him???" like, there's too many necessary coincidences for this to be some elaborate coordinated scheme around "we know mordecai killed atlas and we Hate that" like, in that case, just confront him, or kill him, and do that before hiring him? but if mordecai's not simply worried for his own sake "uh oh....am i Really wanted for murder???" style (considering also that marigold doesn't have much reason to be bothered atlas died, and isn't acting like it) then what Is he so motivated by rn? Grief Besot, what's that mean for him risking so much to perhaps Get on marigold's bad side, or become more proximate to a federal agent, when he does not now already seem to be on marigold's bad side nor in this federal agent's crosshairs (who for one, again, might be more interested in lackadaisy if that was the case)....all while, also, mitzi doesn't seem to be thusly so bothered. how Does it figure in? i suppose it's also possible that, concerning atlas's death, mordecai was privy to more / has information she doesn't....for one thing [she wasn't even there] versus how he presumably Was.

something that seems to be left is perhaps Motivation for atlas's death? if, as i'm pondering, mitzi and mordecai teamed up b/c of an mutual understanding of sufficient emotional alignment regarding atlas, and they'd be involved in his death despite this and despite being so unhappy about it afterwards if they did it For atlas, and that they'd only do it For atlas if atlas actually was in on it too / this was what atlas wanted/chose, rather than what mitzi and/or mordecai wanted/chose....could mordecai care so much about simply "the important things i thought i knew are also more emotional than 'i hope nobody tries to kill me :(' logistical, and specifically are: why did atlas want to die? or pretend to die and peace out?" wherein only now is he getting the idea that atlas was warned about something by marigold and that's why he wanted to die or pretend to die and peace out....which would mean, according to this theory, atlas either didn't tell him why, or made up something else. And that mordecai simply wants The Truth? it's not like everyone else in this cast roster isn't necessarily making choices that aren't great for them / are high risk b/c of limited options and emotional minefields, but mordecai is Really highly motivated and taking action about this. would "Why did atlas die, Really" be sufficient motivation? is [what he considers mitzi culpable for] what he Thought was the reason atlas died before, and can he think that idea is inaccurate if mitzi could hear the same thing from asa and not apparently be in the same turmoil of uncertainty?

i suppose it's, as mentioned, possible that mordecai knows how atlas died and who was involved / who even knew about it, but didn't kill him himself, And now is questioning if he Really knows who was involved. like, can he have been wrong? how much room for error was there, here. what third parties can there have been; why would they have been involved. i'm kind of working around like "Does mordecai now wonder if marigold got atlas killed?" with the same eternal questions of [how was mordecai involved such that he had a gun. and knows what happened, yet Now thinks he had this room for error] and [what was mitzi's established culpability, exactly]

like, i am wondering if mordecai could be wondering if A Culling Of Lucrative Associates could have been extended to killing lucrative associate atlas may. seems like a possibility. pawsibility (cats)

could he just be doing this if he only wonders for what purrpose atlas died. i.e., he Knows he Knows how atlas died (which he sure seems to consider more in question, what do you mean you Thought it was a private affair, it Should be impossible, etc) and this is just that hypothetical question of "maybe i was wrong about why atlas chose to die, & i Need To Figure Out the actual reason." and like, why. for closure. for finding out something Wasn't mitzi's fault, and getting to keep your hitman job with more familiar faces? for one, rooting for mordecai and the savoys. more about that later

either way, it's also like. is mordecai really doing all this Just To Know / to put his mind at ease. he's risking a lot for information he's theoretically not going to do anything with, and putting a lot of effort into it anyways. but if he Is going to do something, what? it's not like he's never been Wanted For Murders that some people know he was behind, if that's the hypothetical issue re: atlas. would he want to Avenge atlas or something here? at any cost? aligning with drago like look i wanna kill whoever runs marigold, but my problem is i don't know who that is. not like mordecai Fully going rogue from marigold here seems that far-fetched just inherently, and even less so since that's like, already partly underway. and with the savoys anticipating that they may not always be on the same professional side, whether b/c mordecai's about to break away or b/c they know They're close enough to it at any time, and might just join him b/c, idk. they want to keep shaking him up like a jar of glitter; they also want to know more about what's going on with marigold; maybe even some third thing

it's still a question like, how could mitzi and mordecai have enough of a cohesive idea of how atlas died (or is presumed to have died) that they think there's nothing left to figure / they know enough of how it came about to think that mitzi's at fault for something or other....And for there to be room for mordecai to be questioning so much about it, when, if anything, he might have even more information about it than mitzi does? what role does he think mitzi played and maybe still thinks she played But now he can also be like "but also was marigold involved" like, wha. what's understood between them, what's been questioned between them? tldr let's consider it intently again:

i'm also considering those flowers. Important in general, daisies and marigolds, but those are decidedly Not daisies when there's even thee daisy depicted in the frame there. anyone an expert on five-petaled flowers....forget-me-nots don't have pointed petals like that....it might not be meant to be any particular flower, or meaningful. but there it is. and, again, like....so there's enough of Something between mitzi and mordecai such that mitzi can be like "maybe you'd tell someone something" and mordecai can be like "of course i didn't," but they don't seem to be exactly close or even like, in contact, and mordecai certainly resents mitzi / blames her for something (if not actually being motivated to try to destroy everything she has left) but they still both expect each other to keep the secret....like, it's definitely true that even if they both know they both have whatever similar enough emotional motivation re: atlas, they could have too begrudging an alliance to feel like they'll both definitely Keep it a secret. unless it's somehow adequately separately in their own interests. i doubt mitzi's only declining to publish a personal ad like "i definitely didn't kill atlas. btw." b/c it's still too fresh a topic, while people already think she maybe did kill him, so what's she gaining by not talking about it....what's mordecai gaining by not talking about it, or blaming mitzi to the point of telling people oh yeah she did shoot anyone, even if he knows she didn't. if mitzi knows mordecai shot atlas, what's she keeping that secret for....if mordecai has enough of [some kind of emotional motivation] re: atlas to now be driven by grief over him, and mitzi feels anything about this was her fault, why expect mordecai to work with her? if she didn't know mordecai had that motivation, why turn to him at all? like what are our motivations....a) covering up crime, probably not, unless it's about atlas not finding out about one, which transitions into b) money, did mordecai embezzle once? he could do it again. or for the first time, then c) love, decidedly not between mordecai and mitzi, could be For atlas somehow....even some third or fourth thing, but what other kind of connection could these two have. what could mitzi even have been up to to be Culpable in some way surrounding atlas's death, but not so directly responsible that mordecai isn't still protecting the secret? how was mordecai there with a gun and thinking he knows how it happened / who was privy to it, and now be like, i have to solve his murder mystery. i'm puzzling....

said i'd get back to the savoys. mostly i had the brilliant insight that like, i was noting that mordecai Is in the dark, at crossroads, between places, etc. but it then occurred to me like, yknow look for the connection that is: they gifted mordecai w/their diable, who for them provided some Light, literal even. and then i'm like, hmm, mordecai sure put up a literal light. kinda like a ghostlight, even though it's also not that so nvm....then it was like let's just check page "illumination" while dramatically smacking foreheads

tell us more, bestie!!!

it's also funny how mordecai's autistic swag gives him that inscrutability / stealth factor to others just whether he likes it or not. he wants to go talk to mitzi about secrets so he just up and excuses himself from the table and his boss is like "lmfao what a weirdo, classic that guy. anyways." but not only do i doubt the savoys would think, based on their experiences with him, that mordecai's actually Having Fun At Work rn, but i also think they may actually have some more Accurate ideas re: mordecai, including already being like "well, we're the same," rather than taking a more dismissive, othering perspective towards him. and i certainly think their diable is not Not going to have helped mordecai out here, so somehow he must be on the right path for his purposes, even when i'm in the dark between places about it lol. i don't have a diable. unbelievable pondering the hotel room scene we just chasséd past there btw.........i am rotating it in my mind. anyways. i'm not so sure that if the savoys find out mordecai's solving some murder mystery they won't be like "'hahaha amazing right on. well, now we're helping" ft. more specific affectionate nicknames and despite his not offering to let them in on it. take up the path together, stay friends no matter what, nobody get eaten from the inside out in a bad hot temper way, please. also i think nicodeme and mordecai should date

i have no stronger point to leave off on, and i Think i covered all the pondering updates, and this has been going on a minute, so. continuing to ponder

#is this longer than the last one? maybe #long post www #eh maybe not #either way. let's muse out here. there's a mystery in town #the possibility mordecai shot atlas And is also the one out here peak in grief about it? get that angst gayboy #but maybe he didn't even do that much. see: this whole damn post #lackadaisy #mitzi and mordecai murder mystery

7 notes · View notes

mercurious-minds-blog · 5 years

Text

Ditch Your Glasses And Terrible Eyesight With These 6 Eye Exercises

Your eyes aren't broken. It's your lens use and bad habits that weaken your eyes over time. And the massive hundred billion dollar optics industry loves it. They keep you in ever increasing prescriptions and tell you stories of the genetic myopia condition.

Photo by Tan Danh from Pexels It's nonsense. Your eyes may not be perfectly healthy, but there's no need to diagnose them under unnecessary conditions. The National Eye Institute reports that “About 42 percent of Americans ages 12-54 are nearsighted, up from 25 percent in 1971. A recent review reports that myopia prevalence varies by ethnicity. East Asians show the highest prevalence, reaching 69 percent at 15 years of age. Blacks in Africa had the lowest prevalence at 5.5 percent at 15 years of age. Children from urban environments are more than twice as likely to be myopic as those from rural environments.” I think it’s no coincidence that those who are more prone to myopia are also the same ones who spend more time in front of a screen. As for the genetic aspect of myopia, science has shown that our own thoughts and actions can change our genetic makeup, and that DNA gets passed down to later generations. A generation of screen watchers begets another, more susceptible, generation of screen watchers. And it’s not just screens that cause myopia. Holding anything close to your face, such as a book, places a certain strain on your eyes and trains them to stay that way. It works the same for farsightedness as well. If you suffer from poor eyesight, you've probably been told that you need to wear either glasses or contact lenses or to save up for expensive lasik surgery. Improving your sight by exercising your eyes might seem pretty unbelievable but a number of ophthalmologists believe that certain exercises may indeed keep your eyes in better shape. These findings are nothing new. In fact, evidence of these claims have been around for almost 100 years! But sadly, because it would greatly affect the optics industry, major studies have never been done.

The Man Who Introduced Eye Exercising

Back in the 1920s, Dr. William Bates, a New York ophthalmologist determined that if eyes responded to glasses by getting weaker, the muscles around the eyes were the key factor in poor vision. He found that a tremendous amount of muscular tension builds up in and around the eyes, causing problems with their ability to see. So, he developed a series of eye exercises to relax those muscles in order to release tension and restore circulation to help improve the eyes’ functioning. The three fundamental eye exercises from the Bates Method are "sunning", which involves shining the sun or a full spectrum light on closed eyes; "palming", which is covering the eyes with your palms, and massaging them gently; and "swinging", which is keeping your eyes focused on an object as you turn your head back and forth from left to right. Since then, there have been many other eye exercises developed that are very easy to implement at any time.

Eye Exercises Are Becoming More Popular

Conditions such as astigmatism, far and nearsightedness, as well as weakening sight, have been improved and sometimes cured by the Bates Method, and some clinical trials appear to prove its effectiveness. At the time, eye exercises were a highly controversial idea, and it still is. Mainstream optometrists widely disapprove, but tens of thousands of people swear by using the Bates Method. By learning to relax their optic muscles, people can improve their eyesight. When you think about it, it’s unbelievable that more studies on this haven’t been done. Lately, though, Bates’ ideas have been receiving unexpected confirmation from scientists who are studying neuroplasticity—a branch of neuroscience that is developing from an understanding that the brain is capable of self-repair and healing, more than we ever thought possible. Psychiatrist Norman Doidge, a neuroplasticity expert, writes: “The natural vision principles behind what did can be applied far more widely than is done now, from the milder problems of those who have blurry vision to more serious ones, and to prevent future vision problems.” He continues on by saying, “Exploring the Bates Vision Method, David Webber discovered the work of Meir Schneider. Schneider, born with vision issues, also had failed surgeries and vision of 20/2000. But working with the Bates method up to 13 hours a day, he eventually brought his vision to 20/60. I hope you caught that: 13 HOURS A DAY. Schneider decided to develop his own approach to restoring vision which is highly influenced by Bates’ work.”

Behavioral Optometry

Some of the key principles of eye exercising are being more and more accepted by mainstream eye care. The idea that the eyes need care and stress relief just as the rest of the body has been developed as a part of a discipline called behavioral optometry. Within this practice, eyesight is considered to be an indivisible part of the whole being and therefore influenced by our behaviour, environment, stress and the cognitive functioning between eyes and brain. Vision links with the other senses. Balance, spatial perception, and mismatches in seeing and hearing can all lead to distortion and mixed signals between the eyes and brain. Behavioral optometry uses visual therapy to fix issues like insufficient focusing, for instance in squinting. You can also help boost your eye exercises by using supplements designed for eyes. Most include extracts such as marigold, bilberry, gingko, and eyebright, in addition to antioxidants and vitamins and minerals such as A, C, E, lutein, and zinc. amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_search_bar = "true"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mercuriousmin-20"; amzn_assoc_search_bar_position = "bottom"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "search"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_title = "Shop Related Products"; amzn_assoc_default_search_phrase = "eye supplements"; amzn_assoc_default_category = "All"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "dab3cd9330efa1b9ebd5d61221a7199d";

6 Eye Exercises You Can Do Anywhere

1. Eye Circles

Eye circles will help tone and stretch your eyes' muscles. Slowly move your eyes in a clockwise direction 20 times. Make as wide a circle as you are can. Relax for 10 seconds and repeat in a counterclockwise direction. Do this exercise a few times throughout the day. If having your eyes open for this exercise is too uncomfortable, you can opt to close your eyes.

2. Zooming

Focus exercises can help strengthen your eyes. Hold a pen upright or simply use a thumbs up motion and straighten your arm in front of your body. Focus your eyes on the tip of your thumb or pen. Focus for 10 seconds. Slowly bring the pen towards your nose while gazing at the tip. Hold this position for 10 seconds. Slowly extend your arm again while focusing your eyes on the tip and repeat the process three times. Try to blink as little as possible. Relax your eyes and repeat throughout the day.

3. Face Focus

Lower your eyes and gaze at the tip of your nose and hold this position for 15 seconds. Do not blink. Slowly return your eyes to the original position. Close your eyes and relax for 20 seconds. Open your eyes and look up at your eyebrows for 15 seconds. Return your eyes to the original position. Close your eyes and relax for another 20 seconds. Repeat this exercise throughout the day.

4. Eye Squeezes

Squeezing will strengthen and stretch your eye muscles. Tightly contract your eye muscles by closing and squeezing your eyes together. Hold this tension for 4 seconds. Open your eyes. Quickly blink your eyes a few times. Relax for 5 seconds and repeat. Do this exercise throughout the day.

5. Up and Downs

Strengthen your eye muscles by doing up and down maneuvers. Look up at the ceiling a few feet in front of you and hold for 5 seconds. Return your eyes to the straight-ahead position. Relax for 6 seconds. Move your eyes to look down at the floor a few feet in front of you and hold for 5 more seconds. Return your eyes to the original position. Blink quickly to relax your eyes. Repeat this exercise throughout the day.

6. Figure 8

Practice controlling the movement of your eyes. Imagine a giant figure eight right in front of you and trace the figure eight with your eyes, slowly. Trace it one way for about 30 seconds and then relax your eyes for 15 seconds. Trace the opposite way for another 30 seconds. Relax and repeat throughout the day. Read the full article

#eyeexercises #eyeglasses

0 notes

throughtheglassdarkly · 5 years

Text

Missing Pieces, part 7

Hello, lovelies, it’s me, Yova. I know our darling Derek typically recounts our motley’s mishaps. However, our poor chronicler was called away for a bridal cupcake catastrophe just before our date with Day’s former partner and lucky you, I’ve graciously offered to help with this part of the story.

Pam, Bella, and I dropped Derek on his feathered head in front of Sprinkles (not that one) and then picked up Officer Break for lunch. We were not sure where to go for lunch; mostly we were too busy trying to figure out how to handle Brenda. Pam, though, ever resourceful, found a quaint out-of-the-way spot. One of those places that does breakfast and lunch and closes by four in the afternoon.

I had texted Marigold about Officer Break’s ability to see us as we are and what, if any, court prcedents needed to be observed. But I did not hear back from her straight away. Unsurprising, really. There’s no cell signal in the Autumn Court’s Hallow.

Lunch was, for lack of a better term, awkward. Officer Break was practically brimming with excitement, while the three of us were completely unsure of how to broach the subject of Changeling society as a whole. I started with gently explaining what we were, for Officer Break had taken to calling us the Weird Folk. Then an explanation of Arcadia and the process by which a human became a Changeling and escaping back through the Hedge. In all honesty, Brenda took it all in stride. She kept nodding thoughtfully when appropriate, then she asked something that floored us all: “My partner is stuck there. How do I get him back?”

Day does not deserve this woman.

She was not pleased when we told her she couldn’t, nor should she try to find her way back into the Hedge. She was unaware of how lucky she was, but she would not let go of the idea of saving Day from the Gentry’s clutches, especially after she had come into contact with his Fetch. This put us in a bit of a conundrum, as we of course knew what had befallen Day. However, we were not sure what Officer Break would do to Day, given his crimes. Also, out of deference to Day, we tried our hardest to not let her know that we knew him.

Thankfully, when she asked that question, we were able to realize she really did see Day through rose-colored glasses. We were able to talk Officer Break out of storming the Hedge by offering to help her find Day’s Fetch and she agreed to meet us later that evening at the Biergarten.

After lunch, the ladies and I piled back into my truck and talked about the issue at hand, and how we were going to get Day to come along and face his former partner. Thankfully, Day is a man tied to his vices. So, one stop at the liquor store for two packs of Marlboro Reds and a big bottle of Wild Turkey later, we arrived at his flat.

He was afraid we had brought Brenda with us and tried to pass himself off as an old lady, but opened the door at the promise of booze and smokes. Day lives, as you might expect, surrounded by his own filth. There was a sandwich on the counter that I swore was about to grow limbs and start talking soon. I gave him the cigarettes but withheld the booze as I let Pam explain our plan to meet Brenda later.

Day, of course, at first refused to come along if Officer Break was going to be there. I did understand – it is hard to face someone who admires you so much and not want to disappoint them or admit you aren’t worthy of their admiration. The fact that she could see through our masks was another factor to consider. All perfectly reasonable reasons to not face her.

But we were not going to let him weasel out of it. Between Pam’s motherly guilt trip, Bella’s cuteness, my scathing honesty, and the bottle of Wild Turkey on the line, Day relented. While he was in the midst of over-fretting, Marigold returned my text. Typically, she observes all grammar rules when texting. But this time, what I got was all caps “HEDGE TOUCHED” followed by four exclamation points. I could feel her excitement through the phone and messaged her back, asking what that meant. What she told me is that apparently even passing through the Hedge leaves its mark, though the courts hadn’t seen a Hedge-Touched human in a long time. She asked to interview Brenda. It was adorable.

Once Day had agreed to come, we left him to grumble and make himself presentable for that evening (otherwise no Wild Turkey). I dropped Bella and Pam off at Derek’s workplace as Pam hoped to lend a hand and I believe Bella wanted a free cupcake. I personally went home to decompress and change my outfit. And here, lovelies, I will hand you back to our chronicler, as not long after this he was freed from cupcake hell.

Hey, it’s me again. And when she says “cupcake hell,” she’s not joking. All I got on my phone was a panicked text from my boss, “BRIDEZILLA: ALL HANDS ON DECK” and I had to show up. When I got there, I barely managed to duck a flying tray of absolutely lovely chocolate cupcakes that had been piped and decorated to perfection. A very angry woman and a man with a long-suffering look on his face were at the counter and she was shrieking, “I ASKED FOR MARBLE CUPCAKES, NOT CHOCOLATE AND VANILLA CUPCAKES, AND THIS FROSTING IS CLEARLY MAGENTA WHEN I ASKED FOR FUCHSIA, DO I LOOK LIKE A WHORE TO YOU?!”

So that was my next five hours (also: I checked the order form and she clearly selected two different types of cupcakes. Bitch.). Thankfully, Pam showed up and added an extra set of hands while Bella helped herself to a few of the three hundred cupcakes the team at work had previously made. That evening, after artfully designing chocolate dicks into three hundred marble cupcakes, I joined the rest of the motley at the Biergarten. Brenda was there well before us and was waiting at an outside table, looking between her phone and a notebook. It about took all of Pam’s, Bella’s, and my strength to shove Day up the walk toward the restaurant.

Yova started trying her usual bullshitting and schmoozing with Brenda, who called her on it and said she didn’t need to get awkward. “Well, it’s about to get even more awkward,” Yova told her as the three of us pushed Day around the corner. “Remember how we were loath to talk about your partner earlier? It’s because it wasn’t our place to tell,” Yova said, stepping aside and motioning for Day to step up.

Day greeted her about as awkwardly as humanly possible: “Hey, girl, how’s tricks?” She put her notebook and phone away, took in a deep breath, pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Day, I swear to fucking Christ,” as she walked up to him. Her hands balled into fists at her side and she just stared up at him, taking him in. After maybe thirty seconds of staring in silence, she raised a fist and placed it firmly in the middle of his chest. “You have some balls making me worry about you like that,” she said. “Well, if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be me,” he said. She shook her head and admitted that she was completely unprepared for this. “Look, I’m not saying that what happened that day when we were looking for Pam was totally uncool, but I mean, in my defense, what was I supposed to do? I was stuck. I became this… thing,” he said.

Brenda closed her eyes and said, “It’s my fault. I was the one who brought you out there. I’ve been beating myself up for this pretty much ever since it happened.” “Well, uh, I… forgive you?” he said. “That wasn’t very convincing, but I’ll take it. It’s pretty much more than I’ve ever gotten out of you, so I’ll take it,” she retorted. He told her that he’d accepted what he’d become and suggested they leave it at that and move on.

We told Brenda about how we were planning to investigate Day’s Fetch and asked her what she knew about him. She told us that about two weeks after Day disappeared, the Fetch just showed up to work one day, with no clue what had happened and what people knew, and they tried to arrest it, which didn’t work. She kept digging around, looking for the Fetch, and found out where it would usually go and who it liked to run with. She said it was trying to keep a low profile until it started paying the rest of us a visit. “Okay, I guess I get all that, but why were you trying to look for me?” Day asked. “Because you’re my partner. Well, were. I’ve got a new one now. But partners are supposed to have each other’s backs and I know you always thought I was annoying or naïve, but, you know, I did learn a lot from you. And I know that somewhere inside that callused, possibly cholesterol-soaked heart, there’s still something there. And I – I dunno. I thought maybe I could bring back that part of you that still actually believed in the job.”

Day told her that there was one thing they’d have to clear up before they went any further: “Everything they said I did, it’s all true. I did plant evidence, I did fudge paperwork. I didn’t always follow proper procedure, because those were the types of people who game the system to get away with it. We were never going to get them. So, I did what I had to do to put those sons of bitches away for life. And if you ask me if I was gonna do it again, the answer’s yes. So if you can understand that and accept it, then we’re square. But if you can’t, I don’t know.” Brenda admitted she’d noticed some of the things Day had been doing, even if she didn’t know the lengths to which he’d gone. “I’m good at my job and can tell when things aren’t right. I know you can do good things. Maybe right now you’re not doing a good job at doing those things, but I know you can, and I’m patient enough. I can wait until you realize that yourself.”

While this was going on, Yova and I were whispering to each other. “I think Day’s tiny little heart grew three sizes this day,” she told me. “Maybe, but three times zero is still zero,” I said.

We decided to make our way inside the biergarten and look around for anything that seemed out of place. Brenda talked with the bouncer for a few minutes and flashed her detective’s badge. She waved us over and the bouncer let us in without IDing any of us, even Bella, who looks 17 if she’s a day. The first thing I noticed about the bar is that there were peanut shells everywhere: buckets and buckets of peanuts set out and people chawing on them and tossing the shells wherever. Bella got instantly lost in the France-Brazil game. There were college kids cheering and older people drinking. We even saw a couple of other changelings sitting at the bar itself. They were obviously super drunk and obnoxious, yelling curses whenever a player fucked up.

Our group managed to snipe a table as another group got ejected for being too rowdy and we ordered some food and drinks. Over the noise, Brenda told us that she was surprised we picked this spot to go to, since it was one of the spots Day’s Fetch tended to hang. “Near as I can figure it, we wait for him and his crew to show up and see what we can do,” Day said. Yova told her our original reason to come there was to suss out who the loyalist was and we were quickly realizing there was probably some overlap between those two groups. When there was a moment of calm, Yova put on her most charming smile and asked Brenda for a favor: “My girlfriend would very much like to interview you.” Being helpful, I said with no small amount of grinning, “You said the G word.” “She did!” Bella piped up. Yova gave us both a look a death but Brenda hesitantly agreed to talk to Marigold and we started to eat.

While the others were noshing and drinking, I kept an eye on our surroundings and managed to spot that the two obnoxious changelings at the bar had spotted us and they seemed to be paying more attention to us than to the game. One of them was a very large moss-covered man and the other was a smaller woman with buzz-cut hair, grayish skin and cat-slitted eyes. “We got eyes on us at 2:00,” I said. Day suggested we talk to them and see what they were up to. “Probably the least-threatening one of us should go talk to them,” Yova suggested, and we all turned to look at Pam.

Pam got up to go talk to them, convincing Bella to go along with her. She tried to be friendly, extending a hand and introducing herself. The woman looked at her with a “really?” expression. Bella tried talking sports with them and the mossy man actually opened up a bit. The woman finally shook Pam’s hand and Pam tried to get them to join us at our table. As they packed up and started to walk over, I heard a buzz from a few tables away over the din. When I turned to look, I spotted a small figure in a Brazil hoodie pick up a phone. I couldn’t tell anything about who it was other than that they were short and slender. But the timing of the buzz seemed to be just a little too perfect.

I nudged Yova and motioned with my head to the figure. She grabbed an empty glass off the table and made her way toward the bar, not necessarily walking straight toward the Brazil hoodie but taking a path that looked like she was weaving around people. She tried to get a view of who was in the hoodie. She couldn’t get a clear look at the person’s face but she could see that she was wearing a skirt and was texting like mad.

Pam got the other changelings to sit down at our table and the woman introduced herself as Deb and her compatriot as Greg. She said that they didn’t see a lot of other changelings around, which is why they were staring. We hadn’t seen them at any of the freehold events, but given how large the freehold was, that wasn’t too surprising. We all introduced ourselves and explained that we just got back. Greg kept trying to engage Bella in soccer talk while Deb said the two of them didn’t do the whole Court thing and asked if they could get back to their own spot. I couldn’t help but feel that her nervousness wasn’t really because of us: she seemed to be looking out in the street as she was talking to us.

At the bar, Yova was chatting up the bartender to see if she could get Day one of the giant birthday glass boots full of beer without putting it in an actual glass boot. “My friend is lovely, but awfully clumsy, even when sober,” she tried to explain. While she was doing this, she tried to keep her eye on hoodie chick and see if she was still watching us. The girl in the hoodie got up and started walking past Yova. Yova took that opportunity to step back and right into her path, bumping into her. As she stumbled, Yova got a quick glimpse of her face: she was a pretty young woman with tan skin and wavy dark hair. She looked familiar, but Yova wasn’t sure why. She pulled the hood over her face a little more and made a beeline for the exit.

Yova got back to the table, put a beer in front of Day and told us she was going outside to smoke, asking if any of us wanted to join her. I’d been keeping an eye on the hoodie chick and saw her interaction with Yova, so I volunteered to step out with her, as did Brenda. Pam decided to lock Deb into a conversation about her kids. She was forcing Deb to be an active listener and it was awful. Outside, Brenda asked us what we were doing. Yova quickly explained the situation and Brenda volunteered to go take a look for the girl in the hoodie. After she’d been gone a minute, we decided it would be smarter for us to go after her.

Back at the table, Deb got a text and tried to put it away before Pam could see, but Pam got a glimpse: “I can’t shake the cop.” Pam tried to ask her if someone was in trouble and Deb said, “No, we have to go. Greg, we’re going.” She grabbed Greg and tried to pull him out of the bar. Pam, bless her, managed to distract her long enough with discussions about Girl Scout cookies or something to delay her a bit. After Deb and Greg got out the door and dashed, Pam, Day, and Bella hurried out after us. Day ran ahead of the other two and found me and Yova looking for Brenda. We waited until Pam and Bella caught up, then all of us made our way forward.

Eventually, we found Brenda outside of an in-process construction site. She looked annoyed but also determined. She told us to keep our voices down and that the chick in the hoodie went into the site. She said she wanted to go in there but knew it was a bad idea, so Day helpfully volunteered the rest of us to go in there. He reached down, scooped up a mud patty and spat it over his hands to make rock fists. Brenda looked at him with mild disgust, saying, “That is so in character. I don’t know what you did. But it is absolutely you.”

We decided that somebody needed to go in and do some recon. Day nominated me. Brenda rolled her eyes and pointed out that aside from Yova, the walking strobe light, I was the most brightly colored one there. “It’s okay, he’s been trying to get me killed ever since we got pulled into Arcadia.” “Whaaaat? Come on, bird brain!” Day told me. “No! I’m not talking to you after you befouled my wastebasket!” I snapped. Bella volunteered to go in and poofed out of existence. The last thing we heard as she wandered off is, “I’m going to do this while looking better than any of you.” Yova and I looked at each other. “She’s going to get herself killed,” she said. “Yeah, but when she does, at least we won’t have to put up with her any longer,” I said.

Bella slipped into the construction site and up to the second floor. She was able to hear mumbled voices coming from within a tarped area. One was a feminine voice and the other was a much deeper, masculine one. The deeper voice said that they had to get out of there and he wasn’t staying put in the construction site for another night. “Well, at least we’ve got to stay put until we’re sure they’re gone,” the feminine voice said. “I’ve had it up the here. Just shut up and let me think,” the masculine voice responded. There was a tense and awkward silence between them and Bella slipped back out and made her way back to us.

Now this next part, I need to explain. Bella has a tendency when she slips out of sight to want to surprise people by coming up behind them and saying things. It freaks the hell out of you. And we were already on edge because of what was going on. So when I heard a voice behind me, with no context and no warning, saying, “I found something,” you’ll understand why I turned around and decked Bella right in the face. I didn’t hit her hard, but enough to make a point. “Ow, you asshole!” she yelled. “Oh, it’s you!” I said, feigning surprise. As I saw her stumble back, I felt something really off, like I was losing a little bit of myself. You might remember a few chapters back, I told you how if we Beasts lash out without thinking, it can cause us to lose a little Clarity, the part of us that helps us determine where Arcadia and the real world differ. I was able to take a deep breath and focus, but that moment definitely made an impact.

Bella told us that the two people in there were trying to mimic her and Day. We quickly decided our best course of action was to go in and beat the ever-loving shit out of the Fetches. Pam and Brenda kept watch outside while the other four of us slipped in. We almost all managed to be stealthy. Almost all of us. Yova stubbed her toe on a piece of plywood. She cursed and it bumped into the scaffolding, making a rattling noise. We came to a stop and I whispered that maybe we could be quiet and they’d think it was just a stray cat or something. “Oh, sure, that always works,” Day snapped. “Fuck off!” I hissed.

While we were bickering, Yova and Bella heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the floor above. Bella dropped into the shadows and Yova shimmied up a ladder, peeking over the top and spotting Day’s Fetch looking pissed as hell and holding a firearm. She called out, “Hello!” and flared her brightness to blind him. He stumbled back, yelling, “What the hell?!”

Outside, Pam spotted the flash from the second floor and clearly recognized it as Yova’s, but she also saw a secondary flash from a couple of floors up. She pointed that out to Brenda and Brenda gave her a pair of binoculars, which Pam used to look up. The angle wasn’t great because it was so high up, but Pam managed to see a figure we knew very well stepping close to the edge of one of the rafters, walking carefully across it, and trying to make her way to a piece of scaffolding leading down: that bitch-ass Aurora. Pam explained to Brenda who Aurora was and they made a quick plan for Brenda to tail Aurora and text Pam if she was getting close.

Back inside, Yova decked Day’s Fetch as he charged her, whaling him smack in the nose. As Day, Bella and I heard the fight break out, we also heard someone else coming up from the basement. Day directed us to go up and help Yova, while he charged at the noise, only to see Pam, who told him about Aurora and Brenda tailing her. He told her to stay close to him and they followed us up to the second story. Around this time, Day’s Fetch ran forward, tackling Yova over onto the edge of the scaffolding. Day jumped down onto the scaffolding, trying to pull his Fetch off of Yova. He didn’t quite get it off of her but did manage to loosen its grip a bit. He pulled his Fetch up and got a solid look at him, which he later admitted shook him quite a bit.

Yova let out an unholy shriek, chilling all of us, and she started glowing bright red, going full battle bard. Day’s Fetch didn’t let go, but it was clearly second-guessing its choice in opponent. Around this time, Bella’s Fetch made its way down and saw regular Bella. It had a hammer and glared at Bella, yelling, “This life isn’t yours anymore. Get out!” It charged and got Bella in the shoulder with the hammer, which looked like it hurt like the dickens. Around this time, I charged forward with a flying kick, getting Bella’s Fetch in the back of the neck. It went down hard, dropping the hammer and holding up its hands, surrendering.

Bella was seething with anger, looking at her Fetch, but seeing her own face in pain was making her second-guess things a bit. As much as she was reeling, she picked up the hammer. “You took everything from me! And even now, you’re still trying to take it from me!” she said. “I didn’t have a choice! No, please, just hear me out! We didn’t have a choice! We didn’t have a choice to exist! I’ll leave here if you promise not to kill me. The only reason I’m here is I don’t want to lose what I have. It’s not just the things that used to be yours,” the Fetch begged. Bella had about as dead serious a look as I’ve ever seen on her face as she said, “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a choice, either.” She turned to look at me and I gave her a slight nod. She turned back, she brought the hammer up and slammed it into her Fetch’s temple as hard as she could.

The Fetch went down, twitching and barely breathing. Bella didn’t’ stop. She hit it over and over and over again with the hammer until she finally stopped, sobbing. I went in and hugged her tightly. She told me later she felt like something was slipping away as she was watching her own body reverting to a pile of greasy rags stitched together with uneven, stained thread. We both watched as shadows seeped out from the tatters and flowed into the night.

Bella was clearly not in any state to do anything more and I wasn’t going to leave her by herself, but the fight kept going on around us. While Bella was dispatching her Fetch, Pam got a text from Brenda: “She’s doing something, I can’t tell what. Staying still.” She decided to climb up to the fourth floor, where Brenda told her Aurora was making her way to. Yova punched Day’s Fetch into Day. It tried to break out of the hold that Day had on it, but Day had it tight.

“You’re not going anywhere, you beautiful son of a bitch,” Day said. “All right, you’ve got every right to be pissed, but I just want to get out of this city! The only reason I’m here is that white-haired bitch told me she’d get me out of here.” Day tightened the grip on its neck and said, “Nope, time’s up, you bastard. Just think happy thoughts." "Why do you gotta make it weird? No, scratch that. I know exactly why you’re making it weird,” the Fetch sighed. Day squeezed hard and we all heard popping and breaking as he squeezed the air out of it. Once it passed out, Day dropped it. He looked over at Yova and asked, “So, how was it with me on top of you?” She looked at him and decked him hard enough where he got whiplash. And I felt every single part of me burning with the glee that comes from being a master of the petty arts.

Those of us who weren’t busy being petty, rage-fueled, smarmy, or weepy (read: Pam) climbed up to the fourth floor and saw Aurora gathering a few items – nothing that seemed terribly important, but if she was putting them together, they obviously were. Aurora was placing them in the moonlight and starting to dance around them. Pam called forth a broom made out of wind to scatter the items and Aurora started freaking out. Pam kept her cool, telling her that she thought she’d help Aurora clean up her mess. “Well. My guess is you’ve already killed my babies. So…” and with that, Aurora ran straight for the edge of the building and dove off. After a minute, Pam realized she didn’t hear her land.

Down on the second floor, I happened to be looking in the right direction as I saw a flash: it looked like a hole opened up and a white blur fell through it, then was gone. “Uh, guys? I don’t think we’re catching her tonight,” I said.

The rest of the night was anticlimax. Yova managed to get a grip and collect herself. Pam came down from the fourth floor. Day popped his nose back into place. Bella was staring at her hands and generally being a space cadet. I didn’t want to leave Bella alone in that state, so I stuck by her, making sure she wasn’t going to do anything crazy. Yova suggested that we get in touch with the Knights of the Widows’ Walk and let them know they could come and pick up Day’s Fetch. We found some zip ties and restrained Day’s Fetch and Day slung it over his shoulder and we turned to go.

As we were getting ready to go, I saw a small glint from the moonlight shining on the pile of rags. I knelt down and picked it up: it was a small silver ring with a pink heart-shaped stone and smaller diamonds around it. I took one look at Bella and realized she was not in any state of mind to think about what that might mean, so I pocketed it and decided to ask her about it after she was back to being her old self.

We headed out of the construction site to see Brenda waiting for us. “Mission accomplished?” she asked. “Let’s just say we didn’t lose,” Day said. Brenda took a look at Bella, who wasn’t looking at much of anything, then looked back at Day. “I’m really, really glad you’re okay,” she told him. He told her that she could come see him and they could hang out. “Sure, just not at your place,” she said. “What’s wrong with my place?” he asked. She griped about how the one time she went over to his place and practically caught scabies. “It hasn’t changed,” Yova said. Brenda shook her head and said, “You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I will come over and help you clean up and get the place up to the health code.”

We piled into Yova’s truck and stopped by the drop box, leaving a message for the Knights, then went off to get some much-deserved rest. And that’s where I’ll end it for now. Next time, I’ll get you some resolution about the whole loyalist situation, I promise. Until then, may you have the reflexes of a freaked-out secretary bird whenever you encounter a Bridezilla.

A big thank you to Yova’s player, @basically-andromeda, for writing her part of the recap!

#Changeling: The Lost #changeling #ctl #ic #recap #drawing dicks in all the cupcakes #i don't want to be in the room when she sees the photos #tee hee

1 note · View note