#it sucks being a trans person and knowing the person who created a property that so deeply affected your childhood life
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tbh more than getting phan at the top ship, i just really wanna kick any harry potter ships out of there like how are people still posting about that.
#ahhh its the art not the artist fic doesnt support jkr#ok fair enough i GUESS but. it sucks being reminded that she sucks every week#it sucks being a trans person and knowing the person who created a property that so deeply affected your childhood life#thinks you have been brainwashed and have damaged your body beyond repair#and thinks your chosen sisters are demon spawn who dont deserve to live#and thinks that none of us should be allowed to exist#and spends time with people who think not only that but that all women don't deserve equal rights#despite having labelled herself as a supposed feminist#and all of this having REAL LIFE POLITICAL CONSEQUENCES for millions of people#so yeah like sorry if fuckin wolfstar triggers me i guess.
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A Miraculous Journey of Self Discovery
Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir: Rewritten, Trans AU.
A long time ago, I decided to make my own rewrite of the Miraculous Ladybug show, do it in my own way so that things could progress the way I would like, for characters to grow and develop in personality and strength. Write my own way for the miraculous to be empowered, to be a bigger deal, to mean more than what they mean in the show. And, along the way, I saw @wintertundra-art's Trans Adrien and Marinette AU, and I wanted to see if I could incorporate that into this rewrite. And, with her permission and cooperation, I was able to get the first chapter, Origins: Part One completed! I'm excited to see where this goes from here!
So, as a christmas gift to you all, Enjoy a miraculous rewrite, and trans representation! If you haven't already, go check out @wintertundra-art and her wonderful AU! And, if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask too.
I’ve decided to rate it as Teen and Up Audiences, and you can read it here on AO3! It currently sits at 12,265 words
Origins: Part One
(Summary: Eons ago, powerful artifacts were forged, infused with power that humans can only dream of, they were made to be anchors to beings of immense power. Centuries ago, two of the more powerful miraculous were lost, the Butterfly of Emotion and the Peacock of Soul. Now, the Butterfly has been awoken, and is in the hands of someone who want's to corrupt the Butterfly's power and use it for their own nefarious wants. The only way to stop this from happening is to bring balance, and only the most powerful Miraculous can do so: The Black Cat of Destruction, and the Ladybug of Creation. )
A man opens up a broach, revealing the smiling image of a blonde haired, green eyed woman. His breath hitches just a bit as he locks eyes with her image. With slightly shaking hands, he closes the broach and he looks to a floating, violet creature with big, purple eyes, and a swirl on its head that is the same shade as its eyes. Little butterfly wings extend from its back.
“Nooroo,” his tone is sharp, cold, calculating. Terrifying. “Tell me where to find the other Miraculous.”
“I-I do not know...” the being named Nooroo answers, bowing its head slightly.
The man narrows his eyes.
Several thousand years ago, possibly eons ago, powerful pieces of magical jewelry were forged, each serving as an anchor to beings of extreme power. Beings that are the embodiment of concepts that the minds of simple humans can’t even begin to comprehend, concepts like The Four Elements, The Mind, The Heart, The Soul, The Body, Energy, and even of Destruction and Creation itself.
These jewels were named ‘Miraculous’. They can’t be destroyed; whether that is due to the material they are made from, or the bonds they have with the beings, known as kwami, no one knows.
These Miraculous were created for the sole purpose of aiding the human race. And with their use, myths and legends of large, humanoid creatures, capable of unfathomable feats of strength and power arose.
And according to legend, whoever holds both of the two most powerful Miraculous, the anchors to the beings of Destruction and Creation, Death and Life, will be as powerful as a god.
And with that power, the ability to do whatever they want.
And he must have these Miraculous. He must have the power to become God.
His life, his happiness, all he’s worked for, all he’s done, the fate of his family, it all depends on him getting those Miraculous.
“Very well.” He says finally, but he turns his cold gaze to the poor being. “Tell me, Nooroo, what are the properties of your Miraculous.”
The being named Nooroo looks up at this man, its eyes weary. “That is the Miraculous of the Butterfly. It derives its power from the heart; it will allow you to sense the emotions of anyone around you in a certain radius, and through this you will be able to give others powers and abilities. These people will then become your devoted followers, your champions.” Nooroo straightens back up, puffing out its little chest.
A sickening smile creeps its way across the man’s face. “You are saying, Nooroo, that I can give supernatural powers to the ordinary; and they will, in turn, do anything I tell them to do.” It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. His mind is already circulating with different situations. At this, Nooroo deflates a bit, drooping.
“W-well, no, not really. You can give powers to someone you deem fit, but you can’t really control them. They’ll just be able to communicate with you, and vice versa, and you will be able to help them along the way.”
The smile does not leave the man’s face, “You said your powers are derived from the heart, yes?” Nooroo nods, it’s eyes widening. “I may not be able to control them directly... but I can to some degree.”
At this, Nooroo’s eyes fly open, his mouth dropping open. “Th-that’s-that’s not what the butterfly is intended-“
“I will do what I want!” The man cuts in, his tone forceful, he emphasizes his words with a stomp to the ground. “I am your master. You will do what I say, and you will not disobey me.”
Nooroo’s eyes blow wide again, and it opens its mouth to say something, but nothing comes out of its mouth. It is unable to say anything. In it’s eyes, terror is clear. Dejectedly, Nooroo bows it’s head and body. “Yes, Master.”
This brings the man even more sickening joy.
“Nooroo, we will find those Miraculous.” Then man takes a step forward and lifts Nooroo’s chin up. “And we will do it by any means necessary.”
He takes a step back and fastens the broach to his shirt.
“Nooroo, dark wings, rise.”
Nooroo is sucked into the broach and violet light rushes up the man’s body, transforming his clothes. When the light dies down, the man is wearing black, skin tight, laceless dress shoes. Purple, almost skintight pants. He’s wearing a purple suit jacket and black latex-like gloves. The collar folds up at the front like a paper airplane, the broach sitting in the middle, two black, shimmering, almost rubber like lapels that start just below the paper airplane collar, form around it and go up to protrude from off the shoulders about 25 centimeters. His neck and face, save for the area around his mouth, is covered by a silver material. His eyes are violet.
“From now on...” he looks at the big metal, circular window cover, his violet eyes glistening with malice. “I will be known as Hawkmoth!”
--------
Sleeping in the brass horn of the fake record player that houses the miracle box is a small green creature, with a head much larger than the rest of his body, who looks like a miniature turtle. His body is a light-ish green, with patches of darker green. His head has some subtle scales, but is mostly smooth. Its abdomen, and the back of his arms and legs are covered in dark green scales. A turtle shell rests on his back.
Something startles Wayzz from his peaceful sleep in the fake record player’s bell, his eyes shooting open and revealing that they are completely yellow with dark green pupils. Something pulsates through the air, a powerful, corruptive wave of energy with a hint of something else behind it.
It’s... an old, familiar energy. It pulsates through the air again before dissipating slightly, then pulsating again. Like a heartbeat.
One that doesn’t bode well.
This energy... it’s from Nooroo... but... it’s tainted. It might just be from time apart, that could be why his energy feels... wrong.
Malicious. Cold.
Unwelcome...
But... it could also be something else... something far more terrible than someone accidentally picking up and activating It’s Miraculous.
It’s an energy that accompanies An unwelcome wielder. It’s Nooroo’s distress call.
Wayzz bursts from the fake record player’s bell and into Master Fu’s side, jolting him, stilling his fingers on his patient’s back.
The little old man, wearing a red Hawaiian t-shirt, grey slacks and brown sandals, turns to the little green kwami.
“What is it?” He whispers, his fingers returning to work at the young man’s back.
“Master! I felt an odd energy.”
Master Fu pauses in his work again, furrowing his brows in thought. After another second’s deliberation, he tells Wayzz to hide, then quickly ushers his patient out the door, promising to see him next week.
With the door closed, he turns back to his kwami. “What kind of energy?” His tone is solemn and wary.
“Master, it was Noroo’s. It was Nooroo’s distress call. It’s in trouble!”
The old master’s eyes widen in shock, his mouth hanging open for a second before he sets it into a hard line. “Very well then, Wayzz. We must find him at once!”
Wayzz winces for a split second, human’s have never understood how one can be referred to by pronouns other than he/him, or she/her, and the Master doesn’t seem to catch on to Wayzz calling Nooroo by It’s preferred pronouns. But Wayzz refuses to not use It’s preferred pronouns. He would never do that to his friend.
The old master stands up straight, holding up his right wrist, his other hand bracing it. “Time to transform... Wayzz-“
‘Crack!’
“Augh, oh...” Master Fu groans as he falls to the ground, muted groans escaping his throat.
“Master, please be reasonable! You are-“
“Still young!” Fu cuts in, “ I’m only 186!...” he grunts as he stands back up. “but I can no longer do this alone... we will need help.”
He walks over to the fake record player, and Wayzz looks away as Master Fu puts in the code to open up the record player.
Within seconds, the middle slides open, and a black box with red, ornate, ancient Chinese characters on it is lifted from the cavity in the record player.
Before he opens the box, he looks to Wayzz; the kwami has been with him for most of his life... they’ve been through a lot together. So, Wayzz is certain that they surely think the same thing.
Allowing those Miraculous to be out in the open, even if it is just to recover Nooroo from its captor, it’s incredibly risky. But... Wayzz has a certain feeling about this, it may be a risky move, but it feels like the right one. If they are to recover Nooroo, and if It’s had Its powers abused by a corrupted heart, they will need to cleanse and balance it’s Miraculous; and only those of Creation and Destruction can do so.
As Fu takes out those two Miraculous, Wayzz nods his agreement. Hopefully... hopefully this doesn’t go wrong.
-----------
For the next few days, Fu looks for two people who fit the parameters for these two Miraculous. They need to be kind, and selfless... those two traits aren’t too hard to find. But for the Miraculous of Creation, he needs to find someone who has the mind to handle the complexity, the heart to consider the options, the soul to value everyone, the body to meet the physical requirements and the energy to withstand it all.
They need to be of the right age too, for if they are too young, their mind could snap, their heart could burst, their soul could be irreparably damaged, their body could shrivel… just like his did when he was a boy.
Finding someone who meets all these requirements is grueling, but it’s the only way to make sure they don’t face life long detriments.
Fu finds himself in a bakery, looking over everyone he can see as he simultaneously looks for what pastry to get for himself. The people he finds don’t fit what this Miraculous needs, and he gets no reaction from the box containing the being who embodies Creation itself. He is about to give up on his search for a suitable wielder for Tikki when a feeling of warmth pulsates through his body, emanating from the box Tikki’s Miraculous resides in.
He looks up, and is greeted with the sight of the baker’s daughter, a young girl with black hair, Asian features, and beautiful grey eyes. She talks animatedly with the customers, smiling so brightly and with such warmth in her eyes, she makes it seem like she makes friends with everyone she meets.
But she’s too young, she doesn’t look to be more that 14 years old, he will not put the stress of being the wielder of Creation on a child. His body was crippled when he wore his Miraculous when he was too young, and his Miraculous is substantially less powerful than Creation. He will not the the reason for the death of a child.
He moves on.
But Tikki is insistent, if the way the box burns in his pocket is any indication.
Reluctantly, he turns to his kwami companion, Wayzz, and nods to him, making a mental note to have Wayzz watch this girl. He can only hope that he finds someone better suited for Creation.
When out of the bakery, Wayzz whispers in his ear, “Are you sure giving a Miraculous — especially one of such magnitude — to a child is a good idea?”
Fu pulls out and bites into a pastry, his facial features dark. “I do not know, my friend. I refuse to give a Miraculous to someone so young, especially one that is so powerful. However, Tikki is insisting on this girl. I hope to find someone who is suited for Tikki, and is older, but we must be prepared for the event that we have to give this girl this responsibility.”
Wayzz sighs, “Alright, Master.”
--------------
The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery — those pastries are to die for! — but he’s in a sour mood. He hasn’t been able to get Tikki to react to any other person, she is insistent on this bakery girl. He’s keeping an eye out for someone else, but he’s starting to believe he has no other choice.
Just as he rounds the corner, the box that houses the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction sends a chilling wave of energy through Fu’s body, and he stops in his tracks. Plagg has sensed someone he wants to choose. Fu starts looking around, going through all the parameters the wielder of Destruction needs to have: They need to have a mind strong enough to resist temptation, a heart kind enough to give mercy to those around them, a soul to see the good and bad, a body to withstand the effects the Miraculous of Destruction has on wielders, and the ability to rein in Plagg’s energy.
Everyone he looks at is wrong, and they incite no reaction from Plagg, but then he sees a young man with blond hair, green eyes, and fair skin in the park. He’s sitting on a bench, looking crestfallen. To his right, cameras and photographers are setting up around him. There are other children playing at the park, and the young man is staring at them with a longing gaze.
The hope in Fu’s eyes dies down as he realizes that Plagg’s chosen is one that is, once again, too young,
He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to put them through this, but if Tikki won’t change her mind, Plagg most definitely wont.
Resigned, Fu turns around and starts going to the bakery, making a note to look into this boy. He looks up and finds himself looking at a poster advertisement for Agreste Fashion, and the boy he was just looking at is on it.
It seems finding information on this boy will not be as hard as he thought.
-------------
As he continues to watch the bakery girl, he sees just how kind and selfless she is. She routinely offers help in the bakery as often as she can. She lights up talking to customers about fashion — apparently, she’s quite fond of fashion, especially the Agreste brand, how fascinating — how she lifts full bags of flour with only a few grunts and wobbles here and there. Fu’s found that she created the design for the bakery sign. As well as the menu board. She is truly creative. And, if his hearing does not fail him, she even bakes some of the pastries from time to time.
Tikki grows more and more insistent on choosing this girl, and Fu has resigned himself to the fact that he will be putting them through things he never wished to put anyone through again. If he is going to give her the Miraculous of Creation, he must be there to mentor her. He must be able to guide her through all of this. Hopefully she can handle this and he isn’t sending her to her death.
Now... the young man, the child model... he wasn’t quite sure at first, and he was getting ready to have a long argument with Plagg. He just seemed to be a boy longing for the time to play with others. But, as he continued to pursue knowledge about this boy -- his name being Adrien -- he’s found that he is praised for his kindness, and he’s seen that in video recordings of interviews with the boy. Wayzz has told him that when he has photoshoots at the park, when he sees kids fall down, he twitches almost imperceptibly. As though he wants to go over and pick them up. And when he watches parents with their difficult kids, he seems to want nothing more than to help.
Fu has seen the way he smiles at his bodyguard, at his scheduler, the photographers, the other models, it seems to be completely genuine.
He harbors a heart that wants to do good, that wants to do nothing but help, his soul longs for the freedom to be selfless, but it is unable to. And Plagg has latched onto this boy.
He must be able to guide these two young people. He must not allow them to go through this alone.
Late at night in his apartment, Fu sits before two small pieces of paper on his kitchen table, writing two identical notes to put in the boxes containing the Black Cat Miraculous and the Ladybug Miraculous.
They are to meet him at the base of the Effiel Tower at 22:00, but in order for this to work, he must give them the miraculous at the same time, which means he must execute his challenges before it is too late.
Suddenly, Wayzz flies up to his face and bows before speaking. “Master! I just sensed Nooroo transform Its captor! It was powerful, whoever has Nooroo is powerful.”
Fu stops writing and strokes his goatee. If he remembers correctly, the first day of the French school year is in three, almost two days. This means that he doesn’t have much time to issue his challenges to these kids, and even less time to train them. He must act now. “Thank you, Wayzz, we must act soon, before it is too late!”
Fu finishes writing the notes and places them on top of the boxes containing the Miraculous of Destruction and Creation, before he goes to bed.
The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery. He doesn’t know how to issue his challenge, but it will come to mind eventually. It is the day before the first day of school, and there will be no lack of heightened emotions, and paired with the power that Nooroo has over emotions, who knows when Nooroo’s captor will strike?
Suddenly, Adrien bursts through the bushes, sprinting his way to the school. He has a pleased smile on his face, and hope in his eyes. He reaches the school, and stops, looking up at it, sighing in admiration.
A car passes by, Adrien whips around, looking at the car, but finds that it is not something he needs to worry about. He relaxes and starts to open the door to the school when three kids burst from the nearby park and speed their way on bikes across the street toward a nearby intersection. He looks at these kids, furrowing his brows.
Then, a rumbling sounds, Adrien whips around to look, and there is a car coming down their way. And, by the looks of things, the car isn’t slowing down, and neither are the kids.
Fu waits in silence as Adrien seems more confused than ever, looking between the car and the kids, taking a few steps from the school toward the intersection. When it is evident that neither the kids nor the car will stop on their own, he takes action, rushing forward and waving his arms.
Two of the kids look at him, then at the car coming down the road, and as though it is their first time seeing it, they skid to a stop. But the kid in the middle, a girl with pink hair keeps going, her head turned toward the two kids who stopped, hair whipping around under her helmet. She seems to glare at them and then at the oncoming car.
Adrien seems to sigh, looking frantically between the rapidly approaching kid and car.
He looks back to the pink haired girl, and sets his jaw. Clearly set on a course of action. He takes a few long steps toward the street just as she comes by and grabs her arm, forcing her to fall from her bike, but the bike continues onward into the street.
Where it promptly gets crushed by the car, while the driver looks up from their phone and honks as they drive away.
As the pink haired girl sits there shocked, Adrien stands there awkwardly. But, after a second, the girl stands up and punches Adrien’s arm before seemingly telling him off. All Adrien does is furrow his brows, confused.
Fu walks away with a small smile.
He has a feeling this might actually work out well.
--------------
An alarm jerks Marinette awake from her dreamless sleep. With a groan, she blindly gropes around her bed to find her phone, but when she finds it, she only manages to push it from her bed down onto the floor.
The alarm doesn’t stop, and Marinette can’t decide if she should be relieved, or annoyed.
With a resigned sigh, she slips from her bed, mourning the lost warmth of her covers, and climbs down her ladder. She picks up her phone and inspects it for cracks.
Somehow, for some reason, it doesn’t have any. Thank the beings that rule the universe, her phone is indestructible! She doesn’t know how many times she’s dropped her phone, but it doesn’t even have a scratch!
Sluggishly, she goes to her closet, trying to decide on what to wear, looking over everything and battling that feeling of unease she feels every time she looks in her closest; but ultimately decides to put it aside, she’ll just eat breakfast in her pajamas.
She doesn’t even want to look at her messy, black hair, her body, the bags that are surely to be under her eyes. She’s always loved her eyes, her Maman is from China and has grey eyes, while her Papa grew up locally in Paris with blue eyes; but her eyes are amazing, they’re grey with a ring of blue around the pupil. She can’t help but think of her parents when she looks into her eyes. She doesn’t have as much Asian features as she would like, but she has her eyes, her black hair, and a slight Asian facial bone structure.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes she starts going downstairs, not really wanting to face the day. Not wanting to fight to feel good.
It’s the first day of school. The first day of Collége. And, for some reason, Marinette has a strong feeling that Chloé Bourgeois is in her class again.
One would think that the spoiled brat that is the daughter of the Mayor would be in private school. But, for some reason unknown to all but the two Bourgeois and the beings that rule the universe, she still attends public school; despite all of her complaining. And the bullying.
She really, really does not want school to start.
With a big yawn, she opens the trap door.
“Marinette! School starts soon! You don’t want to be late for your first day back at school!”
Wincing from the early morning yelling, Marinette suppresses another yawn, calling out a small “Coming...” before climbing down the stairs.
When she reaches the bottom, she finds her Maman smiling at her from the kitchen. She smiles back, already feeling the grasp of sleep start to slip away. “There’s my beautiful girl!”
Despite the warmth that fills her being when around her Maman, Marinette can’t help but feel uneasy with being called beautiful. It’s probably because of Chloe bullying her, she’ll get over it.
She gives her maman a kiss on the cheek, leaning down just a bit. When she was younger, she wondered why she was taller than her maman. But, after an awkward talk with her parents, she’s realized that she just inherited the taller genes from her Papa, but got the skinnier genes from her Maman.
“Good morning!”
“Yeah...” she grumps, “I’ll bet you anything that Chloé is in my class again...” she sighs as she sits down at the kitchen table, where her Maman has already set out a cereal bowl, a milk jug, spoon, her favorite cereal, and a bowl of fruit. Uncapping the milk jug, she pours it into the bowl.
“Four years in a row?! Is that possible?” Her Maman exclaims, putting something in the sink behind her.
“Definitely... Lucky me!” Marinette rolls her eyes, pouring in some chocolate cereal flakes.
“Oh! Don’t say that! It’s the start of a new year, I’m sure everything will be just fine!” Her Maman says resolutely, brushing a hand against her hair. And who can argue with such sound logic? Not Marinette.
Nodding, feeling her spirits rise just a bit, she places the tub of cereal flakes down. But, with just a slight miscalculation of how hard to set it down, a chain reaction of terrible, ill boding events happens.
The vibrations send an orange rolling down a conveniently placed bread stick, right to and over another conveniently placed knife. Which then sends the orange into the milk jug, the knife into a bowl of sugar cubes; sending a few flying with such velocity that as it collides with the cereal tub, it tips it over. And, as her spirits plummet, the orange completes its journey by knocking into and tipping over a yogurt cup. She groans dejectedly, closing her eyes so as to block the situation from sight and in turn, her mind.
For a girl whose parents have always called their “lucky charm”, she sure isn’t all that lucky.
As she cleans up the cereal tub mess, her Maman reaches a hand to her cheek, chuckling. Which, somehow, helps to lift her own spirits.
It’s weird how mothers can do that. “Go get dressed, honey, you’ll look beautiful. I’ve got this.”
An hour later, Marinette is down in the bakery, dressed in her back-to-school-day clothes: tan/pink flats, pink Capris, white shirt with a flower pattern on her left collarbone, grey blazer and her very own, hand sewn, pink clutch. And yet, despite being proud of her work, she can’t find it in her to be proud of how she looks.
Her Papa, humming a tune, presents a box of macarons to his daughter. A warm, gentle smile on his face: “There’s my gorgeous daughter!” There’s that uneasiness again...
“Papa! These are so awesome!” She exclaims, bouncing in place. “Thank you, Papa! My class will love them!” She looks up to him, adoration and love filling her eyes.
“Glad you like them!” He ruffles her hair, chuckling as she smirks a bit under his huge hands, an almost mute “don’t mess up my hair!” coming from her.
“You look beautiful, my darling daughter” Her papa says with small tears in his eyes.
“You’re the best!” she says, giving him a one armed hug, her smile falling as she tries to figure out how to get rid of the uneasy feeling in her gut.
“We,” he pulls her close again with an arm, and angles his other in a ‘muscular, show-off’ manner, “are the best.” Marinette can’t help but giggle.
Giving both her parents goodbye kisses, she rushes out the door, intent on not being late for school on the first day. And, in her haste, almost rushes right into the path of an oncoming car.
Breathing a sigh of relief that she isn’t splattered on the windshield of a car, she slouches a bit, before jolting ramrod straight as she sees an elderly man with a cane in a red hawiian shirt having trouble crossing the road, another car rushing toward the man, not slowing down at all.
Marinette frantically looks back and forth between the two and decides, after a second, to rush out and save this man from meeting the very same fate she had just narrowly avoided moments before.
Just as she pulls him to the sidewalk, her legendary clumsiness takes hold of her once more, and she trips onto the sidewalk, taking the man down with her; the box of macarons spilling. And, with horror, she watches as inconsiderate city people step on them, reducing them to nothing more than crumbs. The man’s “Thank you, miss” goes unheard.
But, his “Oh, what a disaster” does not go unnoticed. Picking up what remains of the box and the macaroons, she tells him: “Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters.” She holds the box to him. “Besides! There’s still a few left.”
She smiles at this man, as he picks a macaron from the box and bites into it. Letting out a pleased “Delicious!”
A bell across the street rings, signaling the start of school. Marinette looks to the school, to this man, back to the school and back to him again. While she’d rather not be late to school... well, she had just pulled this man from the street. The least she can do is walk him partially to where he is headed.
“Go ahead.” The man says, his smile genuine, understanding and proud. ”You’ve saved my life, the least I can do is save you from getting into trouble! Now go!” He waves her off.
She takes a moment of further deliberation before nodding, bowing, and rushing out “have-a-nice-day-sir!” Then she’s off, rushing to school.
----------------
As the young woman runs to the school, Master Fu straightens up, putting his cane behind his back and holding up the box containing the Ladybug Miraculous. The box warms up and spreads warmth all throughout his body, confirming that this young woman is Tikki’s choice to be her wielder.
While he doesn’t want to put this stress on a child, he knows that there is no other solution, no way around this. He just has to be her mentor.
He walks to the bakery, allowing Wayzz to take the box to the girl’s room while he buys pastries for himself and his companion.
-----------------
Just as the custodian is closing the school’s front doors, Marinette slips in, not breaking from her near sprint. Rushing up the stairs, she bursts into the classroom, stumbling to not lose her balance. She’s hunched over, trying to catch her breath.
“Nino,” the teacher calls out. She’s a tall woman with fire red hair, teal eyes, and a white pantsuit. Marinette doesn’t recognize her. The boy in question, Nino, has been in her classes for as long as she can remember. He’s a kind hearted, introverted kid with dark skin. He’s always wearing a red baseball cap and grey and orange headphones.
She looks up and sees that Nino is sitting with his eyes wide behind his glasses from the back of the classroom. “Why don’t you sit in the front this year?” The teacher may have formed it as a question, but it was more of a polite command.
Nino grumbles and stands up, his back and shoulders slouched. As he walks to the front of the classroom, on the side closest to the door, he groans. Before sliding into his position in the front of the classroom, right by the door. He pulls his headphones down and rests his elbows on the desk; his jaw resting on his knuckles with an annoyed look on his face.
Though she’s been in the same class as Nino for years, she doesn’t know much about him, and she’s really regretting that now. Maybe this year will be different?
She takes a moment to deliberate, but ultimately decides to sit on the row behind Nino, in her usual seat. She wants to sit by him but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to anyone.
Shaking her head, still breathing with slight difficulty, she walks to her usual seat, the second row, left side of the classroom, right next to the aisle. Just behind and over Nino’s right shoulder.
Mylène, a timid girl, sits directly across the aisle from where Marinette’s seat is. She’s a shorter girl, with fair skin and long dreadlocks that are blonde at the roots but fade into multiple colors at the ends.
Sitting on the next row up, just to the right of Mylène, is a dark skinned boy with a close cut afro hairstyle brown hair, a green polo and glasses. Max is your go-to kid for anything and everything that has to do with electronics.
Sitting right next to Max is a tan skinned boy, Kim; he’s wearing a red, short sleeved hoodie, and sweat bands on his wrist. His black hair is up in a faux hawk style and he’s lounging back in his chair. He’s the class jock. (He tries to hide it by being a jerk and a goof, but he’s actually a good guy.)
Kim is always next to Max, tells everyone that they’re best friends, and that he needs Max to help with homework, but Marinette knows better. She can see his eyes.
On the back row, sitting behind Max, is a girl named Rose. She’s a quiet girl, with her blonde hair in a pixie cut. She wears all pink and has an incredibly high voice.
Just as Marinette sits down and starts to unpack, a pale hand, with yellow, perfectly manicured nails slams down on the desk before her, startling her. “Marinette,” the almost shill voice starts, “Du-pain-Cheng” it sneers her last name like it's an insult to it personally. (Which, if this is who she think it is, it most likely is an insult to her personally.)
Chloé Bourgeois. The bratty daughter of the mayor. She’s wearing a yellow jacket, white pants, and a large, gold (not actually gold, it’d be too heavy for her skinny, fragile hips to support) plated belt. No wrinkles in sight on her clothes. Her golden locks are pulled into a high hanging ponytail. Blush, eye liner, magenta eyeshadow and pink lipstick on her face. It only serves to make her look that much more bratty.
Her school bully.
Marinette slouches, she knew it would happen. A weary, dejected, “Here we go again...” leaves her lips.
“That’s my seat.” Chloé brings her hand from the desk to her chest.
“But Chloé, this has always been my seat.” Marinette looks up to Chloé, grey-blue meeting dark, cruel blue.
Chloe’s face scrunches up. “Not this year!”
A sudden, but not unfamiliar voice cuts in. “New School, New Year, New seats.” Sabrina, Chloé’s lap dog slides into the desk beside Marinette, her orange/red hair in stark contrast with her teal-green eyes sparkling behind her glasses, and pale skin. She’s wearing a, quite frankly, ugly sweater vest.
“So,” Chloé sneers again, “why don’t you just go and sit beside that new girl over there.” She turns to point at a girl she hadn’t seen walk into the room.
She has darker skin like Nino, with long, curly, red-orange locks. She’s wearing a red-orange flannel short-sleeved shirt. At the mention of “New girl” she turns from her phone and her brown eyes glare behind glasses at Chloé.
“But..” is all Marinette can think of in response. (She’s tired, and already feeling exhausted, she doesn’t want to move or think.)
Chloé turns back to Marinette, her hands on her hips, her face contorted in anger. “Listen, Adrien is arriving today, and since that’s,” she points to the seat beside Nino, “ going to be he— his seat, this is going to be my seat.” Chloé slams her hand down in front of Marinette again, then she turns toward her fully, slamming her other hand on the desk. “Get it?”
Adrien... who is this Adrien? And why is he friends with Chloé?
“Uh, who’s Adrien?” She asks Chloé.
Two simultaneous gasps leave Chloé’s and Sabrina’s mouths. Then they burst out laughing in that ridiculous, annoying laugh, drawing Myléne’s attention.
The laughing stops abruptly and Chloé speaks again. “Can you believe she doesn’t know who Adrien is?” She directs this at Sabrina. Then, to Marinette, Chloé scrunches her face in disgust and anger. “What rock have you been living under?”
“He’s only a famous model!” Sabrina chimes in.
“And I am his best friend.” Chloé begins again.
Marinette raises her eyebrows at this. None of that helps clarify who Adrien is. And, if he’s a famous model, why would any sane teacher let a man who is probably in his early/mid 20’s come to class with 14-15 year olds?! Why is a man who is in his mid 20’s still in middle school?!
“He adores me.” Chloé looks to Marinette, and scoffs when she sees that Marinette has not moved from her seat. “Uh, go on, move!” She emphasizes this with a thumb pointing toward the proposed seats.
And all Marinette can think of is, is this Choe’s new scheme to get attention? Who would believe that a 20 something year old is hanging out with a 14 year old? They’d be all over the news.
Suddenly, the new girl is behind Chloé, her voice strong and brave. A fatal mistake when talking to Chloé Bourgeois. “Back off, Brat.”
Chloé turns to the girl, anger and annoyance taking the wheel. She leans toward the new girl, making sure her tone is mocking and sarcastic. “Ooh, look, Sabrina, we got a little do-gooder in our classroom!” Chloé leans in further. “What’re you going to do, Super Newbie, shoot beams at me with your glasses.”
Marinette cringes, this is why it is best to stay docile around Chloé, if she senses any opposition at all, she’ll only cause a scene.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The new girl sneers, her voice dark and dangerous. She pushes Chloé to the side and reaches for Marinette’s arm. “C’mon” she says as she grabs Marinette’s arm. Marinette barely has any time to grab her box of macarons and her bag before she’s being dragged from her seat.
In her haste to steady herself, grab her stuff, and the new girl’s quick pace, Marinette misses a step on the way to her new seat and ends up falling; her box of macarons falling to the floor, where several are flung from the box and are crushed on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She mumbles as she cleans up and slides into her new seat for the year. Chloé’s and Sabrina’s laughing etching its way into her memory.
“Chill-ax, girl, no biggie!” The new girl says, eyeing Marinette as she’s hunched over her almost empty box of macaroons.
“Alright, has everyone found a seat?” The teacher asks the class as other kids file in, leaning her hands on the desk. The class speaking up behind them drowning out her voice.
Marinette straightens up and looks to the new girl, “But I so wish I could handle Chloé the way you do.” The new girl raises an eyebrow, a corner of her lips quirking up. Not threatening, or suspicious, but curious and slightly confused. She reaches for her phone and unlocks it.
“You mean the way Majestia does it.” The new girl pulls up an image of a woman in a skin tight, blue suit, her shoulders, hands and face uncovered. She wears a fire truck red, sleeveless jacket with a ruffled coat tail, two thick, golden, zigzagging lines run across the bust, stars above the lines. Boots of the same shade reach to about her mid calf, the tops lined with the same type of lines as the jacket. “She says: All that is necessary for the triumph of Evil, is for Good to do nothing.” The new girl says proudly.
She leans past Marinette, wrapping her left arm around her shoulders and pointing to Chloé with her right hand. “And that girl over there, is evil, and we,” she points to herself and Marinette, “are the good people. She has a smirk on her lips. “We can’t let her get away with it!”
“That’s easier said than done...” Marinette hunches her shoulders a bit, her voice dejected. “She likes to make my life miserable.”
“That’s easy to fix, girl, you just need more confidence!” The new girl says, conviction strong in her voice.
Marinette smiles, and takes the last remaining macaron and breaks it in half, extending the other out to the new girl.
“Marinette.” she says.
“Alya,” the new girl says in response, taking the half macaron.
With this, they turn to the front, pleased smiles on their faces.
Maybe... maybe this year isn’t going to be so bad?
--------------------------
“For those of you who don’t yet know me,” the teacher says, drawing all attention her way, “I’m Ms. Bustier.”
As class starts, Chloé leans on her new desk, sadness in her face and eyes. Looking at the empty seat before her. “Ugh, he should have been here by now.” she says under her breath.
She meant to have annoyance in her tone, and she does, but she can’t hide the underlying disappointment.
Where is s— he?
-------------------------
Master Fu watches as Adrien rushes through the street, pressing against the bushes and trees, looking over his shoulder frequently, searching for something or someone.
Fu smiles, it seems like this young man has decided to try to get some freedom. But, if the frantic look in his eyes means anything, it’ll most likely be short lived.
The young man reaches the school grounds, and pauses next to a cologne ad poster that, coincidentally, has him on it. He looks over his shoulder again, and a smile finds his way into his face. He’s beaten the system, it would seem. For the time being.
This is Fu’s chance to issue his Challenge, to see if he has the ability to wield the Miraculous of Destruction. He has the potential, when faced with no other option, but this will test whether he will choose to help others and not himself. To do what he feels is right, and forfeit what he wants.
Just as Adrien reaches the steps, Fu launches his plan, clutching his back and falling to the ground, dropping his cane just out of his reach. Crying out in pain.
This causes the boy pause, and he stands on the steps of the school, frozen in place. Trying to figure out what to do, looking between Fu and the school’s front door.
Not a second later, he rushes to Fu, bringing his cane to his hands and helping him stand.
“Thank you, young man!” He says, patting his arm. Adrien’s eyes cringe and he tenses before his entire face lights up.
Huh, interesting...
“Do you need help getting to where you’re going?” He asks, his green eyes hopeful. No doubt wanting to help out more. If only so he could get further away from whoever he’s running from.
“No, I will be fine, but thank you for your kindness! Now, shoo, go to school!”
Adrien nods, the mention of school making his face light up even more.
He turns and rushes to the steps, and, just before he reaches the door, a silver sedan screeches to a stop, a tall woman clad in a purple suit and red blouse, her black hair fading to red on the left side. “Adrien, please reconsider! You know what your father wants!”
She walks slowly toward Adrien, as a large man steps out from the driver's seat, walking toward him with her. Adrien turns slowly toward them, his feet frozen in place, fear in his eyes. But only for a brief moment.
“But this is what I want!” He says, the fear taking a back seat to hurt and anger. “I’m sick of being stuck at home. I want to be like a normal kid!”
The woman shakes her head. “Adrien, you are not a normal kid, your father can’t afford to have you at public school!”
Adrien scoffs, “We both know he has more than enough money to afford it.”
“That’s not what I mean, Adrien. You know he only does this to keep you safe. He’s doing this for you.”
At this, Adrien’s eyes soften, his posture drooping. “I know... I just... I want to be around others. Please don’t tell Father about this.”
The woman’s eyes soften as she puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you just can’t. Come, let’s go home.”
As Adrien is led to the sedan, and is driven off back home, the second box pulsates in Fu’s pocket.
This boy has the traits that are required for the use of this Miraculous, but he does not have the right life for it. Fu is unsure whether Adrien can handle it. Plagg seems set on this boy, however. And, if Adrien is going to learn and grow, there is only one other Miraculous that will do just as good a job, and he’s already found a match for Creation.
He’ll just have to watch out for Plagg. With that, Fu swings his cane onto his shoulder and walks away whistling, following the sedan.
-------------------------
“Those of you who have P.E., Mr. D’Argencourt is expecting you at the stadium.” Ms. Bustier calls to the class as the bell rings and everyone packs up.
As the kid named Ivan, A large, fair skinned boy, with short brown hair save for the small tuft of blond in the front, gets up Kim gives him a note.
“The rest of you can head over to the library.”
A moment later, Ivan bursts out with an angry cry of “Kim!” He lurches toward Kim, an impish smirk on the lankier boy’s face. Ivan is cranking his fist back to slam it into Kim’s fragile face.
“Ivan! What are you doing?!” Ms. Bustier exclaims, leaning over her desk in shock. Ivan looks to her in confusion, lowering his fist.
“It’s Kim!” Ivan looks back at Kim, raising his fist again, and, for the first time, Kim is shocked and scared. “I’m so gonna—“
“Ivan! Go to the principal’s office!” Ms. Bustier cuts in, pointing out the door.
At that, Ivan steps away from Kim, growling as he looks back down at the note Kim passed him. With anger rolling off him, Ivan crumples the note in his hand and storms out of the classroom, muttering to himself; leaving Kim to shake in his seat, and Ms. Bustier to wonder if she could have worked the situation out better.
----------------------
The man known as Hawkmoth stands in a large room, a metal, circular window cover sliding open, letting light pour into the room, sending pure white butterflies fluttering about.
“Such powerful emotions. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. And in a school no less, a perfect catalyst to test my limits.” He reaches for a butterfly, and clasps his hands around it. A second later, dark, purple energy seeps into the butterfly, and when he releases the butterfly, it is black with purple cracking apart the black, a violet mask-like pattern on it’s head and back, its legs a dark purple. “Burn a hole into his heart, little akuma, transform his anger into something more!”
The transformed butterfly, now an akuma, flies through the air, tracking down the boy with such anger and frustration with supernatural speed.
---------------------
Ivan opens the door to the principal’s office, but before he can take a step inside, the principal stops him.
“Excuse me, young man! Hasn’t anyone taught you to knock?” The principle, a large, overweight, white man with a receding hairline and greying hair exclaims. This shocks Ivan, his anger and frustration building. “Go on, go again.” He says, leaning back in his decked out, rolling swivel chair.
With a shake of his head and a growl, Ivan closes the door and turns around, raising a fist to knock.
Before he can put his fist to the wood, something stops him. A sound. The sound of something wet twisting and crawling. And suddenly, in his mind, there is a man floating in a grey space, his voice echoing all around his head. The principal’s “Go on, knock!” is ignored.
The man before Ivan is wearing a dark purple suit, and it shines in a way cloth doesn’t, kind of like rubber. On his chest are two black wing like lapels, which just make whoever this guy is look weird. Covering his head is a grey mask, only his eyes, which are an unsettling violet, and mouth looking normal. He’s leaning on a cane.
“Stoneheart.” the man says Ivan’s confusion at the name going unacknowledged. “I am Hawkmoth, I am giving you the strength and unstoppable power to seek revenge on those who have wronged you. To prove to them that you do have what it takes. All I need you to do is cause mayhem. Destroy all that you can.”
The power to get back at Kim? To prove that he does have what it takes?
And all he needs to do is cause mayhem?
Who can deny such a thing?
“Okay, I’ll do it.” Ivan says, a dark look on his face.
The man smirks.
Black and purple bubbles ripple over Ivan’s body, morphing his skin and bones.
When the bubbles disperse, Ivan is no more. Only Stoneheart remains. Standing at 2 meters tall, with cracked stone for skin and yellow eyes. He’s built like an athlete, and literally chiseled. Wrapped around his right hand is a purple fabric, like that a boxer would wear under their boxing glove. On his chest, the stone is jagged and protruding, right where his heart would be, like his heart had exploded. The cracks in the stone glow a faint yellow.
“Well?” The principal asks, waiting for a response.
Suddenly, the door is flung from its hinges, the principal only has enough time to move enough so that the door doesn’t slam into his head, but it still collides with his shoulder, sending him to the ground.
With an almighty roar, Stoneheart launches through the window, leaving an echo of “KIM!” behind as the entire wall crumbles to the street below.
-----------------------
In the library, a thunderous roar rattles the walls, then the whole building shakes, causing students to tumble to the ground.
After a few seconds, Alya, Marinette’s new friend, grabs her from the ground and drags her to the TVs in the library, which are showing the security footage.
A large, probably 2 meters tall, stone golem is walking down the street, the cracks in it’s stone skin glowing bright yellow. It roars in a voice so raspy and stiff, she wonders if it has vocal chords, and if so, how they’re working.
“Wh-what’s going on? I thought it was an earthquake!” a random kid exclaims.
Alya turns to Marinette, her hands on her cheeks. “It’s a real life super villain!” Suddenly, Alya’s eyes glint and she pulls out her phone. “Battery, 80%, check! GPS, check! I am so outta here!” Then she’s off, leaving Marinette to marvel at her.
“Wait! Hey, where’re you going?”
Alya pauses only briefly before turning around and hopping backwards “Where there’s a super villain, there is always a superhero!” Then she’s through the doors.
This is such a weird day...
Marinette looks back to the tv and jumps as the rock monster collides a car, the car crumbling and shattering. The yellow in the cracks of it’s skin glows brighter and- and she could have sworn it grew! It picks up what remains of the car with ease, and throws it at the school camera, and it goes to static. The building shakes again as crumbling brick and groaning metal reverberates through the school.
---------------------
Fu stops just outside the gates of a mansion. His eyes glinting with wonder and awe.
This should provide good living conditions for a being with such a high cost diet.
He hums in delight, letting Wayzz take the pulsating box up into the mansion.
-------------------
Adrienne *hates* homeschooling. She’s alone, save for Nathalie, and has to stay in one place for at least 7 hours, sometimes more, depending on the lesson. And, most of the time, she’s in the dining hall, the cold, undecorated dining hall. She’s stuck hearing her father, Nathalie, the mansion staff, call her ”Adrien”. Call her a boy. She can’t talk to anyone, can’t have a break. It’s useless.
“Who was the 1st president of the 5th French republic?” Nathalie walks up and down the length of the dining table. A tablet and pen in hand.
And all Adrienne can do is lean against her hand, not even able to summon more than a bored, monotone voice. “Everyone thinks it was De Gaulle but it was actually René Coty before the first elections.”
“Excellent, Adrien!” Nathalie exclaims. Turning around, a… pleased look on her face? ‘When did that happen?!’ Adrienne can’t help but think in shock. She opens her mouth to say something but a cold voice cuts through the room.
“Give me a minute would you, Nathalie?” Adrienne immediately tenses. It’s an involuntary reaction she has no control over. Not anymore.
Her Father turns to look at Adrienne, his eyes cold, disappointed, disproving. Angry. But his face remains stoic. “You are not going to school. I have already told you.”
Adrienne’s heart sinks. She looks to Nathalie, her eyes burning. She betrayed her. She- she does know what happens when she disobeys her Father, right?
Nathalie only lowers her head in shame.
Adrienne looks back to her father. “But, Father-“
“Everything you need is right here, where I can keep an eye on you.” He cuts in, tone dark and dangerous. “I will not have you outside in that dangerous world.”
“It’s not dangerous!” Adrienne tries, standing up from her seat, hands on the table. “I’m always stuck here by myself! Why can’t I go out and make friends just like everybody else?” She asks, pointing out the grand window to her left.
“Because you are not everybody else! You are My son” Adrienne flinches, her body flinching as her gut falls. She hates it when he sounds like that, it makes her feel so small. She has to bite her tongue to keep herself from shaking at her father’s deep, angry voice. He’s using the tone that suggests that he will not allow for any more words to be said.
Adrienne stands up straight, bowing her head, holding back tears that threaten to form.
Always her... it’s always Adrienne who makes things difficult. Who makes Father angry. All Adrienne does is antagonize him.
With that, Gabriel leaves, and Nathalie steps forward. “We can leave it there if you wan-“
Before she even finishes, Adrienne takes off running, hiding her— his face. Hiding his reddening eyes.
As he runs to his room, he catches a brief glimpse of a painting of him, his father and his mother.
But he can’t look at it for so long. It brings back too many bad memories.
Once in his room, he lays down on his bed, Letting his pillow soak in all the tears leaking from his— her eyes. From her eyes.
Why is Father like this? The thought bounces around in Adrienne’s head, it makes her dizzy. Why am I like this, if I’m really- if I’m really a girl, I wouldn’t revert to using those pronouns, to using “Adrien” when I’m stressed, would I? I wouldn’t do that when I anger Father, would I? How the hell am I a girl-
He doesn’t understand, Adrienne’s mother’s voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts. He probably never will. Your father is a stubborn man, and closed off in many ways. Just remember who you are, and that I’m here for you, my beautiful daughter.
This only makes Adrienne sadder. She isn’t here anymore. How can Adrienne keep going if she isn’t here?
Suddenly, something shakes the mansion, sounding like a stampede.
Curiosity takes over, and Adrienne takes off to go find out what’s happening.
She opens the front doors of the mansion, and a large (probably 4 meters tall) rock person is stomping its way toward a police blockade.
When the monster is within 10 meters, the police officer standing on top of a police car yells: “F-ire!” His voice cracks with fear and all the surrounding police officers fire off their guns.
The rock monster holds up it’s arms, but instead of the bullets doing any harm, they make the cracks in between the monster’s skin glow brighter, and it grows to be 2 meters taller! The police officer that was on the car scrambles down and tries to get away, but the monster grabs the car the officer was previously standing on with one hand, shouts out an unintelligible word, then throws the car with ease at the police officer; who only just barely manages to get out of the way.
Whatever this thing is, they sure are very, very angry.
Adrienne sprints back to her room, and vaults over her sofa, turning on the TV to the news.
“I’m asking all Parisians to stay inside until the situation’s under control.” Mayor Bourgeois says into the microphone, and Adrienne lets out a snort. Having everyone stay inside is the right call, don’t want anyone getting in the way... but, the man would be more than happy if he were the only one that stayed inside. And with the way that the situation is being handled, it isn’t going to be solved any time soon.
Then it switches to the TVi news station, where Nadja Chamack reports. “As incredible as it seems, it has been confirmed that Paris is, indeed, being attacked by a monster. The police have been struggling to get the situation under control.” Up in the right corner, a camera still reports what the monster is doing. Which, by the looks of it, is picking up cars and throwing them at buildings, trees, and other cars, destroying buildings and otherwise just causing mayhem, carnage and... and death.
It switches to another news camera, and it shows the police officer that was on the car in front of the gates, he’s getting his arm bandaged by a firefighter, speaking to an interviewer. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from the officer’s broken arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” the officer mumbles.
Blinking and shaking her head, Adrienne looks away, trying not to be too ashamed of Paris’s police force. From the looks of things, this monster is absorbing kinetic energy and using it to grow stronger.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention.
It’s a small box, with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize on it.
She diverts her full attention to this box, a confused: “What’s this doing here?” Leaving her lips.
She picks it up, weighing it in her hand, moving it around and shaking it. It makes no noise. Shrugging, she opens it and finds a folded piece of paper. When she picks up the paper, she catches sight of a black ring, the corners of the face have silver raised points.
Suddenly, a bright green light glints off the ring, and a ball of green light bursts from it, temporarily blinding her, making her drop the paper, and box.
When her vision returns, there is a small, black being laying down in the air. It has a body covered with smooth, black fur, with a slight green sheen to it. It has a puff of fur on both cheeks, with two long, black whiskers poking out of each puff. There are similar tufts of hair on the bendy points of its limbs and back where the limbs connect to it. It has an aura that surrounds it that makes everything seem darker around it. Light seems to bend around it, like a black hole. It has two long, thin, puffy tails. It has two little ears that are currently drooped lazily, and little wisps of hair poke out from the inside. It has a tiny nose and snout. It... looks like a small deformed cat. And is absolutely adorable!
Suddenly, it uprights itself, stretching its arms and legs, little claws extending from it’s limbs, and releases a huge yawn. Upon closer inspection, each limb ends with a little paw. Its mouth reveals tiny, tiny fangs and an emerald green hue on the inside of its mouth. It’s ears perk up. Once it’s done with the yawn, the ears drop down again, and it opens its eyes to reveal two neon green eyes with black, slitted pupils.
“No way!” Adrienne exclaims. “This is so cool! You’re like the genie in the lamp!” She reaches a finger up to rub the little cat-genie’s forehead.
The little cat-genie launches back. It’s eyes going wide, with…. fear? But the cat-genie quickly schools its adorable little face into calm, uninterested, unimpressed neutrality.
“I met him once, so he grants wishes, big deal, I can do so much better and I'm personable!” The cat-genie crosses its nubs over its chest, claws extending slightly, spreading its leg nubs, like it’s pouting. Clearly trying to look intimidating, but Adrienne can see that it’s trying to gauge her reactions.
Huh, so the cat-genie speaks... it... it’s awfully squeaky and nasal.
It looks up to Adrienne, its eyes piercing into her soul. “Plagg, nice to meet ya.”
With the one sided greetings out of the way, The cat-genie known as Plagg zooms into a swirl before zipping off to explore the room, startling Adrienne some.
It lands on the foosball table, “Ooo, swanky!” Then it chomps down on a figure’s head, ignoring Adrienne’s “Don’t touch that!” by saying “Nope, not eatable.”
Just as Adrienne is about to grab Plagg, it takes off again, Adrienne’s ”Hey! Get back here!” going unnoticed as it locks eyes on an arcade’s joystick. “It’s so shiny!” Plagg lands on the joystick, uttering a curious “Can you eat this?” Before clamping its mouth down on the joystick ball.
Plagg turns away from it in disgust as it finds that it cannot, in fact, eat the joystick. “No, you can’t.” It says slightly dejectedly, then locks into something else and zooms away from Adrienne’s hand, leaving behind an excited “Ooh, what about this?”
----------------------------------
Marinette hates back to school days. She makes sure to tell her computer screen just that as she watches the news.
At the moment, Sabrina’s father is talking to a news reporter, having his arm wrapped up by a firefighter. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from Officer Roger’s arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” he mumbles.
Marinette shakes her head. Officer Roger can be a... a special type of person sometimes.
She glances down to her mouse to click away from the news station, but finds a black box with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize.
Picking it up, she opens it, and finds a folded up paper. When she removes it, she catches a glance of two red earrings with black spots on each stud before a bright red/pink light glints off of them and she is temporarily blinded.
When it fades, Marinette’s jaw drops. So does the box and paper.
Floating before her, with its head bowed, is a giant scarlet/pink, ladybug-like bug, with a head much larger than the rest of its body. It has two antennae coming from its forehead and droop toward its back. It has a large black dot on its forehead. On its back is a scarlet ladybug shell, with five small black spots. From this shell are some pink, translucent wings that aren’t moving. The light around it seems to be…. brighter. Its limbs are little, sectioned, black nubs.
Suddenly its head shoots up, the light glinting off it’s large white eyes that have rings of blue in the center.
“Haaweeelllp!” The word leaves her mouth in a shriek as she jumps back, tipping over her chair, getting as far away from this- this- this giant bug! “It’s a giant bug!...”
The bug, no not a bug, a mouse… “A mouse!”
No, a-a bug-mouse, “Bug-mouse!”
it slowly floats its way toward her.
It continues to get closer.
“A- an alien!” She almost shrieks.
“Everything’s okay! Don’t be scared!” Its voice is high pitched, super high pitched, and slightly squeaky.
Marinette’s terrified, she does the only sensible thing. She grabs something behind her and chucks it at the bug-mouse-alien, eyes going wide, and it dodges her projectile. “Bug-mouse can talk! Bug-mouse talks!” She continues to throw things at the bug-mouse-alien, her terror only growing as it continues to dodge all of her projectiles.
“Listen, Marinette...” the bug-mouse-alien continues to speak. “I know everything is strange...”
As it talks and gets closer, Marinette can’t help but release terrified squeaks and whimpers as she gropes around for something to trap the bug-mouse thing under.
Suddenly, her fingers find a cup, and delight shoots through her as she lunges at the bug-mouse, slamming the glass cup down around the little —giant?— thing. She absently wonders why the glass didn’t shatter.
It looks up at Marinette, its expression and eyes calm. “Okay, If this makes you feel safer.”
It has no qualms about being stuck?! What can this thing do that makes it so that it isn’t scared of being trapped under something?!
Marinette keeps the glass firmly on the ground. “What are you? How do you know my name?” She asks.
“I’m a kwami,” the bug-mouse puts a nub on its chest. “And my name is Tikki!” it perks up as it says it’s name. “Now, just let me explain.” Its voice is slightly muffled by the glass. It makes the bug -Tikki- sound even weirder.
“MAMAN, PAPA!” Marinette shouts, inching her way to her trap door.
“No, no, no!” Tikki tries to warn her, pressing against the glass, but Marinette still ignores it. She puts a hand on the trap door and Tikki calls out again. “No!” It tries again, pushing against the glass, but Marinette keeps ignoring it.
“MAMA-“
“Shhh, No!” Tikki cuts her off, phasing through the glass and floating in front of her face. “I’m your friend, Marinette, you can trust me.”
Marinette narrows her gaze,
“Marinette?” comes the worried voice of her Maman, and Tikki and Marinette stare at eachother in tense silence.
“...It’s nothing, Maman, sorry”
Marinette turns to Tikki, the talking bug-mouse-alien-- ahem, Kwami. “Explain.”
----------------------
In such a big room, filled with so much stuff, the kid doesn’t even have any food to eat! Plagg’s tried so many things. Still, nothing edible!
He could just use atrophy and siphon off some energy, but that requires effort, and he did not wake up from 250 years of being dormant only to have to do things as soon as he is activated!
Plagg is zipping around this human child’s room and finds a semi-promising rectangle. Hopefully this works!
He bites down, only for his fangs to meet hard, foul tasting material. Ugh, he should just Cataclysm this whole room...
He drops the remote, and raises a paw, but the human-child drops from the ceiling and wraps her feeble, insufficient, human fingers around his body, which does not make him release an embarrassing yelp. Nope, not at all. It’s funny, how the human thinks she can keep him in place with just her fingers wrapped around his body, which is made from the very essence of chaos, destruction, bad luck and most importantly, if he does say so himself, death!
...Eh, he’ll let the child have her victory.
“Listen, I still don’t know what you’re doing here.” The child says, her tone stern.
Ha! As if a human can intimidate him!
This is really getting old, he just wants sustenance! Even mushrooms will do! Birds and fish are better, but they taste weird. Cheese is preferable, and Camembert is exquisite.
“Look, I’m a kwami. Kwamis grant powers.” Plagg narrows his eyes at this, this uninformed child. “Basic gist of mine is Destruction. Got it?”
“Nuh-Uh.” The child shakes her head, her blonde locks swaying. The locks of hair that grab the light just right... that are probably super soft locks... Locks that would make for an amazing be—
Plagg shakes his head. No time to get distracted. He needs food.
“Good.”, He looks around before looking into the child’s eyes and not the attention grabbing hair that looks like such a great spot to sleep in. “Got anything to eat, I’m starving!”
The child narrows her eyes, staring at him. Plagg stares back, keeping his expression neutral.
“Father’s pranking me, right?” The child stands up, leaning her massive, disgustingly proportionate, head over him. Plagg looks away, he does not want to see up that nose, no matter how clean it is. It’s gross.
“Wait... that’s not possible, Father doesn’t have a sense of humor.”
Plagg pulls himself from the human’s surprisingly tight grasp, spreading his limbs out wide. No matter what he thinks of this rule, the last time he didn’t obey it, Tikki ignored him for 500 years and his wielder caused Vesuvius, all because Tikki’s wielder, by extension, also ignored him. “Your dad must never know I exist. Or anyone for that matter.”
Adrienne tilts her head. Furrowing her eyebrows. “Plagg, I’m pretty sure Father already knows other humans exist...”
Plagg raises his eyebrows. This kid might actually be fun to be around. “I meant no one else can know that I exist.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”
“Anyway,” Plagg zips into the kids face. “Where. Is. The. Food?” The kid looks at him with the weirdest expression.
“I only get to eat at breakfast, lunch and dinner. No snacks.”
Plagg narrows his eyes. “That’s no way to live!”
“Well It’s how I live.”
Plagg drops his tone a bit. “It’s not a way that anyone should ever have to live.”
The kid’s eyes go wide
Plagg stares into her eyes, cocking his head. “Well, time to get this out of the way.” Plagg suddenly zips from in front of Adrienne, and into her bathroom. “I’m a kwami, and I can grant you the ability to destroy anything you touch!”
Plagg stops before a roll of paper, hanging above a , quite frankly disappointing, porcelain throne. He grabs and *nearly* lets out a delighted gasp. Such an amazing invention! He drops it to the ground before landing on it and it starts to unravel. FUN!
“All you need to do is put on the ring! To be able to do anything, you call out “Claws Out” and to activate your power, call out Cataclysm, you’ll be able to destroy anything you touch!” He explains as he runs around the room on this roll of super soft paper. (Well, actually the powers that he can grant are much more than a mere Catalclysm, but the kid isn’t ready for that yet. Plus, Tikki’d kill him if he were to tell her that.)
“I can do that?”
“Psssshhh, no, I can do that, I just allow you to be able to do that.”
“What do I say again?”
“Claws Out.”
“Claws out?”
The ring sucks Plagg in and he’s getting ready to meld with the kid. Create what she wants subconsciously. In a flash, he’s inside her mind and he’s ready to shape her body to the way it’s supposed to be, but stops. It would make her happy, but she isn‘t ready for anyone else to know yet, she’d have a break down. And, probably worse. So, he lets her mind create her suit in accordance to what she wants right now.
-----------------------
Looking in her mirror, Marinette puts on the earrings. “So, you’re saying, you can give me the power to…. create anything—“
“At random, you won't be able to choose it!”
“—and restore damage—“
“Only if you cast Lucky Charm! And it only restores damage dealt to people caused by a specific event that has happened recently.”
“Okay, so, you can transform me into a ladybug styled superhero, with increased physical and mental capabilities-“
“Mental only in the fact that you’ll be able to take in more information and take it in faster, other than that, it’s all you!”
“And I can create a random object by calling out Lucky Charm and restore damage dealt to living things caused by a specific event by calling out Miraculous Ladybug?”
“Yep!”
“And I can become this Ladybug by….”
“Calling out ‘Spots On” Tikki looks into Marinette’s eyes, he doesn’t know it yet, he hasn’t realized it yet.
Hopefully he will. She really doesn’t want Marinette to go through more of his life in unknown misery. Luckily, when the time comes, she can help!
“Spots On?”
“Wait I forgot—“
Melding with his mind, Tikki ignores the urge to shape Marinette’s body the way she knows he feels subconsciously like he should. He doesn’t know yet, and she doesn’t want to put that stress on him. But Sugar cookies she forgot to tell him about the ability to purify things! And that the way to take down this thing is to destroy the corrupted object, or that there is a corrupted object. Well, he’s her wielder, he’ll figure it out.
Technically Tikky can give her wielders so much more power, but this is the first time being her wielder, so she’ll have to ease Marinette into this.
[This is the image I used to base Nooroo’s, Tikki’s and Plagg’s designs on, I have also used it to alter Trixx’s, Wayzz’s, Pollen’s and Duusuu’s designs.]
#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fan ficton#miraculous ladybug fic#trans girl! Adrienne#trans girl adrien#trans boy! marinette#trans boy! marin#trans au#wintertundra-art's trans au#miraculous ladybug rewrite#origins rewrite#rewrite au#some character descriptions have changed#powers reworked#my writing#part one of 3#possibly 4#nonbinary nooroo#it/its nooroo
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Medium & Marketing for 90′s Anime Dubs
Today is Hayao Miyazaki’s 80th birthday, which made sure my dash was filled with Ghibli tidbits. A discussion of my personal favourite, Kiki’s Delivery Service, brought up its ill-fated original dub by Disney in 1998. Ghibli still didn’t have the courage yet to put their foot down on changes for international releases, and so there are a lot of alterations - the theme songs are changed to be anglicized, almost any “dead space” or quiet moments in the film have someone (normally animal sidekick Jiji the cat) improv lines over the scenes to liven them up, and in particular the ending is changed to be less bittersweet as Jiji, who in the original Kiki permanently loses the ability to talk to as a sign of growing up, regains his voice.
These changes slot neatly into the zeitgeist of all 90′s anime changes - a disregard for the property’s core appeal as they were bowdlerized for a western audience. Sailor Moon is an infamous victim of a similar process - at least Kiki took place in fantasy Europe, the Sailor Moon dub’s attempts to pretend that the show doesn’t take place in Japan were simply insane as they cut out or blurred every appearance of Japanese writing in the show, leaving reams of animation frames on the floor in the process.
(Tangent time: the greatest scene ever is one where, upon reading a note by Usagi, to prove it was her Minako/Sailor Venus comments “it must be from her, its written entirely in hiragana”, the simpler form of written Japanese compared to kanji, which Usagi as a running gag cannot write. So in the dub they just...blur out the text of the note, and have Minako comment “I had to read it with my imagination. It's all written in funny symbols!". I distinctly remember watching the episode live when I was 12 years old and going “wait what the fuck does that even mean?” and suddenly realizing that the show was changing its own script, it was a trip of a moment)
Like most people I do malign these changes, but I am actually here to partially defend them via contextualization. The idea that American audiences would have cared that the show was Japanese is pretty dumb, but what you often hear are statements like “kids in Japan appreciated Sailor Moon/Kiki’s Delivery Service just fine, they didn’t need to change it”. That is possible, but it mistakes why changes are being made to begin with - its not the “culture of children in the US vs Japan”, its intended market via the medium of distribution.
Kiki’s Delivery Service was released in Japanese theatres in 1989, and it was the highest grossing film of the year in Japan (about ~US$18 million, man do things change). Kiki’s Delivery Service the Disney dub, was....released on VHS in 1998. VHS releases and movie theatre releases aren’t really intended accomplish the same thing. Remember all those direct-to-video Disney sequels? Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride? Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time? Remember how they were all just garbage? Anyone looking back at them today cringes, with a few exceptions. But none of us cringed when we were 8! My partner is a huge Disney fangirl, and when she was young she didn’t even distinguish between the theatre release and the VHS sequels - it was all Disney, you just lined them up and played them in a row as the complete canon. Yes, these movies sucked partially because they were low budget, but they weren’t actually *that* low budget - and not the throwaways your memory probably tells you they were. Lion King 2? Made ~$300 million in net sales, almost as much as the original Lion King’s theatrical run.
What those Disney VHS sequels and Kiki share is the fact that their intended market was *only* children. That is the point of VHS - you put it on for your kids and then go make dinner. Its the virtual babysitter, the kids can loop it while reenacting every scene with their stuffed animals. Movies released in theatres don’t serve that role at all - the parents are paying $15 a head and they are trapped in their seats for the whole runtime. It has to entertain everyone, or you aren’t going to go, or at least not as often. VHS releases sucked because kids don’t care, they actually do enjoy the constant quippy lines and dumb jokes. That is equally true for Japanese kids - its just that Kiki’s intended audience wasn’t Japanese kids, it was “all ages” - a very different category.
The same is true for Sailor Moon, by the way. The idea that kids in Japan could “handle more mature themes like death” unlike American audiences doesn’t hold up quite as much when you look at Disney theatrical releases like the Lion King - Mufasa’s death pulls no punches, but kids didn’t mind. And Japan does have shows like Doraemon that are just as childish as the 90′s western cartoons you remember. Its that Sailor Moon’s audience wasn’t just kids.
Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon aired in March of 1992 on TV Asahi. Asahi was not a kids network, and Sailor Moon did not air in a kid’s block - instead in its “Anime Block”. It aired on Saturdays, at 7:00 PM. For most of its runtime, the 7:30 slot after was held by Slam Dunk, a hyper-serious basketball anime adapted from a manga in Weekly Shonen Jump. You think director Kunihiko Ikuhara was throwing in queer relationships and even trans characters, and every other villian was a half-naked seductress, because it was gonna really resonate with 8 year olds? Sailor Moon was for 8 year olds, yes...and for otaku. So, 15 year olds, lets not exaggerate here. But still, its hype, its success, came just as much from its teen and adult fans as much as its young devotees. Which was intentional - it was *marketed* that way. That's why it aired at 7:00 PM on a Saturday.
Sailor Moon’s original dub, on the other hand, aired on UPN at, yeesh, 6:30 AM?? Then on USA’s Cartoon Express at the much more reasonable 8:30 AM, and later on Toonami at 4:00 PM. All of these are kids slots, to watch over cereal or snacks before/after school while the parents are busy. You do not expect the adult in the room to be watching alongside the kid, or for teens to really be paying attention.
And to cut off the logical objection, a show like Sailor Moon was just not going to get a 7:00 PM Saturday slot in the US in the 90′s. Nor was Kiki going to get a movie theatre release in 1998 of any scale. Movie releases are expensive, Saturday slots are precious, the funding just wasn’t there for something so untested as Japanese anime. There was no demand in the west for it - that demand would only be created later, by a generation who grew up on, well, shitty Sailor Moon dubs and Kiki VHS releases. And what success in the media slots these shows and movies did have are shaped by those market niches.
I don’t want to be over-deterministic on this - at some point Cartoon Network rolled the dice on Cowboy Bebop and Full Metal Alchemist and it worked - maybe they could have done that in 1995 with like Neon Genesis Evangelion, who knows! And of course US children’s cartoons are, beyond market forces, burdened with regulatory moralizing that Japanese media does not have. But I do think these 90′s dub efforts should get the proper context for the constraints they were operating under, and why they existed at all, as they are criticized.
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Ben 10 Analysis Part 4:
Swampfire:
Species: Methanosian
Homeworld: Methanos
Abilities: Fire control, can create, mutate and control plant life such as seeds that create large vines, can create spores that cause sleep, can reattach limbs, extreme regenerative abilities, malleable body, can produce methane, can produce extremely sticky mud, can fly for a limited amount of time by propulsion, and super strength.
Weaknesses: Can be cut faster than he can regenerate, cannot control weeds, and his stench prevents him from hiding easily.
Feats: Can push over an alien weather tower weighing 4.02 kilotons, can pull himself out of an already active trans-dimensional portal, immune to being crushed, mud is so sticky that even a Vaxasaurian has trouble pulling it off, vines are strong enough to restrain Vilgax, lasers pass right through him, regenerated from full decapitation, and regenerated after being destroyed in an explosion.
Echo Echo:
Species: Sonorosian
Homeworld: Sonorosia
Abilities: Hypersonic scream that can create force fields and redirect projectiles, can channel vibrations to enhance screams, can detect vibrations in the ground, can duplicate himself up to 1000 times, echolocation, and is strong for his size (can lift 25 times his own weight).
Weaknesses: Individual clones can be destroyed easily.
Feats: Brought down Ultimate Kevin, defeated a giant robot dragon, 9 Echo Echos can throw a jet plane about a meter away, 3 Echo Echos momentarily contained a nuclear explosion, and by duplicating and then turning back into Ben, he can create clones of himself, each with their own Omnitrix.
Humungousaur:
Species: Vaxasaurian
Homeworld: Terradino
Height: 20 to 60 feet
Abilities: Incredible strength and durability, size alteration that also adds armor and further multiplies strength , freeze proof, fireproof, and can create shockwaves by stomping/clapping.
Weaknesses: Hard to use in enclosed spaces and vulnerable to electricity and acid.
Feats: Survived for a brief time in space, shrugged off missiles, can lift a To’kustar, can block the Smack Hands of Generator Rex (which can lift and throw buildings), can hold onto a launching spaceship, matched Vilgax in strength, lifted and threw an entire 2 story house, threw a U.S army jeep with 1 arm, decimated army barracks during a rampage, made Ultimate Aggregor (who has the combined durability of an Orishan, Talpaedan and Prypiatosian-B) wince in pain after a brutal beatdown, resisted being sucked into a dimensional rift, took on the entire Max Force by himself, and held up an entire highway.
Jetray:
Species: Aerophibian
Homeworld: Aeropela
Abilities: Can fly at extremely fast speeds, can breath underwater and survive in space, and can fire energy blasts called “neuroshocks” from his eyes and tail.
Weaknesses: His lasers can be reflected to do massive damage, and he’s ungainly on the ground.
Feats: Can fly fast enough to enter hyperspace and perfectly stick the landing, momentarily lifted a Vaxasaurian, can survive being blasted with fighter jet gunfire, neuroshocks can destroy a truck, harm a Vaxasaurian, and (if focused for long enough) destroy the Hands of Armageddon. This mystical device is said to exist in every dimension, and previous attempts to destroy the Hands resulted in the creation of the Grand Canyon and caused the Great Chicago Fire.
Big Chill:
Species: Necrofriggian
Homeworld: Kylmyyss
Abilities: Freeze breath, ice beams, spiked fists, cryokinesis, intangibility, can freeze opponents by flying through them while intangible, can eat metal and lava, super strength, can survive in extreme heat and cold, and can fly at supersonic speeds.
Weaknesses: Electricity, other intangible opponents, and weapons designed specifically to hurt him. Once every 70 years, the genetic instincts of Big Chill take over to reproduce.
Feats: Cooled down an overheated nuclear reactor within seconds, drank molten metal, blew a speeding RV off a cliff, created snow in the Null Void (a place that has no forms of weather) and can survive in space.
Chromastone:
Species: Crystalsapien
Homeworld: Petropia
Abilities: Can absorb all forms of light and energy, channels energy into powerful ultraviolet beams, create light, force fields, incredible durability, and flight.
Weaknesses: Cannot absorb electricity while touching water.
Feats: Shrugged off being thrown through a cargo truck and into a cliff, revived an entire species, can absorb magic, and reflected the attack of an eldritch god.
Brainstorm:
Species: Cerebrocrustacean
Homeworld: Encephalonus IV
Abilities: Super intelligence, can produce electricity, force fields, levitation, can climb on walls, limited telepathy, telekinesis, and technokinesis.
Weaknesses: Electricity will backfire if shell is closed during the process, brain is vulnerable when exposed, very arrogant and egotistical, and requires deep concentration for most tasks.
Feats: Can analyze and solve any equation in seconds, can visualize equations and movement of objects as if they’re actually there, can determine mechanical values and physical properties simply by looking at them, he can perfectly understand the mindsets and mannerisms of his enemies plus any useful objects around him so he can know exactly what move to make to take them down, can lift a train and its tracks with telekinesis, electricity shield can stop Ultimate Cannonbolt, and claws can tear through Spidermonkey webs.
Spidermonkey:
Species: Arachnichimp
Homeworld: Aranhaschimmia
Abilities: Can shoot strong webbing from his tail, climb walls and stick to vertical surfaces, super strength, incredible agility, enhanced durability, hearing, and combat skills.
Weaknesses: His webs can be turned against him, and has a childlike personality.
Feats: Webs were stated to be as strong as steel, can lift the Gourmand Queen, can survive being in Earths upper atmosphere, can survive being crushed by a crane tower, and used a lamp post as a baseball bat to launch Ultimate Kevin into the air.
Goop:
Species: Polymorph
Homeworld: Viscosia
Abilities: Can shape his body at will, shoot acid, has enhanced strength, can regenerate, can easily trap foes with sticky slime, can fly, and can dissolve most materials.
Weaknesses: If Goop is separated from his anti-gravity projector, his body will become an inert liquid, and he can feel pain by being spun too fast.
Feats: His anti-gravity projector can hold together an entire planet of water, tore a war robot apart from the inside, his acid can melt stone, is virtually indestructible, and using his elasticity, he can send a tank-sized opponent flying.
#death battle#ben 10#ben 10 alien force#ben 10 ultimate alien#ben 10 omniverse#ben tennyson#swampfire#echo echo#humungousaur#jetray#big chill#chromastone#brainstorm#spidermonkey#goop#alien#aliens#extraterrestrial#ask blog#omnitrix
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How Epic Mickey could fit into the Kingdom Hearts Universe so Oswald can get the Love and Attention he Deserves: The Text Post
Ok, so it’s been confirmed that Nomura really wants to add our favorite lucky rabbit into the KH universe, but for some reason, Disney told him getting the rights to Oswald would be ‘difficult’ for whatever reason. I know Oswald used to be owned by another party, but when Epic Mickey was being pitched, Disney bought back the rights, so they now own him fully. I’m not sure why Disney wouldn’t just let Nomura use him, seeing as they’re sure as hell aren’t.
As you can imagine, this is pretty sad. A surprising amount of people love Oswald, including myself. But it honestly got me thinking about how Epic Mickey could fit into Kingdom Hearts. They have some vague similarities, seeing as a lot of the older characters, such as Horace the Horse, make an appearance in both games, EM has some talk of hearts, but obviously, the rules of what a heart is is different in both games, etc.
So, as you can imagine, this was a bit of a challenge for me to think of, and this is going to be a long post. But I’ve been seriously reflecting on this topic for a while, so much so that I wrote this post on a Google Doc so I could properly get my thoughts together before I posted this.
Also, you never know if Disney could change their minds or Nomura goes through all the possible legal stuff and get Oswald into the game, so all of this could just me pointlessly screaming into the void, but I don’t care; I’m making this post. And keep in mind that this is what I personally would do with it. I am in no way a professional game director like Nomura, and if Oswald does make it into a KH game, it will probably be done better than my idea. Though keep in mind, my idea is kinda convoluted just like the rest of KH’s plot OOOOO lol jk. With all of that said:
All of this takes place between the events of BBS and KH1.
Disney Town and the world of EM are the same. Sorta (this will have to do with why Disney Castle is more pronounced in the overworld art in the timeline after BBS).
All the residents in EM live in DT.
Oswald is the Mayor of DT (Or at least the small town area we see in BBS).
We presumably don’t see him in BBS because he was too busy running the town in the background. Queen Minnie and Duchess Daisy were there to oversee the Dream Festival for him.
Oswald is personal best friends with King Mickey. Like, everyone jokes about them being brothers all the time.
After the events of BBS, we see Pete be freed from his prison by Maleficent. Right after this, Pete asks for help for immediate revenge on the residents.
Maleficent decides to completely destroy the world as you do.
More specifically, she wants to make the world fall to darkness and wipe the world and its residents from the minds of others (think of it like Xion’s disappearance)
Firstly, to get Pete further indebted to her so he’ll go along with her plans without question.
Second, if everyone forgets about Donald, Goofy, Minnie, and Mickey after they were to fall to darkness, then that’s several enemies she wouldn’t have to worry about anymore.
Thirdly, she could use the hearts of the residents to create a powerful army of Heartless.
The fourth reason was she was feeling particularly bitchy that day.
All the while, Yen Sid senses the sudden spike in darkness in DT.
He warns Mickey about Pete and Maleficent, but orders Mickey to stand back and observe for now, as he only just became a Keyblade Master and Yen Sid isn’t sure if he can take her on by himself.
But ofc Mickey goes back to DT with Yen Sid’s Star Shard to confront Maleficent anyway.
However, he’s too late; Maleficent’s already started the spell.
Mickey fights past Pete but can’t quite make it to Maleficent before she creates a portal in the sky straight to the World of Darkness.
The residents, including Oswald, start to get sucked into the portal. As this happens, Mickey starts to forget some of them. (Like how Roxas’ memories of Xion faded slightly before and after she ‘died’)
Just like Roxas, Mickey gets a bit of a power boost in a desperate attempt to stop Maleficent and remember Oswald.
Before they get completely sucked in, Yen Sid uses his magic to change the destination of the portal and quickly creates a small ‘pocket world’ in his tower within an enchanted scroll on his desk with magic paint and thinner ala the Fantasia world in DDD (I’m sure you can see where this is going).
However, due to the darkness of Maleficent’s spell and the fact he rushed to make it, the world he created was a dark and twisted version of DT.
And since the spell was to make the residents fall to darkness, they all lost their hearts. However, in the world Yen Sid made, time doesn’t exist (just like the WoD), so they don’t become Heartless/Nobodies; they’re stuck in-between the process.
They still have their emotions and memories, but without their hearts, they can’t leave the world.
Besides, even if they could, they would only become Heartless and/or Nobodies.
Mickey manages to use his Star Shard to transport himself, Pete, and Maleficent to the Keyblade Graveyard before she sucks in all the residents, but Oswald and the others who appear in EM are sucked in and forgotten.
Yen Sid, due to the trans-dimensional/spatial and magical properties of his tower, is the only one who remembers.
Considering that not even Maleficent remembers what happened now, she takes Pete and teleports away to do whatever she did between BBS and KH1 plan her revenge.
Mickey, confused as to why he’s suddenly in the Graveyard again, teleports back to the Mysterious Tower.
Yen Sid tells Mickey about what happened, but Mickey can’t help but feel a little detached since he can’t remember any of it.
However, when Yen Sid mentions Oswald, Mickey feels a sadness in his heart that he can’t quite explain. A single heart rolls down his cheek.
Yen Sid tells Mickey how he needs to go into the scroll and fix the world. He tells Mickey that he can’t fix the darkness from the outside, and how he can sense Heartless in the scroll.
Mickey grabs the paintbrush and dips it into the paint.
“What do you mean? Couldn’t we just use the paint and thinner to fix the problem here?”
“Mickey, don’t!”
Mickey, surprised by Yen Sid’s outburst, jumps back.
In the process, he accidentally knocks over the paint and thinner onto the scroll.
OhDearGodWhatHaveIDone.jpg
Mickey tries to wipe up the liquid puddle on the scroll, but it’s too late; Yen Sid tells Mickey that the damage is irreversible here on the outside.
With Mickey’s only option made clear, he jumps into the scroll.
From here, the events of EM play out pretty much the same, with some differences.
The real world references in EM are either completely missing or made a lot more subtle (things like the Walt Disney statue with Oswald are removed while small things in the levels are still there).
The Blotlings are a new type of Heartless instead of just monsters.
The magic paintbrush Mickey brings with him turns into the Epic Masterpiece Keyblade.
The “multiple Petes” in EM are animatronics this time, based off of other personas of the KH Pete (like Captain Justice and Captain Dark)
Characters like Smee who were in KH before while also in EM would just be animatronics.
The Donald, Daisy, and Goofy animatronics were made by Oswald to try and replicate their powers to protect them from the Heartless. This obviously failed.
The Mad Doctor was obsessed with experiments with the heart, like Xehanort before and during EM (tho obviously not as bad or as successful as he was).
Oswald and the Mad Doctor were working on these animatronics before Maleficent tried to wipe them out (The Donald, Daisy, and Goofy animatronics were incomplete before they were sucked in, hence why they’re so damaged in EM).
Oswald was named King of Wasteland in place of Mickey.
If everyone were to remember the residents, they could possibly get their hearts back.
The hurt and betrayal that Oswald felt in EM are not because Mickey got the spotlight and replaced him; he’s upset because Mickey, who was a brother for him, doesn’t remember him anymore. And even worse, he caused the Thinner Disaster.
At the end of EM, Mickey regains his memories of the residents and especially Oswald.
He wants to bring them out, but they can’t leave without their hearts.
Mickey is torn because he knows the Wastelands, while fixed for now, are still dangerous as the Heartless could possibly come back and the Mad Doctor is still on the loose.
But even if they could leave, bringing them back would possibly bring back everyone’s memories of them, including Maleficent’s, so it’s dangerous either way.
So Mickey does the next best thing he can think of: he bequeaths Oswald.
Since Oswald doesn’t have a heart, he couldn’t summon a Keyblade the natural way, so Mickey hands him the Epic Masterpiece Keyblade.
However, Mickey’s bond with Oswald was so strong that when he handed it to Oswald, his hearts reacts to it even though it’s so far away from Oswald’s body.
Basically, the bond and memories that Mickey shared with Oswald were strong enough to call to Oswald’s heart for the Keyblade to spring from.
It’s called the Lucky Remote Keyblade, (Obviously based off of his remote from EM2).
Mickey leaves Wasteland after promising to tell only those trustworthy about them.
Basically, only Mickey, Yen Sid, Donald, Goofy, Minnie, Daisy, Chip, and Dale remember the residents of Wasteland to any extent. They all keep the secret. (Mickey probably told Ventus, Aqua, Terra and the others about it after KH3.)
Donald treats it just like he treats the Order; if anyone even remotely hints at it, he scolds them like he does Sora.
EM2 is canon; all the previous notes apply. Those events take place before KH1 but obviously waaay after EM1 in the timeline (Ten years is more than enough time for both of these games to happen before KH1).
Well, there you have it! This post is way too long and I’m tired :’)
Maybe I’ll draw the Keyblades and my redesign for a KH! Oswald at some point, but this is more than enough for now.
#kingdom hearts#epic mickey#kh#this post is three pages long in a Google Doc I hope you appreciate my sacrifice lol#my idea#my concept#my post#levyowl
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Blessed are the least of us.
As previously mentioned, I started a new job recently. It was a much awaited, much prayed for opportunity that my spirits delivered to me, and it was exactly what I have needed and been looking for. It is a great resume builder and a career maker in it’s own way, and it is absolutely the hardest job I have ever had to date.
I joke that, in my field, I am basically a managerial repo man. Things not going as they should? Is shit REAL fucked up? Time to hire Bonkira, who can take your professional pile of shit and make it into something functional! In six months, you will have a brand new shiny program that works, one way or another!
It didn’t really surprise me that I got hired into an absolute disaster, it was just impressive as to how much of a disaster it actually was/is. My first day at one of my sites, a client almost died in the bathroom and I met them officially when they woke up while I was doing CPR on them. A couple days later, a client threatened to beat the shit out of me if he saw me again, and necessitated three different police escorts off the property. I reviewed files and found progress notes written on the back of envelopes and clients who had not seen a case manager in six months or more. The stance of my boss has been ‘I know it’s a disaster. Do whatever you think it will take to fix it. Tell me what you need’.
So I have.
Once my clients realized I was there, they started trickling in to see me. My first intake was a newly out trans person who was afraid they would not be welcome. A fiftysomething ex-con wandered in and wanted to talk, and I taught them a new word (’genderqueer’), which they loved and immediately defined themselves as. A young gay person came in and cried because their father hung up the phone on them, again, when they called to see if they could come home for Christmas. Through tears, they said they liked the case manager onsite just fine, but ‘there’s just some things you can’t say to a straight man’.
My spirits bring me to where I am needed. When the third LGBTQ client showed up in my office in one day, I started praying: I don’t know what you all have in mind for me here, but I know they need me. Help me do it right.
This past Monday, Gede met me in my office: I arrived and all I could feel was the Dead Man. I sat down to go through a weekend’s worth of email and messages, and he was at my elbow. Where’s my stuff? You need to get me some stuff for here. At least a prayer card. Get a prayer card NOW.
Together, with me grumbling that I had shit to do, we made a makeshift prayer card: a fresh-from-the-internet saint picture with a favorite prayer for the Dead man written on the back taped to the side of my monitor.
Good, he said, and let me be.
That afternoon, I received a transfer of a client from the second site I manage: an elderly man with an end-stage terminal illness. He walked in with death on his shoulder and, once settled into his room, I cut a side eye to Gede: He can’t die just yet, he just got here AND IT IS ONLY MY SECOND WEEK.
He didn’t die that day (and hasn’t yet), but the Dead Man so forcefully close made me nervous....and he didn’t fail me. The next day, I walked in to find out that another client has passed away while Gede was ensconced in my office. He stares at me from my computer habit and reminds me why I am where I am.
The spirits send me to their people, every time. They tell me, on no uncertain terms, that my clients--the homeless, the substance using, the mentally ill, the formerly incarcerated--are their people, and I am to take care of them to the best of my ability.
It is hard work, but it is not a hard job. How can I not care for and love those I see the spark of my spirits inside? How could I possibly turn away those that are held up by my husbands and my spirits as holy in their humanity and their need? What else is a priest for if not to serve the people?
That’s the trick--that is what being a priest is. We are created to bring the spirits to the parts of the world and to the people who need them most. That is all of it, long and short. That’s the gig, and it doesn’t require magic or stuff or All The Knowledge. It requires the ability to show up and engage the heart and do the damn work, even when it sucks or is scary or is done with no acknowledgement or thanks. It doesn’t rely on what we think the tools of a priest out in the world are, and, in a lot of ways, it does not center on us--we are the tool and the spirits are the force behind us. It is little and small, and that can be hard to swallow.
The more I know my spirits, the easier everything is to swallow, honestly. I am grateful for the small things. I am grateful for being a well-honed tool in this particular area, and I am happy they feel that they have a tool they can put to use. I know that these opportunities for service to my spirits are also opportunities to go deeper into my relationships with them. There’s that whole idea of coming to know God while in the foxhole, and my office has been pretty foxhole-like lately.
In many ways, this job is different. Mostly, it is different because I am different--I am not nearly the same person I was pre-kanzo, when I was last hired to work in an environment that resembled my current setting. My patience is different, and how I see my clients is different. It is not hard to find the spirits within them and to see the spark of the divine in their souls. They are a blessing, in all of their brokenness, as the spirits have been a blessing to me in all of my own brokenness.
All of this while, in the vodou world, we enter the hottest part of the year. The divine stands ready to be made flesh, an intensely and undeniably Petwo act, and epiphany is coming--the realization that this manifestation is in fact divine. It is a powerful, powerful thing that happens over and over in the work of vodou; our spirits arrive and we recognize that they are of Ginen. They arrive for us because we need them, to serve as much as they are served. Those of us who have gone under the water and risen from Ginen in turn are expected to emulate that sacred service as best as we can, because we cannot have a gift without seeking to give it to others.
And here we are. I will bathe soon and send away the gunk from the last year so that I may welcome the bright new year with luck and prosperity. I will make soup and give my spirits soup and eat some soup myself. There will be prayers--always prayers--and, when I settle into my new home in the next couple weeks, I will bless my home with the heat and light of this time of year, that it may carry me through when times get dark.
Blessed are the least of us, who show us who we are in the places no one sees.
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A serious discussion about the future of the left. via /r/communism
A serious discussion about the future of the left.
Introduction:
Comrades who share this wonderful discussion forum of r/communism, I want you to take a moment to ask yourselves, what is it that we want? What are we fighting for? I imagine most of us are fighting for abolition of private property, collective ownership over the means of production and distribution, a dissolution of the state as an apparatus for control by the bourgeoisie, democratization of all parts of life, better healthcare and welfare for those who need it, and other such extremely noble aims. I myself believe in all of these very strongly. But I'm afraid that many on the left (unintentionally, I hope) are preventing us from achieving these aims, or even actively taking us backwards, towards fascism. So, in what I'm sure will turn out to be an extremely long essay, I want to take a while to discuss action that we all should be taking. I hope everyone reads this through to the end. If you dislike it, feel free to downvote, but please read till the end regardless.
Part I: The Current State of the Left
This might start out kinda rude, but we on the left really suck. A lot. We seem to view people with other beliefs as inferior, deluded, and misinformed idiots who are only capable of seeing just past the end of their noses and unable to view the big picture. And, on some level, I do understand the impulse. It can be hard to put up with their stupid arguments, blatant mistruths, and denial of facts. But a lot of leftists (I myself am also guilty of this) respond to these with insults, ad hominem and name-calling. This is not effective. As hard as it is to get this through our heads, we need more people. If you hang out only in far-left chatrooms, patting all your Marxist-Leninist comrades on the back at how great it feels to own liberals and progressives, you are the problem. The future of the left lies in those people. If you ask an average person off the road what they think about leftists, they’ll usually respond in one of three ways; They’ll either shrug and say they don’t care, call them whiny snowflakes who only complain, or call them belligerent pricks who won’t shut up. Across all my time on planet earth, even when I talk to people who I know hold similar values to my own, they all think of leftists as these 3 things. This isn’t a group that’s going to attract new people. If anything, they’ll be pushed further away. And we need these people. I know many like to talk about revolution like it’s an excuse for them to not have to engage with liberals and progressives, but you’re delusional if you think that. If today, a revolution began in The United States, do you think it has any chance of succeeding? Revolution can only occur with a large enough power base, either among the people or among armed forces. We don’t have any opportunity to raise forces like the red army, so our power base needs to come from people. Average, milk-toast liberals and progressives. That is where the future of the left is.
Part II: Liberalism and Marxism
Liberalism, that is, the philosophy of the enlightenment, is a philosophy that is incompatible with Marxism. Liberalism came about as a way to justify capitalism, and pushed faux progressivism to legitimise capitalism’s promise of a new, equal society. Hate liberalism as much as you want. But liberals, the people who believe in the ideology, are not incompatible with us. Many share similar ideals of a free and equal world, many do in fact support things like healthcare, women’s rights and greater equality of income. They’re just misinformed. They have been the target of misinformation and propaganda from the day they were born, and so are unable to believe in socialism. They view communism as some sort of demonic entity, trying to take over the foundations of society and enslave everyone. And you insulting them isn’t really helping matters. It’s a sad fact that far-left leaning people, and even socialists, are an extreme minority in most of the world. Most people are moderates. Its just that the people with the most extreme beliefs are also often the loudest, and so are disproportionately represented in media and online circles. This is also why neo-nazis seem so common on the internet-they’re just the ones who shout the most. This isn’t about who’s right or wrong, it’s just a fact that the vast majority of people in every country are moderates, neither far-right nor far-left. And so that’s why we need to go on a crusade against misinformation. Now, let’s go onto Marxism. I won’t demean you by defining Marxism, so let’s get to the point. Don’t. Call Yourself. A Marxist. 99% of the time, if you call yourself a Marxist, people will automatically stop listening. As hard as it is, call yourself a socialist (or some variation thereupon). People have been conditioned to associate Communism with authoritarianism, even though they aren’t at all related. Socialism, while still heavily bastardised, lacks that same association with the regimes of Stalin or Mao, so they’re more palatable to the general public. And again, our aim is to convert the people who are aligned with us socially into being aligned with us politically.
Part III: The Art of Proselytising
To convert the liberals is a difficult task. It can be hard, because a lot of leftists get very invested and personal in defence of their ideology, which can be a good thing in small doses. However, when a person listens to a debate or reads transcripts, do you think they will side with the one who shouts and talks incoherently, or the one who has complete control and is calm and confident? When talking with anyone about politics, stay calm. Calm and collected people are far more attractive to others than brash and loud ones. Even if the opponent’s points are patently bullshit, counter them in a way that doesn’t actively demean them. Wait for them to lost patience and get flustered. Your aim is to try and win over people who may have an open mind. So far has been advice pertaining to formal debate. But how do you chat with liberal friends just in general conversation? Very simple. Don’t demean them. If they talk to you about a liberal policy that they like, support them. Agree. As long as that policy isn’t actively harmful, there is no harm in saying that you like it too. Don’t respond by going, “Heh, this changes nothing. The problem is capitalism, and these policies are just to keep you content enough to stop asking questions.” This actively discourages them from your ideas by putting it in their head that the things they want are fundamentally different from the things you want. Instead you respond with, “yeah man, that’s really cool!” Agree, and then later bring it up how you think that we could expand on that idea and bring it into the realm of something more in line with actual socialism. And when they talk about a liberal policy they dislike, try and show them how a more left-leaning policy would be more in line with their ideal society. I know this is vague and unspecific, but I want this to be as universally applicable as possible. Lastly, know when to stop. If someone seems averse to your ideas, don’t push them into reading Das Kapital or the Communist Manifesto. Just accept it and move along. After all, if you push too hard, they may give up on you completely and we don’t want that. Their will always be more chances in the future to try and convert.
Part IV: Choosing your Targets
This is a short section. Don’t bother trying to convince ethnic nationalists, neo-nazis or other members of the alt-right in informal forums. It’s a fruitless endeavour. You need to accept that they have committed themselves to a belief which holds no evidence to support it, and so no matter what evidence you bring up to dismiss their claims, it wont matter. In formal debates you can engage them and show how their beliefs are false, but just don’t bother otherwise. Anarcho-capitalists are generally beyond help, but not always. A good litmus test is to ask them if they think trans rights should be promoted. If yes, there is still hope. If not, give up. Ancaps take a lot of work to convert though, so you’ll be in for the long haul. Liberals are your prime targets. They have social values which align with our own, we only need them to realise that those social values would be best served under socialism rather than capitalism. Because one thing to remember is that when it comes to pure facts, logic and evidence, we have the right beaten hands down. Its not even a contest. We just need to make ourselves feel more appealing to the liberals.
Part V: Please, Think Realistically
Change will not happen just suddenly. It needs to be systematically created, and we are the ones who need to do it. It can be comforting to think that the revolution will come, it will be glorious and we will henceforth live in a communist utopia. That’s not going to happen. First off, we need enough people for a revolution. As someone who lives in India, I can tell you what the general reaction to the Naxalites is here- fear, paranoia and mistrust. I understand their goals, but unless more people support them, they will be able to do nothing. We need to plant seeds of this support ourselves. It really disturbed me to see leftists unironically planning to vote for Trump because it would show the Democrats that their model wasn’t working (or something like that) while forgetting that by doing so they would be giving power over to a far-right demagogue who would probably just directly execute you if he could. Us being correct doesn’t mean we are above the mundane conflicts of society. We are as much a part of it as anybody else and so we need to be able to put ideals on the backseat to pragmatism. So why do I bring this up? Because arguing for ideas like the abolition of private property will get you nowhere. Most people are going to frightened by such ideas, so instead we need to dial it back. We can still keep our ideals, but when converting people start small. “hey, wouldn’t it be cool if you could visit a hospital without going bankrupt? Or maybe if you had a say in the decisions at your company rather than just listening to your boss all the time? Or maybe if the people at the top weren’t so much richer than everyone else?” Such ideas will seem mundane to us. But to the average person they’re incredibly attractive. Don’t talk in terms of vague, high-minded ideals or all-encompassing social change. Focus on how their life would improve under socialism. The sad truth is, not many people care about the greater good. To get through to such people, you need to show them how they would be better off.
Conclusion: It’s 3:30 am here, I’m really sleepy
We need the support of more people. When talking to them, approach people with earnestness and respect. It leaves a better impression. Don’t be overly humble however. Talk about tangible change that the average person can clearly see would improve their lives. Stop insulting people, and get out there to start actively engaging with others. Lastly, know how to prioritize your enemies. Don’t treat fascists, liberals and soc-dems the same, they all warrant different reactions and by acting like they’re the same, you actively push them closer together.
Good Night Comrades.
Submitted November 13, 2020 at 02:26PM by ARandomAnimeFanNo16
via reddit https://ift.tt/3lumWG5
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Text
A serious discussion about the future of the left. via /r/communism
A serious discussion about the future of the left.
Introduction:
Comrades who share this wonderful discussion forum of r/communism, I want you to take a moment to ask yourselves, what is it that we want? What are we fighting for? I imagine most of us are fighting for abolition of private property, collective ownership over the means of production and distribution, a dissolution of the state as an apparatus for control by the bourgeoisie, democratization of all parts of life, better healthcare and welfare for those who need it, and other such extremely noble aims. I myself believe in all of these very strongly. But I'm afraid that many on the left (unintentionally, I hope) are preventing us from achieving these aims, or even actively taking us backwards, towards fascism. So, in what I'm sure will turn out to be an extremely long essay, I want to take a while to discuss action that we all should be taking. I hope everyone reads this through to the end. If you dislike it, feel free to downvote, but please read till the end regardless.
Part I: The Current State of the Left
This might start out kinda rude, but we on the left really suck. A lot. We seem to view people with other beliefs as inferior, deluded, and misinformed idiots who are only capable of seeing just past the end of their noses and unable to view the big picture. And, on some level, I do understand the impulse. It can be hard to put up with their stupid arguments, blatant mistruths, and denial of facts. But a lot of leftists (I myself am also guilty of this) respond to these with insults, ad hominem and name-calling. This is not effective. As hard as it is to get this through our heads, we need more people. If you hang out only in far-left chatrooms, patting all your Marxist-Leninist comrades on the back at how great it feels to own liberals and progressives, you are the problem. The future of the left lies in those people. If you ask an average person off the road what they think about leftists, they’ll usually respond in one of three ways; They’ll either shrug and say they don’t care, call them whiny snowflakes who only complain, or call them belligerent pricks who won’t shut up. Across all my time on planet earth, even when I talk to people who I know hold similar values to my own, they all think of leftists as these 3 things. This isn’t a group that’s going to attract new people. If anything, they’ll be pushed further away. And we need these people. I know many like to talk about revolution like it’s an excuse for them to not have to engage with liberals and progressives, but you’re delusional if you think that. If today, a revolution began in The United States, do you think it has any chance of succeeding? Revolution can only occur with a large enough power base, either among the people or among armed forces. We don’t have any opportunity to raise forces like the red army, so our power base needs to come from people. Average, milk-toast liberals and progressives. That is where the future of the left is.
Part II: Liberalism and Marxism
Liberalism, that is, the philosophy of the enlightenment, is a philosophy that is incompatible with Marxism. Liberalism came about as a way to justify capitalism, and pushed faux progressivism to legitimise capitalism’s promise of a new, equal society. Hate liberalism as much as you want. But liberals, the people who believe in the ideology, are not incompatible with us. Many share similar ideals of a free and equal world, many do in fact support things like healthcare, women’s rights and greater equality of income. They’re just misinformed. They have been the target of misinformation and propaganda from the day they were born, and so are unable to believe in socialism. They view communism as some sort of demonic entity, trying to take over the foundations of society and enslave everyone. And you insulting them isn’t really helping matters. It’s a sad fact that far-left leaning people, and even socialists, are an extreme minority in most of the world. Most people are moderates. Its just that the people with the most extreme beliefs are also often the loudest, and so are disproportionately represented in media and online circles. This is also why neo-nazis seem so common on the internet-they’re just the ones who shout the most. This isn’t about who’s right or wrong, it’s just a fact that the vast majority of people in every country are moderates, neither far-right nor far-left. And so that’s why we need to go on a crusade against misinformation. Now, let’s go onto Marxism. I won’t demean you by defining Marxism, so let’s get to the point. Don’t. Call Yourself. A Marxist. 99% of the time, if you call yourself a Marxist, people will automatically stop listening. As hard as it is, call yourself a socialist (or some variation thereupon). People have been conditioned to associate Communism with authoritarianism, even though they aren’t at all related. Socialism, while still heavily bastardised, lacks that same association with the regimes of Stalin or Mao, so they’re more palatable to the general public. And again, our aim is to convert the people who are aligned with us socially into being aligned with us politically.
Part III: The Art of Proselytising
To convert the liberals is a difficult task. It can be hard, because a lot of leftists get very invested and personal in defence of their ideology, which can be a good thing in small doses. However, when a person listens to a debate or reads transcripts, do you think they will side with the one who shouts and talks incoherently, or the one who has complete control and is calm and confident? When talking with anyone about politics, stay calm. Calm and collected people are far more attractive to others than brash and loud ones. Even if the opponent’s points are patently bullshit, counter them in a way that doesn’t actively demean them. Wait for them to lost patience and get flustered. Your aim is to try and win over people who may have an open mind. So far has been advice pertaining to formal debate. But how do you chat with liberal friends just in general conversation? Very simple. Don’t demean them. If they talk to you about a liberal policy that they like, support them. Agree. As long as that policy isn’t actively harmful, there is no harm in saying that you like it too. Don’t respond by going, “Heh, this changes nothing. The problem is capitalism, and these policies are just to keep you content enough to stop asking questions.” This actively discourages them from your ideas by putting it in their head that the things they want are fundamentally different from the things you want. Instead you respond with, “yeah man, that’s really cool!” Agree, and then later bring it up how you think that we could expand on that idea and bring it into the realm of something more in line with actual socialism. And when they talk about a liberal policy they dislike, try and show them how a more left-leaning policy would be more in line with their ideal society. I know this is vague and unspecific, but I want this to be as universally applicable as possible. Lastly, know when to stop. If someone seems averse to your ideas, don’t push them into reading Das Kapital or the Communist Manifesto. Just accept it and move along. After all, if you push too hard, they may give up on you completely and we don’t want that. Their will always be more chances in the future to try and convert.
Part IV: Choosing your Targets
This is a short section. Don’t bother trying to convince ethnic nationalists, neo-nazis or other members of the alt-right in informal forums. It’s a fruitless endeavour. You need to accept that they have committed themselves to a belief which holds no evidence to support it, and so no matter what evidence you bring up to dismiss their claims, it wont matter. In formal debates you can engage them and show how their beliefs are false, but just don’t bother otherwise. Anarcho-capitalists are generally beyond help, but not always. A good litmus test is to ask them if they think trans rights should be promoted. If yes, there is still hope. If not, give up. Ancaps take a lot of work to convert though, so you’ll be in for the long haul. Liberals are your prime targets. They have social values which align with our own, we only need them to realise that those social values would be best served under socialism rather than capitalism. Because one thing to remember is that when it comes to pure facts, logic and evidence, we have the right beaten hands down. Its not even a contest. We just need to make ourselves feel more appealing to the liberals.
Part V: Please, Think Realistically
Change will not happen just suddenly. It needs to be systematically created, and we are the ones who need to do it. It can be comforting to think that the revolution will come, it will be glorious and we will henceforth live in a communist utopia. That’s not going to happen. First off, we need enough people for a revolution. As someone who lives in India, I can tell you what the general reaction to the Naxalites is here- fear, paranoia and mistrust. I understand their goals, but unless more people support them, they will be able to do nothing. We need to plant seeds of this support ourselves. It really disturbed me to see leftists unironically planning to vote for Trump because it would show the Democrats that their model wasn’t working (or something like that) while forgetting that by doing so they would be giving power over to a far-right demagogue who would probably just directly execute you if he could. Us being correct doesn’t mean we are above the mundane conflicts of society. We are as much a part of it as anybody else and so we need to be able to put ideals on the backseat to pragmatism. So why do I bring this up? Because arguing for ideas like the abolition of private property will get you nowhere. Most people are going to frightened by such ideas, so instead we need to dial it back. We can still keep our ideals, but when converting people start small. “hey, wouldn’t it be cool if you could visit a hospital without going bankrupt? Or maybe if you had a say in the decisions at your company rather than just listening to your boss all the time? Or maybe if the people at the top weren’t so much richer than everyone else?” Such ideas will seem mundane to us. But to the average person they’re incredibly attractive. Don’t talk in terms of vague, high-minded ideals or all-encompassing social change. Focus on how their life would improve under socialism. The sad truth is, not many people care about the greater good. To get through to such people, you need to show them how they would be better off.
Conclusion: It’s 3:30 am here, I’m really sleepy
We need the support of more people. When talking to them, approach people with earnestness and respect. It leaves a better impression. Don’t be overly humble however. Talk about tangible change that the average person can clearly see would improve their lives. Stop insulting people, and get out there to start actively engaging with others. Lastly, know how to prioritize your enemies. Don’t treat fascists, liberals and soc-dems the same, they all warrant different reactions and by acting like they’re the same, you actively push them closer together.
Good Night Comrades.
Submitted November 13, 2020 at 02:26PM by ARandomAnimeFanNo16
via reddit https://ift.tt/3lumWG5
0 notes
Link
It’s a decision that can make or break a startup: Do you invest in in-house resources to create your product or do you outsource to a third party developer? On the one hand, as a startup, shouldn’t product development be a core competency? On the other, surely it’s better to get to market as quickly as possible and allow the “experts” to help you get there and avoid all the pitfalls of technology development?Both approaches have their pro’s and con’s and the decision is by no means straightforward. The answer depends on a number of business and cultural factors and the type of product you are looking to build. Nevertheless, it’s a decision that needs to be taken early on in a startup’s life and can leave founders in a quandary as to the best approach.At Altar.io we have worked with a number of early-stage businesses — as well as providing product innovation for larger corporates — and we have learned many lessons on how to tackle such a momentous decision. In this article — the first of a series we are publishing on outsourcing and in-house developer selection — we set out a structured approach to help founders decide which approach may be best for their startup.The outsourcing decision treeAs with all major decisions in life, the answer to whether or not to outsource requires you to break a complex question down into simpler steps.Step 1: Is technology part of the core value proposition of the product or is it a vehicle to solve a business need? For most startups there are two possible answers to this, either:Technology is the core proposition; orTechnology is the means being used to solve a business issueIn general, if your business comes under (1) then you are more likely to develop the solution in-house. If it’s (2) then your startup could benefit from outsourced development.For example, consider Loopback, a Node.js framework that enables developers to create dynamic end-to-end REST APIs with little or no coding. Here, technology is pretty much the only proposition so Loopback would come under (1). Contrast this with Airbnb, which enables property owners to monetise their home and enable travellers to have a unique experience in the city they are visiting. Clearly, the key value proposition of AirBnB is for property owners and travellers, meaning the business comes under (2).Generally, businesses that come under (2) and are using technology merely as a way to solve a business issue should consider outsourcing, for reasons we will discuss later.Sometimes the distinction is not so clear. Consider GitHub, the platform for developers to host and review code, manage projects and build software. Whilst technology is the core proposition, the platform itself is there to solve a business issue for developers. This creates a grey area, so we should proceed to the next steps.Step 2: What is your target audience/who are the buying customers?In general, the answer can simply be summarised as either:Our product is aimed at technology specialists/developers; orOur product is aimed at consumers/business customers.Returning to our previous examples, Loopback and GitHub come under (1), whilst Airbnb comes under (2). However, again this can create grey areas that can only be solved by answering one more question.Step 3: Does your product involve a technological “secret sauce” that makes it unique?By this, we mean either the technology itself is proprietary to your startup, or the way it’s being implemented is unique. The two possible answers are:Yes; orNoThis clarifies the GitHub “grey area”. The platform is targeting developers, but neither the underlying technology not its implementation is unique or proprietary, so the answer is (2). The contrasts with Loopback, which would come under (1).So how do I decide what’s right for my business?It’s generally inadvisable to outsource software development when:The business has technology as its core propositionThe end consumer is technology people; andThe technology is either proprietary or unique in its implementationIn any other scenario, a software project can either be built in-house or outsourced (or possibly a combination of the two), depending on your willingness and other circumstances that might affect your business case.Judy Robinett, startup expert and best-selling author of Crack The Funding Code notes “The key decision point is around how quickly you need to get to market and what your financial resources are. Remember, outsourcing has been used by many very successful companies to develop their MVP, such as Slack, which is valued at $3.8bn, Skype which sold to Microsoft for $8.5bn, as well as BaseCamp and Github.”However, outsourcing is not for everyone, and there are cultural factors to consider. Evan Varsamis, CEO at Gadget Flow states “I personally prefer having an in-house team to work on projects instead of hiring a new team/developer for every project. Most freelancers or outsourced teams care about delivering the project, not the best possible version of it but whatever releases the next payment.” He adds “Another issue (with outsourcing) is communication. If you have someone in-house, most probably there is chemistry between you so it’s more efficient to talk about projects and get things done.”In a nutshell: the pro’s and con’s of outsourcingAlexander Jarvis, startup mentor and co-founder of 3 startup “unicorns” usefully summarises the main benefits and challenges around outsourcing versus in-house development:Outsourcing Pro’sTeam: All the tech skills are at hand, and if team members suck, that’s not your problem, the shop needs to find someone else.Quality: If the outsourcer is really good, you get a product that actually works. Project management: Good shops will run a process, and you should typically expect a product on a fixed timeline.Time to market: If you are trying to ship an MVP, they may help you do that faster. If you are burning money, having a product to sell matters.Focus: If you aren’t a developer, you don’t have a clue. If you don’t initially have to deal with tech, you can focus on other aspects of getting set up, like marketing etc.Outsourcing Con’sPrice: They will be more expensive than if you are competent and have access to the right people in-house.Documentation: They might not document things properly, meaning you may eventually end up throwing out the whole codebase and start from scratchCode: Lower quality shops or independent devs may ship crap. Ok, you get going, but you still may have to dump everything eventually.Investors: Do not look favourably on third party work as there is no tech competency in house. You illustrated you can pay people, but not that you can ship anything.In-house Pro’sControl: You have more control over the process.Continuity: Easier for devs to work on code that they built.What are you?: This is the KEY point. If you are a TECH startup you need to be a tech startup. What are you otherwise? It needs to be a core competency.Investors: Prefer this as you have proven you can build a product and so will be more likely to be continually able to improve and adapt it for customers.In-house Con’sHiring: Do you know where to find the devs you need? Most founders don’t have a clue where to start.Firing: If your idea doesn’t work you need to scale down, which is hard.Mess up: If your devs don’t ship, you can’t launch at all. Can be better to have something expensive that works, then something sort of expensive that is pointless and you aren’t learning from customers.Jarvis summarises the decision as: “If you have cash, want to launch fast, and don’t know lots of developers then pay a quality shop to ship. On the other hand, if you have some cash, don’t want to throw out code, and will be fundraising soon then do it yourself!”So should a startup outsource its software development?As we have seen, the decision tree approach helps to clarify whether your startup business should even consider outsourcing development. Minh Q. Tran, Insurtech investor and founder of the AXA Seed Factory usefully summarises the decision as: “Outsource when tech is not key to your business. For example, if you are in crowdfunding, then the key to your success will be getting projects on the platform and getting investors so why not get a white label solution to kickstart your business.” He adds: “It’s different when tech is a barrier to entry to your business. For example, in regtech, you need to build a KYC platform to match EU regulations and this requires very specialist resource that is best deployed in-house.”Nevertheless, even if outsourcing is a potential solution, the decision to do so will depend on a number of business and cultural factors. And if outsourcing is the road you go down, then ensure it’s on the right basis. Paul O’Brien, founder of MediaTech Ventures, and Director for Texas of the global startup incubator Founder Institute provides this useful insight on the matter: “Outsource the job to be done. Not the reason it needs to be done nor the ownership of what needs to be done; outsource the skills and work in the same manner that you’d hire the best resources for any job. The challenge for entrepreneurs, is in appreciating that what is built still needs to be your IP. Outsourcing your software build should not be at the expense of losing your understanding, control, or ownership of what you’re doing.”The choice, as they say, is yours. But whilst there are never any guarantees that the decision you take will be entirely right, by ensuring you take it on an informed basis in terms of business needs, cultural fit, financial resources, etc. will mean you stand a much higher probability of success.Thanks for reading,Paolo
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Transcription 1
Hear No Evil
Voice: “Ictiva … Solus … Omishos.”
*From the darkness, a peculiar growth of noise percolates through the darkness, ethereal and unearthly*
*A voice fades in after the eerie and fairly random incantation…*
???: ... Finally got it working! I was afraid I’d have to ask Connor to look at this piece of junk... Suppose that’s what I get for renting a janky microphone from the library.
Now, if I just hit this button here…
*Click goes the microphone*
???: Light’s flashing… oh wait. Damn. It totally just recorded that.
*Another Click*
(Irritated blowing of air between lips)
???: Once more. Get this thing done. Then, Ultra Violent Sisters with Panni. Breathe.
(??? Inhales, and then exhales exasperatedly)
*Adjusting sounds of a nozzle can be heard, followed by a Click, and then:*
*Silence*
???: … Nope. Nothing. Nothing is coming to me.
*Click*
???: Who wants to even listen to a weirdo talk about college in a parallel dimension. That’d just be dumb.
*Shifting and shuffling noises are heard as ??? fidgits*
???: Professor Ynori will probably think it’s stupid. But I mean; what else am I going to use trans dimensional communication magic for anyway?
*There is a beat, a pause in soliloquy*
???: Oh, Welcome back. … What? No, don’t worry Euphrates: I wasn’t recording. And even if I was, I put a charm on the microphone so it’ll only pick up sounds from me.
(??? Snorts in response to something Euphrates suggests)
???: No, I will pass on your help. I don’t want Ynori to get on your ass for helping me out with my personal project for my screw up.
*Silence, followed by ??? chuckling*
???: Yes: exactly. “Delphius is a huge wiener!” would totally match my ‘journal’s’ aesthetic… Anyway; what are you doing back so soon from practice?
*The audience now connects that ‘???’ is symbology to represent Delphius*
(The other individual who is almost certainly attractive, and is named Euphrates, responds in the absence of noise)
Delphius: Oh, I gotcha. I’ll just check these emails and then I’ll bounce so you can have some peace…
(Delphius murmurs the summaries of emails)
Delphius: Advocates for Pixie Justice… Meatloaf in the cafeteria for dinner… Overdue assign-
DUDE! Come on! Warn me before you take off your boxers!
(Pause, most likely a retort from Euphrates after an uncalled for outburst)
Delphius: It’s not so much the fact you’re naked in the room, as it is the fact that I don’t fancy seeing your junk. Or much less, anyone’s.
(Another cessation of speaking, perhaps the Roommate apologizing, until Delphius is heard again)
Delphius: No, I’m sorry to be a pest… Honestly I should just get over it.
(Glorious void of sound transcends all until once again broken by the Prude)
Delphius: Naw, thanks for understanding… But um… Can you keep that book covering your - Yes. Exactly. Just like that. Don’t move.
*He pauses*
Delphius: Beautiful. Now then.
*A click, not unlike the microphone’s but ever so slightly higher pitched is emitted*
(Again, Delphius is muttering under his breath, reading aloud Email-Titles.)
Delphius: Mortals of earth; hear me! I come to you with tidings of - That’s spam mail… Spam, spam, Nigerian Prince, spam…
*It is most certainly a mouse click that is heard*
(An instance of Euphrates potentially speaking to Delphius is indicated by lack of noise)
Delphius: Yuuup. Yeah, be careful. Looks like a weirdo email going around right now, probably has some kinda virus… Anyway, I’m going go to the study room to record; see you in awhile.
*Nothing can be heard for several minutes*
*A door closes, swinging on ancient hinges*
Delphius: Okee dokee. No naked tiger roommates, just me and a boring project. Let’s do this.
*A crescendo of silence overtakes the senses*
*Click*
Delphius: Hello and welcome to Scaldor’s Grant Academy and I’m going to talk about I wanttttt…. Aaaahhhhvvvvvvv…
*Raspberry in response to the word vomit*
Delphius: Muh. . . What should I even do for an opening? … Radio show hosts do not get enough credit for their eloquence…
*Distinct Inspiration of Respiration*
*Prominent Exhalation*
Delphius: Think ... Focus. Cheesy quote about inspiration… Onu, Sod, Sert…
Got it. Just… Think.
*A complete breath cycle*
Delphius: Divines. Guide my tongue. Unload my mind. Free my heart.
*An eternity seems to pass but in a moment before the familiar Click is sounded*
Delphius: Across a vast, yet transient gap in reality, the world of Splinter exists as a pocket between realms. And in this little pocket, a reclusive collegiate student is struggling to pass Magicks Class. And this is his attempt at doing so. Through remedial class projects.
*Pause*
Delphius: You are mortals. And we are the Fae. You also call us monsters, cryptids, fiends, demons, spirits, and a whole grocery list of other things. But no matter what you call us, we do exist. Just not on Earth. Not anymore, since humans discovered the Fae’s secret to magic.
(There is a flicker of doubt in Delphius’ voice)
Delphius: Do humans even know about magic… ?
I mean: I’m sure you’ve been introduced to the idea of magic. I don’t really know what humans do for their education on that topic. I’ll explain, just in case.
Anything and everything considered miraculous could be called ‘magic’. Eurasian seas being parted, summoning devils to grant you omniscience, finding your missing car keys on the first attempt. That sort of thing. That is what we would and should consider ‘magical’ in nature. Makes sense? No? We’ll try another time.
Now originally, we, the Fae, were the only ones with magic. But there’s a price that comes with such power. No free lunch syndrome, I’ve heard it called.
(Delphius scoffs, then resumes his rant)
Delphius: Being gifted with magic, we also were given a price; our free will.
Now, that doesn’t mean we can’t go to the supermarket whenever we please, or that we can’t worship the Divines as we like. Oh no. It’s something a little more devious and subtle.
Fae have True Names. As in, a secret name that, if a Mortal or other Fae Creature discovered it, we as an individual would be totally and entirely enslaved to the holder of our True Name. If they so chose to do so. Three guesses as to what human magi did that figured out these names?
That’s right! You! The person staring at the glowing rectangle! Many Fae became the slaves of Mankind with this finding!
*A clapping is heard, the noise as sarcastic as percussive noise can be made*
Delphius: With this discovery, our birthright of magic became our undoing. By binding Fae with their True Names, humans could finally use magic. Our magic. And a lot of us over on Splinter’s side are still very afraid of that possibility.
I don’t see it productive to be afraid, and totally blame mortals. I mean, I’m sure humans were in the right to fear humongous, terrifyingly ugly, and/or magic wielding creatures running around your neck of the woods. Frankly, I’d probably try to figure out how to get them to do what I’d want too. But all the same; the Fae of old knew that they were no longer welcome on Terra, or Earth as ‘y’all’ call it. So, we tore off a chunk of the realm of Terra, and with it, created Splinter, where the Fae have lived ever since.
*A moment of consideration brings about a break in monologue*
Delphius: Oh, and just so you humans don’t feel like you were cheated; each and every one of you has entirely free will. Sure, there may be a possibility you have true names, but even in any books on the subject, you can’t be bound by your soul to do some weirdo sadist’s biddings. Methinks that, instead, it has something to do with contracts … I dunno; probably not important. But it only makes sense that nothing in this universe is so clean cut. Which leads me to my next talking point.
There are scars from the the creation of Splinter, and the Gap, which is space in realms between Terra and Splinter. As the ‘Scar’ implies, it’s not a clean cut. There are still portions of our worlds that are connected. Probably for the best anyway; it’d probably mean oblivion for the Fae if we were entirely secluded, and cut off from Terra.
Butthese scars; the Fae call them Tethers. Tethers are points where both Splinter and Terra overlap, existing in the same time and space as each other. There are other weird properties about Tethers too, but short and sweet, that’s why humans see weird crap they can’t explain. Mostly.
(There is a sucking sound, as though Delphius is biting his lip in ponderation)
Delphius: It comes to my attention the idea of tethers may be too abstract from that description. Try this approach to try and understand Tethers:
they are Crystal Pillars. You can see through them but they also prevent the roof from falling down on your head.
(Delphius says nothing for a moment, evaluating his suggestion)
Delphius: ... On second thought, please try to erase that from your mind and draw whatever other conclusions you want to about Tethers. It is probably much more accurate.
(An obvious cough to serve as a weak diversion is performed)
Delphius: Crappy analogies aside, the next time you see flashing, unidentified lights randomly dancing around the sky? It’s probably some Splintarian Father playing Lazertag with his son. Mysterious footsteps in your attic? Probably a mage pacing around. Ghost finder app on your phone going nuts? … You should go get that checked out.
Did I mention that Lazertag is a professional sport here?
I will apologize for so suddenly bringing it up, but I do think I should make it clear: I only know a few things about lazertag because of my siblings. I do not ‘sport’ as many would say. So don’t ask me the details please. It gets complicated.
*Word stew is chewed about in Delphius’ mouth before the thought continues*
Delphius: … I’ll be real with you; no school facts, just me facts.
I don’t do much of anything. That’s how I like it. School is boring because I hate lecture, physical activity is too draining and involves too many people, and the only reason I am doing this remedial project is so I can eventually get credit for this magic class.
Now I know what you’re probably thinking. “Magic class?! Does this mean you are getting an education in the arcane arts at a center of learning that is similar to a magnificent and copyrighted academy of the mystical? How could you not be excited?!”
Yes, no, and quite simply are my answers, and in this order. I can try to explain my college some other time, but I assure you; if I actually get this recording approved, you’ll be disappointed. There are not many ‘whimsical’ things to discover in the eternal labyrinth in the basement. Far from it.
Really? School time means studying for biology, praying you get a pass on your English paper, and hoping that blob of brown goo you concocted in Homemaker’s Alchemy is not Caustic to skin.
So I’ll share the short story for now: Skalder’s University. It is one of the major magical universities of Splinter. I attend Skalder’s. Our mascot is a Toad so I am a Warter. So are my moms... they are Alumni.
*A distinct gurgling and gnashing of teeth can be heard, as well as an apprehensive “Hmmm…”*
Delphius: My friends, are Warters if they attend Skalders. Skalder’s is an ancient school, dusty old people and faculty: you’ll probably never see it because humans should stay out of Splinter. Because of previously mentioned issues and prejudices.
*Bitter chuckling*
Delphius: So now here’s the kicker; why bother paying ludicrous amounts of drachma to attend a stuffy school that doesn’t even offer your major of interest? The instruments.
The incredible amount of thaumaturgical instruments available to students is astounding. With these tools, I can perform research on …
(A notable pause. Delphius seems hesitant to continue his statement, but relinquishes his thought)
Delphius: Research the mortal world. Which, in my eyes, seems so much more interesting than anything magic could offer.
(Deliberate silence meant for building suspense is shattered just as suddenly as appearing)
Delphius: I mean, think about it! Humans serve as the role models for our language and customs in Splinter. And we’ve taken so many ideas from you guys: and I want to just know more about you. And I can do that while I’m at Skalders. There’s not a chance at home cause I couldn’t afford the instruments or equipment. Heck; even if I could, I’d probably just waste my time with a hand down my pants watching Kitsune Frenzy Force Versus the Kappa Commandos.
Now I know this sounds like a bad idea, being so interested in humans while I’m a Fae being. But I assure you; I’m not planning on trading my voice to a sea witch or some weird deal like that. I think I’ve heard about a movie that goes like that, and I don’t fancy becoming seafoam. Or having a potential love interest become magically seducted. Been there, done that. Not fun, let me tell you...
(There is an uncomfortable tension in the air as a faint ringing, or buzzing sounds now permeates the broadcast)
Delphius: This is my interest, though. My thing. My vocation. I can feel it in my incredibly skinny bones. I want to know about humanity.To try and envision what it’d be like to have humanity instead of Faeship. I want to see what humans do with their free will; how they handle life’s problems without magic so readily available. Why they think like they do, what they think of magic.
Probably doesn’t sound exciting, but coming from someone who doesn’t even know his ancestral heritage, I find the idea exciting…
(Delphius pauses and plays with an idea)
Delphius: Wouldn’t it be something if I were part human? And I spend hours upon hours researching them only to discover that I have lineage of mankind running in my veins? . . .
(There is a sharp halt of momentum, and a trailing, “Eh…”)
Delphius: Actually, no: that would make for some sort of really cliche drama that I actually don’t fancy much. The more I think about it, I pray to the divines that’s not the case. It’d be a really crappy, ironic plot twist to my life. But I could totally see it too.
*There is perchance an instance of Delphius waving his hand ambivalently, though the sound of the action cannot be captured*
Delphius: Anyways, ignoring that silly thought, I should probably wrap up this recording. The microphone is violently shaking and foaming at the mouth, which means it’s low on battery.
I know that this will very likely never reach human ears, but all the same; thank you. It means a lot that you took the time to listen. Especially you, Dr. Ynori. I appreciate this opportunity.
This is Delphi, signing out.
*Click*
#radiodrama#script#magic#college#hottiger#weirdo#weirdowithtoomuchtime#weirdowithnotenoughtime?#ginger#medium#splinter#fantasy
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