quinnmitchellfey-blog

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

PREVIOUSLY ON FEYWILD

Lark, standing in front of the entire cast: Let me get this straight. Does anyone here NOT have amnesia?

Malachite: Not sure.

Willow: I dunno.

Quinn: Wow, this is awesome! When I grow up I’m gonna have so much amnesia.

Davey: Me too. I mean, I have it now, but I forgot.

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forcstfire‌:

“I don’t really think I have to prove anything, do I?” Forest remarked, rolling his eyes playfully before heading off in the direction of the queue. Naturally there was a line, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the Cyclone without one, at least not on nice days like today.

It was nice to see Quinn enjoying themselves for once. He wasn’t sure when the last time was that he saw a smile on their face - unless, maybe, it was hidden behind that camera of theirs. But even then he felt like it was coming less often lately. Not that he blamed them. It was hard to smile when your life seemed to have a timer quickly dwindling. 

“Of course I’ve been on it before. How is that even a question?” 

Quinn rolled their eyes back, but followed happily. “Maybe you’re right. I guess that’s the benefit of being, like, the coach or the teach. You never have to prove yourself, you just have automatic authority.” As they reached the end of the line, Quinn fussed with their camera a little. They took a couple of absent shots -- the crowd of people ahead of them, the Cyclone towering above, two teenagers comparing Pokemon Go! screens.

At Forest’s haughty response, though, they looked up wearing a bright grin. “I dunno, dude! I don’t know your life!” It was meant as a joke, but there was more than a little truth to it. More truth than Quinn would like anyway. “There are probably people who live in the city who have never been on the Cyclone. Who have never even been to Coney Island.” Leaning against one of the railings set up, Quinn tilted their head back to watch the roller-coaster’s cars go by. “We used to come, like, almost every summer, practically.”

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camelliafairchild‌:

“Merci,” Thank you, she said, flashing the other a small wink as she turned her shoulder up. Camellia nodded at them, “I am not sure if I have ever heard anyone speak Latin. So I am certain that you would do a lovely job.” A nod, at the next comment. “Mhm. I would do so absolutely. Order a croissant and tea in their café - or, no - order a croissant and tea in a proper café, somewhere where you can sit outside and watch the world. She let out a small, but happy sigh.

“Thank you, I have heard that parts of California have quite a few of them, but yes - most people do not usually know what they are. I am glad you find them pretty, though.” She grinned again, pleased at how easy it was to talk to this human. “True. I am not so certain I would go for, um, patron saint, but that is a nice sort of comparison.” But perhaps so, in a way. I am not sure. “I have gotten ‘so, Camilla?’ more than once, though.” She gave a small rolling of her eyes. But it was not out of any sort of malicious intent - as was practically always the case with her.

“I believe you can be. Or, at least have a sort of attitude about success.” Camellia paused. “Not that - I do not mean to say that you should always be happy, but if you think your work is good, I hope you can have success.” She looked back to Van Gogh. “The world was less accepting back then, of differences. Differences in art, in romance, in all sorts of things - I like to think that, were he starting now, he would have had greater initial success.” She looked down, and then over to Quinn. “But perhaps that is too naïve of me to think.”

They gave a little smirk, shrugging. “No one speaks Latin. Not really. Just, like, lawyers. And pretentious people,” they joked. “And people obsessed with Harry Potter,” they added with a grin. “It definitely won’t help me that much if I ever want to wander around Europe.” Maybe in Italy, maybe. It seemed Camellia had their French vacation all planned out. That wouldn’t be their first choice of a visit -- probably Greece or Ireland. Some place with more wilderness to explore.

Quinn laughed and nodded as Camellia related their name struggles. “I can imagine. Well, I promise to never get your name wrong. Especially now that I’ve seen the flower it comes from.” They had never had that issue as their name was relatively easy. The worst that happened to them was to be misgendered. Which was more than a case of just their name being ambiguous anyway.

Quinn smiled to themself as the girl went on. “Thanks,” they commented. “That’s nice of you to say.” They swiveled a little to find one of the self-portraits Van Gogh had done, took in the blue eyes. “I don’t know if it’s naive,” they trailed, still meeting the eyes of a long-dead artist. “Maybe just optimistic. Even with more acceptance, people still struggle. He might have had the same problems if he were alive now. Or he might have had different ones.” They shrugged a little, passing a smile to their new friend. “I’m of the believe that no one is born in the wrong time. Either way, I’m very glad that we all get to enjoy Van Gogh here.”

first post-impression

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whyvette‌:

“Fido,” Yvette said, rolling her eyes a little. “I was thirteen when I got him, so please forgive me. We weren’t planning on keeping him, um, originally. I begged, though.”

The easiest way to Yvette’s heart was a healthy adoration of her beloved dog. Not for the first time, she smiled to think that he had aged pretty well. Other dogs would be developing arthritis at this point; she watched for it closely but it never appeared. He was about as active and energetic as a dog half his age. 

“I’m okay, actually–I was, uh, meant to stay on the ground I think. Heights …” She wobbled her hand. “But thank you! He’s just my excuse. Are you–are you a professional photographer?”  

Quinn snorted out a laugh at the name. “I like it,” they admitted, still scrubbing at the dog’s ear. “It suits him, I think. Isn’t that right, Fido?”

It was funny, the way the city worked. You could meet someone in a bar downtown and then run into them at a park on Coney Island. However, it did make Quinn suspicious in some ways. Especially since this girl had been asking about feyry activity, without knowing that’s what she was on to.

They gave a placating smile and nodded, though they couldn’t imagine that. Quinn loved heights -- their mom used to tease that it was because they were so short. “Ah... Define professional? I’m trying to be. Or maybe more of an artist than, like, an events photographer or anything like that.” Grinning a little, they bobbed their head at Fido. “So I can’t promise that your dog is gonna be famous or anything.”

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forcstfire‌:

Forest hadn’t been on the roller coaster for years, but of course Quinn was probably right, it would be fun. Wouldn’t it? It had been so long since he was able to just relax and let loose, he wasn’t even sure he could fine enjoyment through it. There was far too much pressure on him to get these kids through their games. There was also the whole thing of trying to make it not seem like he was totally out of his depths here, which tended to just get that much more difficult the more wins the players managed to pull under his guidance. Expectations were high, and he didn’t like the idea of disappointing Quinn. 

Though of course, it wasn’t as if riding a roller coaster would change anything. “You must not know me very well if you think I’d be afraid of a roller coaster,” Forest scoffed, though the smile he sent in their direction betrayed any true anger, “C’mon.” With that he waved them towards the line.

Quinn smirked as Forest fired back and they were pleased that he was playing along. “Gonna have to prove it then, aren’t you, Coach?” Their hands were fix on their hips, playful challenge still apparent. At Forest’s prompting, Quinn clapped once in excitement and trotted after him. “Awesome!” they crowd happily.

As they came upon the end of the line, Quinn asked, “You’ve been on it before, right?” Forest was from New York, they were pretty sure. Still, though, not everyone got out to Coney Island. It had been a popular spot for Quinn and their mother in the summer and Quinn loved rides, the Cyclone was no exception. 

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

sacrificial bull & defeat blight!

Sacrificial Bull: For an inner monologue my muse has about yours.

I’m not even really sure what she does? Something with the loans and all, I know that? I don’t know. If I’m being honest I barely understand that venture at all so. And she’s so like the other fey in a lot of ways, with the uptown style and sort of...bored look? But with Oleander, at least, you can tell there’s something more there? Like, there’s more that she cares about. Maybe it’s just because of all the books and everything. She just doesn’t seem as frivolous as some of the other fey, other Seelie, do.

Defeat Blight: For a wishlist of plot ideas for our muses.

these two obv need to run around the Seelie Court together

guided tour of the library

taking picTURES please

talking about fidchell and oleander attempting to change quinn’s mind about the fey

i’d love for quinn to find out that it is sometimes oleander’s job to sentence those who can’t pay their loans to being players. 

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

take it easy | the eagles

take it easy, take it easy don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

Defeat Blight and/or Harvest Reaping

Defeat Blight: For a wishlist of plot ideas for our muses.

talk. through. your. parental. issues. please.

quinn also needs someone to complain to about fidchell & i feel like jasmine might be a sympathetic ear

quinn needs to show off how much they love maynooth to someone. plus that’ll get jasmine into maynooth~

quinn, for all their alignment as a Seelie player, has more of an Unseelie taste. they could bond with jas over that, and show them the downtown side of things.

Harvest Reaping: For some headcanons about our muses.

just #done coworkers. they constantly bitch about the casino – everything from annoying customers to adare

honestly, quinn relates to demifey a lot because they’re half-human but still a part of the Court, seen as outsiders to the Seelie. I think that’s why they gravitated to Jasmine in the first place, and more so her than her sister

quinn has a teeny little jasmine plant on their window sill and every so often they think of Jasmine when they look at it

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

inspirational message or paranoid sorcerers? #nyc #graffiti

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

sacrificial bull and honey wine 👀👀 for emberino

Sacrificial Bull: For an inner monologue my muse has about yours.

I should not be friends with her. I really shouldn’t. She’s, like, the muscle of the Court, or whatever. Her job is basically to hurt people, okay, and all for the King. So maybe she’d be a helpful friend, in terms of, like, learning how to harm people. Because that’s a skill that I need to have, now. Because that’s what my life is, now. The point is, though, I shouldn’t get close to someone who’s so into what the fey are all about and all. Human lives have absolutely no value to them -- I’m probably just another plaything to her. Just something to distract for a little fun.

When I die, she won’t care.

Honey Wine: For my muse to describe yours while ridiculously drunk.

“She knows Leonardo DiCaprio. Okay? Do I have to say anything else? I am two degrees of Kevin Bacon from Leonardo DiCaprio! Or maybe it would be one, now, since I’ve been to one of his parties. Oh yeah, that too: she brought me to a party on Leonardo DiCaprio’s yacht. There were supermodels there. But anyway, Ember is hilarious and super-fun and she’s one of those that looks like she could kill you in ten seconds flat and could kill you in ten seconds flat, okay. Basically, don’t give her an opening, because she will kill you. And it only takes her, like, ten seconds to change her mind or mood about something so, like, be careful with her. If you get on her good side, though. Man, are you in for some fun.”

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Defeat blight for emmet

Defeat Blight: For a wish list of plot ideas for our muses.

downtown hooligans being downtown hooligans

quinn asking emmet for something specific from maynooth

esp maybe something they want for their mom

so they can talk about their mom and emmet can talk about his aunt

bonding over the way fey think about humans!!! please!!! quinn needs someone to talk to about this who isn’t fey

video games! take them to one of those underground arcades that still have the old school consoles

emmet teaching quinn coding and being shocked when they pick it up almost immediately (what, like it’s hard?)

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

barter trade + sacrificial bull

Barter Trade: For your muse’s contact photo and ringtone in my muse’s phone.

Contact Name: king/bossRingtone: Party in the USA - Miley CyrusContact Photo:

Sacrificial Bull: For an inner monologue my muse has about yours.

Yes, we get it, you’re king of all the fey, long may you reign and party or whatever. I guess I’ll just be over here, waiting for my turn for a shot at a wish, and probably dying in the process, as my mother gets further and further from me. Never mind that you could fix all that with, literally, a snap of your fingers. No, I have to go ahead and die trying for it. Or kill, like, nine other people. I don’t want to kill nine people. I don’t want to kill anyone! But our lives are meaningless, right? We’re just like moths to you, or mayflies.

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Honey Wine

Honey Wine: For my muse to describe yours while ridiculously drunk.

“Oh my god! She’s such a sweetheart! And she’s so, like...easy to talk to? Usually the people you meet at the Met suck. Or they’re tourists. But she was neither and we talked about Van Gogh and stuff. I’m, like, 90% sure she’s Seelie, though. Her name is a flower and not a common one, and I’ve met enough fey to know what that probably means. But even if she is fey, like, I wouldn’t even mind because we talked about art and it wasn’t even the slightest bit pretentious which is so hard to find. I bet she and Brielle would get along. I should never introduce them, or else they’ll be best friends and never be friends with me again.”

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

bluenforcer‌:

Cobalt’s nose wrinkled just a bit as he eyed up the so-called Cylone. Cobalt remembered well the last time a hurricane had rattled the windows in New York– when Sandy hit in 2012, the flooded underground and the problems for the casino that ensued had been some of the lesser of their concerns. He’d never really understood mankind’s tendency for naming the mundane after catastrophes. He reckoned part of it was the lack of understanding exactly where much of the wildness in their world came from. 

“I’ve– never ‘done’ a ride before. At least not one like that.” It was the truth: he was born before cars and coasters alike, and had never quite trusted either to be as safe as the general population claimed them to be. “I rode on the teacups once at Disney. I puked. Turkey leg and funnel cake. Not so great on their way back up. You– like those things?”

Quinn cocked their head a little, eyes narrowed. “Wait, wait, wait. Dude. Are you telling me that you’ve never been on a roller-coaster?” They leaned in a little, delight clear over their features. “Oh, hell yes! Cobalt! We are so breaking your roller-coaster virginity right now!” They giggled, bouncing on their feet a little. It was just more than a little amusing to imagine. A fey older than time (or at least older than Quinn could think) had never ridden a roller-coaster. “I don’t just like them, I love them. My mom would take me here all the time when I was little. I couldnt get enough.” It twinged a little, to think of their mom, but Quinn let it sink back. Now wasn’t the time for wallowing, not tonight. “Please,” she all but begged. “Please, let me show you exactly why I love ‘these things.’” In all honestly, this might end in disaster. Cobalt didn’t really seem like the thrill-seeking type. In fact, roller-coasters seemed more Willow’s speed than his. But there was no way Quinn was going to let this opportunity pass. 

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camelliafairchild‌:

“Better than I am, I sometimes refuse to try new things,” she paused, making a small face. “I mean - that is not to say I am unwilling to experience the new, but more so that I can be rather particular at times.” Camellia blushed. “Well, it may be a bit childish to call such a place a perfect dream, but I should like to visit, nonetheless.” She raised an eyebrow, “Mais oui, j’adore le français.” But yes, I love French. In a perfect accent, but not showing off - because that was not her nature. “My mom let me pick what languages I wanted to learn, and French is a language well-worth knowing. At least in my opinion.” She shrugged.

“The plant is also one with which you can make tea, but I believe I am named more for the flower. Wait, here,” she pulled out her phone and typed in a quick Google Image search, pulling up a few photo examples of the flower. She was fond of it, and she did attribute a great deal of that to the fact that she shared its name, but Camellia liked to think that she would have been fond, regardless. 

“You do photography? Might I have seen an exhibition? My friend sometimes takes photos of me, because I guess I am fairly photogenic, and I have had portraits done a few times professionally, but I do not know much about it, sadly.” She let out a light, bell-like laugh at their comment. “Quite so,” she continued, a partial mockery, “I cannot say I understand the brush stroke technique nor the manner of emotions he felt while creating.” She could, were she have been able to touch him, but her Hand didn’t work on long-dead people and inanimate objects.

Quinn was glad that this girl had chosen her seat next to them, had smiled and broached a conversation. Her lightness and ease had cut through the slightly dark mood that Quinn had entered the museum with. “I’ll say you’ve got it pretty down pat,” they said with a smile at the girl’s French. “I struggled my way through Latin but it’s not as much fun to speak because, you know, dead language.” Shaking their head, they went on, “But either way, I’d say you’re all set to visit France. And you can even stop off at the Louvre, too, while you’re there.”

Shuffling a little closer, Quinn leaned in to see Camellia’s namesake. “Ooh, it’s pretty!” they exclaimed. “Really different from most other flowers.” If Quinn didn’t have such a black thumb, they might have thought to add some camellias to their collection of plants. However, they knew only succulents were safe to consider. “That’s really cool, though,” Quinn said thoughtfully. “Like, you might not have a key-chain with your name on it, but there’s something tangible, in the real world, that links to your name. Almost like having a patron saint or something.” They wondered if the fey felt like that with their names. They’d have to ask Tiger.

“Oh,” they began, blushing a little. “No, probably not. I mean, I sold a few prints but it’s nothing serious or anything. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d like it to be.” They shrugged a little, turning their eyes back to the Van Gogh. “But how many people can make a living off of their art, right? Even he wasn’t successful until he died,” they added, waving a hand at the paintings around them.

first post-impression

[quinnmitchellfey-blog]

touchtheflames‌:

“Yes, you’ll try die happy but then I’ll have to dive in after you and while I admit that I look amazing dripping wet, it’s not really a look I want to have today.” Ember responded, barely able to keep any sharpness from her tone when she caught Quinn’s comment about death. 

For some reason, it irked her. Of course, it could have been the recent darkness that loomed over Fidchell and the fire but a part of Ember truly didn’t want to think of tiny Quinn Mitchell’s corpse. She didn’t want to think of Quinn sinking into the depths of the ocean or falling under someone’s axe. Ember didn’t want to think about the evils in the world anymore - not when she constantly took them home for work. She wanted to drink and laugh and flirt and feel the sun on her face. She simply wanted to be with her friend. 

Ember look at Quinn, expression light and playful. “Play your cards right, Quinn and you might even end up sharing Leo’s personal hot tub with some rich, single actors.” She glanced around, lowering her voice to a comic stage-whisper. “Maybe even some people whose names are along the line of Pris Cine and Rargot Mobbie.” A laugh escaped her before a softer smile graced her lips. “You’re gonna have fun today, Quinn. I’ll make sure of it.”

Quinn balked a little at Ember’s response -- clearly the joke hadn’t landed. Maybe because, for them, death was always just around the corner, lurking under the stairs? Quinn wasn’t sure but they attempted to let it roll over their shoulders. Ember had been kind enough to invite them along, out of everyone she could have chosen. Quinn was out to prove their gratitude. “You’re right, though. You can pull off any look.”

As Ember drawled out potential hot-tub-mates, it was all Quinn could do but groan in disbelief. “Both,” they answered back, nodding vigorously. “I’ll take both.” Leaning in a little closer, Quinn touched their champagne flute against Ember’s. A toast to the utterly ridiculous and utterly beautiful  turn their life had taken today. 

Licking their lips, Quinn couldn’t contain it anymore. Everything was so stunning and even if it wasn’t, it was hard for them not to take pictures. It was like a reflex, a second skin, to them. “Do you think I’ll get in trouble?” they wanted to know, raising their camera and giving it a little jostle. “I don’t want to, like, seem out of place?” They couldn’t imagine not looking out of place, though. Confidence and social graces came easily to them, but this was quite another thing indeed.

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forcstfire‌:

“Normally I’d deny that a lunar eclipse could have any power, but I don’t know what to believe anymore, so I’ll like you have that.” A few years ago he would’ve said magic wasn’t a real thing, fey didn’t exist, there weren’t turf wars in NYC - and it would’ve pretty much all been wrong. But perhaps he would’ve been happier without that knowledge. 

His eyes shifted up towards the roller coaster that loomed above their heads, pursing his lips slightly as if he were deliberating Quinn’s offer before his shoulders lifted in a subtle shrug. “If you insist.” 

Again, they scoffed a little at Forest’s hedging around the moon and its power. Yeah -- fairies were real after all, who was to say the moon didn’t hold some power too? And the two of them were a little unique among the fey, with regards to discovering magic. Both of them had been pulled from pretty normal lives into this world of fey and chance and danger. Forest had chosen to remain in that world, even.

“I don’t insist,” they answered back, a little hesitance at the edges of their smile. “But I do think it would be fun and that you’ll enjoy it.” Perking up once more, Quinn added, “And if you don’t, I’ll have to assume that it’s because you’re scared and I’ll tell everyone that.”