#clarabelle cards

[clarabelleblog]

Only 10 Years

[toontownlibrary]

Series 1 Toonography cards.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Now I'm wondering with both of these card reveals, is this meant to be like some kind of roleswap/genderswap AU of the Three Musketeers DTV? that could mean Clarabelle may also be a musketeer in the future?

LORCANA PEOPLE, WE NEED THE LORE. WE NEED NOVELS BEHIND THESE THINGS. PLEASE. PLEEEEEEEEAAAASEEEE

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Based on the twst ghost bride event, what if there was like a ghost groom instead that kidnapped Yuu to be his bride? Sure, the boys would fight to rescue Yuu unlike what they did with Idia, but they also boost their chances of success by rallying up everyone in the House Mouse.

Ace pops his head through the mirror to the club: Yuu's been kidnapped by ghosts.

Everyone: *yelling, kicking up a fuss, flipping tables, the mob from Beauty and the Beast raising pitchforks, card soldiers and Maleficent's goons lining up, Donald once again going: MY CHILD!!!

They're all gonna being kicking down the school doors playing ghostbusters all the way.

And when everything is done and Yuu has been rescued, people are slyly suggesting: "well, since you're in a wedding dress and the decorations are still up... you could still get married." *everyone side eyes their favourite twst boy

OKAY THIS IS ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS 🤣🤣🤣

I love how it's not even the actual main characters. Like the club gets told the news and before anyone even blinks, the henchmen have all gone to rescue her whilst everyone else are just sitting there.

Clarabelle: Shouldn't we do something about that?

Maleficent: *sipping her tea* No need. Diablo's a great babysitter.

Five minutes latter they all come back carrying a dazed Yuu still in her wedding dress like it was no big deal at all.

I just love the idea of Yuu being close to the henchmen/NRC NPCs.

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 7

Summary: Interview

A/n: Sorry for any inconsistencies and spelling errors, enjoyyyyyy!

Pt.6Pt.5 Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

____________________________________

Chapter 7: Interview

The games were Tomorrow. Today was your last day of peace and possibly life. Most of the time today was supposed to be spent preparing for the interview, however, Dolly and Rasmey gave you two or three hours of bliss before having to prepare. 

You were positive Buckley was out in the rose garden with Dolly. It was only natural for him to want to be outside instead of cooped in like you. Ramsey had come in to check on you twice but eventually stopped when he assumed you were sleeping. In reality, you were crying. Crying the whole two hours mourning the fact that you’d never get to see the faces of your family again. 

You remembered Amaranto and how the two of you would’ve been having breakfast together at this time. Or how you would have packed your Pa a lunch to take to work. You thought about those Sunday afternoons spent sitting on the dry grass with a blanket, just the three of you talking about life and reminiscing about your mother, occasionally eating something special when they’d work overtime. 

You thought about the times you spent with Clarabell in the angry rivers, scared out of your mind that a peacekeeper would come and hurt you both, but having so much fun in the water that you forgot that they even existed in the first place. 

Your mind went to Buckley. It was crazy how you went from greeting each other in the morning at school to being with each other every day. He looked out of place in the Capitol, and so did you. It was odd seeing someone from home on the screen, but you guessed that’s how he felt about you too. The two of you had grown closer than you would have ever at home. That’s when you started realizing that you should’ve appreciated everything you had at home instead of slowly isolating yourself as you grew up. 

Wiping the snot from your nose you decided to get up and wash your face. The clock read 12, and that meant it was time for your mentors to get you interview-ready. The actual interview itself was to start at 6 pm. However, you still had to practice your speech and what you were going to say to several different questions. The whole point was to make you appealing to not only the sponsors but the Capitol as a whole. After all, the sooner the tributes get used to the Capitol’s mannerisms, the better the victor will adapt. 

“Alright, let's try this again.” It had been thirteen minutes and Pradain was still struggling to get you to sit up straight. 

“Come on, we started an hour ago, I’m sure they can learn how to sit up straight later. What’s important is that we get them to speak clearly and with charm.” Dolly protested as Pradain pressed a hand to your back to get you upright. 

Pradain’s outfit consisted of satin gloves, and a matching dress that towered to his ankles, his feet adorned with five-inch  platforms. It was beyond you how he had learned to walk in those. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Dolly, this is a must when it comes to Capitol mannerisms. Now up!” Groaning you forcefully sat up, your shoulders still drooping.

“Ah! See- I thought you were shaped weird, but you’re just not lifting your shoulders.” He clasped his hands onto them, bringing them up and fixing your head’s posture. “See? That wasn’t too bad. Now let’s do it again.” He instructed, 

You looked over at Buckley- who had a scarf tied around him and the chair, propping him up straight. “I think I got it.” The poor boy pleaded to be untied. 

“You stay. And you,” He pointed at you, “Up!” 

Ramsey rolled his eyes. “Alright well, I’m just gonna go ahead and start reading these questions. Ramsey was already dressed in his suit claiming that he didn’t want to put it on later, so he decided to put it on now. 

He shuffled through some cards with common interview questions. “Alright, Buck-o this one’s for you. How would you describe home?” 

Buckley perked up, “Easy- Home is-” 

“AH! This isn’t a test, it's an interview. Tell them why you like home, what makes it special. Start with, ‘Well, home to me is-’” Pradain scolded Buckley. 

“Right, ok.” He nodded and looked at Ramsey to reread the card. 

“How would you describe home?” You looked over at Dolly, your face bored and uninterested. She noticed it and ushered you to pay attention to Buckley, sitting up straight which reminded you to sit up as well. Your back was on fire, you always thought you had an okay posture, but only now knew that it was too forward leaning. 

“Home to me is..” He stopped to think, his nose twitching as he was lost in thought, “Home to me is the yellow sunset, the dirt on my boots after a long day of work, the voices of my siblings arguing over a small toy, the pretty girls fluttering their eyelashes at me, the way their hair falls on their shoulders, and how round their-” 

“Okay, no stop- you’re getting distracted.” You laughed at Buckley’s response, starting nicely but going off-topic. 

“Alright then, at least you’ll make them laugh. You’ve got a good voice too Buckley, nice start.” Dolly tried making the best of things. 

“Same Question for you (Y/n). How would you describe home?” Ramsey put the cards down, his tired eyes looking at you as he waited for your response. 

“Any time now.” Spoke up Pradain. 

“Home to me is…Home to me is.” There was about a three-second pause, “My Brother. My Pa. Our little house by the wheat fields, and the river that runs through 10.” It wasn’t much, but it’s all that could come to mind. 

“That’s a start.” Dolly smiled. 

“We need you to say more, and don’t be afraid to get emotional, the Capitol loves that. They eat it up.” Ramsey crossed his legs. “We’re gonna have a long day.” He sighed. 

4 pm came quicker than anticipated. In the period you’d been practicing you were able to learn to project your voice, and Buckley learned how to be quieter. The two of you learned some fancy words, though you doubted you’d use them in a genuine sentence. 

Sashay and the rest of the stylists waited for you down at the stylist quarters where you were ready to get replucked like a chicken. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but the stinging feeling was still there. After you got bathed, they began working on your hair. Its (H/c) color being amplified and made brighter as they put some chemicals on it. It smelled foul, far worse than the cow poop at home. 

Your nails were painted black and white, You mentally groaned knowing where this was going. When your hair was finally dried they worked to braid it, putting some turquoise accessories on you before handing you to Sashay. 

She smiled brightly at you and kissed your cheek, “My my don’t you look beautiful.” She complimented taking your hand and leading you to the hanger where a long sleek cow print dress hung. It looked to have fur on it, and you assumed it’d come from home. 

“You’re going to look amazing.” She said excitedly as she instructed you to take your robe off. Sashay herself was dressed in all black, contrasting with what Dolly was wearing- white. You assumed the whole theme surrounding 10 would be cow print, and you were right. She helped you put the dress on, making some adjustments while it was on you so it would hug your figure better. It draped down longer on one end, the other end having a slit and exposing much of your leg. Below you wore some high-heeled boots that you thought looked ridiculous, but Sashay seemed enamored by them. She adjusted a belt on your hips- also containing hints of turquoise, and finally a necklace on you, tying the look together. 

“Oh!” She sighed clasping her hands together, “(Y/n), when you go home I guarantee you every man will want your hand in marriage.” She cooed as she circled you. “Perfect, now all we need is makeup.” The lady sat you down for another hour and a half of makeup application. You liked Sashay, she was more level-headed than Pradain and had such eloquence to her, however, the mix of having to speak in front of millions, and the games being tomorrow was not settling in right. Ramsey had to ask Pradain for a pill that would calm down your stomach. 

Sashay was escorting you out to the backstage area where Dolly and Ramsey were waiting. Ramsey was wearing black, Pradain opting to wear white, both of them sticking to the theme Pradain and Sashay had planned. You looked around for Buckley but he was nowhere in sight. 

“Wow.” Ramsey let out a long whistle, “You do not look like yourself at all.” He said admiring Sashay’s work. 

“(Y/n), you look stunning.” Dolly’s mouth was agape as she went to hold your arm and observe you. Your hair had been taken out of the braids, leaving behind curls in its place. 

“I can’t walk in these.” You whispered to her frantically. You didn’t want to fall on stage, but that seemed like something that would happen in your near future. 

She laughed, her smokey eyes closing making it look like she had hollowed eyes, “It’ll be fine, just try not to think about it.” She assured you. 

The stage was light as people began to flood the venue. There were stagehands all over the place, getting things set and ready. More tributes flowed in, you shrank back when you realized how extra Sashay had been with your interview gown since the others looked to be more playful and simple. People kept staring at you as they walked in, and that was a bad thing in your book. Eventually, Buckley came in. His stylist next to him as they chatted about god knows what. When he spotted you he froze slightly, keeping his gaze on you as they made their way to the group.

His hair was slicked back, his face looking more square but in a good way. He had some makeup on, but it was only to even out his tone, his freckles had been redrawn over his real ones since the base of his makeup had covered them. He wore a black suit, with hints of cow print on the inner side and flaps that poked out towards the neck of the suit. His boots matched yours, and he had a belt as big as one of the screens on. The two of you looked like you ran some sort of Texan Casino. 

“(Y/n), You look beautiful.” He complimented, his hands taking yours as he made you spin. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”  He said light-heartedly. 

Buckley’s attention made you flustered and you felt the room get warmer, “I could say the same,” You smiled, “Have you seen your hair?” You asked carefully, poking his gel-held hair. 

“Alright well, we’ll be out in the front row. Look for us alright?” Sashay excused herself and Pradain, leaving the two of you with Dolly and Rasmey. 

“They’re gonna line you up again, two lines- boys and girls.” Ramsey explained, “There’s a screen back here so y’all can watch but don’t miss your cue alright?” He ordered. The two of you nodded. 

“(Y/n), remember what we went over alright?” Dolly caught your gaze. 

Previously you’d spent time with Dolly going over some things you could do to emphasize your image as the Capitol’s cowgirl. Dolly had instructed you to speak with more southern twang than usual, keep a smile and hospitable personality, and speak on the livestock and ‘ranch life’ back at home. All things that would make a District 10 resident roll their eyes, but a Capitol citizen clap and shout. Unfortunately for you, you knew that this whole act would blow up in your face. You wouldn’t get taken seriously by the tributes, and if the small chance of you winning existed, you’d have to keep up the stereotype. 

Your mentors left you to take their seats. There was about an hour until show time, and some makeup artists stuck back to touch up some of the tributes. You and Buckley paced around the backstage, practicing lines with each other, and working on pronunciation. You hadn’t even noticed that the careers had flowed in. Glimmer was wearing a pink poofy dress, far too short for her. The only thing that distracted from her body was her giant blonde hair that cascaded perfectly, but even then she wore body glitter that made her shine. Clove on the other hand wore an orange dress and a hairdo that puffed the top part of her hair up. The two looked at you and laughed, making it obvious that they were laughing at your gown. You couldn’t blame them though. You would’ve laughed at yourself too. Buckley defensively went to stand in front of you to block their view, but it didn’t do much since they’d have to walk past you anyway. 

Behind them came Marvel and Cato. Both their faces were serious as always as they discussed something about weapon quality. You paid no mind to them, knowing that if you did they’d find a way to cause a scene. You weren’t sure why you were their favorite tribute to a bug, but you blamed it all on your stunt on your first day here. As they walked closer Marvel patted Cato on his chest, and the taller male turned to look at where you were standing. 

“Damn, never knew the girls from District 10 could look like that,” Cato said as they walked past the two of you, pretending to be nonchalant although you knew he had purposely said it. 

“Nice dress 10,” Marvel said, eyeing you as he trailed behind Cato. The two of them shook their heads and laughed as they approached the front of the line. 

“If I were a career I think I’d go after those two first.” You told Buckley who gave you an amused smile. 

“If you were a career you’d be with them.” He corrected. It wasn’t far from the truth. In almost every game, the careers were quick to form alliances with each other, alienating the weak from the strong. 

“You ready for the spotlight?” Talking was something you’ve come to realize that you did when you were nervous. Your hand practically shook, and you wore a nervous smile on your face. It was involuntarily there, however as much as you tried you couldn’t get rid of it. 

“No.” His simple reply. “Not too thrilled about it.” He exhaled. He had been holding a straight posture, his shoulders up, turtling his neck. 

“They’ll love you.” You reassured, but it only made him smile, his nerves still present.

 “Just don’t want to be laughed at.” He mentioned. 

The lights were beginning to flicker, meaning that it would soon be time for the show to start. 

You thought about what he had said. “Trust me. No one’s going to laugh at you.” Dolly and you had trained for your interview. Everything you were instructed to say made you look like a country bumpkin. If anything Buckley would be District 10’s saving grace- and you its fool. 

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Came the voice of District 12’s Katniss. It sounded rehearsed, void of any emotion. The same went for the smile she threw at you. 

You returned it and bowed your head. “Please, you’re the one who deserves such praise.” You guessed she was only saying that because her mentors wanted her to make allies in the arena since her high score presented a problem. 

That was the entirety of the exchange. The stage managers lined everyone up in order of appearance, hushing them as the presentation started. Once again you found the insides of your palms to be sweaty. You tried everything to ease your beating heart, deep breaths, pinching yourself, thinking of other things. However, none of them got rid of the sensation in your stomach. You felt like throwing up. 

Up on the screen Caesar Flickerman’s silhouette appeared, his signature ponytail obnoxiously hanging from his head as he leaned back on the chair. His theme song played, the bass so loud you could feel the floor rumbling. Cheers from the crowd erupted. Buckley stood attentive, watching the screen with his hands on his belt, his stance wide to keep himself in balance. From where you stood you could see Marvel and Cato hyping each other up, Glimmer joining in to fix Cato’s neat suit. 

“Let’s bring her out!” It had been a good couple of minutes, though it seemed like seconds as Caesar called out for Glimmer. She was the first one to go. Leaving about 19 people ahead of you. You watched as her clear, shimmery dress bounced as she stepped onto the stage with a huge smile, waving to the crowd. Her hair effortlessly dropped into place, making her look all the more attractive. The crowds were loud. Your eardrums could only handle so much before you reached out to cover them. 

Eventually, it was Marvel’s turn. He seemed so confident in everything he said, you learned just how charismatic he could be. Clove went next, her interview only made you more cautious of her. Soon after it was Cato’s turn. Unlike Marvel, he gave off boisterous energy. Almost as if he was too good to be there. However, the crowd was eating it up. He ended his interview with a hollar and returned backstage. It was almost the two-hour mark, some interviews taking longer since he wanted to give the tributes who didn’t stand out some limelight. Eventually, it was your turn. 

The stage manager came back to look for you, their hand on your shoulder as they walked you up the stairs. You glanced back to catch the reassuring gaze of Buckley, but instead found Marvel’s. He gave you a wink as a token of good luck, and off you were. 

“Now I’m sure we all remember our next tribute from the tribute parade. I mean how could we forget after the thrilling act she performed!” Flickerman emphasized his words, stretching them at the appropriate time. 

A couple of ‘woos’ and whistles came from the crowd as the anticipation built up. “From district 10- (Y/n) Cuernos!” He announced your cue to cross the stage. The lights were extremely bright, you had to look down as you stepped onto the stage. The crowd cheered at your out-of-place attire, it being one of the most unique (and ridiculous) outfits of the night. Shyly you put on your best smile before catching a glimpse of Dolly in the crowd, making gestures for you to smile bigger. 

You cringed when you thought of your family back at home watching this. Saying a silent apology, it was as if a switch turned on in your brain. Suddenly, your teeth shone as you stretched your lips into a smile, fluttering the huge eyelashes your makeup team glued onto you. With a hand on your hip, the other one waving, you swayed like you saw glimmer doing, your dress’ fabric swishing in the gap your legs left as you strode. 

“(Y/n)! My, my, how you clean up!” Flickerman commented, standing to greet you. 

“Thank you, Caesar.” Your eye nearly twitched at the forced southern twang in your voice. It was a whole lot more than Buckley, who had a natural southern accent, you had close to nothing of an accent. Even when it did slip, it sounded nothing like this. “My stylist purtied me up didn’t they?” 

He looked to the crowd, “Indeed they did.” He motioned for you to sit. 

It helped that the stage lights practically blinded you. You could see that people were sitting in the stands, but you weren’t able to make out distinct features- save for the front row where the mentors sat. 

Remembering what Dolly had told you, you sat up straight, teeth-baring into a cheesy smile. 

“Did that print you’re wearing come from a cow you raised?” The presenter’s teeth glinted in the light as the crowd erupted in laughter, “Oh! ‘course not- just inspired by them.” You giggled back, hating yourself even more. Your heart was beating hoping the president would accept your performance. 

Flickerman adjusted himself in his seat, “Now, I was going to leave this question for last- but I just know the audience has been anticipating the answer, am I right?” He turned to the audience who were cheering blindly. 

Like a doll in a box you smiled stationary, waiting for him to ask the question, but of course, he needed to prolong it for suspense. “What was going through your mind when you rode that steed?” There were some woo’s from the crowd, and you watched yourself on the screen as they replayed the moment. That clip gave you an ego boost each time you saw it. Giggling a bit too nervously you shook your head. “Nothing.” That earned a laugh from the audience. “I just remember wanting to ride it- couldn’t help myself I guess.” You gave a small shrug. 

“What a wildflower this one is.” Caesar made some amused faces. 

The interview lasted for another couple of questions, he seemed to have a lot for you. He asked you about home life, your loved ones, Buckley, and about skills. You didn’t have as many questions as the careers, but it was more than District 8’s tributes who had the least. 

“And do you have a strategy to win the games?” His tone was more serious now. 

Here it was. Your closing line. The one that took you and Dolly two seconds to come up with, but would echo in the minds of the audience. 

“I’m from District 10. I’m a born and bred cowgirl. I have to win. ” 

Cato couldn't help but smirk at your response, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall, he watched with attentive eyes as your interview continued.

His open mouth smile followed by “woah woah woah!” made the stadium rumble. You smiled and waved out to the crowd, Dolly giving you a thumbs up. 

“That’s an ambitious statement! I love it!” He did a little kick, “Well, you go out there and rope them in (Y/n) Cuernos! District 10’s very own cowgirl!” 

If only you could see Cato’s pissed-off face next to Marvel’s smug one. 

As you walked backstage again you were greeted with a bone-crushing hug from your fellow tribute. “Hey, that was good! Though you were a little strong on the accent.” Buckley patted your back. 

“Yeah, I had no idea you had one.” Glimmer teased as she and the other careers leaned against the wall. “Stop trying to win them over, I’m already the Capitol’s sweetheart.” The tall girl crossed her arms, the jewels in her dress reflecting. 

Marvel came around you, making space between you and Buckley who knew better than to cause a scene. “Did they make you skin that cow yourself?” His fingers scraped the waist of your dress, he let out an “O” when he realized it was just fabric. 

Cato gave him a look, causing him to back off. “You have to win huh? How do you think you’re going to do that?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You refused to look at him. 

“Oh, I’m not worried. You see if anyone should be worried about you.” He sneered, his gaze getting darker. “Save yourself the disappointment, enjoy your time in the Capitol, and accept your fate. I’m winning this one.” 

“As if.” Clove rolled her eyes. 

Buckley and you both stared down Cato. 

He snickered, “And don’t go around thinking your friend here is going to help you. If you’ve been doing your research you know that there’s no such thing as friends in the arena.” 

That irked Buckley, “So who’s to say your little posse won’t turn on you and gang up on you in the arena?” 

“Pft, then let’s hope they can outrun me.” His response made the careers shift uncomfortably.

“We knew what we were doing when we signed up.” Marvel spoke up,” It’s our job to ween off the weak ones, so the strongest can prevail.” He said looking at you. 

“So is that what Cato’s going to do to you?” You didn’t mean for it to be a comeback. It just came out that way. The careers looked pissed now, but a stage manager came just in time to lead them back to their mentors. 

“Watch it 10.” Cato’s wild grin didn’t deter you, you continued to stare him down.  

Just like that, your time at the Capitol was coming to an end.

____________________________________

Tags: @randomgurl2326

[thefluffyrailway-official]

So whats the full Orion family tree. Also please forgive me if I misspelled his name

Nah it's perfectly fine! Now here's his family tree and a little famoly card to make it easy.

(Free little clue of the loafs' mates nyehehe)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FAMILY

PARENTS

- Thomas Aiden Billinton

- Emily Stirling Gresley

SIBLINGS

-Emerald Billinton

UNCLES/AUNTS

- Percy Gresley Avonside

- Nia Kur-Billinton

- Timothy Billinton †

- Roly Browndusk

- Annabelle/Annie Browndusk

- Clarabel Browndusk

- O💚💚💚💚💚 Collett

- T🩶🩶🩶 Collett

COUSINS

- Aiden Collett Browndusk

- Octavia Collett Browndusk

- Claire Collett Browndusk

- Hakim Gresley

- Raj Gresley

GRANDPARENTS

- Theodore Billinton jr (Bio Thomas part) †

- Helena Adderhick (Bio Thomas part) †

- Cedric Browndusk

- Adella Cedarbloom

- Arthur Stirling (Bio Emily part) †

- Valley Greenwish (Bio Emily part) †

- Gordon Gresley

- Henry Avonside

OTHER RELATIVES

- Edward Arsen (Mentor)

- Maddison Stream (Rival)

- Harriet Woods (Bff/future crush)

- Vanessa Lima (Friend/future Coach 1)

- Verónica Díaz (Friend/future Coach 2)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was too much info?? QwQ

(As always creds to @steam-beasts for the inspo for this AU. We don't share Orión. But i wanted to give her creds anyway :3)

[dent-de-leon]

newly resurrected tealeaf my beloved...he wakes up so scared he just--"bolts up and runs." His first real world is Love, Molly reaching out to Yasha and pulling her into a hug as soon as he recognizes her. Calling out for his Magician and all his other loved ones after. He gently asks, "Home?" looking uncertainly around the rotting remains of Cognouza, until Jester rushes to reassure him--no no, this isn't home. But it's okay. We're going to take you home.

The Mighty Nein all hold hands to teleport. And Tealeaf doesn't know what that's about, but he happily holds hands with all these warm, achingly familiar strangers. He picks pretty flowers from the Blooming Grove for Beau and Yasha, looks so pleased and excited when he finally gets the chance to give them. He walks under Catha wide eyed and full of wonder, taking in the verdant greenery and moonlit lake. Notices Clarabelle is clearly watching him, but is content to just let her quietly follow.

He looks so fond when Jester gives his tarot cards back. Does he still remember the last dream he had of his goddess, back in that liminal space between life and death? When she read his fortune and held Yasha's tarot card out to him? "The Love card...Do you know what that means? It's okay if you don't." "One might call that a miracle...Perhaps fourth time's the charm."

Molly and Lucien reached out to each other when everything ended, shook hands and decided to go back home together. This little tiefling is their shared connection, their twin souls--reborn from all the love the Nein had for them, the love that Tealeaf always returned. "A part of a soul. Or is it a whole one? If souls could grow from but a piece..." A soul born and saved by Love--

[polina-me]

A mini-card for Donald Duck's birthday!

HDL: Happy birthday, unca Donald! We love you! *presented: a flash drive with a musical number, a large drawing and a chocolate cake made of pancakes*

Donald: Aw, boys~ *cried a little*

Webby (May, June, April): Happy birthday, uncle Donald! *presented: handmade jewelry and toys*

Donald: <:_0

Mickey, Goofy, Daisy, Minnie (Oswald, Ortensia, Clarabelle): Happy birthday,Donald! *gifts: a large number of dresses and "girly" things* *they giggle because they think Donald will get angry*

Donald: OMG! Thank you guys, it's so beautiful!

All: what

Cousins (Fethry, Abner, Gladstone, Gus. ALL): Happy birthday, Don! *gifts: photos on the marine theme from Moby and Fetri, a wooden statuette from Abner, a cake from Fethry and Gladstone (miraculously left over from Gus)*

Donald: Thank you!~

Grandma Duck: Happy birthday, my sweet! *gifts: baking set*

Donald: Oh boy, granny! How did you know that this is what I want? *hugs* Thank you, I love you

Grandma Duck: I love you too~

Scrooge: Happy birthday, Donnie! *hugs tightly and kisses a lot*

Donald: Thanks, unca.. *blushes and giggles slightly from tickling*

Scrooge: For you~ *gifts: guitar and citizenship in Scotland, Mexico and Brazil*

Donald: *gasp* THANK YOU, UNKIE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! *hugs*

Scrooge: He-he~ *happy gay dad*

Panchito and Jose: Happy birthday, mi amor!

Donald: Thank you~

Jose: Can't wait to see your presente, right?~

Donald: Maybe?~

Panchito: Great, because now it's time to look at them!

10 minutes left

Panchito and Jose in the sea dresses of their native countries

Jose: Do you like charmosa?

Panchito: I hope so, patito~

Donald:

Donald: I feel in love again.

[bluegreenamber]

Critter Gen Week 2024 - Day 3: Cross Campaign (WIP)

Full fics for Days 1 & 2 can be found on my Ao3 here

Hiya folks! I'm very excited to be doing @critter-genfic-events's Critter Gen Week this year, and while I'd have loved to have had every Days' prompts fulfilled with full fics, things have been crazy busy. So, for Days 3 & 6, I'll be posting WIP sneak peeks for two new upcoming multi-chapter fics that have been percolating for a while now (and are what I plan to finish my Critter Genfic Bingo card with) on here instead of my usual place on Ao3. WIPs will be under the cut (only content warning for this one is very canon-typical swearing), and I hope you enjoy the snippets that I've written to go along with the event prompts!

Clarabelle giggles, unmoved from her spot by the pond. For her troubles, she gets splashed in the face as a strange green mass appears out of nowhere and drops straight into the pond. Her indignant splutter is almost identical to Calliope’s, as Caduceus knows well. 

“What’s that?” Yasha steps closer to the pond, hand clenching and unclenching at her side as if gripping for the greatsword she had left at the temple. 

Suddenly, the green mass bursts from the surface of the water, arms flailing and mouth coughing up lily petals. Their skin is made of a jade-like stone under a red leather outfit, and their hair is made of amethyst-like gems. The combination reminds Caduceus of the residuum seeds that had saved the Grove. 

“Fuck!” the mass says as they spit out another petal. “What the fuck? Where the hell am I?” Then, their eyes lock onto their audience, though one eye is clouded over. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Clay. Caduceus Clay.”

“Clarabelle Clay.” The younger firbolg makes no move to help the newcomer out of the pond. 

“...Yasha,” the aasimar says when the newcomer’s one good eye turns to her. 

“What’s your name?” Clarabelle asks as soon as the newcomer clambers onto dry land a good distance away from where she sits. 

“Ashton. Now, where the fuck am I?”

“The Blooming Grove in the Savalirwood,” Caduceus says. 

Ashton blinks, their confusion not clearing at all. “Uh, okay. Cool, cool, cool. You all wouldn’t happen to have any idea how the fuck I ended up here?”

“None whatsoever,” Clarabelle says cheerfully. 

Suddenly, Ashton jerks their head upwards. “Wait, where the fuck…? Do you have any idea what’s happening with the moon right now? The little red fucker?”

“None whatsoever.”

[sunset-peril]

As Guilt Weighs

-Author's Notes-

Based on the Oswald's History cutscene

Also based on scrapped content from EM's "Playstyle Matters" gameplay mechanic (specifically, the section where Mickey became more similar to the Blot when he made more evil choices than heroic choices)

According to the Epic Mickey book (and the opening to EM2), Mickey canonically chose to kill the Clock Tower instead of redeem him, so I included that.

An AU idea I had in middle school where Oswald had a right-hand-man like Gus was to Mickey who shared Oswald's motives but also had motives of her own. (Like the original game, everyone is neither 100% hero nor 100% villain)

Didn't have either game open while writing, just referenced the cutscene that was linked, so no promises on canon-ness.

So this was the palace of Wasteland's true king. 

It's a… fixer upper for sure. Much like everything else in the once prosperous kingdom. 

The trek to this point since being grabbed by that monster and flung into this bleak, forbidden-feeling landscape had been… disconcerting to say the least. 

He was Mickey Mouse! M-i-c-k-e-y! M-o-u-s-e! Yet since arriving here, he'd been sneered at, glared at, attacked with no mercy, or straight up ignored. 

When all the hostilities faded away, he was… forgotten. Just like Wasteland itself. 

He felt closer to being one of them than he ever could have imagined. 

At the end of this long climb up Mickeyjunk, a mountain made entirely of his likeness, he wasn't sure if he'd even recognize his own face in the mirror. 

And who could? That Mickey was bright, cheery, pure and innocent; a cheery face to brighten weary souls.

He could feel his difference to that mouse. The almost ink-like feeling of his face as almost ghostly wisps flowed from his nose back past his ears (if they were even still that round shape). It had first started, just a couple ink-like drips off the head every now and then, when he'd first been abducted by that creature. Since defeating the Clock Tower, nay, since thinning the Clock Tower, the progression had rushed by and left him wondering if there was even a face to recognize. 

And thinning was the right word to use for such an act. The Tower's deranged screeching and singing and mumbling as his mind left him; and the scraping of metal, the screaming of pain and the snapping of gears and cogs as Mickey's actions tore apart his body and left only a disfigured face as a stepping stone. 

He was no hero.

These citizens torn and worn by grief and war owed nothing to him but their sideways glances.

Many of them were kind still, in their flickers of hopeful emotion. Horace and Clarabelle… he couldn't help the guilt that wracked him at their betrayed (poorly disguised as ‘disappointed’) faces.

They were once co-workers, fellow stars, friends…

And he forgot them. 

A clearing of the throat and a swishing of a white mustache brought him back from his thoughts. 

“Are we ready to meet Oswald?” 

Gus… he was so kind. So generous and thoughtful. He had been trapped down here since the last world war… and yet he never lost his kindness despite all that had happened to him… to all of Wasteland. He was the first friendly face in this world, and was still one of very few. The little levitating gremlin was a living reminder of the hope that could be found in the darkest places. 

“You'll think he'll want to see us?”

“Ah, it's not him I'm worried about.” 

Before Mickey could protest for an explanation, an army of cards surrounded them to shepherd the pair further into the desolate bunker-esque castle at the summit of Mickeyjunk Mountain. 

~~~

“Say, uh, this is that rabbit… Oswald, right?” Mickey pointed a dripping finger at an old, faded black-and-white title card. 

“‘Great Guns’, ‘Trolley Trouble’, ‘Oh What A Knight’... Oswald was in lots of old films.” Gus pulled the title card for ‘Oh What A Knight’ off the staircase wall. “He was the first one of us to become a star! …and the first to be forgotten.” 

“Forgotten…” There was that dreaded word again, the first death of a soul doomed to die over and over. “What… what happened?”

A loud clank came from behind the pair, and the mouse was spun around, neck wrapped around a scythe, before he could greet the voice. “You happened.”

Another human, well Mickey thought it was human, snarled at him from behind a horned mask; breathing and staring him down. 

“Now, now, Sylvia,” Mickey could hear Gus’ nervous voice behind him. “There's no need for that.” 

“What is this Blotling you've brought here, Gus?” 

“Sylvia, that's Mickey Mouse, and he's very much Toon, let me tell you.”

“Even worse.” Sylvia dropped her hold on the mouse.

“Sylvia, he's not staying. He's just here to greet Oswald and get home.”

“Of course he isn't. The people love him too much.” Wings that dripped similarly to Mickey's body, although much brighter in color, flared in his face. 

“Um… pardon me,” The mouse grinned cheekily. “But, uh, who is this?” 

“Ah!” There was that tone of voice Gus had when he was about to start monologuing. “This is Sylvia, Guardian of Wasteland! She has been around since Wasteland's creation, protecting each of its citizens-”

“Until the Thinner Disaster.” 

“T-Thinner Disaster?” No matter how many times he heard the same speech, he still asked the same question. And got grabbed by Sylvia.

“Open. Your. Eyes. Mouse. Do you really think such a place as this is where forgotten characters are supposed to go, huh? A place so dark and desolate, where hope itself has died?” 

“Well, uh, you seem cheerful-”

“The Thinner Disaster changed everything.” She dropped the dripping creature flat on his rear. “Or should I say, it ruined everything.”

“So, uh, what's this got to do with me? O-or Oswald?”

“Nothing. I just don't like you. And that will be King Oswald to you, mouse.” She walked in circles around him, studying him almost, each touch of the scythe on the ground going click, click, click. “The Blot took everything from us. Our home, our livelihoods, our queen is dead because of the Blot. You think you're rough enough? Try being cast aside, dumped for decades and then having the kingdom you built with your blood and tears to prevent them from others be drowned in the likeness of acid; have a beast come raging from the destruction and end the love of your life right before your own eyes and have nothing to celebrate for your victory because your entire reason to live has been consumed by the likeness of Hell itself?! You selfish creature. Wasteland heard the screams that can never be voiced pierce her ears. Wasteland scrapped herself together after the slaughter of her queen and her dearest brethren on the lines of war. Wasteland and her king live on even when there is no queen or kingdom left to live for and serve. To think you could ever compare confirms your likeness of the Blot far deeper than this physical realm. And so help me Walt, if you did anything to bring this pain and suffering upon the kingdom of Wasteland, then thoughts of the Cartoon World will be the last thing on your mind and the furthest from the last thing you'll see.” 

A small ‘plink plink plink!’ brought Sylvia's masked face out from directly above the mouse's nose and turned to a small collection of those blue bunnies that seemed insistent on chunking him into the Thinner himself. 

“Ah, Princes!” The gentleness of her voice now was jarring. “Come here.” The three bunny children hopped into her arms and snuggled as she walked towards a large open hallway. “Daddy's on his throne, right back here, let me bring you.” Her right hand rose and a snap broke through the room. “Cards! Seize them and run his Majesty's tests!” 

And once again, a deck of cards had him surrounded.

And this time, there were no clever escapes. He was firmly on unfamiliar territory. 

“She doesn't like me, does she?”

“Not one bit.”

[clarabelleblog]

To Your Family

To Your Family from our Family at Christmas www.clarabelle.org

Welcome to Showcase Wednesday, where every week on this day I will share with you one of my originally created Clarabelle products. My Clarabelle Cards are created with heartfelt meaning and purpose. My products currently sell on Amazon UK and Etsy UK, so you can check out the full product collection by clicking on the shopping links above. TO YOUR FAMILY FROM OUR FAMILY AT CHRISTMAS To Your…

[thebunnylord]

List of things people have left/ found in Annie and Clarabel

A hat covered in flowers

A half eaten whataburger (whataburger only exists in the US as far as I know. I actually googled whether or not there’s a whataburger restaurant in England. The answer is no)

Someone’s stocking

A sword

Swimming trunks

A teddy bear

A very creepy doll

Weed

One shoe

A bag of groceries

A kid’s homework assignment with the words “do not return to owner” written in bold on it

Someone’s pet rabbit

A squirrel

A hedgehog

A spider plant

Toy army men

A pigeon

A used condom

A purse

Flowers

A balloon

An ice cream cone

A diaper

Pens

Pencils

Playing cards

A smoking pipe

Some kid’s lunchbox

A wooden Thomas toy

A bird

A tiny yorkie on a leash

A coin purse

A yo-yo

A cat

A backpack with a kid’s school supplies and assignments

A toy car

A pack of gum

An empty bottle of cold medicine

[atlas539]

Hi, so I haven't been here for a hot minute.

Xmas Skulduggery Pleasant ideas.

Someone stealing Skulduggery's arm and putting it up the chimney, getting it down later like, "Welp, don't think Santa fit through the chimney"

China sitting by her fireplace and listening to calming music, sorting through all the Xmas cards from her admirers.

Solomon Wreath getting a necromancer themed ugly sweater from Val.

The midnight hotel having Xmas lights inside and a warm atmosphere, open to anyone who wants to get away from the Cold.

Scapegrace, Thrasher and Clarabelle giving eachother gifts.

Tanith getting a decorated sword sheeth from Frightening Jones.

The deadmen all at the hotel having an eggnog chugging competition.

Ghastly going through Dublin City, volunteering at homeless shelters and giving children clothes and toys.

[billygaysanguine]

mods are asleep post entire tvtropes entry for scapegrace The self-proclaimed "Killer Supreme", an incredibly ineffectual mage who has yet to actually kill anybody. A bumbling, but tenacious foe of Valkyrie and Skulduggery. Gets turned into a zombie by Dreylan Scarab in Dark Days.

Back from the Dead: Sanguine kills him in Dark Days after finding out he's not a killer, but Scarab decides they may as well put his death to good use, and makes him a zombie. Then in Kingdom of the Wicked he gets Dr. Nye to bring him completely back to life. See Gender Bender.

Break the Haughty: The final book has him finally face the fact that he's nowhere near as badass as he'd like to be. He actually takes it pretty well.

Butt-Monkey: Seriously. He gets humiliated or injured in every appearance.

Card-Carrying Villain: He's very proud of his status as a murderer. (Er... wannabe murderer.)

Determinator: He simply does not give up. Much good it does him.

Evil Duo: Him and Thrasher, with him being in charge - though eventually, they pull a Heel–Face Turn.

Gender Bender: Nye gives him the wrong body. He's unhappy with it, to put it mildly, and while this is initially Played for Laughs, it's later elaborated that he's feeling at least some gender dysphoria and realises that while his new form makes him popular, he's not popular for who he is.

Heel–Face Turn: Decides to become a superhero in Last Stand of Dead Men. The Dark and Stormy Knight. He's equally bad at it as he was at being evil, but he tries.

Hidden Depths: They're very hidden, granted, and it takes until The Dying of the Light to discover them but would you believe that Vaurien Scapegrace passes the third test (just) and nearly becomes the King of Necropolis. And that he turns it down for the moment because he and Thrasher promised Clarabelle they'd come back.

I Can Still Fight!: With his head chopped off.

Ineffectual Sympathetic Villain: He's so dreadfully awful at being a bad guy, it's hard not to pity him, just a little, especially as Valkyrie and Skulduggery use his incompetence for their own plans. Though he does pretty much deserve it.

Losing Your Head: Under Gordon's house. Valkyrie drop kicks it.

Meaningful Name: Both his first name and his surname mean "scoundrel".

Removing the Head or Destroying the Brain: Turns out... chopping off his head won't kill him.

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Tales from Sodor (Story 54): Diesel Goes Too Far

Title Card: Diesel Goes Too Far

Scene opens at Diesel 10's Mountain, where another meeting occurs, this time, only 4 Diesels were shown, as Diesel 10 is silent

Arry: Uuuhhhhh, I think the Boss is a bit silent

Bert: Yeah I agree Arry

Diesel 10: Alright, so far, we lost George, Bulgy, SCruffey, and the Horrid Lorries, all thanks to that Puffball and his friends!

Arry: Yeah, we know boss!

Bert: We gotta do something!

Diesel 10: Ooh leave it to the Second in Command

Diesel: Leave it to me boys *he cackles*

Scene transitions to Knapford Station, Thomas arrived and he was surprised to see a familiar face

Narrator: Later, as Diesel began his plan, Thomas came across a familiar face

Thomas: Merlin?! What are you doing here?

Merlin: Hello Thomas, I have arrived from The Mainland, I have brought the Widow of the Late Mr. Perkins back here to Sodor!

Mrs. Perkins: I wouldn't thank you enough Merlin, I would've never have the urn with the Ashes of my late husband *she shows the golden urn that says "Mr. Perkins" on it*

Thomas: *feeling sorry* Oh, condolences for your loss Mrs. Perkins

Mr. Evans: Yes, we are sorry for your loss Mrs. Perkins

Mrs. Perkins: Mr. Evans! How are you?

Thomas: Wait, you two know each other?

Mr. Evans: Of course Thomas, Mr. Perkins and his wife were close friends of mine, but following Mr. Perkins passing from the world, I had to move away from Sodor and relocate permanently on The Mainland

Mrs. Perkins: I respect your decision to move to The Mainland, Mr. Evans

Mr. Evans: Thank you, so anything else you brought?

Mrs. Perkins: Yes! I have a letter that left my Husband before he succumbed to his Illness *she hands the letter to Mr. Evans*

Mr. Evans: *reading the letter* Dear Mr. Evans, my old friend, if you are reading this, I have passed from the world, but I have one final request for you, I want you scatter my Ashes at a Cove by the Seaside! Signed, Mr. Perkins

Thomas: So, Mr. Perkins wants his Ashes scattered by the sea

Merlin: I think that's his Final Wish

Thomas: Well, we gotta make it count, before Diesel 10 has his way

Diesel: *over hearing them* Heh heh heh heh *he honked his horn as he oiled away*

Thomas: *sees Diesel oiled away* Cinders and Ashes! Diesel heard our conversation!

Merlin: Oh no! So this is one of Diesel 10's doings

Thomas: Yeah!

Scene transitions to Diesel arriving at Diesel 10's Mountain

Diesel 10: So, what do you have?

Diesel: I have learned that Thomas is going to help the Widow of Mr. Perkins, by scattering his Ashes at the sea

Diesel 10: The Ashes of Mr. Perkins, scattered at Sea? Well, bring me the Ashes, I give him a proper way of scattering his Ashes *he clamps Pinchy as he cackles*

Scene transitions to Thomas, puffing through the Countryside pulling Annie and Clarabel

Thomas: I know Diesel is going to stop me and Mr. Evans, but I can't let Diesel 10 stop us!

Merlin: *blew his whistle as he puffs up along side Thomas* Hello Thomas!

Thomas: Merlin! I thought you were heading back to The Mainland

Merlin: Oh I was about to Thomas, but I thought of helping you with the problem with Diesel 10, since he might try and stop us from fulfilling Mr. Perkins's final wish

Thomas: Well if you want to Merlin, then welcome aboard!

Thomas and Merlin both came to a stop, as Rosie puffed up at the Junction

Thomas: Oh, hello Rosie! You remember Merlin right?

Rosie: *sees Merlin* Oh, hello Merlin! What are you doing here on Sodor?

Merlin: Oh, I have brought Mrs. Perkins back here on Sonar after she picked up an urn containing her Husband's Ashes, so after hearing the problem with Diesel 10, I thought I stick around and help!

Rosie: Well, how thoughtful of you Merlin

Thomas: Rosie, can you please look after my Branchline, Merlin and I will be off to deal with Diesel 10! *he was uncoupled from Annie and Clarabel*

Rosie: Of course Thomas!

Thomas: Thank you Rosie! Come on Merlin, let's go!

Both Thomas and Merlin puff off, as Rosie puffed onto the same track and buffered up to Annie and Clarabel

Rosie: Come along Annie and Clarabel, we got passengers to collect!

Annie and Clarabel: Oh that sounds delightful Rosie!

Rosie blew her whistle and puffs off as she pulls Annie and Clarabel

Thomas: So Merlin, how do we stop Diesel?

Merlin: Well, he did say he might find Mr. Evans before us

Thomas: Then we have to keep going

Scene transitions to Knapford, Mr. Evans was waiting for a ride to Tidmouth

Mr. Evans: Oh where is that Pump Trolley? I know I had it in the yards *he heard Diesel's horn*

Diesel: Hello Mr. Evans! Need a ride to Tidmouth?

Mr. Evans: Oh yes Diesel! That sounds nice!

Diesel: Then get in

Mr. Evans enters inside Diesel's Cab, unknownly that this is one of Diesel 10's plan

Thomas: *puffing into Knapford with Merlin, as he sees Mr. Evans entering Diesel* Oh no! Mr. Evans stop! *he blew his whistle*

Diesel: Heh heh heh! *he oiled away with Mr. Evans*

Mr. Evans: Thomas help!

Thomas: Stop Diesel! *he blew his whistle and gave chase*

Merlin: Stop you bad Diesel! *he blew his whistle and gave chase*

Diesel: So long Steamies! *he cackles as he oiled away faster*

Scene transitions to Thomas and Merlin chasing Diesel through the Countryside

Thomas: Stop Diesel! Mr. Evans will not be given to Diesel 10!

Diesel: Oh you steamies never learn!

Merlin: Thomas! I'm gonna try and block Diesel's path by being up front! *he puffs faster*

Diesel: Huh?!

Merlin: Points! *he was switched on the different track, now next to Diesel*

The chase continues through Henry's Tunnel

Merlin: Points! *he was on the same track as Diesel, in front of him*

Diesel: What?! Get Out of my way you silly steamie with three funnels!

Merlin: Invisibility on! *he puffs outs a cloud of steam, making him "Invisible"*

Diesel: What the?! What trickery is this?!

Thomas: It's called invisibility!

Diesel: But I can still see him!

Thomas: Now you don't! *he puffs up behind Diesel*

Diesel: What?! No! Boxed in!

Thomas: Now! *he applies his brakes*

Merlin: We got you now! *he applies his brakes as well*

Diesel was stuck, he had no choice to stop and surrender

Mr. Evans: Thomas? Merlin? What's going on?

Thomas: Mr. Evans! Diesel tricked you, he's not taking you to Tidmouth Sheds, he's trying to take you to Diesel 10!

Mr. Evans: What?!

Diesel: *nervously* Well, you see I was just... Oh ok! I give up! I was trying to take you to Diesel 10! I told him about Mr. Perkins's Final Wish

Mr. Evans: I should've known! Diesel, I'm sending you to work as Whiff's Waste Dump as punishment!

Diesel: But I, I... *sighs in defeat*

Thomas: Well done Merlin!

Merlin: Thank you Thomas!

Scene transitions at the Coaling Plant, where Diesel 10, Arry, and Bert were there

Diesel 10: So, looks Diesel has been caught thanks to that Puffball and that engine who claims to be invisible!

Arry: Oh no Bert, looks like the Boss is losing it!

Bert: Yeah, losing it like a crazy one!

Diesel 10: Alright Barry, play time is over!

Arry and Bert: Oh no!

Diesel 10: Time for the next lesson, how to stop being so concerned! *he bangs Pinchy on the hopper, but Coal came pouring down on Diesel 10 causing him to cough*

Emily chuckled, as did Henry as he puffs backwards next to Edward and his cars

Diesel 10: *covered in Coal Dust* Now that's gonna leave my facial ruined

Arry and Bert: Doh!

Arry: *to Bert* Remind me to turn against on the boss when he chases Thomas and that Merlin engine

Bert: *to Arry* Right!

Scene cuts to black

To be concluded

Story End

[caperingcryptid]

A Strange Patchwork

"Family" meant a lot of things to the Resolute Agent.

It meant, for one, the weight of responsibility around her neck before she was even old enough to fully understand what it meant. It meant learning to hold herself a certain way; silvering her tongue to a shine; keeping her cards close from anyone from her family. After all, she couldn't trust anyone else but them. Not really. Not even herself.

"Family" meant, to the Agent, being the clay shaped into exactly the type of figure that was expected of you. It was an oppression that curled its fingers into your shoulders, leaned into your ear, and told you you must make them proud.

She was not even 15 years old when she threw what belongings she could into her trunk, slipped out the window, and darted into the dark to never return: for if she did, she would be resigning herself to something far worse than what the streets had to offer.

Leaving her home hadn't brought her freedom. Pawning off the jewelry she had snatched on her way out for a little extra pocket money hadn't brought her freedom. As long as she was anywhere near her home town- her home country, even- she would always feel like the hunted animal she knew she was.

The Neath promised freedom: not just from the ever-present paranoia that haunted her in the harsh light of the day, but from the constraints that the rest of the world bound her to. In London, a man and a woman stood on equal footing. Her education, her job prospects, and her entire future were firmly in her hands, and it would be hers to do with as she saw fit.

Whether she ran herself into the ground, or climbed beyond what she could even dream, it didn't matter. She was, and would now forever be, her own creature.

When she and the passenger ship she was on passed through the gates of the Cumaean Canal and into the lush, unfathomably eternal night below, she very calmly put to death the girl she had once been. Though a part of her would always remain, it was there that the Agent was born in her place.

She found that London suited her quite well. Over the years, she did far more than survive. She thrived. In a world where the services of the most Watchful, were needed to help handle some of the rampant chaos that went on in the Neath, someone who had long adapted to being on guard fit in perfectly.

She carved out a reputation for herself with her own scarred hands. Though not famous, she was known enough among certain circles that she was never short of work. She was an investigator that would work in quiet determination until the job was done, and once it was, turned her attention to the next.

It was true that she had little in the ways of companionship, but the Agent had never exactly been a social butterfly. She enjoyed a good book and the quiet. She might not have been happy, but she was content. That was enough for her.

Then an old acquaintance of hers came calling. The Faded Music-Hall Singer.

It's remarkable how quickly one event can turn such a carefully constructed life on its head.

It's remarkable just how deep the Bazaar's well of poison ran in the Neath.

It's remarkable how the most desperate of circumstances could bring those caught within them together.

The Faded Music-Hall Singer was little more than a friendly acquaintance, but with her death, the safety of her sister, Clarabelle, had fallen into the Agent's hands. Even if she hadn't known the Singer beforehand, the horror of the poor woman's situation was more than enough to compel her to look after her.

Dr. Vaughan came next into her life by means of necessity. Prenatal care was important for anyone pregnant, after all, let alone someone carrying a creature that was not of this world. Vaughan was the only one capable and competent enough to be trusted to help. Then, of course, knowledge needed to be found. Supplies needed to be gathered.

Dangers had to be faced, and the Agent was the most qualified to be the one facing them on the behalf of their little party. She had to be their protector, because there was no one else that could. She led them to the roof of the unworldly skies, down a sun, through the glass. She gave her blood to save the life of a woman she had met not long ago, even if it meant binding herself to the strange, chimerical creature that was building inside her.

One day, as they were breaking bread over a campfire, the good doctor cracked a dry joke about the Provost of Summerset, and the Agent found that she had started to smile in spite of herself.

She knew, then, that it was too late for her. Professional care had given way to something fonder. Something softer.

"Family" meant a lot of things to the Resolute Agent. It meant the weight of responsibility around her neck. It meant holding herself a certain way, and bracing herself against the horrors that the world might bring. It meant vulnerability.

She found herself thinking of it again as she wiped the sweat from Clara's forehead, her other hand being crushed in a grip so tight she thought the bones might snap. Around her, Dr. Vaughan, as sensible as she was, barked orders and worked with ferocious speed. The Singer sang her sister's child out into the muggy Parabolan air, even as the force of it burned her tongue to char. And Hephaesta, who had fought for the sisters long before the Agent had entered their lives, who had sacrificed her own safety to help in this venture, ran supplies back and forth to the brink of exhaustion.

Then it was over. Before the Agent could think of protesting, the doctor passed the child to her, and left to patch together the damage that had been done to Clara.

She had always thought of the child as entirely and inarguably Clarabelle's, even after she had supplied her own piece to the puzzle. She looked down at the little creature with exhausted fascination, aware of just how much of an anomaly it was, and...

...It looked up at her. In that strangely cherubic face, she saw her own eyes mirrored back at her, but off: like looking in a funhouse mirror. Gone was the calculated sharpness. The layers of stoicism and guardedness, which had built up in them like a pearl around sediment, were entirely missing. Its eyes were entirely bright and earnest and alive, and so vulnerable in just how amazed they were by the very idea of being alive.

The Hybrid- no, her child- wrapped its tiny, delicate fingers around one of her own, and smiled at her.

Family was a frightening thing, as was the love that was brought with it. It was a vulnerability that could cow children and the grown alike into obedience.

However. There was something beautiful in just how frightening it was, as well. As the Agent stared down into her own softened eyes, she knew, then, that she would give her own life before her child fell into the claws of Mr Fires. Before any of her strange, ragtag group did.

She had found her own family, the strange patchwork of people that it was. She would not let it come to ruin.