Just a Tired Writer

there was once a little boy.

he is born disabled. his body hurts, and he can’t walk properly the way the other children do. he doesn’t understand why. he’s a little boy. but he plays with wooden boats and pulls toys on a string.

somebody makes him a tunic. they sew ducks onto it in red and green and yellow and blue. the bright colours of a child.

the little boy is eight years old, and he’s going to be king now. there’s a big ceremony about it. he doesn’t really fully understand what’s going on, because he’s eight, but he wears the tunic with the brightly coloured ducks for the occasion because he loves it. look at his ducks! aren’t they great?

he is a child. the adults around him manipulate and coax him to gain more power for themselves. he still plays with toys.

as a teenager, not yet an adult, he fathers children. they do not survive. he’s not even old enough to have full agency in his job and is still being manipulated, but he had babies and they died.

he does not make it to his twenties. at eighteen or nineteen years old he dies, and is buried. his babies, so tiny, are buried with him.

and so is his tunic with the little ducks that he loved so much he kept it long after it no longer fit.

yeah i think that like. especially with historical figures in your mind people who were kings and queens or important nobles were adults. even if you know how old they were it doesn’t really click. it doesn’t seem real

but then you get something like a little tunic with brightly coloured ducks on it and it hits you like a fucking truck that this really was a little kid and no matter how far removed you are a little kid is still a little kid. their brains didn’t develop any quicker back then. he was just as developed/mature mentally as any 8 year old now. he had cartoonish animals on his clothes and he played with toy boats and probably terrorised the local cat population.

tutankhamun was a child and he didn’t make it to adulthood because he was unfortunate enough to be a very important child

his dad died when he was 8. he saw his own babies die when he was still just a boy himself.

tutankhamun had a little pair of sandals with ducks on them. he had earrings decorated with ducks. he kept those, and other items of childhood clothing. some toys. keepsakes. things he loved, and treasured. he kept them all in a little wooden chest. the chest… was carved with ducks.

and that little duck chest, filled with things he kept from his childhood, was buried with him. maybe he was keeping them for the little babies who did not make it. maybe they just reminded him of good days and fun times.

WITH PLEASURE

(greyscale makes it hard but the duck head is on the right above the toe strap. always takes me a while to find it too)

The patterns between them, to either side of what looks like lilypad/lotus flower petals, could very well be “ducks as seen from above.” There is a beak on the lower edge, a clear “head” shape above/behind it, darker ovals that look like folded wings, and a body/tail. I didn’t see the red circled ducks first, I saw the “swimming on a pond” ducks amongst the lotus flowers.

Once again, process video Tuesday!

The thing about acting is it's really just lying with his entire body at once. Felix doesn't realize he's practiced at it, and Nathalie seems to exist in a time bubble where he's somehow fifteen and two at the same time. But the world is insisting on treating him like a child, and he's honestly enjoying a little bit of Plagg's chaos.

"I thought I'd have a room for Mom's film." He is saying, while Felix and Nathalie are apparently locked in a moment of shock and horror. "Maybe we could have showings? Do you think we could remodel the ballroom?" Felix makes a noise somewhere very close to a sob. Nathalie is gripping the coffee cup like it's the only thing between her and the reality of a vampire outside the door. Delightful.

When I was "under 18" I had a job and friends from different parts of town and options for transportation. I volunteered at a food bank. I had an income and the desire to spend it. and I would have been told to leave if I had the audacity to go hang out in a community space without a grown up.

My parents made the point that teens often cause a Ruckus which can be unpleasant to be around. which is true but 1) adults are just as capable of being a public nuisance and 2) if they can enforce this rule, surely they can enforce rules such as "no swearing" or "no loud music" or "no roughhousing" or whatever else they're afraid will happen if a teenager goes out in public.

Bodily autonomy (like abortion, anti draft, etc) -> “The government shouldn’t be able to force anything on my body I don’t want.”

Anti surveillance -> “I don’t trust big government/big tech (big brother if you’re feeling frisky) with the ability to spy on me and my family.”

Immigration -> “Next to all of us immigrated at some point, I don’t see why the elites get to decide who’s allowed to be where. What’s to stop them coming for me?”

Climate Change -> “Big oil shouldn’t get to determine whether or not I get to go places. I don’t want to be dependent on some big business to survive.”

State Violence -> “I don’t want the goddamn secret police breathing down my neck! I trust my community a whole hell of a lot more to help me than I do the state!”

the house:

vinegar and bleach makes chlorine gas, which is highly toxic

ammonia and bleach makes chloramine, which is highly toxic

rubbing alcohol and bleach makes chloroform, which is highly toxic

hydrogen peroxide and vinegar makes peracetic/peroxyacetic acid, which can be highly corrosive

'He never expected those eyes to turn hard like that. Not at him.'

Plagg has had his share of bad holders. Probably more than his fair share, honestly. But he'd take them over the others getting wrapped up in human conflicts. Even if it meant entire cycles and holders that never liked each other. Even if it meant....well. He would rather take it, Destruction takes the hit, Creation gets the pass and Tikki....it breaks her heart, but they always know how it will end when their holders are fighting. Adrien is different. Both of the current kids are different, in a way that Plagg doesn't want to think on too hard because it makes him feel so damned hopeful and he knows it never lasts. But he never expected those eyes to turn hard like that - sure, the kid has a temper. He's seen it before. Under that cheerful innocent mask, the kid is a killer. He knows that, even if that particular shoe hasn't dropped yet.

He expected the hardness, is the thing. Over time, all his kids get it. Some of them come to him tempered already, sharpened by life until all Plagg becomes is a final push. The final scream of a stone on steel before a blade is ready for use. The thing is, and it isn't fair, because the look is deserved. But he never expected Adrien's eyes to go hard like that at him. "You knew." The accusation has none of the feathering, the slight fondness that colors every other interaction. The softening that made everything easier. "Kid-" Plagg starts. "Don't lie to me, Plagg." And it's an order, in the way that so much else hasn't been. In the way that Adrien has never exerted his will over him in their partnership.

"I knew." Plagg agrees, wilting. Adrien is up in a moment, pacing his room, his entire body taunt - a bowstring made of boy that is finding a target. Anger is easier than grief, in some ways. Harder in others. Plagg waits, he doesn't have to. Adrien hasn't ordered him still or silent. But he waits for the war inside the boy he has let himself love to resolve itself for good or ill. Adrien stops in the middle of the floor, his back to Plagg, his head thrown back like a sunflower seeking light even though the midnight air around them is cold and dark. For whatever else they had done, Duusu had made something beautiful. Someone beautiful. Galatea wandering the world, now without his creators to guide him. Only Plagg, and Plagg knows he's a shit guide.