The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
(Sorry for all the bug shifting. It’s mostly to describe how pix gets there.)
There was something that always made pix come back to the asylum. It was a he, and he was her brother. It wasn’t really that he had brotherly love for her, so much as she had sisterly, I love picking on big brother, love.
There were problems with visiting her brother though. She got lost, but in getting lost Petunia got to meet some interesting people. Ventilation shafts really should have maps like the malls do. Then again, there weren’t a lot of people that could turn into insects to fit inside ventilation shafts. So maybe the ventilation shaft map idea would never really happen, but one could still keep her fingers crossed. Well. Ok so Petunia didn’t have fingers when she was a bug but what ever they had that they could cross she could too.
At the moment, Petunia was a dragon fly. Best bug choice for navigating vents as her flat body could slip between thin areas and she could hover perfectly without bumping into the walls. The room up a head was interesting. She landed on the mesh screen and peered inside. It had guards. Ohhh Cool! Guards! Most of the rooms didn’t have guards. This person must be special. Pix’s body shifted to a flea so she could hop through the vent, and then she was a large preying mantis. Her body help up right, supported on four legs, and her front claw like arms folded neatly under her preying mantis chin.
Petunia darted across the floor on the four mantis legs. Closer to the patient, to the middle of the room. Then she came to a stop like all cute little bug girls pretending they are bugs do. Holding perfectly still like a little green statue, her head tilted one way, then the other.
Petunia stretched as she leaned back. Her cocoa was hot and steaming on the table next to her, and her ice cream was sitting in her lap, covered in chocolate, and dripping with toppings. Her web browser had just settled on a pair of perfectly lime green cow slippers, being sold on ebay, when there was a knock at her door. Petunia’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t expecting company.
Petunia placed her bid on the lime green cow slippers, made sure her ice cream was safely tucked away inside the drawer of her desk, then answered the door. No one was there. Leaning out confirmed that no one was on either side of the halls. She didn’t hear giggling around the corners, and her ceilings were free from little wannabe ninja kids, that would be able to knock on a door and then cling to the ceiling. Shutting the door, Petunia made sure the cost was still clear through the use of the peep hole. The hall way inside her peep hole was clear too. Huhh…
Petunia had just turned around, headed to her computer, ice cream, and hot cocoa, when there was another knock. Petunia paused, blinked, and opened the door again. Nothing. And then there was the knock again.
Petunia’s eyes got wide and she smacked her palm to her face, Dahhhhh. She almost forgot. She did have a guest. And the knock was coming from her closet by the door. Thinking it was the door was an honest mistake. She really should remember to let her friends out when she was home.
She opened the closet door, and like a wave, of water, insects feel out, and rolled, like marbles across the floor of her apartment. Roaches went to the kitchen, dragon flies buzzed to the laundry room, and the ants make a long slender line to Petunia’s kitchen. Slowly everything began getting into order. There was a circle of life as a large spider scooped up a cricket, and crunched down into the thorax, While another spider that had passed it’s expiration date, was being eaten by a preying mantis. Among the clutter of insects, was a pair of shoes. Right under a pair of pants. And those were under a straight jacket, that was under a sweaty read head, with wide red eyes.
“Hello Pumpkin.” Petunia pulled his loose hair out of his eyes, and leaned in to give him a kiss, with her hands cradling over his chin. Two large mosquitoes were filling themselves full of dinner, at James’s right temple, lumps that looked like large moles, that were actually ticks, spotted here and there under his hair, and the collar of his shirt, “How was my man, James, today?” James whimpered as tears followed a trail of salt down his cheeks and around the duck tape holding his mouth closed, as petunia sat on his lap, stroking his hair. “It was so nice of you to volunteer to keep my brother company. He’ll be happy to have a friend.”
“GAARRRRDENNNERRRRRR!!!!” Theodore Thompson was a balding man. The outline of his scalp rounding out the top of his head, and the double chin rounding out the bottom, making his tie look so tightly knotted about his neck, his wife might have been trying to strangle him. “What the **** do you call this?” He demanded banging his hand against the desk in front of Petunia as if that was supposed to really scare her.
“It’s called a story.” She said as she started going through his mail.
“Yes I get that Mr. Gardener, But it’s already been run somewhere else. We can’t use it.”
“You mean the local news?” She asked with a quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue ran across her lips and she skimmed over his cluttered desk. Starting to rearrange his home pictures as they talked. He always got them messed up. They had to run in chronological order. She moved the picture of Theodore’s first wife out to the left, where his story began. She’d made him miserable, right up until a fatal car crash. It turned out some animal had gnawed through her break line.
“Exactly!” Theodore moved the picture back with a movement that made the corner, of the frame scratch a groove into his desk. “It’s a real story. We can’t do real stories, they make-“
“They make things real.” Petunia jerked the photo back into his line of sight and moved for the next. An uncle, of his, that had wanted to write for the tabloid. He was allergic to bees, but it had only taken an angered telekinetic Moose, to make him back out of the tabloid contract. “And what’s wrong with making real stories? We want people to believe us anyways, why not through in some truth?”
“Because it’s wrong.” Both pictures were snapped back.
“Because it’s the truth.” Petunia huffed and pulled out the ones that were the latest editions to the story’s collection. “We can be the tabloids of the future, Thompson.” Petunia grinned widely picking up the newer pictures of his that she hadn’t memorized yet. They were children of his new wife. Thompson must love them very much. Three smiling faces on three little brats. Pix bet they loved holding magnified glasses to ants.
“Because we’re the tabloids Petunia.” He reached to grab the picture out of her hand and she reached for another. Thompson didn’t like the truth. Petunia had realized this for a long time. “We’d only be taking up the slack left by the newspapers. You know, not everything they say isn’t a lie.
Thompson was silent staring at the picture that she was holding in her hand.
“Can this picture be published with my BatBoy article?” She held it up. The image was of a physically fit man in his late thirties. He hair was done in a loose buzz cut, and he was in a camp guard uniform. A smile creased his cheeks, and his completion was exquizit, thanks to the secret that he wore cover girl make up. His name tag read, James Smith. The picture was taken for a record right before the registration camps had begun. Back when Thompson’s daughter with his first wife, had fallen head over heals for such the looker, and stuck with him during his last 10 years. James had actually gotten better, until the relapse a year ago. “You know they’ll find him, Sir.”
Petunia had just gotten back from the office. It was 7 pm, and she was eager to sit at her computer and spend her paycheck on fuzzy lime green slippers, and products that claim to reduce swelling in your nasal cavities, should Petunia ever have a need for a product that reduced swelling her in nasal cavity.
First Petunia had to get dressed in comfy cloth. That took precisely 8 minutes to shimmy out of her office dress, and find her fuzzy, hot pink cow pajamas. 2 minutes to pull out of her shoes and put on her comfy cow slippers, complete with awesome moo cow sounds if she stomped on the floor hard enough, and little cow bells.
The next action took 4 ½ more minutes. She needed hot chocolate. Because it was a known fact that computers work better when their users are holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Oh and a bowl of icecream. That added 2 more minutes to the home ritual, giving Petunia plenty of time to think about her day.
(I hope this tabloid article doesn’t bother anyone. The title and subject are contributions from Ghost and Calley. The back story about BatBoy (AKA James) is from Revenge is Sweet ant Not Fattening
If you don’t want to read a tabloid article, skip down to the next post in this solo intro. Thank you. From your bug eyed writer. )
Aliens Abducted BatBoy
James Smith was an every day man. Many of you may remember me quoting him, ten years ago, about the registration camps and the secrets he released about SpiderCat. He was an everyday human who walked out of the camps experience a changed man. Really a changed man. It is believed by this Bug eyed writer that he caught the x-mutation from the residences at the camps. Exposure to multiple mutants created a new man, a mutie, a Muteman Mutant. Scientists will tell you all that I am wrong on that theory but believe me, I am not. Why do you think that it is a fact, ‘if you see one, there is more?’ That fraise doesn’t just apply to bug infestations anymore.
Shortly after the camps, James, here, was seen fleeing from who knows what, and as you can see there were big changes. Those ears, and skin color should prove that enough. If not for the fact that he was holding his head. As seen in the pictures to the right of the page. You see mutations are painful, not that your bug eyed writer would know.
Ten year later and James is still convincing people he is a mutant. Even if the bat ear and white coloration went away. James was convinced and convinced other, that he was a mutant. Weather it be his super speed, his flying ability or the telekinetic/telepathic mutation he was still working on. Where once James was a well respected guard for the camps, he now worked as a grounds keeper at the 5th Avenue trailer park. That’s where the aliens abducted our batboy buddy.
Witnesses say that there was a group of illegal immigrants working as traveling workers, Says our adorable eight year old source as she peddled away on her bike. When followed, our witness went on to say, in a extra winy voice, that James was having trouble getting these illegal aliens to vacate their lot on time. After a argument concerning the subject of lot rent to vacating the lot, James disappeared.
The cops are baffled as to how James disappeared. They are going on few clues, to go on. Including a half eaten piece of pizza, an acorn in the middle of the road, and a cracked cover girl makeup case. My readers, if you have any information, I encourage you to take it to the cops. This is your Bug eyed writer. Over and out.
"Ah, So it is wrong to kill siblings, then? Thank you,"
“Well everyone is different I suppose. I just sent my brother to the asylum. He’s still breathing, I get to sneak in at night, with a few friends, and scare the pegebies out of him, and he gets all happy because they up his medication when I do that, witch, from my day time visits, makes him all happy. It’s a win, win.” Petunia jabbered on, as the tall man (Tall for her because everyone is tall when you’re a butterfly for the day) sat forward. She slowly adjusted her weight so that she wouldn’t topple backwards from the weight of her wings. His forehead was getting harder to hold on to with his sweat.
"I am returning to my apartment, I require a change of clothing."
Despite all of the movement, Petunia refused to lean her comfortable perch. She shifted so that she sat on his head, nestled in his hair, and could see where they were going instead. This was also the perfect place to continue her braid work. Besides, he didn’t say she had to get off, and even if he did, it would take a threat of a palm coming down on his head, for her to flutter off. Of course then, that would mean war.
The truth is, his head was comfortable. Pix could guaranty that 9 out of 10 butterflies would agree, sitting on a warm man’s head felt good. Even on a hot day the sun didn’t give her this much energy or make her feel this loose. Making her own heat was too tiring. Heat given to her was like her own caffeinated energy drink that she got to partake in, while sitting in a hot tub. The experience was spa worthy. Besides, since he was asking another question, she took it as an invitation to enjoy her free ride. Nothing at any amusement park could ever compete with riding on the top of someone’s head.
"Have you ever lost a limb?"
“Yeah.” Petunia signed, a butterfly sigh, as the warmth of the un shifted over her wings. “I have. Mostly part of my wings. The other part’s I’ve lost were middle legs, Not from legs, that made her hands, or back legs that made her human legs, but the middle ones that grew from her stomach when she changed. “The wings always take a few days to repair themselves.” Normally if Sacrificing limbs was concerned, Pix instructed one of her bugs to do the sacrificing for Petunia. The problem had barely ever come up.
"Much the same as the inside of any electronically device,"
“Bummer. Well that saves me a lot of exploring the insides of electronics as a flee.” Pix sighed a butterfly style sigh, and that curly tongue stretched before curling back into place.
"Is it wrong to kill people?"
“Of course it isssszzzzzz….n’t” it was but it wasn’t and Pix really didn’t care about most people anyways. No missing on her part, but others… Why would she care about others missing the dead?
Petunia casually turned around so that she was facing Slate’s hair and playing with individual strand. Soon she had three between her front legs, and was giving him tiny little, tight braids over his right temple. “Killing’s messy business, but sometimes you cant avoid it. It’s kill or be killed. Trust me, I know. Today, I’m a butterfly.”
Her first braid was already an inch long, and she let the tightness of the strands hold themselves together, smoothing out what was left so that is clung together, and she moved to the next. Like what little girls did at sleepovers as they gossiped. Pix always wanted a sleep over. She had the best Pajamas. Covered in cows… Cows tasted good. She was a butterfly… She would know…
“Of course it entirely depends on why you’re killing them. For instance by brother. I could have killed him because he could have killed me, but I got rid of him instead. My reasoning for not killing him? He’s my brother. A girl’s got to have boundaries after all.”
Petunia stifled a giggle at the expression of the man with the accent. Mean while the security guard didn’t even notice her. “Excuse me sir.”
The security guard turned half way around. His eyes widened, and he tried to get up, scooting back on his palms and his butt. “Holy ****!”
“Sir, this thing was crawling on your did you know that?”
He shook his head so fast, that his hair flopped.
“I think you better go call about that exterminator.”
He looked between pix, who was still dangling the centipede, that was wiggling, and turning, back and forth. Legs flicking everywhere. Two problems. TWO! What did he do?
The big dude’s nose wiggled o Petunia crawled closer up to his eye brows and turned so that her head faced his mouth, and she could see his upside down eyes. Her wings stretched back to the sides so that she was shading his forehead and eyes, again, with the red shades.
"He is not controlling my actions right now, in any measurable way. Today... is one of my days."
“Huh…” All her days were her days. Why did this guy have to give any up? At least from his last fraise, that’s what it sounded like. Like he was giving up entire days? Unless this brother of his was paying him good money, why would he have to give up days? Pix wouldn’t do that. Sure the attitude she put out that friends new as Petunia wasn’t as stern as she could be, Pix still never let the personality petunia get taken advantage of. Petunia was a tool to take everyone else.
"I... have done some things of that sort, yes. I dissected a Blackberry at Christmas because he told me not to. I do not use contractions in my speech because it annoys him."
“Really?”
"He has not admitted it yet, but I know it annoys him."
“You a devious one.” Pix replied. Then again look who was talking. The butterfly who was just attacked by a boy named Jake, with pudgy hands. Someone she still had to get her revenge on. “What does the inside of a blackberry look like anyways?”
The big guys head turned but petunia was still there on his face. In perfect area for chit chat. One of the many advantages to being tiny… and sitting on the face that you were talking to…
"I... would rather you do not meet him, if it is all the same. I am not entirely certain that I would be able to come back again today, if you did."
“Oh I get it. Not a fan on insects? Normally people say that about cats.”
“Hey you watch where I’m going.” Petunia shot back at the twin looking duo. Though her thoughts were cut short when the five minute warning rang out. Oh time to go. She gathered her lightening bugs, taking the time to look at the map, then she rushed out the door.
Petunia had been presented with a problem, and Pix loved problems. The name of the game was that the races rout was just announced. Petunia had no time to set up her bugs before without taking the chance of being completely wrong, and waisting her little friends. The other problem was there she could only control the groups of insect that were within twenty feet of her and she wouldn’t have enough time to make wave after wave of Bees once on the track because she would be small, and wouldn’t have enough skin surface to make a threat to the racers. So the solution to her dilemma was to tell her bees instincts to take her bees where she needed them to do. To do that, she had to talk to them and how do you talk to Bees? Any one know the answer? Anyone at all? Because Pix knew how to talk to bees. You had to dance!
Pix liked to dance. But firt she needed her audience.
Petunia’s skin wiggled, then little legs and wings poked through. The bees fought to wiggle their way through her skin to freedom, forming large clouds of insects that drifted from her arm, face, and out from under her cloths. Bees were continuously pouring out of Petunia. She spread her arms, and ordered the first cloud to pay attention. Now to start the first dance. A step to the right. A step to the left. Turn and boogy down. Oh yeah! Petunia finished with a move that looked like a dry heave set to slow motion. Lucky for her, Pix instructed a few of the other bees to do the dance for her. Otherwise her Bees might have gotten really bad directions.
Petunia repeated the process for each of the check points. The entire process took her four minutes, and the hole time, she continued making Bees, and sending them off to the check points. Now Pix had to get close to them. Meaning she had to hitch hike. Petunia took a running start, turning to a dragonfly in mid step, where she immediately sped off. As if she just disappeared into nothing, and dropped her cloths. She entered the first vehicle she could reach. One of the cars at the back of the line.
Petunia entered just as the door was shut by a red head. Darting back and forth in the car. Before landing on the top of the driver’s head, like a little buggy hair bow. Perfect. She could see about everything. The front runners, the wheel to measure when it would be best to use her bugs, the rear view mirror… The red heads in the rear view mirror from inside the warehouse….. Hmmm…
”Keep up with that rider, Don’t get too close, but keep him in sight.”
Petunia darted to the middle of the car, seeming to materialize over the middle front seat facing the odd two. Glaring at them with her little dragonfly eyes… that is as best as dragonflies can glare. Kind of hard since they don’t have eye lids. “Hey! What are you two doing here?” She buzzed.
(Cliechet. I know.... Tell me if I need to change this.)
FP History-In ten years, nothing much really changed about Petunia. She is now a 34 year old who still looks like she is in her early twenties. If not still a late teen. In the years she decided this look new look in mutation could be in part from her mutation, but she hasn’t yet found any links of benefits from her aging in her looks. It could just be the way some actual humans age. Being lucky enough to look younger than she actually is.
Petunia worked in the zoo part time for 7 years into the future. Continuing to take her power for granted. Believing that it would always be there to back her up. However the zoo job, as interesting as it was, couldn’t keep her attention. She needed something else. She started taking up Journalism assignments from tabloids. Using her bug abilities to get part of a story, though she was always too distracted to get an entire store correct, then putting her own spin on the holes of her articles. No one believes the tabloid anyways so it’s not that important. She never signed her own name. In stead, she called herself the bug eyes writer. Developing a following of people who didn’t even know who she was, and with her self becoming a legend, she had a few tabloid written about herself and her own conspiracies by others. Titles including ‘Buggings in the White House’ a conspiracy about how pix had reported the color of the president’s underwear with the use of little robots, (Truth was she just guessed correctly.) and ‘Eny, meany, miney.’ And article that suggested that there was more than one bug eyed writer. An accusation that wasn’t all that far away from the truth based on the fact that pix could split herself into more than one insect at a time.
Through her tabloid writing, Pix learned how to concentrate on a single bug. Using that bug to look through it’s eyes and ears as it was sent on it’s own missions or scouting.
Petunia’s power growths-Petunia still has a small attention span. Particularly when she is in her insect form. So for her new ability, she has to be human because other wise she just can’t focus enough to keep control of her little scout.
Weakness- to Petunia’s new power is that when she is controlling that single bug over a long distance, she has to go into a sort of trance. She can’t have her swarms of bugs around her because she has to work on just that one connection with her bug that she is looking through the eyes of. This bug must be a bug she made, and if she were to be working to control that one bug, she could be attacked by the swarm of her own creation.
"I think it might be an idea to call the owner of this booth,"
“Yeah. I would have liked to talk to him direction about my terrible masterpiece made by this machine and the quarters.” Petunia held up her potatoe head picture that miraculously still wasn’t in the trash yet, for the security guard to see. “You see this picture doesn’t look a thing like me.”
The guard squinted at her picture. “But it’s supposed to be Mr. Potato head.”
“Exactly my point. It’s just pixilated.”
“It only costs a quarter.”
“And a quarter is good money.”
"And pest control would probably be a good idea too. I mean, this girl just tapped on it, and it popped open like that. Really, how's anyone supposed to make money if people do sloppy jobs like that?"
Petunia smiled politely as the big man with the interesting accent stepped sideways out of her bug circle. The bugs kindly made a space for his feet then changed where their circle was o that they could continue to circle him.
The security guard turned his attention to the photo booth, squatting down to get a closer look at the little door. “Huhh. Yeah that is odd. I’ll have to call that in.”
Petunia was staring at the back of the security guard’s neck. Her wicked smile spread further across her face. There was another wiggle around her arm, as the bug formed from the palm of her hand an she pulled it through the stretched pours of her skin. Another Giant red centipede. She liked these today. Then slowly as possible she raised the thing, over the open back collar of the guard’s shirt. Dangling it head first. A finger pressed to her lips, telling him to be quiet, as she looked to see the other man’s reaction.
Hmmm? He ha to think about this. Yes Pix was distractible but she always knew who to blame. How could one not know who to blame? For instance Petunia could blame that rash on her back side, that she had for a week, to a talking rabbit. Not that this individual was connected at all to a talking rabbit of any kind.
"My brother, He... controls my actions, a great deal of the time. The rest of the time, I control his."
“Oh” Pix said. Funny. They both had siblings. “He must be a bigger older brother? I have a bigger older brother. At one time, our arguments were quite physical.” But Pix ha taken care of that. Who would blame bugs on cute, sweet Petunia?
"Without going into details, again; for my entire life he has controlled me, at least some of the time. It… I cannot get free of him. Even if I could, I... I do not know what I would do. I do not think I would know what to do with complete freedom."
“You see. It’s thinking like that, that will keep you under his control.” Petunia’s foot stomped again, though with how light the butterfly form was this had to tickle. “Did he tell you it was alright to come to the park today and make cranes? Because if he is controlling your actions right now, I’d rather talk to him.” Petunia remembered back to the bump on her head, and the shove into the door frame that gained her the bump on her head. “You’d probably just do what you want to do when he tells you something else. Like if you want a cherry popsicle and he wants to you eat cookie dough ice cream… with chocolate saws, and red peppers because it all comes in one box.”
“Where is hi?” Petunia pulled her wings straight up, together, on her back, and started walking a circle. “You-whhooo. Brother of the dude with the cranes. Hey you big bully!”
This conversation was one reason why Pix would never make a good private eye. She was too nosey for nosey’s sake, she was highly distractible, even from her own desires and plans, (Especially when she became a house fly.) And she was impulsive. Thus starting the conversation in the first place while any human knows that butterflies don’t talk, and if they think butterflies talked, they were locked up. Not that pix would know anything about getting people locked up, with the petunia personality/image that she put out, as a sort of shield.
Petunia looked back and forth between the crossed eyes. Imagining exactly how this might look from farther away. Not that she was going to move. The nose was a more comfortable place to sit than one would think. Especially for a butterfly. Because she could sit on the ridge, where the cartilage met the bone, and balance her wings to the side without worrying if they would catch and have to be lifted off of any part of the man’s face.
"Hmm,"
Hmm wasn’t exactly the answer that Pix was looking for. But it could mean something good and juicy.
"Without going into details, you seem an independent party. Suffice it to say that I would very much like to have that sort of freedom. Do you like it? Do you even think about it--that you can make your own decisions? You can, can't you?"
Ok. Not the grand, juicy, answer she had expected where she, the butterfly, was declared hi leader, or anything like that, but it was interesting. “Of course I’m free and I make my own decisions. I’m a talking bug.” Bug taking on more than one definition of the word. “No body will ever tell me what I am to do.” A front leg roe and came back down on the nose. “If anything, I make the rules, and enforce them. So what stops you? I could demand you to find that freedom. It’s your own fault for not taking it anyways.”
Pix moved her wings to adjust to the new position on his nose, now that he was laying on hi back. Ha! Pinned him, she thought to herself... Oh right... bug form... Her wings spread open again, this time casting red shadows over his cheeks from the filtered light above, coming through her wings.
Ok kicking indignantly was the answer to solve any problem as a bug on the ground. Kicking indignantly made everything feel better. Right? Wrong! Kicking indignantly was just kicking indignantly. Petunia could turn herself back to her human form and get up any time she chose to but that would one, require her to smoosh the little pink crane. While it did mock her, she didn’t want the pink cranes life to end with a simple smooshing. Second, Petunia would be a nude human appearing from a little innocent butterfly. Petunia wrote the tabloids, she didn’t need to be part of them.
So despite her frustrations and embarrassment of being the queen of the insect world stuck on her back, the digit was accepted as something to help her up. Better accepting help than being stomped on by a 6 year old boy named Jake. So with the finger’s help, Petunia let her little feet cling to the boy’s skin, and let it lift her up. Her wings flopped open and closed showing her frustrations. Feet stomping up and down as she passed because queens and gods shouldn’t need help. Yes they should demand help but the pity party wasn’t something someone like Pix deserved.
She paced twice then stopped so that she was facing this hero of pancake style flipped butterflies. Letting out a sigh with the extension of her ringlet shaped butterfly tongue.
"I believe I feel jealous of you,"
Petunia’s head tilted, witch considering there wasn’t much of a neck in a butterfly form, meant her hole body had to do the same. This man was talking to a butterfly, and admitting jealousy of an insect nonetheless. Quite curious. She opened her wings and steered to the man’s nose, where she took a closer inspection of him, Trying to land, and let that curly tongue swipe across his nose. Would he taste different than other humans?
“I’d like to know why that is.” Her voice was high pitched and hardly above a whisper. Her annunciation wasn’t perfect but butterflies didn’t have lips, so the sound had to vibrate trough that curled tongue.
(Realized after I left, that I had it under the wrong user name.)
