Ask Miriam

(I’m not sure when it happened, but Miriam’s working again. It’s been so long, she has to have returned by now.)

It was rather strange for Miriam to take martial arts classes at first, but she made a promise and intended to keep it. She wouldn’t allow Derek or any other bully to harm Jodie or any other little kid ever again. Despite being called self-defense classes, Miriam rarely used her abilities to defend herself. She’d spar in her martial arts classes, fight if physically confronted, which was rare, and she would, of course, fight anyone who bullied her young friends.

That was when Miriam was seen at her most aggressive; fighting for someone else. Seeing someone she cared about hurt, emotionally or physically, enraged her. They didn’t deserve the treatment they received. It made her blood boil and she would not stand for it. Any offenders were met with aggression and violence, a great deal of it.

For whatever reason though, this anger did not apply to her when she was bullied. Anger did not consume her, only feelings of sadness and decreased self-worth. She may have been intelligent. She may have been a great fighter. She may have had assorted talents, but it meant nothing. The way she had been treated and talked to by her peers for all those years had chipped her self-esteem down to practically nothing.

Her bullies knew this too. As long as they avoided people she cared about and didn’t physically attack her, they got to keep their emotional punching bag with no fighting back.

And so it was.

The years went by and the bullying continued, wearing away at Miriam’s psyche, but she managed to persevere. She still had her life outside of the bullying to keep her going. Her family loved her, as did the children she helped look after. She would also practice her cooking and fighting, among other things, which helped keep her calm and happy.

Unfortunately, after puberty hit, a new bully appeared. This was one she couldn’t escape; her body. She was discovered to have endometriosis, just as her mother once had. Now she had even more problems; pain, hormones, jumping from medication to medication in hopes of finding one that relieved her symptoms and left her with side effects that were at least tolerable, and hoping she wasn’t infertile or would be made so.

A few years later, she walked down the halls of her school before stopping dead in her tracks. It was that pain again; that horrible, horrible pain. She tensed and cringed as she waited for it to pass.

What did pass, or more so, pass by, were a few of her bullies.

Why now? She thought to herself.

“Uch! You’re such a drama queen!”
“Yeah! Knock it off! Everyone gets cramps!”
“No, wait. It’s that endo-whatsit of hers.”

“Oh, that. She’s totally faking it.”

“Yeah, really! Look at her face! Who does that?”

They then proceeded to mimic her face of pain as they laughed and pointed at her.

That is when Miriam had finally had enough. They pushed her too far. Sadness did not consume her. What did consume her was boiling rage.

Did they have any idea the pain she was in; the medications she had to take? Her pain was very, very real. She wasn’t exaggerating. She wasn’t faking it. How dare they suggest otherwise?! How dare they mock her this way?!

Her eyes snapped opened to glare at her tormenters as she bared her teeth at them. This caused them to go silent.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react. She only got this way when they messed with the wrong people. Then she’d-

They weren’t even able to finish their thoughts before Miriam lunged at them like a wild animal. She fought through her pain, anger and adrenaline fueling her. What they’d just done to her, what anyone had ever done to her, was unleashed at that moment.

Feet, fists, knees, and elbows were all thrown at them. She broke noses, blackened eyes, and bruised bodies. Her bullies fled at the quickest opportunity.

Even after they were gone, she still stood there, fuming and chest heaving.

She decided from then on to never let them, never let anyone, treat her that way.

Ever.

Again.

piecesofawhole-dawnwalkers:

ectopicfantast:

askmiriamofgotham:

“No problem.” She smiles.

“I might have a suggestion on where to get more signatures. Would it count if I gave the journal to Joshua and had him offer it to his church-goers? I imagine they would sign it, given it’s for a good cause. Then you’d have a whole church worth of signatures.”

Miriam tilts her head at the new arrival, but doesn’t say anything. She simply observes, a bit confused.

“Hm… Yeah sure.” Sakura takes out her journal, and offers it to Miriam. “Do it ASAP though, alright? I’ll get another journal replacement, I got a friend makin’… More…?” She looks over her shoulder.

Koishe knows that voice. Those footsteps. Alert, head raised up, he listens to the voice … only to move to stand. He turns, and pulls the suit-clad tiger into a firm, near bone-crushing hug.

Sakura, meanwhile, is just slack-jawed, awkwardly holding the book out to Miriam as she stares. “…more… things…” She mumbles.

“…Dimitri? Is, is that you? You uh, you look fantastic! And, uh, alive!”

Dimitri returns the embrace with almost equal power.  ”You were missed as well, my friend.”  He steps away for a moment to face Sakura, his left arm behind his back and his right hand upon his chest as he bowed toward Sakura with well practiced grace, “Admiral Tama, it is indeed so.  I have a feeling we have much to discuss and little time to do so, but that can be reserved for when we are alone.”

He walks past her a few more steps toward Miriam, bowing once more, this time offering his right hand as if to take hers, “I am Dimitri Dawnwalker, formerly known as the Captain of the Defiant, Guardian of Silverion, and Prince of Syridell.  With your permission, I humbly invite you to introduce yourself as well.”  Everything about this tiger man’s demeanor shouts ‘Old World’ as evidence through his practices of chivalry long dead.

At first, Miriam thought this man was some sort of teacher, given the way he talked to Koishe. Now she doesn’t know what to think. Such politeness and chivalry! A rare treat in Gotham, besides her Joshua, of course~

She offers her hand to him and listens.

A prince? That would explain it. Still a bit thrown off by his chivalry, she clears her throat with a light blush before responding.

“Miriam Abberley. Paper pusher for Wayne Enterprises and former unofficial bodyguard.”

freckledloudmouth:

ectopicfantast:

neighofvoid:

askcecewells:

mistermichaelis:

(Source: illuzionslightshow)

ectopicfantast:

A hardcover notebook sits open on a desk. Visible on the pages are signatures.

• Sakura Tama is written in large, clumsy block print.
• Loki is written in a sharp and spidery but immaculate runic hand, and appeared less than ten minutes after he and Sakura had parted
  
• Koishe is written in stiff, book-print writing. The etching is deep set and dark.
• Kichuna S. is scratched in with sharp strokes
• Mius is signed in flowing cursive.
• Dominic Dawnwalker is printed using a Chancery Hand style of print, the letters taking on a slightly green tint.
  
• Dimitri Dawnwalker must have been signed in the middle of the night with a regal print that appears somewhat faded - no one really knows when exactly that signature got there, though.
  
• Tiran Solfae is signed in slanted, tight lettering.
• Cecelia Wells is written in an elegantly thin scrawl, sans serif with sharp edges.
  
• Pitch Black is written quickly with the darkest ink. Its shape is unimportant, since the ink itself has swallowed the signature as well as part of the page in a hissing cloud.
• Tai Gambol is written on the next open space, in an artfully scruffy scrawl. Studying it would suggest the name had always been written there.
  
• Arelas’ name is signed on the right: אָרלש
• Ramura Leiflein has silently been added in a lazy, familiar, paperwork-dulled signature born of thousands of reports filed.
• Jervis Tetch has signed his name in an overly flourished, ornate and calligraphic script, dotting the ‘i’ with a tiny top hat.
• The scratches indicate that something incredibly long was written, but the ink from the intangible foreign characters coalessed into a single, three letter word in Old English so pristine it might has well of been printed:  Sai
• Honey is written in Koishe’s handwriting.
• Iris McDougal has been signed carefully in a mostly-neat, occasionally faltering script.
• An Inkblot has dripped onto the page, tangling and curling into an impossibly intricate spiderweb that - for some reason - does not bleed through to the other side of the paper.
• Miriam Abberley is written in pretty cursive handwriting.

piecesofawhole-dawnwalkers:

ectopicfantast:

askmiriamofgotham:

“Oh?” Miriam tilts her head. “Why is that?”

“Daine… I don’t think we’ve interacted much, but I’ve met her. …I rode her once…” She mutters the last part to herself.

Her brows raise and she takes hold of the journal.

“Oh, uh, sure. Of course. Anything to help.”

She skims through the previous signatures, recognizing a few, before adding her own and handing it back.

“I don’t have much know how myself. I could barely manage the camera when I worked for Mary. Not much interest. Stage fright, you know? If you can find a Mary Dahl who’s out of Arkham, maybe she would know. Or better yet, Music Meister. He would probably be your best bet. He’s great at both music and making a scene.”

Sakura grins at the signature. “Aw yisss.” And takes back the book. “Thanks man, it means a lot.

“Music Meister…?” Koishe quietly questions from where he sits.

Sakura perks. “Oh! Hey, actually, that’s a great idea. I forgot he was someone to contact.” She grins. “I’ll see if I can’t get a word in, I imagine he’d be real busy but, we honestly just need pointers. We’re working on a real short schedule here, and it’s … kinda bit and a bit risky but, s’gonna be fun.” She bounces on her toes.

The bouncing slows as she frowns. “I’m starting to run out of folks to see fer signatures, though. I’m gonna have to meet up with uh, people I’ve been avoiding soon, I think, unless I remember last-minute names…”

The footsteps were easily heard by the dragon, soft and with purpose.  Though the material is far different from the boots he remembered, it would be difficult to mistake those steps, that breathing pattern, the smell of agave and spices about him.  It would be difficult to mistake him otherwise.

A hand softly would softly clench his shoulder, slow so as to not startle him, but from the demeanor, it was obvious he expected the blind Koishe to notice despite being blindfolded.  “Center yourself.  Focus.  Keep your eyes on your goal.  How can you make the journey if you loose sight of the destination?  Each is just as important as the other, as both have much to teach us, my pupil.”

The white tiger man had shades over his eyes and wore a white suit with a white tie and blue undershirt.  His shoes were fancy and well polished.  His hair was the messiest thing about him, though it was an orderly mess, pulled back to a pony tail.  While one hand was on Koishe’s shoulder, the other would be behind his back.  To those that reckognize him, it would be hard to mistake him.

“No problem.” She smiles.

“I might have a suggestion on where to get more signatures. Would it count if I gave the journal to Joshua and had him offer it to his church-goers? I imagine they would sign it, given it’s for a good cause. Then you’d have a whole church worth of signatures.”

Miriam tilts her head at the new arrival, but doesn’t say anything. She simply observes, a bit confused.

ectopicfantast:

askmiriamofgotham:

ectopicfantast:

“Hrgh—hmphh…” Koishe muffles himself, doubled over with one hand pressed firmly against his face. Breathe, just breathe. Pale, shaking, eyes wide between his fingers, he’s not exactly well.

A show, an entire crowd, hell, the media at large. He has no idea how to even begin, and — “Hrk—!”

Sakura can only cringe, hand rubbing his back. “Just, breathe man. One sec.” She tugs the blue ribbon away from her neck. She holds it between her hands, and brings it over Koishe’s head to tie it over his eyes, blinding him. “Just breathe, easy now.”

The effect is almost immediate. Vision hidden, Koishe starts to gradually ease. He swallows in an attempt to cure his dry mouth. “…Sakura, what are we doing…?” He quietly pleads.

“Savin’ Daine. I know you don’t like attention and all, but I’m telling ya. Nothing brings in a bigger crowd than shows, and you got the skill! Arelas too, and if we get Tiran to deal with the tech, maybe ask some other folks about the specifics of getting an outdoor stage or something… Hell, this’ll even work as advertistement fer the tavern, AND!” She raises a finger, “If we happen to raise money, we could just toss it all at some good human-bound cause! There’s literally no downside to this!”

“Except I might get a heart attack.” Koishe grumbles as he lets himself sit on the side of the sidewalk.

“Yer just sayin’ that,” Sakura pats his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Hell, you could show up blindfolded then too if needed be. It could be, I dunno, a look or something. Just imagine how proud it’ll make Daine to see you go out there and be in the spotlight, man…!”

Miriam spots this scenario going on from some distance away. Curiosity piqued, she approaches the duo.

As she closes the distance between them, she recognizes who they are and manages to catch a bit of what they’re saying. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it just happened.

“Blindfolded? Spotlight? What?”

“Er.. I mean.. hi… Koishe, right? What’s wrong? You look as white as a sheet. Also, you’re blindfolded.”

“He gets calmer when he doesn’t see.” Sakura chances a half-grin. “Spent most of his life blind, kind’ve a comfort thing…” The larger one says nothing for now, but quietly listens.

“We’re thinking about setting up a sort’ve charity-concert thing. Daine’s not doing too well, so we want to raise support and have people want to help her. Send her good wishes and hope for the best, right? Good thoughts and all— actually, hey!” She reaches into her coat, and pulls out a journal to offer to Miriam.

“Wanna sign? Every signature counts, she’d be real happy to see the end result, I’m sure. Keep it a secret though, yeah?”

“…By the way, uh, do you know anyone that knows how to set up stage-stuff? I mean, I’m tempted to ask Iris but I’m not sure if even she’d know, maybe she’d want the distraction…” Sakura rambles off in thought. “Or I could do a mass text.”

“Hm.”

Koishe says nothing.

“Oh?” Miriam tilts her head. “Why is that?”

“Daine… I don’t think we’ve interacted much, but I’ve met her. …I rode her once…” She mutters the last part to herself.

Her brows raise and she takes hold of the journal.

“Oh, uh, sure. Of course. Anything to help.”

She skims through the previous signatures, recognizing a few, before adding her own and handing it back.

“I don’t have much know how myself. I could barely manage the camera when I worked for Mary. Not much interest. Stage fright, you know? If you can find a Mary Dahl who’s out of Arkham, maybe she would know. Or better yet, Music Meister. He would probably be your best bet. He’s great at both music and making a scene.”

ectopicfantast:

“Hrgh—hmphh…” Koishe muffles himself, doubled over with one hand pressed firmly against his face. Breathe, just breathe. Pale, shaking, eyes wide between his fingers, he’s not exactly well.

A show, an entire crowd, hell, the media at large. He has no idea how to even begin, and — “Hrk—!”

Sakura can only cringe, hand rubbing his back. “Just, breathe man. One sec.” She tugs the blue ribbon away from her neck. She holds it between her hands, and brings it over Koishe’s head to tie it over his eyes, blinding him. “Just breathe, easy now.”

The effect is almost immediate. Vision hidden, Koishe starts to gradually ease. He swallows in an attempt to cure his dry mouth. “…Sakura, what are we doing…?” He quietly pleads.

“Savin’ Daine. I know you don’t like attention and all, but I’m telling ya. Nothing brings in a bigger crowd than shows, and you got the skill! Arelas too, and if we get Tiran to deal with the tech, maybe ask some other folks about the specifics of getting an outdoor stage or something… Hell, this’ll even work as advertistement fer the tavern, AND!” She raises a finger, “If we happen to raise money, we could just toss it all at some good human-bound cause! There’s literally no downside to this!”

“Except I might get a heart attack.” Koishe grumbles as he lets himself sit on the side of the sidewalk.

“Yer just sayin’ that,” Sakura pats his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Hell, you could show up blindfolded then too if needed be. It could be, I dunno, a look or something. Just imagine how proud it’ll make Daine to see you go out there and be in the spotlight, man…!”

Miriam spots this scenario going on from some distance away. Curiosity piqued, she approaches the duo.

As she closes the distance between them, she recognizes who they are and manages to catch a bit of what they’re saying. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it just happened.

“Blindfolded? Spotlight? What?”

“Er.. I mean.. hi… Koishe, right? What’s wrong? You look as white as a sheet. Also, you’re blindfolded.”

(I finally figured out how to post YouTube videos! Yay! This probably means you’ll be getting more over time.)

Miriam sighed as she arrived at Miss Keeny’s doorstep. She knew the magic anon had worn off by now and hoped that she had made some sort of an impact on Miss Keeny, but she doubted she had. Still, she tried to remain hopeful. Maybe she could get through to her with the notes she had written, as well as being polite. The gift of tea and homemade cookies couldn’t hurt either.

You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

She knocked on the door.

It was recess time for nine-year-old Miriam.  She sat on the swing in her dress of pretty pastel colors, her red hair pulled to either side with a bow, and thick glasses upon her freckled face as she gently rocked back and forth with her white socked and dress shoed feet.

Things were quite peaceful right then, a treat Miriam rarely got at school. The reason for this was she was a constant target for bullying. Whether it was the fact they were jealous of her stable family or simply found such traits as freckles, glasses, good grades, and feminine clothes too easy to mock, she got labeled as bully bait. Peer pressure didn’t help either. Bullying Miriam was considered cool and you were lame if you didn’t. 

This peace was short-lived, unfortunately, as she caught sight of one of her bullies approaching. She tried to look away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. This did nothing, however, as she was very easy to spot. Her looking away only prompted him to come closer. He eventually came too close for her to ignore, standing right next to her swing.

She turned to face him with a frown. “Hi, Derek.” She sighed out.

“Hiiii, Four-Eyes~”

He grinned and leaned in closer, causing Miriam to lean away. This only made him grin wider. She was such an easy little target.

“What do you want, Derek?”

The boy chuckled to himself. How would he mess with her today? Perhaps he should mess with that pretty hair of hers. Yes, that’s what he’d do.

“Oh, just one of your bows~”

He held up a hand and wriggled his fingers, making his way to her hair. Miriam leaned away and turned her head, not wanting her hair messed up. She spotted an aide, but just as she opened her mouth to call for help, Derek interrupted her.

“Now don’t go being a tattletale too.”

Miriam frowned. She didn’t want another name to be called. She didn’t want her hair messed up either. It just seemed like she could never win.  Telling an adult got her called a tattletale. It didn’t even get them to stay away. Doing nothing just led them to keep doing what they were doing. That made her cry sometimes. Crying just made them bully her more.

She sighed and hung her head, feeling utterly defeated.

The boy just chuckled and pulled out the ponytail containing the bow, pulling a few hairs out in the process. Miriam was left with a ponytail on one side and an awkward mess of hair on the other side.

He reached for the other bow, but a new voice interrupted him.

“Miriam~”

The two looked over to find that their recess overlapped with the kindergarteners’ a bit. One of the little girls had trotted over, seeming quite happy to see Miriam.

“Jodie~”

Miriam perked up and pulled out her other ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tidy it up. She smiled at she addressed the younger girl.

“How are you doing today? Looking forward to our next visit? I’ll see if Mom and I can make some macaroni and cheese for us! I know it’s your favorite~”

Miriam was now all smiles as she talked to the little girl in front of her, completely forgetting about her bully. Derek certainly wasn’t happy about this.

“Hey. Hey!”

The shouting did nothing to divert Miriam’s attention. That brat was distracting her. He’d have to get her out of the way, he thought.

“Hey, brat.” He nudged the little girl in the chest. “Beat it. The big kids are talking. Go back to the other babies.”

The little girl frowned and hid behind Miriam, clinging to her dress and looking up at the mean older boy with sad eyes. Miriam frowned and patted the young girl on the head reassuringly.

Frowning; that’s what he wanted to see. A little more nudging and he’d have her crying in no time.

“Figures you’d be friends with a baby.”

Miriam narrowed her eyes and pulled the girl closer.

“She’s not a baby. She’s five years old.”

The change in attitude surprised him. He was used to Miriam breaking down whenever he messed with her, not arguing with him. He didn’t appreciate the change one bit. He figured getting rid of the little girl might get the old weakling Miriam back. It’s not like she could ever stop him.

“I said, beat it.”

He grabbed the little girl by the arm and yanked her away from Miriam, causing a shriek from Jodie and a shout from Miriam. Once out of Miriam’s grasp, the little girl was thrown to the ground. With her clothes now dirty and a pain in her backside, Jodie began to tear up.

He smirked down at the younger girl as she began to cry. With her friend crying, it was only a matter of time before Miriam did the same. He grinned as he turned around to see how Miriam would react.

Her initial response was just as expected. She looked down at her young friend in shock. What happened next was not as expected. Rather than break down with her young friend, Miriam’s head whipped around with a snarl. That was really new.

“What do you think you’re-?”

Crack!

It took a moment to comprehend what happened. The boy felt tears pricking his eyes. His nose hurt. He looked down to see blood.

His nose was broken. Miriam had launched herself at him and broken his nose. She was supposed to be crying. Not only was she not crying; she broke his nose! This was just too much. He ran away.

He ran away.

He was gone. And she did it. She looked down at her hands. She did it. He didn’t have his fun with her and walk away. The bell didn’t ring and cause him to leave. She didn’t call a teacher or an aide to get him to go away. She did it. She couldn’t believe it.

A gentle squeeze brought her out of her thoughts.

“Jodie.”

She looked down to the girl hugging her and pulled her closer as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Jodie. I won’t let him do anything like that ever again.”

lovingly-tooth:

travellingalien:

please

(Source: desmarais-chartilier, via gothamsduplicitousbachelor)

playwithmusicmeister:

askmiriamofgotham:

She gives a small smile, glad to hear he’s seen and heard far worse. This gave her a little confidence; just a little.

“Yes. I know because I used to be in choir for a short time; a very, very, short time. I tried, but it’s very difficult to concentrate and sing when your fellow students are pointing, giggling, and flapping their arms like a chicken at you when the teacher isn’t looking.”

She gives a bit of a shudder. There’s a reason she has stage fright.

“I’m sorry. I know your intent is good. It’s just a bit unnerving to sing in front of an expert, you know? I feel like you could be the harshest critic, if you wanted to.”

She sighs.

“But I’ll try. Just give me a moment to pick a line.”

She averts her gaze in an attempt to think. She then begins to recite the lines of the song; recite, not sing.

“When I first saw you I already knew
There was something inside of you
Something I thought that I would never find
Angel of mine

I look at you, lookin’ at me
Now I know why they say the best things are free
I’m gonna love you boy you are so fine
Angel of Mine”

A little problem Miriam has though, is reciting a song without singing it is difficult. Once she made it to the next part of the song, she began to sing it without thinking.

“How you changed my world you’ll never know~
I’m different now, you helped me grow~
You came into my life sent from above~
When I lost all hope you showed me love~
I’m checkin’ for ya boy you’re right on time~
Angel of Mine~”

Upon realizing her “mistake,” she clamps her hand over her mouth as her face reddens.

His expression softens at the mention of her bullying, lips parting enough for his tooth gap to peek through. Miriam didn’t call it bullying, but he couldn’t think of what else it could be. For that, he feels a pang of proper sympathy.

Curiosity neutralizes his face when she begins. Is she singing or reciting poetry? She sang moments before, unpolished through it was. Maybe she just has to find her groove…

That’s better. A small smile returns to him. She remains unpolished, but nowhere near unbearable. If I were this intended one-man audience of hers, I would at least appreciate the effort. Meister still can’t understand stage fright, but he can understand facing the spectres of mockery and discouragement. Sometimes (of the more often than he’d like variety), he hears echos of his own tormentors straying through his subconscious and trying to pick him apart as if they stood over him again.

Maybe that is stage fright.

When she stops, his smile widens, free of ego. “You have my seal of approval. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Mostly.

Meister was correct in his assumption of bullying and it extended past her experience in choir, but that’s a story for another time.

She pulls her hand away from her face at Meister’s approval, her embarrassed frown replaced with a bashful smile.

She kicks at the ground a bit.

“Thanks.”

“Wait.” She perks up. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No. No.” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I need to stop thinking like that.”

Though much better at defending herself now, Miriam can occasionally have her vulnerable moments, feeling like she’s being tricked or someone’s just out to get her.