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oreramar · 1 month

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Florist Talk: Deliveries

Time to talk about what happens when flowers leave the shop! As always, I'm talking from the anecdotal perspective of someone working in a small US flower shop. This is going to be especially important for this one because the place I work at has some Delivery Rules that I know for a fact aren't - maybe can't be - universal, especially if you get into bigger cities.

For writing purposes, take inspiration from any bits of this that could be interesting for whatever plot you're writing out, and change others as makes sense or is properly narrative.

So, first of all - is your Florbo going to be running deliveries at all?

I do, because it's a small shop and we don't have a dedicated delivery driver. I design flowers and also drive them places, except on very very very busy days when we get other people in just to drive, like Valentine's and Mother's Day.

If you're writing a bigger shop in a bigger city, or even a small one with more dedicated roles, a flower design Florbo might not drive deliveries unless it's very needed, for whatever reason. Even so, you could have another character of some importance be the dedicated driver anyhow, or you might just vaguely need or want the opening to a scene be the driver coming back complaining about something that happened on the run, so this still might be useful.

So here's roughly what happens when Flower Deliveries go out:

Deliveries get sorted by Most Efficient Route. If a delivery address is unknown it can be looked up on a map. Maybe someone uses GPS to navigate. Maybe the Flower System being used can map a route for you automatically. Maybe it's all done in the driver's head because they know the area really well by now.

Flowers (and other things like balloons, etc) get put into the back of the Flower Delivery Van. There are holders back there to keep things in place en route. These holders can vary from foam inserts in plastic trays, with circular shapes in various sizes cut out of them, to wood boxes with more various circular shapes cut out of the top, to styrofoam trays with various openings to, heck it, some of those heavy cinderblock bricks with cloth or foam lining the inside so glass vases don't chip on the edges on turns.

Broadly speaking, these measures will mostly be effective. Sometimes the fit is loose, though, and a change in direction or speed is too sharp, and the driver will hear something rustle, thump, and start to trickle water. That is never a good sound.

Some vases fit the holders better than others. The ideal is a good snug fit that doesn't allow wobble, let alone clank-clank-clank on every turn or bump.

Deliveries tend to have matching delivery slips that are kept up front by the driver and are used to remind driver of addresses and to check things off as they're done. Personal anecdote: it's the norm at my workplace to write the time of delivery on the slip when it's done, so that if anyone calls later and asks if/when it was delivered we can give that info.

Here's where stuff is gonna vary: the rule at my place is that the delivery goes to the door of the house, and if no one answers, it cannot be left there. If no one answers the door, we call the recipient's phone number off the slip, assuming we got it. If we get an answer there, we ask if there's a better time to deliver these flowers, or another place within town - sometimes someone's at work and can receive them there, or they're out until a certain point and we'll return then.

If no one answers the phone, or if we don't have their number, we call the person who ordered the thing, and tell them what's up and ask if they have a way to get hold of the person the flowers are for. Sometimes it's a yes, and we get the info asked for above. Sometimes they also fail.

Sometimes voicemails must be left, with the store's phone number given and a request to arrange a better delivery time. Sometimes the voicemail box is full or has not been set up yet and we just gotta try again later.

The flowers are never left, only messages. They go back to the store if they must. They are stored in the cooler for the next day if they really must. They are remade a week later if they really really must (sometimes people go on vacation out of town right when someone they know, who doesn't know about the vacation, decides to send them birthday flowers or something).

This rule is definitely not universal. I've sent flowers other places and been told how they were just left on the front step and were found by accident as the recipient didn't ever hear a doorbell or knock or get a phone call like the website said they would upon delivery.

Businesses tend to be easier to deliver stuff to than houses. At the very least you've generally got some kind of front desk or counter to leave the things at.

Other little notes on delivering stuff:

If in a cold season and place, like sub-freezing cold, flowers must be put into plastic bags which are taped or stapled or tied shut before they go outside. This traps just enough warm air around the flowers to keep them from freezing between building and vehicle and building. There is a fine line between "cooler which keeps flowers fresh longer" and "freezing air that will give flowers frostbite so that they look nice until they thaw at which point they go to hell immediately."

Sometimes someone is sent flowers from someone they don't want flowers from. I have been told that, as flower shop, we have to complete the delivery. We can't take them back. What happens to them after they're out of our hands is, well, out of our hands, but we gotta be able to honestly tell the customer, if asked, that we did indeed successfully deliver the flowers. That being said, write what you will.

Delivering balloons on a windy day is hell. I haven't lost one to the wind yet - knots and strings tend to be pretty sturdy and I keep a good grip on them - but they will batter you all around the head as you try to walk with them, and if there are multiple they will tangle the strings together.

A delivery driver of any type probably knows the general area pretty damn well. Even if they don't know exactly where XYZ street is, chances are they know the general direction where it should be.

A florist driver probably knows by heart the location of and routes to nearby/local hospitals, clinics, funeral chapels, schools, and quite possibly churches.

Sometimes you get to meet one or more Very Good Dogs on a delivery and it is the highlight of your day.

#florist talk #floral deliveries #florist au #writing resource

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cirrus-grey · 2 years

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TMA Dracula AU idea:

(Mostly follows Dracula canon up until this past week or so of Dracula Daily, then diverges, for anyone worried about spoilers)

Peter Lukas is Dracula

Evan Lukas is Jonathan (Harker)

Naomi Herne is Mina

Evan is called to Transylvania as both a solicitor and a distant relative, to help his great-great-some-odd uncle however-many-times-removed buy a house in London

His story mostly follows Jonathan's, except instead of three ghostly Brides there's just Simon hanging around bugging the shit out of Peter and not going away

Martin is Lucy

Instead of being Naomi's old school friend, he's her favorite cousin

Since they're related, and she's engaged, no one raises any 18th century eyebrows at a young man and woman spending a lot of time together unchaperoned

They don't share a room when Naomi visits Martin in Whitby, but their rooms are adjacent and she's a light enough sleeper that she always wakes at the sound of footsteps next door and checks to see if he's sleepwalking

Jon (Sims) fills in for Arthur, Jack, and Quincy, in that he is Martin's only suitor

Except he's not really a suitor for period-typical homophobia reasons so they're just close friends who spend a lot of time together awkwardly avoiding talking about their feelings and blushing whenever they make eye contact

Jon pours his heart out in his journal whenever he gets home

Martin gushes to Naomi, who is both amused and sympathetic

Despite filling in for three people, Jon's story runs closest to Seward's in that he is an academic and a physician who works at the local asylum

He doesn't own the place, though: he's the assistant to Dr. Bouchard, head of the asylum

Their most fascinating patient is J. Magnus, filling the role of Renfield and desperately seeking immortality

Flash forward - Naomi has gone to meet Evan at the hospital; the Tundra, taking the place of the Demeter, has crashed at Whitby; Martin has traveled to London and is getting sicker

Jon volunteers to be the blood donor and stay up overnight watching him, and here is where the plot diverges because-

Where Lucy told Jack to get some sleep on the sofa in the next room, Jon says fuck that! I don't need sleep, I'm fine!

And Martin says well if you're not sleeping than neither am I!

And they both stay up the whole night getting increasingly loopy and giggly and just talking with each other

As dawn breaks they both, inexplicably, feel that it's safe to sleep now, so Jon goes and collapses in the other room while Martin just conks out where he is

And that would have been the end of it and Martin would have been left alone and vulnerable the next night except-

When they finally wake up both Jon and Martin realize that they just spent 8+ hours in each other's company, uninterrupted, and no one questioned it at all

They're still tired and vaguely low on blood but by god, neither of them has ever been in a better mood

Jon decrees it necessary for Martin's recovery that he's not left alone at night and brings a pack of cards with him when he returns so they can play go fish

They both basically become nocturnal, staying up all night hanging out and sleeping from dawn into the early afternoon

This goes on for a week or so and Martin is looking much better

Then, one night, there’s a storm

It's fierce. The wind howls and the windows shake in their frames as though something is trying to get in

Jon stands from his chair, facing the windows with his heart beating hard in his chest

"He is not yours," he says, though he hardly knows why. "You will not have him!"

There is a crash of thunder outside. Fog seems to be slipping in around the windowpanes

"Jon," Martin chokes out, behind him. He is pale in the candlelight, and he is holding one hand to his throat

Jon turns and dives into the bed with him, slipping under the covers to hold him close, to protect him with his own body

"He is not yours!" he screams again. "You are not welcome here!"

And... the fog begins to retreat. It pulls back, through the window and away, like footage played in reverse. The storm weakens and starts to die away, the crashing booms of thunder fading into distant rumbles

Jon and Martin, terrified, exhausted, still clutching each other as though they will never let go, fall asleep in each other's arms

Nothing disturbs their slumber

In the morning they wake face-to-face, pressed together as close as possible under the sheets. And they kiss, with a silent understanding of all they feel for each other

They both suspect that it is safe to sleep at night, now, though Jon still stays over, just in case

Naomi and Evan return, and oh no, now Naomi's getting sick???

Martin's immediately like. That's exactly what happened to me! And Evan, without hesitating, goes: so the cure is I have to give her some of my blood and then stay up with her every night and watch to make sure she's safe? Done, someone stick a tube in my arm, where's the coffee?

Except suddenly Trevor Herbert (he's Van Helsing btw) throws up his hands and is like Fuck. This. Shit. There's vampires afoot, and I'm not standing for it anymore! And he just starts shoving stakes and garlic at everyone and asks if they've seen anything else strange recently

And Jon's like. Well there's this one patient at the hospital who's obsessed with consuming lives to become immortal and also he keeps trying to break into the abandoned church next door and calling for his master, do you think that's related?

And Trevor is like why the fuck didn't you say so before???

They all load up on stakes and go to the asylum to try to find Peter, dreading what they're going to see, but instead of a horror show of blood and death it's...

Jonah Magnus, half-undressed, leaning out of his window as over-sexualized as any vampire's victim could hope to be, being homoerotically fed on by Peter

They're so distracted that Trevor stakes Peter without any trouble at all, and then does Jonah too for good measure

And they all go home

By this point Jon and Martin have had a chance to talk everything over and Jon moves into Martin's home. They're not publicly together, but, well, lots of confirmed bachelors choose to live together for the company these days...

And it turns out Peter really was Evan's uncle, so once all the paperwork gets sorted out he finds himself inheriting quite a hefty fortune and a castle in Transylvania

(He and Naomi sell it as soon as they possibly can. He is quite a good solicitor, after all)

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loliwrites · 2 years

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Loli,Anya said,she once called Alex in the middle of a deer hunt.I really don't remember the interview but could you write something about that? 🦄

Yesssss 🦄 Nony! It was in that interview where they're choosing who would be more likely to....

But like... what if Alex is on a deer hunt -- like an actual deer hunt -- and something happens where Addi actually needs him. It's by some weird coincidence that they're even in Sweden this time of year. Partially because of work schedules, but mostly because she can hardly endure California winters let alone Swedish winters, they rarely make it to his homeland for fall or winter. Yet they're there and Alex mentioned he was going to have a full boys day.

Addi's not worried about that. She loves all of Alex's friends and knows the wildest they get is at a Hammarby match. She's not too inclined to call or check in on his day. She'll see him when she sees him. But to that end, she has no idea where he's going. And knowing the love and soft heart Addi has for all living beasts (except for spiders and snakes), Alex didn't exactly offer up what the boys had planned for the day. He knew it'd break her heart if she knew he'd be out hunting deer.

The thing about winter in Sweden is that the sun sets in the middle of the afternoon. It's something Addi hasn't been able to get her head around this trip. The sun's setting at 3:30 and the temperature starts to drop even lower, and before she knows it, they're bundled up for the night. It's also made it hard to know when to stop working. She's been using this trip away to get some good writing in, but as soon as the sun goes down, her drive and inspiration seem to go with it.

It's not long after the sun has just made it onto the other side of the horizon that Addi's phone DINGS! with a notification that the package she'd been waiting for, has been delivered. It's work-related. Maybe some notes on her script that she'd sent to a professor. And the professor's so old and not tech-saavy, so the notes are the kind written in red ink and then had to be mailed over instead of just typing it all on a PDF. So the moment she gets the delivery notification, she's hightailing it out of Alex's Södermalm apartment, down to the ground floor, to grab the envelope.

It's there. Mostly. The envelope had clearly gone through something catastrophic on its journey through international mail. She ripped it open and started reading the over-arching notes her old professor has left on the title page. Reading the chicken scratch made her move back up the stairs even slower that by the time she got back to the apartment door and tried to enter, the door's locked again. She stared at it. The digital keypad taunting her. When Alex brought her here the first time, she mentioned to him that it was stupid that his door would automatically lock after a certain amount of time. He said he liked the safety measure since he would often leave and forget to lock the door.

Now she felt justified in her complaint of it. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal... she had the door code typed into the notes on her phone. Only... in her haste to get downstairs to the package, she left her phone on the kitchen counter. And as far as she knew, no physical key to his front door existed.

Annoyed (and barefoot), she walked to his neighbors door. They answered pretty quickly upon her gentle knocking. With her terrible excuse of Swenglish, the neighbor handed her their phone and she dialed Alex's number.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Until it eventually forwarded her to his voicemail.

Addi generally wasn't too quick to panic when it came to Alex. But not having a clue of where he was after he left early this morning, and not being able to get in touch with him, she started to make a mental map of the neighborhood. The Skarsclan all lived pretty close to each other, but shit if she could remember the exact addresses. For whatever reason, her instinct was to just start walking. Surely, she'd stumble upon a building she recognized as one of his family's.

By the time she ambleed upon Gustaf's building, she's standing on frozen and shaking feet and legs. He opened the door, bundled nice and warm, and looked like he was expecting to see literally anyone else other than Addi.

"Hi," he backed up and herded her into his apartment.

"I got locked out of Alex's apartment. His phone went to voicemail."

"You walked?"

Gustaf took her by the elbow and guided her into the kitchen. He cranked up the oven and threw the door open to heat up the room. Before Addi could answer him, he left her alone there. She sat at the table and glanced around. For as much as both apartments were simple, Gustaf's felt warmer and more lived in. There was a detachment to Alex's, and Addi had nearly taken that to be the rule for Scandinavian homes... until she entered Gustaf's.

He came back with a knit sweater and a pair of wool socks, both of which Addi put on with great speed. Her circulation felt less like ice now.

"Where's Alex?" Gustaf asked over his shoulder while he put on the kettle.

Addi shrugged, "he left early this morning with his friends. I haven't talked to him since,"

"He didn't answer his phone for you?"

She shook her head. With that being her response, Gustaf left the room again. It wasn't until she heard his voice off in the distance, seemingly on the phone, that she realized he wasn't going to be coming back very soon. His voice grew a little more stern; his Swedish, while still gentle, took on this new tone she'd never heard before. She gathered he was on the phone with his older brother... or at the very least, leaving him a searing voicemail. It's at that point that a little bit of panic starts to set in. If Gustaf was alarmed, surely she should've been. That, mixed with not having the foggiest idea of what he's saying in his quick, slang-filled Swedish, set her off.

Addi migrated from the kitchen table to the couch, where she slung the throw blanket over her entire body and curled up. Curse Alex's technological front door. And curse his cell service. Nonetheless, her body started going into self-preservation mode now in the safety of Gustaf's home. She'd nearly gotten into a full sleep by the time Gustaf padded back into the den. Her eyes flashed open just in time to see him grin.

"Want something to eat?" He asked softly and brushed her hair back. It wasn't lost on her that his hand lingered on her forehead for just a second as if he were checking for a fever.

She shook her head. "Were you able to reach him?"

Gustaf practically ignored the question, which Addi knew meant that he hadn't been successful either. "You'll stay here tonight. I told him this is where he'd find you."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"Yes," he paused and pursed his lips. "He's just being Alexander,"

That's an answer Addi doesn't like too much. And one that kept her up for most of the night. He's just being Alexander. The statement comes with far too much familiarity, and far too much subtext that this is just who he is. That this is his nature. And this is not an aspect of that, that Addi cares too much for.

When she woke the next morning, she heard Gustaf speaking in low tones again. Only this time, there was a voice that responded. If she thought she'd feel nothing by happiness and thankfulness that Alex was here and alright, that was quickly dashed by the realization that what she felt, was pissed. And that feeling grew with each step she took towards the kitchen where the brothers were having a heated conversation for themselves.

"Where the fuck are you that you don't answer your phone?"

Both brothers' heads shoot in her direction; both a little off-kilter that this woman came in guns blazing. But Gustaf's expression quickly turns to a smirk. He'd like to know the answer to that question, too.

"Sweetheart..."

"Do I look like I'm in the sweetheart mood? Where the fuck were you, Alexander?"

"I was with my friends. You know that,"

"But where," she emphasized. "Where were you that you don't answer your phone when I call because your stupid, fucking door locked me out? And you don't answer when your brother calls. And no one knows where you are all day and night."

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew it'd make you upset,"

"You went to a strip club?"

Gustaf looks back at his brother, awaiting an answer.

"We went deer hunting."

As soon as the sentence left Alex's mouth, Gustaf's face turned sullen and he glanced back at Addi, to find her looking heartbroken. He was sure she'd have rather he gone to a strip club.

"Alexander," she nearly cried out.

Alex took a step towards Addi. "I know. This is why I didn't want to tell you. I had no service. I didn't get any calls or voicemails until we got back to the the city,"

"Did you hurt one?"

He shook his head adamantly. "I shot at branches the entire time and got made fun of that I wouldn't have been able to hit the side of a barn."

"Really?"

"What am I supposed to do with a whole deer you won't let me skin and pack away for meat?"

She figured that was fair. She was rational enough to realize that it wouldn't have mattered at any point if he told her where he was going -- she would've upset. Despite his door being a fucking terrible idea, she was also rational enough to know that her getting locked out wasn't his fault.

Addi took the few extra steps to Gustaf, stood up on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around his neck for a big hug. "Thanks for saving me, Goose."

He smiled and whispered, "give him hell." He kissed her cheek before backing away and nodding a semi-pleasant goodbye to his brother.

Addi walked past Alex, content to let him spend the day making it up to her -- however he saw fit. When he caught up to her, he curled his arm over her shoulders and bent down to kiss her temple.

#asked #anonymous #🦄#alex skarsgard drabble #alex skarsgard #alex skarsgard imagine #good boy al #but also #dense al #and #hurricane addi #good boy goose #deer hunt #more alex and addi

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rahleeyah · 2 years

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So I have SO MUCH second hand embarrassment and anxiety over people commenting to the new show runner. Like walrus was one thing bc he was so ugh, but cmon people! 🫠

Like for one, it’s crazy what people say to him on his Instagram. People have no shame. Leave the man alone, especially when the comments are negative in nature.

Secondly, I wish the comments would just stop, mostly the negative ones as mentioned, bc just like m, he will pull away from the fandom OR start responding in a negative way. Also, could the fandom cause some negative consequences? 🤷🏻‍♀️

People are also veryyyy flip floppy. (I.e. the news about kelli today) Unless you are a diehard rollisi, there is no room to complain. No one should be taking this out on the new show runner when he doesn’t make those decisions? Esp when everyone was all over him until recently and praising him.

We all wanted eo, and if rumors are true and this is the way to get that, im personally ok with it? The way I’m looking at it is there have been SO MANY arrivals and departures over the years of cast members and characters and this would just be the latest one. Although Amanda has been there for 12 years, that is usually the exception and not the rule.

Wasn’t it canon that the average to be in svu was like 2-4 years bc of the nature of the job? It makes sense for her to want to see her girls grow up and have a more steady work/life balance and get out of svu (major speculation on my part here). Bring in some new blood, characters, diversity, story lines, etc.

Although disclaimer: I am indifferent to the Amanda Rollins character. I do not love her nor dislike her. I would for sure feel different if it was someone I had more of an attachment to, admittedly 😂

I know you stay out of the drama, but I just needed to vent. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk lol.

Congrats to you anon for being the one to break the kelli news to me, literally got this message and had to be like "hang on babe lemme check twitter real quick" so thank you for that. lemme try to hit this in order.

yeah first up i'm not gonna tell anyone else what to do but engaging with the showrunner directly is never gonna be something i wanna do. i firmly believe that fandom and creators are happiest when we stay in our respective corners but. again. that's just me and what i prefer and what i would do. i don't check david's insta so i don't see what people post there, except for what gets reposted other places.

i wouldn't worry about the fandom causing negative consequences. like. these people have a job to do. they get some negative comments, they get lots of positive ones, they go to work, they do their job. fandom sometimes overestimates its own impact; no amount of comments on insta is gonna change the plan for tptb. if that was the case they'd have thrown out eo bc of the people on fb. for good or bad, they're gonna do what they're gonna do.

i agree no one should take this out on mr david as it obviously wasn't his call, and the responses of his that i have seen have been graceful. i understand that people are upset - were we not all devastated when chris left the show? - but like, that upset needs to be directed at the people who are responsible.

i don't see any connection between kelli leaving and eo. i have a hard time imagining they were sitting around going "we can't do eo unless we get rid of a cast member." that just doesn't make sense. yes losing a long time cast member frees up some $$ but they are bringing in new people and i promise they are gonna find ways to spend what's left of that money that aren't solely eo. the math isn't mathing. and the only people i've seen make that particular connection aren't making the most reasoned arguments in general.

they try to say early on that most people only last two years in svu which is laughable now considering how long most of the cast has been there. i do think they need some fresh blood - still salty about losing kat, tbh - if only bc these characters have been there for so long and new perspectives are necessary from time to time. 1.0 didn't shake up the cast too much after s2 but they had new adas all the time and that kind of helped keep things fresh,

i'm not sure what i want rollins's reasons for leaving to be. i don't really see her wanting to leave svu, tbh, i think it would have made more sense for carisi to go work with a different branch and amanda stay on in svu to avoid the conflict of interest but obvi that's not what they're doing. i'm wondering how much of carisi we're going to continue to see after kelli's exit and if they will use carisi to keep amanda alive and fresh for us even when she's not there.

idk anon it's a lot

#anonymous #e.o asks #s.vu

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isobel-thorm · 2 years

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ok so. u introduced me to her so: Jane x Sawyer. 1, 4, 5, 8, 13, 15, 16 18, 23, 26, 42, and yes i may have put The Numbers in there just because. (jk jk u don't have to answer them all!!!)

YEEESSSS

How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals? Once they're established, nothing too structured. Fall into bed together/separately whenever their schedule allows. Pre-get-together and from the start to in the middle of their time on the Island, they got to be enough of a unit together that it was hard for them to get rest without checking in on the other one. For a week after Sawyer 'confronted' his father, he would settle in next to her just because he needed some physical reassurance that his rock was there if he needed her.

4. - First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight? Not at all. It was really just annoyance at first sight. She didn't like his attitude at all, meanwhile her being a cop was aallllll the information he needed to roast her at all costs- including spreading the lie that they were married so people would hate her by association.

5. Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes? As the nickname king who wouldn't leave her alone, Sawyer gave her a lot. She was Blue first because of the streak in her hair, then when he found out she was a cop it started off as "Copper" then evolved to "5-0" (Jane liked 5-0 a lot more), and then once she started giving him the time of day/admiting he had wormed his way into a friendship, "J.P." She mostly just stuck with Sawyer, except post-confrontation mentioned in #1 where he spills his guts and admits his name is James, to which she called him that for that week, and then any time they needed to have a serious conversation. They didn't really have in-jokes.

8. - What do the like best about their partner? For Sawyer, Jane takes no shit and can keep up with his wit. For Jane, once season 3 rolls around and he's revealed to not be a jerk, she also appreciates that he takes no shit/can be decent enough when he needs to be. Also she low key thinks he's hilarious but she'd never admit it to anyone else.

13. What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up? No real specifics. If anybody needs anything they'll just go out as a duo because strength in numbers/ that's their partner in crime and they don't want to leave them out / be left alone with everyone else.

14) Anything they both dread? Around season 2/3, it's losing each other in general or losing each other's trust, again, considering the confrontation and Sawyer realizing he doesn't have many other people, and Jane was just worried that everyone would just immediately believe she worked for Ben the entire time despite being one of the defacto leaders of the Survivors/being decent to everyone else before that.

15. How adventurous are they? Very. In any sense of adventurous there is 😏

16. Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat? Mostly just show plot-relevant ones. Sawyer kept his past from her until he was bursting at the seams with the need to tell Someone about it, and he'd be damned if it was anyone but her who heard it. And when Jane had to play double agent between the Survivors and Ben's people, she kept the actual details that it wasn't by choice under wraps to keep him and the others safe - so she's relieved when it turns out Sawyer didn't believe she backstabbed them at all anyway. And not cheating per se, but more like spiritual cheating. She's got the love triangle with him and Jack, and while she returns to the mainland and starts believing the idea of getting Sawyer back is a lost (ha) cause, and she needs to move on, she chooses Jack/they actively have a relationship, but once they go back to the Island and Sawyer's revealed to be alive and well, Jack and Jane both know that they've basically run their course as a couple ad there's really no competition. But they both know there's still some love between them, even if its become mostly platonic. They still figure they're going to have to coparent their son when they bring everyone back (little do they know... 😢). Sawyer's still there to play stepdad and treats their son like his own anyway.

18. - What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other? They barely even consider their one on one time together 'dates' because it was just their way of life on the Island, and that's also why they skip 'dates' when they both initially get back home. Their time on the Island might as well have been 7,000 dates between the close quarters and trauma bonding.

23. How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort? 99% of the time hugs/kisses are sporadic and emotionally charged bc they're both low key dramatic bitches. For teasing and flirting, verbal sparring is also just Their Way. They were like that from Day 1, they ain't gonna stop anytime soon.

26. How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families? It can really just be summed up as "This is weird as shit but they seem to work and Jane keeps that asshole at bay, so you know what, they can go for it. I trust Jane, soooo.' In Frank's case, in theory no one's ever going to be good enough for his favorite niece - but then post-Island, Sawyer settles in and half-mockingly becomes a Yankees fan for Frank, so he gets bonus points.

42. Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them? Early on, fuck no, Sawyer was a permanent thorn in Jane's side, she would let him know, and he would do whatever pissed her off tenfold just to get a rise out of her. But once they're friends/beyond that, he gets away with a lot more.

#OC: Jane Porter #x: Sane #is what I think I jokingly called them back in the day #also I'm proud of 16's answer

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renecdote · 2 years

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Here's one for the 1 + 5 game if you like it :) They're stuck there and that means there's hardly anything more Eddie can do to actually help Buck except try to monitor any change in his condition and provide whatever comfort he can, so for now, he continues to card his fingers through Buck's hair and watch the fever.

They're stuck there and that means there's hardly anything more Eddie can do to actually help Buck except try to monitor any change in his condition and provide whatever comfort he can, so for now, he continues to card his fingers through Buck's hair and watch the fever.

“You’re fussing,” Buck mumbles, when Eddie’s hand skates down to his neck again, trying to figure out if he’s warmer or cooler or if nothing has changed.

“I’m not fussing,” Eddie replies, automatic. Buck is shivering again so he tugs the blanket a little higher and smooths it over his chest. “Only you would have the kind of bad luck to get sick on our first weekend away together in months.”

Not that it’s surprising, really. Buck has been working so many extra shifts to cover the two injuries on C shift that they’ve hardly seen each other outside work in the last three weeks. These four days alone in a cabin in the mountains had seemed like exactly what they needed, but now Eddie is regretting not choosing a cabin a little closer to the city. Or a town even.

“‘M fine,” Buck tries to reassure him—not for the first time—but his breath catches and the coughs that follow sound deep and painful.

Eddie rubs his back, feeling helpless and vaguely guilty. He thought Buck looked off before they left LA, he should have pushed when he said he was fine, should have talked him into staying home, or found a hotel along the way instead. Anything that doesn’t leave them in an out-of-the-way cabin while a howling thunderstorm rages outside would be preferable right now.

“Eds,” Buck groans when Eddie checks his temperature again. “It’s just a cold.”

“Colds don’t come with fevers.”

Buck gives a congested sigh, then rolls onto his back so he’s looking up at Eddie from his lap.

“Christopher is right,” he says, caught somewhere between exasperation and fondness. It comes out mostly fondness. “You’re a mother hen.”

Eddie huffs. “Sorry for being concerned.”

He’s not really annoyed, though, and Buck knows it.

“I’m not worried,” Buck says, smiling a little, soft and tired, “I know you’ll look after me.”

Eddie takes his hand and lifts it to kiss his knuckles, squeezing gently before tucking it back under the blanket.

“Always,” he promises.

When they get back to LA, he thinks, he’s going to ask Buck to move in with him.

And in another six months, a year… whenever the time feels right, he’s going to make that always official.

But for now, he goes back to playing with Buck’s hair, eyes drifting to the storm lighting up the sky outside the windows, and he keeps watch while Buck’s breathing eases into restless sleep.

Send me a ship and a sentence, I'll write the next five however many I want

#asked and answered #fic

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

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Imagine how many children might have died because of the council banishing them. They could easily starve to death, considering all thy get at exillium is one almost rotten fruit, they could freeze to death, get who knows how many sicknesses, injure themselves too badly, get attacked by wild animals, etc. Not everyone can hang with the gnomes like the songs did. And what kind of life do the survivers get to lead? They're alone for literal eternity. Fuck the council for doing this to kids.

yes! Exillium is so fucked up in so many ways and we only see the barest effects it has because Sophie is there for such a short amount of time. For the story, it mostly served as motivation for her, a concrete and visual way for her to understand the flaws in this supposed perfect world. It's something known she can reference and tell people (like the council) "hey! this is fucked up! something needs to change!" and give reasoning behind her actions.

But a lot of the horrors of Exillium show themselves when you think through the implications of what it actually means, what it actually does to kids. Exillium is a place of "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, but it strayed very far from that and became a place for the council to send kids--kids, because this is a school--that didn't perform up to par for their species, so they got rid of them. I'm convinced that the reason they created Exillium was not as a place of alternate learning, but instead to serve a purpose like the somnatorium. With the somnatorium, the council escapes the guilt of killing people for their crimes because they're technically still alive. With Exillium, they escape the guilt of directly killing kids by providing a "lunch" and a place to be for the day, somewhere to check in where they're kind of accounted for.

However, like you said, there is a whole load of shit that can happen to these kids because they've been banished. They are provided a single piece of fruit the entire day. Everything else they eat they have to find themselves, and I'm betting that none of these kids know how to forage or what's edible. They're not provided shelter, as Exillium is a school they just come to for the day. Actually, there's a detail on that that's always amazed me with how awful it could go. The coaches give the waywards a temporary leaping crystal bead at the end of every day, but when Sophie did so it was phrased like it was a choice, like she had to decide to come back and it wasn't mandatory. Which means that...couldn't someone just decide not to come? they just don't take a bead and then they're gone. yes, Exillium requires like a home address of some kind so they know where you're going, but if you just left that place...they'd have no way of finding you I don't think. it is so easy to loose people there!!

they are literally living in the wilderness just by themselves. And!! Tam and Linh were an exception to a lot of this! They had each other, so there were two of them and someone else to rely on. They lived near gnomes who took care of them and would provide other meals. They had a shelter. They had so many things that they found and lucked into! Not everyone gets that.

Exillium is not set up in a way to support life. Banishment is an eternal punishment for children that they are lucky to survive. They're just set out of the way where the council can't see them so they can tell themselves they solved a problem. Realistically? So many deaths would happen at Exillium, so. many. Like you said, starvation and diseases and being exposed to the elements and everything would get them. On top of that! I think a lot of those children had given up on themselves. They were isolated from their peers and threatened on a regular basis, which doesn't foster a will to live in the slightest. There is nothing good coming for them, nothing to hold out for. If they survive Exillium, they get a live alone in the wilderness because Elven society doesn't want them. Perhaps some of them could make it to human cities and find a place there, but that isn't painted as an option when the place is talked about.

It's just!! A place they're sent to die so the responsibility of their deaths isn't on the council's hands! Except it is, they just don't recognize that. it is their decisions that put them their and their rule and choices that affect how Exillium runs. But in their minds they're not the ones to kill the kids, it was the kids faults for not being suitable for society.

Exillium is so messed up on so many levels and we barely even scratch the surface of it during Sophie's brief time as a wayward.

There's a whole other element of it too where like...it's well know that Exillium is bad. People don't want to go there, don't want to be banished, because they know it's bad. And yet no one does or says anything about it. In the first book Marella and Grady were warning here about it like "let's just say this is a place you don't want to end up" as if there aren't actual children there as they speak living the hell they don't want her to experience.

I personally think Linh and Tam should have a personal arc where they fight for the rights of the kids still in Exillium and shame the council into eradicating it, forcing them to accept the consequences of their actions. it's written like this unfortunate part of their past that they've now escaped from...but I don't think that's something you can just leave behind. There are so many kids there and I want them to fight for those kids. Personally, I think it would be so satisfying, but that may just be me.

#Exillium is...very bad #as kids its a lot easier to see this place and go 'oh yea a place for banished people that seems really rough. okay!' and just move on #but really looking into it it is horrifying #the moment you start to think of what that actually means its awful #exillium isn't important to sophie's story anymore #but oh man is it stuck in my head #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc worldbuilding #exillium #quil's queries #nonsie #tw starvation #tw death #tw child death #tw illness #tw swearing

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

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Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

A writing request, if you would like! I'd love to see Skizz and Martyn hanging out and getting closer after 3rd Life ends. Like just the both of them missing their respective hermit besties because they're both so busy with the new season and whatnot, and the two of them bonding further over it. Their friendship was the best and I wish we could have seen more of it on screen

such an underrated friendship T_T i miss them sm

and no i am definitely not in denial over Martyn saying he would betray Ren if it came down to it. nope. no. no way. definitely not. nada.

...

Sitting alone at spawn, Skizz wonders not for the first time why he’s out here alone. The ruins of the 3rd Life world, a place full of both painful and wonderful memories, is not exactly the first choice for a hangout spot. Grian has granted everyone access to the world, exactly how it was left at the end of the series, but nobody ever comes here except Skizz.

And maybe one other person.

“Room for one more?”

Skizz glances up and spots a familiar face coming towards him, his usual smile on his face.

“Oh! Hi!” Skizz’s expression brightens. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Yeah, ‘course, sit.”

Martyn sits down on the grass beside him. “You here for the nostalgia, or…?”

“Kinda. Legacy’s been really slow lately so it feels like being here is just as productive as being over there.”

“I know what you mean,” says Martyn. “So, um… How’s you and Impulse these days? After the whole, uh… stab-in-the-back thing.”

“Ah.” Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s… progress has stalled a little. I felt like we were almost back to normal, but then Hermitcraft Season 8 started and he’s been super busy with that. They all have; Impulse, Tango, Etho, literally everyone I usually hang out with. It’s hard to repair your relationship with someone when you don’t get to talk to them even once a week.”

“Yeah, I’m having the same with Ren. We promised to hang out as often as we could but I haven’t even spoken to him in a few weeks. That’s why I’m really hoping Scott will put me on a team with Ren for MCC.”

“MCC?” repeats Skizz. “Oh, you mean that tournament thing?”

Martyn nods. “Yeah. Scott organises the teams; I’m currently expecting a message from him to let me know who he’s put me with.”

“Oh man, I can’t even begin to imagine how epic you two would be together on an MCC team. You could win it for Dogwarts!”

“3rd Life is over, dude,” says Martyn with a chuckle. “Dogwarts doesn’t exist anymore.”

Skizz laughs back. “In my heart, it still does.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Dogwarts was…” Skizz hesitates, searching for the right words. “...a sense of community that I’ve never felt before. Legacy is incredible of course and I love everyone on there, but it took ages to build up that kind of connection. With you guys, I just… It almost felt like love at first sight, you know? We bonded so quickly and even though I’d never met you before 3rd Life and I’d only interacted with Etho and Ren through Among Us before, I felt like I’d die for you guys as soon as Ren gave me the Dogwarts banner.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Martyn says, to Skizz’s surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I came into this expecting to do whatever it took to win, but I came out of it with at least two new friends for life.”

Skizz decides to ask a question that’s been on his mind for a long time now. “Martyn, if you and Ren had made it to the final few, what would you have done? Would you have stayed loyal to him?”

Martyn falls silent.

Skizz frowns at him, but his friend’s lack of a reply is really all the answer he needs. “Oh… I see.”

“Okay, listen. I’m not sure, alright? I wanted to win, but I don’t know if I actually would’ve been able to go through with betraying him. Frankly, I choose to see it as a “the situation didn’t arise so I don’t need to think about it” kind of thing.”

“Huh. Fair enough.”

After a moment, Martyn gives a quiet sigh. “Okay, I don’t think I would’ve actually done it. Ren… He… He was the first person I’d met in a long time who really took the time to get to know me. I stayed with him out of necessity at first but he was… he was - IS - different than anyone else I’ve ever met. You know?”

“I think so,” says Skizz. “There’s just that connection, huh? When you know instantly you’ve met a friend for life. I got that with you the second you said you’d go through the underground tunnel to back me up against Grian and Scar.”

“Really?” chuckles Martyn. “That moment?”

“Yup. We hardly knew each other and our alliance wasn’t properly cemented yet but the way you talked, like it was never in doubt that you’d come to my aid, just clinched it for me. I knew then that I’d be bonded with you guys forever.”

Martyn thinks for a moment. “Looking back on it now, I think the moment I realised was when you revealed the tunnel you’d spent ages and ages building. That kinda made it fully sink in that “oh, we’re really in this together now”.”

“Oh yeah, I get what you mean.”

A short silence follows this, punctuated by Martyn’s communicator going off. He quickly checks it. Skizz watches a smile slowly spread over his face.

“Message from Scott,” says Martyn, his voice mostly controlled but with a slight tremor.

Skizz stares at him, hardly daring to hope. “No way…!”

Martyn’s smile widens into a grin. “Yeah! It’s me, Illumina, FalseSymmetry, and… and Ren.”

“Oh my gosh! You guys are gonna represent Dogwarts at MCC!”

“And that’s an AMAZING team, too,” Martyn adds. “False and Illumina are extremely good. I think we might have a real chance.”

“I totally believe in you guys!” Skizz sighs enviously. “I really wish I could watch you out there.”

Martyn glances sideways at him. “Well… there ARE spectators at the event. It’s by invitation only, but you and I both know the organiser of MCC, so…”

“Wait…!” Skizz’s eyes widen. “You think I can actually get to watch you guys in MCC?!”

“Yeah, I think we can arrange that!”

Excitement floods Skizz like a waterfall and he instinctively grabs Martyn in a hug. After a slightly startled moment, Martyn laughs and hugs his friend back.

Finally, Skizz releases Martyn and stands up, stretching out his limbs. “You wanna go for a walk and throw rocks at the ruins of the stupid desert?”

Martyn grins back and gets to his feet alongside his friend.

“Yes, yes I would.”

#3rdlifesmp #3rd life smp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #vaunna’s requests

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www-artforoddballs · 3 years

Text

Alright, so notice. Most of you probably know this, since you're following me for the Autistic Levi stuff (thank you, we're closing in on 100 followers!!!!), but people with autism can have "tantrums". I've kinda touched on this in a previous post (it's a full meltdown, but you can see that post here https://www-artforoddballs.tumblr.com/post/644803780958879744/autistic-levi-angstkinda-i-guess-this-is-him). For those of you who DON'T know, an autistic tantrum is not the same thing as what you'd think of in regards to a toddler or kid, it's just the word used for it. This is a mistake my mother and I made when getting the paperwork done while I was going through testing that later got cleared up lol

I had a tantrum yesterday, and so I figured that I could post about Leviathan having a tantrum, since it's still ready on my mind. I don't care if anyone else is proud of me for coping with it as well as I did, since it's a major improvement from last time I had one, but I am proud of myself!...with that in mind, here we go!!

There will be some angst in this post, like the last post in relation to this one, but like the last post, it turns out fine.

However.

Trigger warning for things such as self harm, both physical and verbal. If you or a loved one is self harming, either reach out to someone for help or reach out to that person to help, yeah?

OK on with the post.

-------------

First of all, Levi's autism is part of why his brothers always agree to help when there's a raffle for tickets or something like that on the DDD messages, because he can get overwhelmed if they don't at least help, even if he doesn't win in the end.

They figured out that his autism was the culprit for this shortly after his diagnosis.

Now when I'm writing for Levi, I like to think that his diagnosis was around the early 1990s since, while autism was a separate diagnosis in 1980, it didn't really start becoming fairly accepted and expanded upon until 1987. Hence why everyone is mostly used to it by now, but are still sometimes off put by his odd behavior; for them, as beings that have been around since...the beginning of the universe, pretty much as far as we know, but for at LEAST since humans were around (so at VERY least 2.5 million years now, but potentially up to around 7 million years (if they haven't been around since the beginning of creation)), this would be like...I dunno, give me a second.

Waiting

Waiting...

Okay, so from 1990(earliest year I have in mind) to 2019 (the year it was released) is 29 years. That's a minimum of 1/86,206.89th of their lifespan, and a maximum of 1/475,862,068.96th of their total lifetime.

So this is a VERY recent development for them on the grand scheme of things, but I digress.

So they're still figuring everything out, especially as the human race continues to learn about the condition itself.

So the first time Levi threw a tantrum and they recognized it for what it was...it was certainly interesting.

What had happened was exactly the situation described; Levi had wanted to go to a concert in the human world and they were raffling off free tickets. Except, unlike now, his brothers hadn't offered their support. They hadn't in the past, why would this time be any different?

Except now they viewed it through a different light. Leviathan had an image in his head that he desired so badly and had asked his brothers to support him, hopeful, only to be rejected at every turn. That he was used to, but it was still upsetting.

He put that to the side, though. He really wanted to see this band, and these were VIP tickets where you got to hang out with the band for a few hours after the concert! They'd cost a LOT of human money, and while they COULD afford it, he knew Lucifer would be bringing hell down upon him if he used that amount of family funds on a concert. And his anxiety was already somewhat raised, so he decided to enter the raffle on his own.

He sat there for hours, waiting for the results to come in. He'd hyped this up in his brain the entire time; He'd win, go to an amazing concert, have dinner with the band, maybe even make some friends....!...and then the results came back. He hadn't won.

As per usual, our snek boi went into one of his rants about how unfair it was, but instead of going on a rampage or something like that, locked himself up in his room and cried, hating himself for getting so excited over nothing.

As I mentioned before, I've made another post about a tantrum/getting too overwhelmed slipping into something even more dire, as that's almost always what happens to me. This would be in the 90s, so this would be their first real incident with one of these moments where they had the proper diagnosis, so bear with me, there will be some angst here, but like the other post, it'll be fine.

So Mammon ends up feeling bad for rejecting his little brother, and, not knowing it was too late, decided to go to his room and offer his support. It was almost Leviathan's birthday anyways, and Mammon knew how rejection felt and how much it sucked. So, he knocked on Leviathan's door.

No response. He knocked again...still no response, but a quiet sob.

Right away, Mammon switched from semi-carefree to worried. "Levi...?"

Again, no response. He decided to just go in and check on his brother...

The door was locked. And he smelled blood.

"Leviathan, I need you to open the door," Mammon said with a half hearted chuckle, his voice now becoming slightly strained. "Because if ya don't, I'm gonna have t' break the door down."

"Just go away!" Leviathan cried from inside his room. "Just leave me alone, you jerk!"

"I ain't goin' anywhere. Either open the door or I'm gonna break it down. Those are your two choices."

A moment of silence, before Mammon sighs, stretching, as he transforms into his demon form.

"Alright, option two it is."

He rammed into the door repeatedly, before the wood finally splintered and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Mammon quickly looked around, eyes widening as he saw Leviathan digging his own sharpened nails into his arms, multiple raked wounds, made by the same culprit, carved into his skin.

"Levi...look at ya..." Mammon said, voice faltering, tears welling up in his eyes. "I...how long has..."

"Just shut up! Don't act like you care about me, I'm the freak of our family, remember?! I'm the one whose brain isn't right, I'm just a shut-in, good for nothing, re-!"

He was quickly cut off by Mammon going to him and hugging him.

"I don't care who you are. You talk about my brother like that again and I'll kill you. Alright? You're a little off, but you ain't a freak, and your brain works just fine as is. You're perfect just the way you are, and if anybody else says any different, I'm gonna beat them the fuck up. Including you. Got that? So what if you've got that fancy lable on ya now...? Labels like that matter, but it didn't change ya. You're still my cringe, annoying as hell little weirdo of a brother...and I wouldn't have ya any other way."

Leviathan fully listened to Mammon talk, before clinging to him, breaking down sobbing again, and trying to explain what happened through his tears, the older demon gently rubbing his back and allowing him to cry it out, making sure no more harm was done.

A while later, once Levi had calmed down, Mammon ruffled his hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Lucifer is already gonna kill me for breaking your door, but he'd be even more pissed if I just left you here with those wounds."

So they did. And Mammon, after telling a VERY angry Lucifer what had happened hours later, had surprisingly NOT gotten chewed out by the eldest brother. Instead, that day, the entire family had a long discussion, and they all agreed that if it was something as small as entering a raffle, or even if it was bigger but not an inconvenience to anyone in the slightest, they'd all help out from then on. It's not like it was hard, and it would save Levi from hours of stress and negativity toward himself and others around him.

They also made a plan for if a tantrum were to happen while someone was around, or if he became too overwhelmed and started to spiral...because, as annoying as he could be, Leviathan was still family. And they loved him, oddities and all.

---------------

Alright, so...that was the post! I hope it was okay. I know I've written about this type of thing before a little, but different situations can end up with the same negative outcome, like being in an overwhelming situation, or not being able to change your thinking and not easily being able to get over your expectations. I've personally suffered with both, and it's a regular thing for me, so I like writing about it, because maybe, just maybe, it'll help someone out, or help someone that isn't autistic understand a friend or relative or classmate or employee better. And I love these characters, I really do. The only ironic thing is that I see so much of myself in Leviathan, but I adore him and despise myself. Go figure 😂

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and if there's anything you guys have questions about (in regards to me and my experience), or any specific writing requests, asks are fully open!

Thanks so much for being here to support me, you have no idea how much it means to a little oddball such as myself.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me belphie #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #autism obey me #obey me autism #obey me neurodivergent #neurodivergent #leviathan autism #autism #headcannons #obey me hcs

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neonthewrite · 3 years

Text

Washed Up Winchesters 8 (Final)

The mystery is solved and the case closed! It seems the Winchesters didn't quite expect things to go this way, but when there's a giant involved, all kinds of things go differently!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) -8-

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Chase pushed himself up and shook his head. He was more used to being swept up in a giant hand, but toppling over a few times had winded him. He frowned over the edge of the hand, then over at Sam. “What?”

Jacob’s other hand lifted to be level with them. Minnie was clinging to his thumb and scanning the flock of sheep warily. They were all still milling around, keeping a tight group, several of them aiming disdainful baaas up in the air. Dean’s defiant stand over their heads certainly had not gone unnoticed. Minnie had never seen sheep act like that, certainly not in the shadow of a giant. “Sam?”

"Th-the sheep!" Sam gestured in the direction of the hostile flock. "We're chasing skinwalkers, not werewolves! They can be any type of animal, so long as it's what the pack started out as!"

The confusion on Dean's face cleared. "So you're saying this flock is the people we've been chasing the whole time?"

Sam nodded at the silver knife in Dean's hand. "One way to find out for sure."

Jacob frowned pensively. Even after hearing about how dangerous the skinwalkers were, he could hardly imagine the flock of fluffy sheep before him causing much trouble. Mostly they milled around among each other, all keeping tabs on Dean with his glimmering knife. It was weird that they didn't even want to run from Jacob, but he hadn't made any moves against them.

Even Chase and Minnie had been mostly spared. Chase had only fallen over because he kept trying to pull Dean up.

Jacob decided to throw in his two cents. "I mean, they're… they're not really doing anything," he pointed out.

"Except yelling at us," Chase agreed, waving a hand at a ram that bleated insistently up at him.

"Wait," Minnie chimed in, her brow pinching with confusion. "Do they understand what we're saying when they're in their whatever-form?"

Sam circled a hand through the air aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts and what he knew of their current enemies. "Skinwalkers aren't like werewolves, who give in to their more... animalistic side when they transform. They maintain their regular consciousness and memory. The main danger is that they can transfer their ability with a bite, increasing the size of their pack... or flock." Sam gave the flock of sheep a strange look. He'd never encountered supernatural creatures in the guise of herbivores like the sheep. This case was shaping up to be unique in more ways than one.

"That means," Sam continued, "they know just who we are, and anything we said while we were here. Which is why they were so quick to lunge at me and Dean. They already found us once on the ship, when they were in their human forms. We couldn't stay under cover, and ended up tossed overboard."

Minnie frowned critically over the side of Jacob’s hand, even as the giant lifted everyone slightly higher. If those sheep really were skinwalkers, and at this point they certainly weren’t acting like normal sheep, they’d just let the group wander among them. She’d patted their heads and tried to click at them like she did with her lambs back home and everything. The feeling that wormed into her gut was something like betrayal.

“So these guys might be the reason I found you floundering out in the waves,” Jacob echoed, a disapproving frown on his face.

“Well what do they--” Chase began, asking Sam first before looking over the side of the hand at the nearest sheep bleating up at them. “What do you want in Lilliput then?!”

For a long moment, it appeared as though Chase's demand would go unanswered. The sheep milled restlessly around, giving Jacob's feet a wide berth as they bleated.

Then, the ram that had given Dean a runaround when he was on the ground stepped out into an opening that formed in the flock. It cocked its head, fixing one eye on the hand that held Chase, Minnie, Sam and Dean. Its expression was impossible to read as it looked them over, one by one.

There was a shift, and then the ram's horns appeared to melt away. Several cracks could be heard as its back shifted to an upright position, and the hooves split into four fingers and a thumb.

After less than ten seconds from when the shift started, the ram stood there as a regal and distinguished looking man, dressed in a simple white shirt and dark pants. He frowned at the people in Jacob's hand, then up at the giant himself.

"As I recall," the man said, "you were the ones to smuggle onto our ship when we had done nothing to you in turn, stinking of silver and gunpowder."

Seeing the transformation had been more than enough to leave Jacob, Minnie, and even Chase speechless for a hesitant moment. Jacob’s mouth opened slightly, as amazed as he’d been the first time he met Chase. He had never really thought about tiny people existing anywhere before. He definitely hadn’t imagined them having the ability to turn into tiny sheep. “Uh. Wh… what,” he muttered.

“I mean. I guess that’s technically true,” Chase finally admitted, sending an uncomfortable sideways glance at Sam and Dean. He frowned down at the apparent leader of a flock of sheep skinwalkers. “So … are skinwalkers usually dangerous, or not? ‘Cause I feel like that would clear up a lot, knowing what you actually plan to do in Lilliput, right?”

The man’s lip curled in disgust. “Oh, please,” he said disparagingly. “Unlike our more… wolf-ish cousins, we have no interest in anyone’s hearts.”

Next to him, a second sheep transformed back. This one was shorter, and he had very mousy features in comparison to the ram’s dignified look. “But we like Romaine hearts,” he stuttered out insistently. “Right? Right?!”

“Please, Jerimiah,” the ram said. “This situation is delicate enough without your help.” He turned to look up at the Lilliputians and Blefuscians held in the giant’s hand. “Haven’t you ever heard ‘The grass is greener on the other side?’ We are here in search of better pastures. Nothing more.”

Chase’s mouth opened in a delighted grin over the bad pun. Before he could try to chime in with his own, Minnie slapped his arm with the back of her hand. In her opinion, she had enough to deal with without her brother adding to the pile. She’d thought this was a poor lost flock of sheep. Not an intentional group of … magic shapeshifting squatters. “So are Sam and Dean the only ones you hurt, or …?”

Jacob heaved a slow sigh. Minnie had a point. If they had left behind more than just Sam and Dean, it would be dangerous having the shapeshifters around Lilliput too. “Yeah, I mean. I’m pretty sure I can outrun you guys, but what’s to stop you from sneaking along later and trying something again? Are Chase and Minnie here in danger because they know your secret?”

The ram’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “All we want is green fields and calm waters,” he explained. “Any Blefuscans that we ran into, we ran off, nothing more. These… hunters that followed us were the most persistent, and I couldn’t risk the safety of my flock. Throwing them off the ship was only done as a last resort.”

Looking over the rest of the flock, and a brief glance at the twitchy Jerimiah, the ram shook his head in doubt. “Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream to find a place free of warmongering, but we had to try.”

“So…” Sam tentatively leaned forward. “Your main plan is to get as far from civilization, and stay there?”

“Sammy…” Dean started, but was ignored.

The ram nodded. “It seemed like a more likely situation to find in Lilliput compared to Blefuscu. Such an idyllic land…” He turned to Chase and Minnie. “No one here is at risk from my flock, I give you my word. Even if we get sent back to Blefuscu.” The last statement was said with a sideways glance at Dean.

The guy seemed genuine enough. Having lived in Lilliput for a bit, Jacob knew the locals to be fussy but harmless. They would likely be too caught up in their own drama to notice an extra flock of sheep up past the hills, especially since no one really wandered this far anyway. He decided that he believed the stern little guy.

It wasn't really up to him, though. He lowered his hands a bit, not enough to put his passengers at risk but at least to bring them more level with the ram. "Whatcha think, Chase? Minnie?"

"It's weird," Chase said, practically bursting for an opening to speak up. "Sheep-people .... sheepshifters!"

Minnie smacked his arm. "How is that helping?" she scolded, before addressing the ram again. "I don't think anyone uses these pastures so you won't get anyone upset. But will you even be safe out here? From wolves and things, I mean?"

The ram looked down his nose at her. “Wolves have been our problem since the start,” he said with a sharp look sent in Dean’s direction. “We haven’t been able to shake them yet.”

Sam stepped between Dean and the ram with an arm to separate them, before thoughtless words could be thrown. “If we leave you be, does this mean you’ll leave the Lilliputians alone?” he asked, trying to keep the focus. “We’re only here to deal with threats.”

The ram sighed. “We won’t bother a soul, you have my word. So long as we have our pastures.”

Sam put his arm down. “I think our job’s done then,” he said. “They’ll just need a safe place to call home now.”

“This works,” Chase agreed, gesturing at the current pasture. Aside from Jacob looming over the field with several people standing on his hands, it was a simple, idyllic view. The area was lush, if a bit wild, and unbothered by Lilliput or Blefuscu. “We even have Jacob here to come check on you sometimes if you need anything.”

Jacob rolled his eyes at being volunteered so easily. It was his lot in life anymore, to have Chase suggest him for any task that needed doing. “I have a pretty easy time getting over here,” he agreed anyway. “If you need supplies.”

Minnie glanced over at Sam and Dean. Sam seemed mollified, though Dean looked as ready for a fight as ever. Looking back at the sheep, she gave them an exaggerated shrug. “Looks like everyone’s okay, so … it all worked out? This time?”

The ram gave Minnie a stiff half-bow, looking uncomfortable with the unfamiliar gesture. “We will hold up our end of the bargain,” he promised.

With a quick shift, the man again turned into a ram. Large, curving horns came out of his forehead first before he fell forward onto a new set of hooves. By the time he hit the ground, he could have blended in with any herd of sheep and proceeded to walk amongst the others. Jerimiah followed suit next. Then, a slowly stirring wave expanded throughout the herd until they were all heading in the same ambling direction.

Sam sighed, blowing out his bangs. “Case closed.”

“Weirdest case ever,” Dean complained. “Almost as weird as running into the actual giant in the lands.” He sent Jacob a side-eye. “Maybe next time we’re in Lilliput, we can enlist some extra help again?” Despite his usual gruff tone of voice, the interest in having a giant helper shone right through.

Chase drew himself up proudly, though he still stood notably shorter than either brother. “We’re totally ready to kick some ass, anytime we’re needed.”

Minnie rolled her eyes. “Preeeetty sure they were asking for Jacob,” she pointed out, nudging Chase with an elbow.

“Hey! I helped!”

Jacob smirked. He’d gotten somewhat used to the surly attitude from Dean. It seemed the little folk over in Blefuscu could be just as excitable as the Lilliputians he’d come to know. Chase and Minnie’s antics were practically a given. “I’m basically a glorified taxi,” he warned. “But I’ll be here.”

#mywriting #collab #washed up winchesters #chase in lilliput au #chase lisong #minnie lisong #sam winchester #dean winchester #jacob andris #supernatural fanfiction #gullivers travels fanfiction #g/t #g/t handheld #it's over .... just like that

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cross-d-a · 3 years

Text

As I'm slowly making my way through DMBJ Vol. 8 (takes place right after Ultimate Note), I'm coming across a lot of little passages that I adore and want to share bc Feelings✨

Warning: these excerpts obviously contain spoilers for what happens after Ultimate Note. So if you don't want spoilers please skip this post! (*・∀-)☆

For all these posts I'm using MereBear's absolutely amazing translations!!! Please check out their work!!! They put a lot of time and effort into it❤️✨

The scene I really wanna talk about first takes place in Chapter 25: No Choice.

To set it up a bit: Wu Xie is still masquerading as Sanshu and has returned to the mountains to try to find his friends. He's got a whole team of people with him and he manages to reunite with Pangzi who's escaped the horrors underground. Pangzi's got a map leading to Xiao Ge carved into his own belly. Before Pangzi wakes up, Pan Zi and Xiao Hua decide to follow the map while Wu Xie anxiously waits above ground. Then they lose contact and Pangzi wakes up. Wu Xie and Pangzi are eager to rescue their friends so they set out with the rest of their team. Except!! Wu Xie hasn't found a good moment to reveal himself to Pangzi!! He's still posing as Sanshu and it's Stressing him The Fuck Out. THEN! We get this lovely little gem of a passage:

It's such a cute little moment!! And also a meaningful one. Pangzi knew it was Wu Xie and he still kept up the charade so Wu Xie could save face. Wu Xie's somehow managed to fool everyone but Pangzi (and believe me, Wu Xie's barely scraping by the skin of his teeth at times). But Pangzi knows Wu Xie so well that he immediately saw it was him. And he still chose to follow Wu Xie despite not knowing his plan. Despite not knowing why exactly he was masquerading as Sanshu. He trusts Wu Xie so much that he didn't even question it. He just ran with it, damn the details.

Except, okay I'm gonna rip the rug right out from under this sweet moment because there is something hilarious about this scene, too. In Chapter 15: Fatty in the Gap, Wu Xie finds Pangzi who is hurt and mostly unconscious, and Wu Xie is just losing his mind a bit with worry. I'm gonna do a post about this particular scene later, but what you need to know is this:

Wu Xie TELLS Pangzi that he's actually Wu Xie and not Sanshu! He fucking tells him! Is Wu Xie so worried about Pangzi that he immediately forgets this? Does he get so distracted by everything after this moment that he forgets? (Xiao Hua and Pan Zi do leave after this, and Wu Xie's going a bit crazy worrying about Xiao Ge) Pangzi is also very out of it when Wu Xie tells him and he's comatose for a while afterwards, so maybe Wu Xie didn't think Pangzi heard. But even through the pain Pangzi reaches out and grabs Wu Xie's wrist, like Wu Xie is the only thing that could reach him. And then he relaxes. Like he's acknowledging Wu Xie. Like he's comforted by Wu Xie being there. He trusts Wu Xie. That is so painfully obvious. (And oh god there is a LOT about the deep trust between Wu Xie and Pangzi in Vol. 8 like holy shit)

But also, if we assume that Pangzi does know 'Sanshu' is Wu Xie because he remembered this moment- it is fucking hilarious that Pangzi chooses to tease Wu Xie in that Chapter 25 reveal moment. It is so in character for their relationship. However, I think Pangzi would know it's Wu Xie without being told. They just know each other so well. They understand each other so well, though they're still learning. (more on this in a later excerpt post!!)

And right after Pangzi reveals that he knows who Wu Xie is, Wu Xie scolds Pangzi for not telling him beforehand:

And there we have it again. Pangzi's unwavering trust. "Of course I'll cooperate with you," he says. Because Pangzi would follow Wu Xie to hell and back.

And, because I am always crying about the theme of trust in Vol.8, the conversation ends with this:

I just- have so many feelings about this little scene. Once again, Wu Xie and Pangzi understand each other so well. But I think Pangzi understands Wu Xie more than Wu Xie understands himself. We talk about Wu Xie being a bleeding heart a lot, and it's true. And Pangzi knows it. He sees it, he recognizes it, and he knows it's Wu Xie's greatest strength and worst flaw. In these chapters, Pangzi establishes that he does not trust Xiao Hua. He does not trust Granny Huo. He does not trust anyone in this expedition. He trusts no one but Wu Xie. And Wu Xie trusts far too easily. Pangzi loves Wu Xie so much, but he realizes that if Wu Xie continues in this way he won't survive. Not alone. This is why Pangzi puts himself in this caretaker role. He'd rather be the one to take the brunt of the darkness of the world (he is much like Xiao Ge in this way, treasuring Wu Xie's innocence). But Pangzi is also practical. Pangzi can't always be there to save him. In fact, Wu Xie's been separated from him for a while now. And as much as it pains Pangzi, he wants to teach Wu Xie not to trust so easily. Because he knows Wu Xie won't survive this by being so naive. (Again, even if his naïveté is one of the reasons why Wu Xie is so precious to Pangzi)

There's a lot of character development in Vol.8 that really hurts, especially because it foreshadows Wu Xie's character in Sha Hai. Here, Wu Xie is young, and he's thrust into this grand plot he's desperately trying to figure out. And he's alone for a lot of it. Left to fend for himself and pretend to be someone he is not. Someone who is ruthless and scheming. Someone who puts the mission above all else. And this someone (Sanshu) raised him. It's a lot to deal with. Especially when he starts seeing these traits reflected in himself. But if he doesn't act this way, then the people he loves will die. So he forces himself to carry on despite this bleeding heart. I'm gonna do later posts about how Wu Xie sees himself, but I think this book is really the beginning of how young Wu Xie grows into the hurt and weary Wu Xie we see in Sha Hai.

Anyways, I just really wanted to share this little moment between Wu Xie and Pangzi. Especially because I feel like their relationship sometimes gets overshadowed by Pingxie. This little scene stole my heart not only because it's adorable, but because it's very heartbreaking and truly reveals their characters and relationship ❤️

#Wu xie #wang Pangzi #dmbj #ultimate note #dmbj novels #dmbj vol 8 #cross reads dmbj #dmbj meta #the lost tomb #I just have a lot of feelings about these two okay #dmbj books #cross post

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rolandtowen · 3 years

Text

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

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