#and if it IS one thing I think it's feeding above hunting and scavenging | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortless · 3 months

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for your consideration, dearest syl: hybrid Flemish giant rabbit!König 🐇💭

flemish giant rabbit hybrid! König x fem, coyote hybrid! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. hybrids: König is (mostly) human! he just has bunny ears and a cute lil tail & the same goes for reader!, kind of dark- mentions of what is essentially cannibalism, violence, scent & breeding kink, dubious consent to everything. please heed the warnings!

hello lil wisp! sorry!! this veered off a bit from what i usually write. there is still some fluff and sweetness here if you squint real hard…

Winter is setting in.

You could feel it on your bare skin, the chill that sweeps past the trees like breath from a ghoul’s rotting throat: something dead and wretched, so cold it steals your breath and halts the blood in your veins. If you weren’t careful, staying ahead of yourself and the rest of the things lurking in the woods, that ivory death would creep up, grab you by the neck and drown you out in the snow.

With the season comes the need to feed. You don’t have the luxury of hibernation settled into the primitive roots of your brain. While everyone else tucks themselves into dens carved out from mountains or beneath the earth, settled in with the roots of vast trees, you’re still left in smothering snow, heavy as the weight of the hunger.

You were born for this, the hunt: to feel your fingernails dig into the fallen leaves and forest debris, curl in carving your name into the earth, bite and rip and tear. “Little coyote,” the birds would call, seated up on tree limbs so, so far above that the sunlight would burn your eyes if you dare to look at them, “let us watch.”

You always put on the show, always stage the fight with grace. A lost, blubbering sheep one day; the wool ‘round her ears dried your throat, her mournful bleating only died down when your teeth found her throat. The canopy above echoed your pride, they were always grateful to have something to scavenge later, whether it be finger or eye or ear; your hunger wasn’t the only that raged out here in the forest.

This winter would have to be your last alone. You could feel the way a life of roaming without pack or anything to settle with had eaten away at not just your body, but that little illusion of a soul somewhere tucked a long way down inside of you.

It would be a simple one, too— drag some creature to your den to keep your flesh warmed and your stomach full, survive this loathsome season and flourish with the spring. When the leaves returned and the lakes thawed, you could settle into some foreign pack. Flash your neck, hide your teeth and hope they wouldn’t rip you apart as you have so many others.

You think to yourself that a deer would do, some meek little doe that would bat her eyelashes and plead that you only wait the winter out with her, curling against you to keep you warm as you keep her safe until finally…

You didn’t like to think about it too much.

As much as the chase and the thrill had a hold on you, thinking about the loss of life, the ghosts that cling to your shoulders and wail, waiting for your turn to join them was far different. You couldn’t fight your nature, but you knew well enough you could never entirely swallow down the guilt that came with it, either.

There was a pain in your legs as you walked, exhaustion that would go unsatisfied until your plan had been laid out proper. It begins to feel dismal when you realize you have not seen another creature in miles, no prints, either. The only thing that brings you any companionship are the first flakes of snow, sifting down from far above, the great bone white and gray of an falsified sea.

You crouch and wait, curling your arms around your midsection as you shiver. Time passes, but you can’t be certain of just how much… mere seconds, maybe hours. The sky gives nothing away.

Now, there’s a rabbit.

You catch the scent of it on the breeze, musky and floral. Poor thing has probably only basked beneath evergreens, lived in sprawling gardens its entire life, kissed the sun and held flaking petals in its hands. So very unlike you who only knows the shade, the blood, and the hunt.

Your charge is determined, the soles of your feet torn and bloodied from angry thorns springing up from the crushed leaves on the cold soil; teeth bared as you hurtle through the brush of dying plant life. Its so close, so terribly close you can already feel the way your teeth will rend its flesh, feel saliva pooling up on the back of your tongue.

Reaching the forest’s edge you spot… him.

The rabbit is huge, stood in the midst of the deadened field with his back turned to you. The tall, decaying grass just barely brushes against the backs of his knees, low hanging fog veiling his face. If not for the puffy, fawn-colored tail situated just past the expanse of the pale, toned back, you would have assumed you were faced with some sort of bear.

This is not your usual prey.

No matter the sharpness of your claws or the ferocity of your bite, you know well enough that someone like this could never be brought down by yourself alone. It’s too risky, even as your belly aches and you itch to be back in the warmth of your den, surrounded by the pelts of the four-legged imitations and the fire roaring in its pit…

Rabbits were simple, at least. You press your face against them and cuddle, whisper sweet things in their ears and they melt, begging to be swallowed whole without any idea that you’ve only ever meant it literally.

You approach him with cautious, gentle steps, allowing your body language to remain open and friendly as you present him with the view of you bare, claws turned inward into your own palms and teeth hidden away by soft, warm lips. Your ears lie back to rest against your head, tail tucked between your thighs: all a display of utter submission, and a trickery that has worked time and time again.

“It’s getting cold..,” you murmur, voice low and as pitiful as it can get. “Will you keep me warm?”

Your rabbit cocks his head at you, one flopped ear lifting in curiosity. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t startle… The poor, stupid thing remains in place as his stare drinks you in, almost adoringly as you pad right up to him. There’s no hope of your faces being level, you merely use that to your advantage, putting on a cute pout and placing your palms flat against his bare chest.

“Ja,” he murmurs, gently coaxing your chin up to look him properly in the eye. Cute prey was easy, but never… never in your life had you found your prey to be handsome. Even with those silly ears bouncing with each cloudy puff of breath he takes, his face is still something of a myth. The old humans would have made statues in his honor from his build alone, but that face would have given him the look of a warrior of myth— brutish, yet charming with the wide grin he gives you when you meet the sea holly color of his irises. “Come here.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease and your shivering immediately ceases, he’s warm like the summer sun.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers into one of your triangular ears, causing it to involuntarily flick from the rush of his breath and press tighter to your skull.

Your intent was to take him to your own den, but as he begins to move it winds up being the opposite; there are mountains, an ice covered stream all laid out before you as he huffs more sweet words in a foreign tongue against your temple. It takes some time to understand that what you had intended to do and what he intends are entirely different. The mouth of a vast cave comes into view right as he dips his head, huffs several breaths against you, panting like a dog.

You’re only dropped when he kneels down to enter the den— his, ripe with the scent of sweat and musk and something floral. The rabbit has supplies stowed away for the winter, an array of preserved food, ample pelts likely stolen away from some other poor creature. He has weapons scattered about, stolen away from what remained of the old humans and their buildings, some sharper and more deadly than even the claws that crest the peeks of your hands. Your heart only plummets… you’re not in the presence of some stupid bunny, but a behemoth.

You begin your protests in a hiss, only to have your lips met with dried fruit, something sweet and red laid out on your tongue that tastes of sugar. He pulls you up and over his lap as he fits you both into the bed of animal skins and feeds you by gently guiding the food to your lips. The only think still spitting and crackling is a fire pit at the center as you allow yourself to somewhat settle.

The rabbit man only hums his contentment against your throat as your back presses to the expanse of chest behind you, and his hands trail away from your mouth, down further until they’re spreading your legs for him. Your pulse races as your eyes map the daggers across the floor down to the fur he’s seated you with him upon.

There’s only a hiss of breath that leaves your lips when his already leaking cock does press against the heat of your core. You don’t fuck prey— that would only spoil it, and you suppose that you are satisfied in knowing that he has no intention of harming you, only filling you with his seed, perhaps even his kits…

As his tip snags at your entrance, he purrs finding you already wet, bared open for him with his hand still steadying your thigh.

“Coyotes mate for life, hm?,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his own thigh trembling with the sheer excitement of the prospect of breeding you, tethering you to him for not only the rest of this winter.

You can hardly bite back the moan as he pushes through your folds again, nudging your bud as he spreads your arousal over the girth of him.

“Answer,” he commands in a sharp whisper, using his free hand to guide your chin up again. And you do, only in a weak nod.

He stuffs you full then, leaves you a panting heap as he repositions you onto your knees and covers you in himself. The furs smell of him, not the animals they’ve come from. Just the scent of lonely nights and a bitter, masculine stench that you whine and whimper into; all while he grunts his approval and praises about your tightness, your warmth, how you look somehow prettier now, capsized in his bed. Even has the audacity to whisper how long he’s watched you dart through the forest and waited for you to come to him as you sink your claws into hay and fur to steady yourself from the punishing pace he sets.

He only seems more fervent and adoring when he brings you to a rapturous bliss, keening whines and and tight praises pulled free from your throat as your cunt drools around him.

“You want kits?,” he purrs behind you, around you, everywhere as his voice lowers to an almost growl with each word spoken. In your trembling state, addled by sheer bliss as his cock soars into you to grind against your deepest places, you’ve barely the mind to refuse him anything. You merely mumble into the fur, something akin to a yes that has him grasping at your hips as though you’re his last tether to life itself.

When he’s finished, your stomach full of fruit and cunt full of him, he whispers into your ear about how the old humans believed in fate. His hands trail over your back, your waist, every curve only to rise and cup your cheek. His ears raise when he kisses you then, tender, as if trying to push his faith that you belong here right past your teeth.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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north-winds1 · 1 year

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More doodles about my arti's pups post

I've got more information/a rough idea:

. When artificer's pups die artificer continues on to find the nearest shelter not fully realising what happened. thinking that they won't come back next cycle. She starts her revenge, originally she hunted down the scav that killed her pup, then another scavenger who had witnessed it and another after that, until all the scavengers were after her.

. Afterall they were her little pups. Her young children who weren't yet used to the cycle. Or so she thought.Her pups wake up in a shelter alone and confused without their mother but try their best to travel the same path they had with their mother the previous cycle.

. They eventually make it to moon's can (the most reasonable idea I have of them getting up there is being picked up by a vulture only to get droped for much larger prey or they get fought over by other vultures who were resting on moon's can).

. They travel together down the access shaft and meet moon who gives them the mark of communication. I'm not exactly sure what she would say (but something along the lines of it not being safe for them, wondering where their parents are and asking them to find their parents and leave her structure, again as its not safe for them here).

. The pups being pups don't fully understand what this strange blue thing is saying to them, only really realising that they are very very hungry.Moon ends up feeding them (I find it kind of interesting that in spearmaster's campaign being given the mark of communication increases food pips). She sends them through the access shaft hoping for them to safely find shelter and their parents.

. The slugpups immediately return back to moon's room very confused as she sends them back out again. They find shelter and come back the next cycle to visit her. This repeats for a while until moon's can starts breaking down further essentially trapping them there for most of arti's story.

. During this time the pups and moon become very close, with moon being almost like a second parent to them. I can imagine the pups getting into all kinds of trouble.

. Eventually moon fully collapsed, the pups (now much older around monks age) are unable to find where her room and her puppet had gone under all the rubble and debris. Leading them to eventually leaving after giving up on cycles upon cycles of trying to find moon.

. They decide to try to befriend scavengers as they don't seem to recognise the pups as the ones who had been attacked so long ago. They hear stories of this violent terrifying slugcat with a scar over it's eye strong enough kill a 100 scavengers in a single cycle and how entire tribes of scavengers were now left fleeing from their previously safe home above the clouds.

. They come across a citizen ID drone (either the scav kings or a different one), either finding it randomly like artificer found hers or it being traded to them. remembering the scavengers stories they make the climb up five pebbles and meet him.

And that's how far I've gotten so far, I'm still figuring out what the pups and artificer's reaction to meeting each other would be.

Would the pups reunite with their mother and try to make back the time they missed? Would they understand her decision on violence against scavengers? Would they even recognise artificer as their mother or see her as a monster, something terrifying that should be feared and avoided? Would artificer even remember what her pups looked like after all this time or would they be like strangers to her? Would the pups think she abandoned them or would they understand what happened?

I have so many ideas.

#rain world #rainworld art #slugcat #digital art #slugcats #rainworld #Things will probably change somewhat as I develop this idea more #I think artificer and her pups deserve to meet each other agian #Whether its good or bad #If anyone wants to ask me about more specific information I'll try my best to answer it #Just please know I'm still figuring out characters personalities and things #I wasn't sure if I should've rebloged the previous post with this or make a new one

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rotationalsymmetry · 11 months

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ok I’m definitely not reblogging because I don’t want to shame OP, but I just read a really weird read on vegetarianism and pet ownership.

I’m an ecologist. My opposition to meat eating isn’t about the sanctity of life; most animals eat at least some meat some of the time, some animals exclusively eat meat, animals can eat meat and also have a functioning ecosystem. Actually everything has to be eaten at some point, either via predation or after death via scavenging or decomposition. That’s how we recycle nutrients.

The reason it’s not great for humans to eat meat has to do with trophic levels and carrying capacity . There’s about an order of magnitude more zebras than lions. If humans want to live like lions, our carrying capacity (how many of us can exist without breaking everything) is lower than if we live mostly like zebras. This is complicated by exactly what biome you’re living in (if you live in the arctic, living like a zebra is not an option) and it’s also complicated by the way all industrial agriculture is unsustainable. There is a sense in which all industrial ag is just terrible and we shouldn’t be doing it, at all. But just like you can’t live like a zebra in Alaska, in practice most people can’t opt out of industrial agriculture. But industrial animal agriculture is about an order of magnitude (ten times) more unsustainable than skipping the animals and feeding people plants, so when people can eat plant foods or mostly plant foods — and especially when people can avoid beef/cow meat specifically — it’s … harm reduction. It buys us a little more time.

My impression is indigenous cultures that aren’t in places where eating plants isn’t viable handle this by 1. mostly eating plants, or maybe some combo of plants and seafood, and 2. having a bunch of rules around hunting and harvesting that include the idea of asking permission to take life. I have no idea what that looks like in practice, but I’m sure it makes sense to people who were raised that way. Point is, while vegetarianism is a cultural anomaly, that doesn’t mean that cultures that do eat meat think everything is fine with every way of killing animals for meat.

As a side note the reason I can coexist without conflict with meat eaters is I have a very strong ethic around the idea that each person is in charge of their own life and moral choices, and I’m kind of straddling the middle of an older worldview of “some things that are good to do are mandatory for everyone, and some things that are good to do are sort of above and beyond, and most people aren’t going to do them and that’s ok,” with vegetarianism being one of the above and beyond things, and a newer stoicism-based “whatever anyone else does is none of my damn business anyways.” That’s got nothing to do with seeing animal lives as less valuable than human lives — I think humans should be eaten too, by worms or bacteria or fungi after we’re dead, so that nutrients stay in the ecosystem — and everything to do with “I’ve got enough to handle with my own life and my own moral responsibilities, I don’t need to be running other people’s too.”

#Anyways I do firmly believe humans are animals #They’re animals that humans especially care about because they’re us #But yeah we’re not some separate category and this is really obvious from a biology perspective #We are primates and mammals and vertebrates #We have a clear spot in relationship to other animals #You can’t be a vertebrate and not an animal that’s not how things work

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citysaurus · 2 years

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Just discovered your Amphiterra Project and I love it so much! Two questions tho:

1.) In this amphibian-dominated timeline, what happened to reptiles and therapsids? Did they die out, or do they coexist in smaller, more marginal forms?

2.) How does the Catastrophic Fraggon reproduce? Does it go through a tadpole stage?

These are some really great questions!

1) This is a question I think I would have answered differently until more recently, learning more about the types of mammals that existed alongside dinosaurs. In the same way that mammals were more diverse and inhabiting different roles during the age of dinosaurs than is generally known, I think reptiles and therapsids would be quite diverse. After all, just because we're in an age of mammals doesn't mean we don't have things like the saltwater crocodile around. There are two specific cases that come to mind for me in Amphiterra - one, reptiles holding onto dominance in hot, dry, desert considitions. Even at Amphiterra's moistest, there would be areas around the equator that would be hot, dry reptile dominated landscapes. As for therapsids, one area I think they would have great success in would be flight - their fast metabolism being better adapted to the rigours of flight than amphibians, I could see bat-like mammalians and marsupials filling many of the niches we see filled in our timeline by birds.

2) I hope to elaborate on reproduction much more for all the species in the future, but as far as the catastrophic fraggon goes, here's what I have in mind:

- Catastrophic Fraggon individuals claim huge ranges of territory, and fiercely defend their territories against others of its species at all times - with the exception of mating season from about March to early June. Fraggon glut through hunting and scavenging in the preceding weeks - they'll soon be quite busy, with limited time to hunt.

- The male fraggon digs a shallow pool using its massive lower jaw as a bulldozer, the pool being maybe up to four feet deep and up to twenty feet wide. The pool has to be a short distance away from running water, and have tree cover. These extremely exacting circumstances needed for nesting are part of what contribute to the relatively short reign of this fraggon - even a relatively short dry period could spell disaster for the species.

-The male fraggon calls out for a female with its characteristic earsplitting wail. This is dangerous for two reasons; he could attract a rival male, who could bully our male away from his carefully dug pool and claim it as his own, especially if the rival is older and more experienced. Should a female be lured in, she judges the pool, as well as the physical fitness of the male. Should she find either lacking, best case scenario, she leaves the male alone. Worst case scenario, the typically larger female is not above cannibalizing the male to provide for her future brood and to claim his territory. (Cannibalism is everywhere in the amphibian world!)

-Should the female find the pool and the male acceptable, she will deposit her eggs into the pool and the male will fertilize them externally. By amphibian standards, the clutch is small and the eggs large, each clutch composing of a dozen or so canteloupe-sized eggs.

-Over the next two months, the fraggon are watchful and dedicated parents, taking turns watching over the pool so the other parent can hunt. The water in the pool is constantly refreshed by the parents carrying over a hundred gallons of water at a time to the pool from the water source in their gular sac.

-The tadpoles are born the size of trout and gain size rapidly, feeding off anything brought in with the mouthfuls of water - fish, small animals, vegetation, and, of course, cannibalism. Out of the dozen or so eggs, only two or three of the biggest tadpoles survive.

-Once remaining tadpoles are about four feet long and start growing tusks, the parents dig a trench from the pool to the river, letting the tadpoles slide into the river and disperse. Shortly after this event, the tadpoles undergo the process of growing their limbs in a familiar amphibian fashion, a process of about 6 months.

-Juvenile fraggon are semi-aquatic ambush predators, living like and often competing with crocodilians in freshwater environments. As it matures, the fraggon will spend less time in water, becoming primarily a terrestrial predator around 5 years of age, and reaches sexual maturity at around 12 years of age. It is at this stage that the species's characteristic red coloring appears. Juvenile fraggon avoid adult individuals of their species at all costs - a juvenile fraggon is a great meal for an adult.

-The upper limit on fraggon age appears to be 25. Not many creatures can kill a fraggon, but competition agsinst others of their species is a shockingly common cause of death.

---

I know there's a lot of detail there, but I actually hope to do some art to go with this text and add it to the main site in a future update. Something I absolutely want to make available both as content and as merch would be a to-scale poster of all the amphiterra larval forms. Thanks for the great questions!

#amphiterra #speculative biology #bighugefrog

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yourgoldengirls · 4 years

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Lonely

Pairing: Rick Grimes x F!Reader

Summary: After the fall of the prison, the reader finds herself alone with baby Judith mourning her family while trying to survive.

Warnings: angst, fluff

W/C: 3360

Ao3

A/N: Yes, I am writing this while there is a HUGE list of assignments that I am currently ignoring. Please enjoy my attempt of failing college. If you like it, please reblog and leave a comment. This is my first time writing fanfiction so I am open to criticism, but I am also a sucker for compliments. English is not my first language so if there is any mistakes please let me know.

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so lonely.

Of course, before all this she was always alone, living in her small apartment in the city and working in her cubicle.

But now, as she sits in an abandoned car in the middle of the desert road with the baby in her arms, she feels lonely.

Before, she didn’t know what was like to have a family, to care and rely on someone, to share your fears and joy and journey with people that care deeply about you.

So yes, before she was alone. But she wasn’t lonely. She wasn’t missing anything.

You can’t miss what you never had.

Now, while she is scare and hungry in the middle of the apocalypse holding an already asleep Judith, she feels lonely.

Now she misses her family.

She misses Carl’s laugh and jokes, and the way he would always come to her when he wanted to talk about his fears or when he wanted help to prank his father.

She misses Maggie and their late night talks in the guard tower while they were keeping watch (their apocalypse sleepover, as they like to call) when they would just pretend to be two friends in the normal world gossiping about the neighbors and boyfriends with Beth.

She misses Daryl and his shy demeanor, how he always would hunt for them even when they already had food enough as a way of showing he cares without having to say it.

She misses Glenn and his sweetness, the way he would always make sure she ate something before taking shifts clearing the fence. The way he took care of her as she was his little sister, since he found her in one of his runs back in Atlanta and toke her to the camp without questions.

She misses Michonne and her sass, they afternoon training and how she never lets anyone touch her katana but agreed in showing her how to use it.

But most of all she misses Rick.

God, she misses him so much it hurts.

Their relationship was complicated at first.

Back in Atlanta, they became friends. When he showed up, she had already formed a strong bond with Carl, so it made sense she would also become close to his parents. Lori had always trusted her with Carl when she was not around (a.k.a in the woods screwing Shane) so the boy started seeing her as a source of comfort and protection.

When he was shot back in the farm, she was by his side every day, reading and playing games until he was strong enough to leave the room.

She held him when they found out about Sofia. Dried his tears when he cried at night. She was always with him while his parents were dealing with their broken marriage.

When they lost the farm and went back in the road, she would take care of him, giving him her food and coat at night. With Lori pregnant, Rick was always looking after her, giving her his food and making sure she and the baby wore the safest they could be in the apocalypse, with monsters everywhere, so she took upon her to worry about Carl.

Rick was constantly worried about the baby, starting to lose his mind trying to find a solution to keep everyone safe. But there is so much a man can do at the end of the world.

So, one night when everybody was sleeping and he was up keeping watch, he broke down.

She was laying next to Carl, holding the boy, and trying to keep him warm the best she could. The others were already asleep, but she could never keep her eyes close these days. Always worried she would never open then again.

So when she heard sniffing noises she knew it was Rick, the only one awake besides her.

Carefully not to disturb the kid sleeping next to her, she stood up and when to sit next to him.

"Hey"

Rick look at her and gave her a small smile, too tired to try and hide his tears from her.

"Wanna talk about?"

He just kept looking at her and sigh. Looking at him up closely, she saw how exhausted he looked. He was thinner, his hair and beard were longer, and his eyes had dark circles around. She knew she didn’t look much better.

"I’m scared." he whispered so quietly that if she weren’t so close, she wouldn’t be able to hear it. "Everybody is counting on me and I just.. I don’t know what to do. I’m disappointing everyone."

In that moment she looked at him and she swore he never locked so small. So unsure of himself. The strong and forceful leader of the group was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, that’s not true. We all know that you are doing your best." she told him, eager to comfort him, to take him away from those demons that was starting to craw up on his shoulders.

"What do you do when your best is not good enough?" he asks her looking so lost, hoping that she had the answers to all his questions and could fix him somehow.

She then took his wands and forced him to turn and face her, to look her in the eyes, hoping that what she had to say next could penetrate his skin and comfort him best if he had all his attention fixed on her.

"We are going to be okay, Rick. As long as we are together, we are going to be okay. We’re going to figure it out. I promise."

He just looked at her and smile, squeezing her hand but didn’t let go.

"Plus, you are going to have another baby soon. Can’t go around losing all hope now, right? If anything, we have to try harder." she tries to bring his mind in something to look forward to, something to keep going.

"Is not my baby." he says and she is more confuse than ever.

"What?"

"Is Shane’s baby." he says and his voice is so small that she thinks that she heard wrong, but the look in his face tells her she didn’t.

"Oh, Rick.."

She then takes his face in her hands and he cries harder, letting his face fall to her shoulders while she holds him.

She holds him until his tears dry, then his head movers from her shoulders to her lap and he closes his eyes while she plays with his hair until he falls asleep.

They found the prison two days later and he hugged her so hard she thought her ribs were going to break.

After that night, they became closer and closer. Like Carl, he starts to look for her when in need of comfort and reassurance. They would be constantly talking and making plans for update the prison, going on runs together and always having each other’s backs.

When Lori died giving birth, she didn’t allow herself to cry. The moment Maggie show up with the baby in her arms and Carl with that devastated look in his face, she knew she had to be strong for them. The tree of them.

So while Rick was grieving, she was taking care of his kids. Judith would be in her arms constantly and Carl was always on her toes. She notices that the boy was trying to hold back in front of everyone, so at night she would always bring the kids to her cell and hold a crying Carl while Judith was sleeping.

When Rick showed up looking like himself again, he came to her while she was feeding Judith. He sat besides her and watched the baby girl like she was some sort of angel in the middle of a battlefield. Too pure for this world. He then looked at her and she smiled at him and told him that it was going to be okay.

And he believed her.

After that it was natural that they would gravitate towards each other. She was taking care of his kids after all, and he was so lost that it was disorientating. The whole world was a blur, and she was the only thing keeping him grounded. She became his rock.

Every time he saw her talking with Carl, making sure he was eating, playing with him in at attempt of bringing him some sort of childhood, he felt like he could breath again. When she was holding Judith, feeding, and singing to her, he felt the ache in his chest decreasing.

Every time she would hug him, smile at him, or do anything as looking at his direction, he felt like she was the only thing holding his head above water, the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Piece by piece she collected him.

So it wasn’t a surprise when one day their hugs started to last longer, when the kisses on the cheek moved closer and closer to the mouth, when the gazes became silent conversations.

Everyone notice they pinning around each other but they knew that it was all that was going to be. Both too afraid and feeling too guilty to act on whatever was going on between them.

They needed to take things slow. It wasn’t fair to any of them to jump into something so soon after Lori’s death. It wasn’t fair to Lori, Rick, Carl. It wasn’t fair to her. So they needed time.

But that’s the thing with living in the end of the world. Time is a luxury. A privilege that you can’t really count on.

When the prison fell the only thing in her mind wore the kids. She couldn’t remember who had Judith, where Carl was, she couldn’t find anybody. She was starting to panic when she saw Judith placed on the baby chair on the floor, seconds from being eaten by a walker.

She quickly picked her up and ren as fast as she could. She ren so much until her legs started to give up. She didn’t have time to think about anything else. She just had to take her out of there.

Now she doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know how long is been since she left the prison. She doesn’t know if anybody else is alive, and if they are, she knew she will never find them again. She is scare and have no idea how she is gonna keep her and Judith safe.

Up until this moment, she been living from fruits and some cans she found in some abandoned cabins she crossed along the way. But she is getting weaker. She can’t really hunt without a proper weapon and a baby in her arms. She tried going in the city to scavenge some stores for food to Judith, but she was only able to collect a few things before the baby started crying and attracted walkers from every ware. After that she gave up on that idea and started looking for some place safe enough to spend a few days so she and Judith could have a proper rest.

She never allows herself to sleep when she stops to rest, afraid to wake up surrounded by walkers. So when Judith wakes up, she feeds her with the formula that is left and starts walking again. At this point she doesn’t even feel the pain in her legs anymore, is like her body is moving by himself, she is numb.

Judith seems to understand that something is wrong, never complaining, even when she is tired of being carried all the time, and when she is hungry she just pulls her hair, seeming to understand that making noises is too dangerous. Being a baby born in this world, Judith sems to have a different way of behaving that any other babies that she was ever seen. She is still to young to speak, but she makes the cute little noises as if she were trying to communicate, making the woman smile every time and pretend that she is understanding every “word”.

She is immersed in one of her conversations with Judith when she sees the sign. Stopping suddenly, she reads again and again, as if the words would change the minute she looked away and it would be all a projection of her imagination.

But it wasn’t.

So she starts running.

Even though she has her doubts about the existence of an actual sanctuary in this new world, she must check. Is the only scrum of hope after so long. And even if the said sanctuary exists, there is no guaranty that is run by good people. At this point, she has already learned to not trust the living.

So as she starts to get closer and closer to Terminus, she slows her pace not to dry attention before she has the opportunity to check the place.

But then suddenly there is an explosion and gun shots.

She holds Judith closer and tries to hide in a place that allows her to see what is happening but there is too much smoke, so she decides to stay there until is over. Even if there are good people in this place, there is not much help she can provide in this situation with a baby in her arms, and no gun. So she waits and waits until there is no more gun shots.

Judith is surprisingly calm during all this, so she decides is safe to get out of the hidden place and try to see what is going on. All kinds of things go though her mind as she walks towards a little commotion of people walking in direction of the woods, away from Terminus. She is mostly scare of crossing the way of bad people, but she has to see, the seed of hope never living her chest as she goes in direction of the first group of people that she encountered since the fall of the prison.

Maybe they are good people. Maybe they will welcome the lonely woman with the baby in her arms and offer her a place in their group. It will never be the same as being with her group, her family, but at least she would be safe, Judith would be safe.

Or maybe they are awful people and she is about to face another nightmare, another demonstration of what hell is like in the hands of the living, and all hope will be crushed again in front of her eyes.

Of all the things passing trough her mind, finding her family was definitely not one of them. Not once she thought that they wore alive and she would see them again.

At first, she thought that she was seeing things, maybe she was delirious. After all, how long can a person live without enough among of water, food and sleep and still expect to have a healthy function mind? She was going insane, that was definitely it.

But then she saw Daryl running towards Carol and everyone’s faces of surprise and relief and there was no way her mind could create that. Daryl running to hug someone? Not even her delirious mind could made that up.

She stood there paralyzed, trying to ground herself into believing that this was actually her family standing in front of her, when Judith cries draws everyone’s attention to her.

Next thing she knew Rick was running in her direction with Carl in his toes and she was being engulfed with the tightest hug she ever received in her life. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions and everything around her was Rick. The smells, the touches, she couldn’t see or think about anything that wasn’t him. After so many days, weeks (was it months? She stop counting so long ago) without knowing if he was dead, alive or something in between, she didn’t know which emotion was stronger. Relief, joy, surprise, love?

When Carl join them in the hug, she starts crying and they all fall to their knees on the ground. It was too much. Knowing that both kids were safe and in her arms was more than she could ever wish for. Her main goal during all this was to keep them safe, and to spend all this time in the road thinking that she had failed, that Carl was gone and she didn’t do anything about it was killing her more quickly than the lack of food or water ever could. Knowing now that he was alive was like receiving a tank of oxygen deep in the ocean, she could suddenly breath again.

When Rick pull back to look in her eyes her smile couldn’t be brighter.

"Sweetheart, is that you? Is it really you?"

When did she became sweetheart?

He starts to caress her face and kiss her tears away with such tenderness that she starts crying even harder. He then smiles and takes Judith of her arms as Carl takes his place, hugging her like she was the last parachute in a plane crash.

"Oh, my baby.. I thought I lost you." she says in the most maternally way there is, while caressing the boy’s hair. "You are never leaving my side again."

The boy then laughs, and her smile grows because oh, how she missed that laugh, and everything falls into place.

"Yes, ma’am." the boy says full of joy and hints of laughs on his smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, honey." she says. "So very much."

They get up when the rest of the group starts to approach them, each member with smiles bigger than their faces, hugging her tighter than ever before.

Then Carl take Judith in his arms and Rick starts walking towards her again, holding her face with both hands and pressing their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and smiles before pressing a kiss in her lips and she is suddenly seeing stars.

Nothing could prepare her for this moment, not every novel she once read or the songs she used to listen. There was not one thing that was ever written about love that could describe this feeling. She wasn’t even sure if she could call it love.

It was stronger.

It was the kind of thing that would get you through anything, this feeling was the most powerful thing on earth, she was sure of that. With their mouths pressed against each other, she was sure that the only thing allowing her to breath was his lungs and his blood was only circling in his body due to her heartbeat.

They were one soul in two bodies.

She entangles her fingers in his messy hair and smiles in the middle on the kiss, making him smile as well as they break the kiss.

"I can’t believe this is real. You are here, and.. and Judith is here." he then looks at her with so much admiration in his eyes that she feels shy all the sudden. "You kept my daughter safe."

"Of course I did." she’s mine too.

"I guess I should have known." he than laughs. "You’ve been protecting my kids since day one. You are like the mama bear of the apocalypse."

She than laughs and shoves him playfully.

"I am not!"

"You are, you totally are." they laugh together as she shakes her head.

"He’s right, you totally are." Carl says and she is suddenly remained that they are not alone, and that he saw her kissing his father. But she doesn’t have time to be afraid of what he might think because when she looks at him, he has the biggest smile on his face.

Rick then takes her hand and kisses her knuckles; love is his eyes and she know that her face must mirror his.

"What now?" she asks him.

"Now.. we survive."

In that moment she knows she will never fell lonely again. She found her family, her kids, her love. She was home.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #twd #the walking dead #fanfic #fan fiction #my writing #yourgoldengirls #rick #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes imagine #one shot #rick grimes one shot #angst #fluff #happy ending

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veliseraptor · 3 years

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So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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sorceress-in-distress · 4 years

Text

Social Distancing Online Entertainment Masterpost

Right, I’ve only been back from uni for 2 days and my mental health has already ✨ 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓾𝓹 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 ✨. I’ve read all the articles so you don’t have to and I thought I’d just make a big-ass list. Keep it going in the comments!

Go On A Virtual Holiday

Google Arts and Culture has high quality 360° degree tours of many famous museums, galleries, landmarks, theatres and national parks as well as close up images of artworks and exhibitions from all around the world.

Using street view on google maps you can visit (almost) anywhere in the world, including Disneyland, Hollywood Studios, Kew Gardens, and many other attractions and landmarks.

Interactive world history timeline from the British Museum

Virtual Tours are available of: The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, The Met, The Dali Museum, Blarney Castle in Cork, Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, The Louvre, The Picasso Museum, NASA Langley, NASA Glenn, The Vatican Museum, United States Airforce Museum, Buckinghan Palace, and a list of others here

Or go abroad via a live webcam feed

Animals!

Monterey Bay Aquarium streams several live cameras on its website and social media

Live Cams are available of: San Diego Zoo, Smithsonian National Zoo, Edinburgh Zoo, Folly Farm, and many others here, here, and here

Play with cats and dogs by remotely controlling a laser or treat dispenser using the Petcube app, it was made for people to check up on their pets while they’re away but anyone can use the live cameras

Play Online Games With Friends

Cards Against Humanity (make sure you’re all on the same server or you won’t be able to find eachother)

Kahoot

The Wikipedia Game (you can play this individually without this website but this is a great way of racing against someone else)

GeoGuessr

Monopoly

THOUSANDS of other games there are so many websites out there. It may seem a bit old school now but some of the Facebook games are actually pretty good in terms of playing against friends

Listen To Music

Keep an eye out on your favourite artists’ social media, many of them are arranging mini live concerts on facebook, instagram, youtube and twitch

Rave allows you to screen share youtube videos as well as other media so you can have a custom festival while video chatting or just chill and listen to the same thing

The Vienna State Opera is live streaming ballet and opera performances for free, as is the Met Opera

Watch Movies And TV With Friends

Netflix party is a chrome browser extension allows you and your friends to watch the same netflix show at the same time and includes a group chat sidebar so you don’t have to keep looking down at your phone

As mentioned above, Rave lets you screenshare netflix, youtube and vimeo

Misc.

Print some of these online colouring book pages or these colouring pages from various museum gift shops

Zooniverse is a personal fave of mine, it’s a really great citizen science website where you can contribute to different projects by looking at photos from safari camera traps and space telescopes as well as transcribing ancient documents. A really good way to do something positive in this situation

I think this really speaks for itself

Make topical personalised 20 second hand washing instructions using your loved ones’ favourite songs using https://washyourlyrics.com/

Visit some random websites using boredbutton, or the useless web

You Can Do Things In R e a l L i f e Too!

Marie Kondo your clothes and belongings, donate/sell/repurpose/throw away things that do not ‘spark joy’ any more.

Food shortages caused by idiots panic buying can be scary but use this as an opportunity to experiment with ingredients which are available and possibly a bit more out of your comfort zone if you have the time/money to spare.

If you’re with other people, have a huge game tournament spanning several days. play a different game each evening and keep score of whoe wins. when you’ve played all the games you can think of then find a way to reward the winner. If you’re living alone or in isolation, do the same thing with the online games above.

Create an indoor scavenger hunt: write a series of clues linking to different locations around your house and ask your players to stay still for a bit while you hide them, then let them work their way through the clues until they reach the end. if you want to challenge yourself, try to make each clue rhyme.

If you have a pet, try to teach them a new trick

Train up your non dominant hand

Use the millions of home workout videos on youtube

Learn a new language on duolingo (or a similar app if you, like me, are highly suspicious of the green owl’s motives)

Read and watch everything on your list

Actually use some of those art supplies you’re hoarding (I am mostly talking to myself here...)

And so much other stuff!!! be kind to yourself, this is a horrible time for everyone but especially for those of us with crappy mental health. Remember that you are allowed to be stressed and upset, it is a perfectly reasonable response to the situation! keep in touch with friends and family and follow the instructions being given by your health services! we can and will get through this together 💖

#social distancing #covid-19 #self isolation #mental health #coronavirus #quarantine activities #quarantine advice #quarantine #corona time #pandemic #corona #virus #wash your damn hands #virtual tour #stuff to do #bored #quarantine and chill

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meteor-sword · 4 years

Note

🍉 jet recovery fic outline? 👀

anon let me tell you i accidentally deleted like 500 words of this on my first try. i’m sorry this took two weeks :(

also i am using a crowdsourced OC, so shoutout to @shortkingzuko @katarahairloopies @kdmcolorfulmagic @gingersnapped and lmk if i missed anyone!!! edit to add @ordinaryfruitpunch 🥺

ok so: longshot and smellerbee get jet out of the catacombs. i imagine he has so much wrong: broken bones, internal damage, a concussion. he’s bed ridden for weeks at minimum, and frankly a lot of it doesn’t heal right/completely.

while ba sing se must have been difficult before (having to work for wages or steal from civilians rather than hunt/scavenge from soldiers), now they have to feed themselves AND jet. i imagine they sheltered in place during sozin’s comet, not able to transport jet anywhere else when there were beefed up FN soldiers everywhere. it must have been terrifying

after the war ends and the EK monarchy is restored, maybe they’re able to get proper jobs in the lower ring. longshot works in a restaurant kitchen, and maybe he’s able to get smellerbee a job there too. jet works a goods stand or something. he’s a good talker, he could probably haggle prices UP!

longshot is a great cook, and he and smellerbee decide to move to Republic City. jet refuses (and besides, do they have the money to buy three tickets?) although he acts tough about it, they’re all sad when they part ways

let me just say, i think longshot would be a wiz at creating complex flavor profiles. his restaurant is a hit, and before long they are able to send for jet to be brought over (if he wants) (he wants to, because without his friends it’s very lonely)

first they arrange for him to be able to stay in/near katara’s new hospital. they approach katara, who is eager to help! she is relieved to learn that jet survived, and listens to them describe his state since the catacombs. with regular healing sessions, his badly mended bones and other internal damage. what is trickier to heal is the effects of his concussion

@shortkingzuko proposed that jet’s mother had been a potter, so maybe as he gains more fine motor skills back, he signs up for a pottery class. i imagine people who can teach skills like that may go to teach for short periods in republic city

so once a week, longshot or smellerbee meet him to walk him to the pottery class and walk him back several hours later

the instructors switch at some point, from a mildly kind middle aged woman from somewhere north of BSS to a young man around jet’s age from kyoshi island (jet knows bc the distinctive blue robes + headband). their name is yū.

he’s very nice and is a very good teacher. the kind who makes every student feel like they’re getting special attention, learns everyone’s names and remembers everyone’s projects. he notices jet’s poor form and asks what makes it difficult for jet to do it correctly (i’m not gonna pretend to know what i’m talking about. something injury related).

yū thinks about it and comes back around to jet’s wheel 20 minutes later and shows him an adjusted method to fix his form. he fixes jet’s hand placement. extra credit if this reminds jet vaguely of him helping his freedom fighters with something, perhaps showing the duke how to hold his weapon or something else. the point is, jet is a little flustered here.

yū checks in with jet whenever the class learns something new to make sure it’s doable for jet, and thinks of adjustments when needed. jet, usually so eloquent, is a bit of a mess. he’d never seriously had time to consider these kinds of feelings (i’d say he liked both katara and zuko, but he always had other things on his mind). he doesn’t really know what to do here but he’s pretty sure he likes yū

so there’s this he/they

one day after class, longshot is supposed to meet him but longshot is held up at the restaurant. so yu sits with jet and they talk. without the rest of the class there, jet is more emboldened. longshot can tell something’s up with jet as they walk back to jet’s place, but jet is purposefully misreading his expressions. (so he’s able to put off talking about it until smellerbee meets them and immediately reads longshot’s face and demands jet explain)

(so imagine smellerbee walking jet to class the next week and then... sitting in. to see who this guy is. jet sweating the whole time)

ok and then yu coming over and greeting smellerbee after the class is over, jet beat red as he makes easy small talk with one of his best friends and smellerbee giving him the Most Shit Eating Little Sister Look.

yu invites them to an earth kingdom cultural event in the city. then invites jet to his favorite coastal EK restaurant. and a tea shop. and a show. and.... you see where i’m going.

jet is... slow to build a new relationship, afraid that he’ll mess it up or that yu will get to know him and not like him, and unsure of how to just have a relationship unrelated to survival needs and not being in a caretaking role. so imagine how flustered he gets when they hold hands.

a year or so passes and jet is doing well now, and he’s been seeing yu for a handful of months, and then yu’s time teaching in the city is coming to an end so...

jet goes with him home to kyoshi island. at first he’s just visiting and meeting yu’s family, but then.... he doesn’t return to republic city.

he helps in yu’s family’s ceramics shop, longshot and smellerbee come to buy dishes for their restaurant annually. perhaps others from the freedom fighters come to visit periodically.

inevitably, the gaang visits suki on kyoshi island and runs across him years down the road, and he’s happy and loved and he’s got the family he never thought he could have. the end

straight up i want to write a jet/yū fic so bad

i may give more description of yū if people are interested! or if their other parents (tagged above...) would like to contribute! this is the extended universe

#Anonymous #jet #atla #atla jet #longshot #smellerbee #meteor answers #milestone game #ask

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tumblinglringlring · 4 years

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God I just made myself sad

So you know how Geralt names all his horses Roach? We’ll I’ve always headcanoned that it was because Witchers tend to go through a lot of horses due to the nature of their job.

-taken by bandits/poor townsfolk/lost

-Injured/killed by monsters

So yeah, calling them all the same name is just easier and you might not get as attached.

So why does Eskel call all the goats around Kaer Morhen Lil’Bleater? We’ve established that in witcher 3 the wild hunt game, if you approach ANY of the goats they’re name appears above their head and it’s the same for all of them. Additionally, during the scene were Lambert and Geralt find Eskel drunkenly passed out outside next to a goat, Lambert says “And HIS faithful Lil’Bleater.”

This implies that Eskel is the one to take care of the goat(s) with the use of HIS in that sentence. Furthermore, that he’s the one that calls them Lil’Bleater as Lambert doesn’t hesitate to call it that and his tone suggests that this it is normal to find him by goat(s).

So why does he name them all the same? Is it just some weird tic that the wolves latch on to various animals and insist on naming them all the same damn thing? Well, let’s think about it.

The Witchers are isolated up in Kaer Morhen. We can assume there is a village relatively nearby as the castle was sacked at some point and (at least based on the games) it looks like it was a relatively surprise. They didn’t have time to build defenses and based on a few side quests, some of the wolves were in the middle of training new recruits. So again, there’s a village somewhere close enough to surprise sack a castle but far enough away where you don’t see any evidence of it from any vantage point in Kaer Morhen or in the nearby landmarks.

But wait, why is this important? Because Witchers need food during winter, but due to the snow up in Kaer Morhen they can’t go to the village to get it. You can get plenty of food for long term storage like grains and preserves, salt meats, but fresh meat his hard to come by. The bears are hibernating (also it’s fucking cold out to go tracking them and shit tons of snow) and while in the game you CAN eat rotten flesh that’s scavenged from monsters, implying Witchers can eat monster meat, I’m sure it tastes awful.

And here’s Vesemir with three strapping witchers to feed all winter. I’m sure pre-sacking all sorts of livestock could be kept at the castle year round as there were other Witchers there. But now he and his pups have to leave every spring to earn money to survive the winter and for repairs on the castle. You can’t leave unattended livestock at the castle in the spring/summer, that’s a monster problem waiting to happen.

So what does papa Vesemir do? He heads back a little early with Eskel and they by a lot of goats. They herd them up to Kaer Morhen and boom, easy fresh meat all winter. Goats are hardy, easy to feed and their meat taste decent. Perhaps Eskel has a way with animals? Perhaps Vesemir tasks him with taking care of the livestock during the winter? Perhaps Eskel calls them all Lil’Bleater so he doesn’t get attached since they need them for food?

So all throughout winter, he tends to these goats. He feeds them, protects them and when the time comes he’s the one to slaughter them for food. But he and his brothers (and Papa Vesemir) need their meat. The milk and cheese they get are small comforts too.

But obviously they keep the best milker for last, so all winter Eskel is taking care of it knowing it’ll be the last one they eat. Eskel’s thought about it, and Vesemir has dropped some subtle advise, but he knows he can’t bring the goat with him. The Path is too dangerous and if he leaves him at the castle, wild life or monsters will get it.

So the wolves make it special and save the last Lil’Bleater for their Goodbye dinner the night before they leave to go back on the path. The use up the last of the milk, cheese, other perishables and food stores that won’t last til next year. They save the best bottle of wine for this night.

It’s a huge feast because who knows when they’ll get to eat like this on the Path? And any leftovers can be dried for rations - a reminder of home they can have for a few more days

#the witcher #witcher meta #eskel #vesemir #lambert #geralt of rivia #witcher 3 #tw3 #roach #Lil’Bleater #kaer morhen #witcher 3 wild hunt #angst #i made myself cry

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an-apocalypse-of-magpies · 3 years

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On the world of Mortal Engines, class, and the metaphors of consumption

This is less an essay and more a collection of thoughts. Basically I just saw a video on the Mortal Engines film and its being a civilisation too stupid to exist. I got fed up, mainly because so many of the criticisms amounted to ‘the book did it better’ with little elaboration but also the arrogantly grating voice of the presenter got on my nerves, but I cannot deny the points made and in fact wanted to elaborate further on the worldbuilding of this series and, while unrealistic, look at why the books were so engaging.

Some background to start off - Mortal Engines is a four-book series (and three-book prequel sub-series) written by English author Phillip Reeve, and depicts a bleak post-apocalyptic world. North America is uninhabitable and lost to the sands of time, irradiated, poisoned, and flattened by war. Eurasia is mostly barren plains. And, of course, the central premise - towns and cities have raised themselves onto mobile platforms and trundle about. Well, mostly. A major antagonist to this system is the Anti-Traction League, a collective of nations hiding out in old east China, the Indian subcontinent, southeast Asia and some of Africa. They are seen as barbarians and heathens by much of the world for refusing to mobilise, instead hiding in stationary citadels behind their mountains. The Traction Cities near-universally engage in a philosophy of Municipal Darwinism, a savage system of bastardised pseudo-biology where cities literally predate each other and ‘consume’ each other for resources. Cities eat towns, towns eat smaller towns. Some towns and cities deliberately adapt to cheat the system and make themselves a less appetising target, or for that matter a more aggressive and efficient hunter.

THE TRACTION CITIES

The first three books tend to focus their action on one or two cities, whereas the last is a bit more of a road trip. The other consistent thread is multiple characters’ stories running concurrently, usually reconnecting near the end. This allows the books maintain an open, almost global scale - you’ll nearly never not be moving, even sitting still on a city, which reinforces the theme of unnatural life. The first book focuses on London, which has been sulking in what was once Britain (by sheer happenstance on their part and pure irony on ours), and is suddenly running at full pelt back into Europe and eastward as fast as her engines can carry her. Why? London’s not the biggest city around, and the vast expanse of Eurasia is now the Great Hunting Ground - it’s where the big boys play, and by play I mean ‘savagely predate each other’. It’s dangerous territory for a little city. But over the first book, it becomes increasingly apparent that Traction Cities are increasingly non-viable option for existence. Fuel is scarce, prey moreso, and what morsels London can confidently snap up will not sustain it for long. There is an ecosystem at play here - static settlements can farm resources, but are universally seen as food, either by small bandit settlements to raid for supplies or for larger towns to just straight-up eat. Small towns too small to hunt tend to be miners or gatherers, either mining minerals to use or trade, or gathering resources like wood from natural deposits or sifting through the waste heaps left by bigger cities. Most cities bigger than that are ‘urbivores’, or hunter towns, that hunt and eat smaller prey or opportunistically scavenge the ‘carcasses’ of dead cities. I mentioned specialisation earlier, and like in nature, species and cities can occupy a niche that gives them an advantage and thus increased chance at survival. Airhaven, for example, is a politically-neutral city in the air that floats around Eurasia seasonally and serves as a rest stop, fuelling station and trading exchange for airship pilots the world over, Tractionist or no. Tunbridge Wheels is a pirate-run town that has a lightweight wooden chassis and flotation devices to hunt amphibiously in a world where many small towns escape threat by setting up on islands. Panzerstadt-Bayreuth is a conurbation of four massive cities, too big to survive long without prey, they banded together to take down the biggest of prey (it’s unclear whether they achieve this through sheer size or whether they decouple and become a pack hunter). Anchorage, the last American city, neutered its own jaws to increase mobility, skating around the frozen north too fast for threats to catch up with, and survives on trade. Brighton is a pleasure city that paddles around the warm Mediterranean, technically still a predator but with no real agenda and about the only city left that can be called a tourist city (it’s run on the back of brutal slave labour). And these are just the major ones. Throughout the books, cities are treated like living things ... like mortal engines.

And like living things, they need resources to survive.

A DYING WAY OF LIFE

The books are inconsistent on the origins of Traction Cities, as it turns out deliberately - history is written by the winners, after all. But it’s all closely tied to the ‘apocalypse’ part of the post-apocalytic I mentioned earlier. Long ago in-universe, long into our future, was a terrible event known as the Sixty Minute War. This war tore the world asunder with nuclear and quantum energy weaponry. America, the epicentre, is simply no more (it turns out there are some fertile areas in Nova Scotia, but for the most part America is dead). Entire new mountain ranges were born, notably the Tannhäusers in East Asia that shield the heartland of the Anti-Traction League. There was a long period of geological and tectonic instability. According to legend, Traction Cities arose to escape these instabilities. In other words, like animals will flee a volcanic eruption, cities first became mobile to escape and survive. Trade was likely facilitated by towns literally being able to park next to each other. Ironically, London was also where everything changed. After Nikola Quercus conquered (static) London with his mobile fortresses, he decided to upgrade and raise London onto wheels to become the first fully-mobile city. And he did it for war. After all, there’s no better comeback to ‘you and what army’ then literally rolling up with your entire city. By the series present, the idea had caught on and grown into the ideology described above. But herein lies the problem. Early Traction London was a tiny little thing. Now it’s not even the biggest fish in the pond, but it’s still HUGE. And, as we all know, big things need lots of energy to go. London is described as having a top speed of about sixty miles per hour at the height of a hunt. So, you need fuel. There is still oil in this world, mainly because they now have no qualms about mining Antarctica, but if you think there’s nearly enough crude oil to run a world full of cities like London you are sorely mistaken. Wood’s not much better off. And, of course, Traction Cities tend to run on some form of internal combustion engine - it’s only at the very end of the traction era that science has advanced enough for a town to experiment with magnetic levitation. So what do they burn? Well, bits of other prey towns. Do you see the problem? Use fuel to hunt towns, burn those towns for fuel. What next? And it’s not just fuel. London captures a little salt-mining town called Salthook at the beginning of the first book to introduce us to the concepts at play, and we see what goes on in the Dismantling Yards - part of a system literally called the Gut, in case the metaphor wasn’t clear yet. Everything is recycled. Bricks, mortar, steel, wood, everything. Because the state of technology is so weird in this world, Old-Tech (technology from before the SMW) can be incredibly valuable to history and/or science, and London is keen to snaffle that up too. The people are interred into refugee camps, though if you know anything about how real-life Britain treats refugees you can probably see where that is going. And it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Food is an even more pressing concern. Unless you’re very rich (more on that in a mo), food is mostly algae-based, then hardy vegetables that grow quickly like cabbage. And it’s running out fast. And London’s a big city with a lot of resources at its disposal. Most cities don’t even have that. A lot of cities are starving on the wheels, city and populace alike. A lot of cities run on slave labour, and feed those slaves as little as they can get away with. Shan Guo, home of the Anti-Traction League, is a green and vibrant land only because it doesn’t have cities running over or eating its farmlands every other day (and, again, city folk generally don’t know this - they’re given endless propaganda that Anti-Tractionists are barbarian warbands a la Mad Max). A lot of the A story is told from the point of view of Tom Natsworthy, who until the events of the book had never left London. He’s never seen bare earth or walked on mud before. He’s never seen a horse. The idea that you can survive, much less thrive, outside of a Traction City is alien to him. But on the city he came from, everything is rapidly running out, and some cities are turning to desperate measures to survive, including Arkangel openly bribing pilots to sell out the locations and courses of nearby cities. A chilling scene in the first book even has Tom see, from the safety of the air, the corpse of Motoropolis, a city not unlike London that literally just starved to death, running out of fuel and helpless as the scavengers closed in. It’s been weeks since the city stopped, and the narrative description evokes the grotesqueness and sadness of a whale carcass. Sheer Jingoism is about the only thing keeping Municipal Darwinism alive - Traction good, stationary bad.

CLASS, CLASSISM, AND OTHER SOCIAL OPPRESSIONS

In a world so starved as this, compassion is hard to come by. Cities still exist mainly by virtue of rigid social stratification, and often that stratification is literal - most medium-to-large cities have tiers, and will generally arrange those tiers based on social class. London, for example, has seven tiers. The bottom two tiers are dominated by the Gut, the engines, and homes and communities of the workers who keep them running. Tiers 4 and 3 are miscellaneous proles of increasing social standing. Tier 2 is mostly what I’d call ‘tourist London’ - lots of the nice bits and the establishments that London likes to be proud of. Because of his work at the London Museum, this is the quality of life Tom Natsworthy was most used to. Tier 1 is High London, where all the rich live and have their amenities and nice parks (and even that doesn’t last - London’s food shortage means even the High London parks are eventually, begrudgingly, turned over for food production). Katherine Valentine, the hero of the first book’s B plot, lives here. Finally there’s Top Tier, which is purely administrative. The only buildings are the Guildhall (the seat of government), St Paul’s Cathedral (which the Engineers’ Guild have secretly been installing a deadly superweapon in under the guise of ‘restoration’ work) and the headquarters of the Guild of Engineers, the most powerful of London’s Guilds. Social stratification is nearly non-existant, and people are shown to get very uncomfortable when out of ‘their space’. Tom is sent to work in the Gut during the capture of Salthook as a punishment before the plot ejects him from London, and he notes being actively intimidated by the claustrophobia, the dirt, the rough and burly labourers, and the noise. But despite Tom’s relatively privileged life - he lives near High London, above the heat and noise and smoke of the engines, in the care of one of the top four Guilds of London - he is of very low social status. Tom Natsworthy is an orphan; his parents were Historians, but were killed when an accident occurred and part of Tier 3 collapsed, crushing anything on Tier 4 beneath. Even before that, the Natsworthys were middle class at best, but being orphaned meant being left to the care of an orphanage run by the Guild of his parents, the Historians. The Historians were Tom’s only source of education, and eventually they would employ him, but with no parents or money, Tom can only afford a Third-Class apprenticeship. He has no upwards mobility within the Guild, and with no money he can’t leave and train with another. His dream of being a pilot trader, or better yet adventurer, will never come true under normal circumstances. The rich live in a completely different world yet. Katherine Valentine, daughter of the Head Historian and the Lord Mayor’s ‘right-hand man’ Thaddeus Valentine, has a positively bougie lifestyle with not a care in the world. Ironically, though, it is through Katherine’s eyes that the horrors of London’s class system are revealed. Trying to find information about her father’s would-be killer, Katherine finds herself regularly travelling to the Gut, eventually befriending an apprentice Engineer who witnessed the attack. But in the Gut, life is very different. It’s not just a life of hard labour and smoke - petty criminals and the aforementioned ‘refugees’ are tasked with working dangerous and sickening jobs like managing the city’s sewage. And by that, I mean ‘harvesting literal faeces to be converted into food and fuel’. The foreman overseeing their work admits they feed such criminals nothing else. And he has the gall to be annoyed that they keep dying of diseases like cholera and typhoid! These people are denied medical care, denied treatment, denied even basic food other than being told to literally eat sh*t. And when they inevitably die? They get sent to the Engineerium to be turned into robotic zombies that can never get sick, tired or unhappy. And, eventually, they’ll be put right back to work. The crimes these criminals did to deserve this, remember, include petty theft, criticising the Lord Mayor, and living aboard a town that got eaten. The foreman literally cannot fathom why Katherine would care about these people’s wellbeing - after all, they’re just criminals. The Engineerium’s end goal in all this is, again, to staff the entire lower tiers with robot zombie workers who will never grow tired, get sick, complain or protest their lot in life, and will never disobey orders, and just enough human overseers to keep things running smoothly ... because that’s what these people are worth to London, cheap, unending labour. Katherine can’t even bring herself to tell her high-class peers about what she learned down there, because it’s such a different world that they would never empathise, much less care. Again, slave labour is common in this world, especially child slavery - Brighton runs on it to maintain its image as a floating Caligula’s Palace, and in Arkangel slavery is so normal that we watch a rich man beat a slave nearly to death for the crime of bumping into him. In the second book, we see the logical end-point of this. Anchorage’s social structure has completely fallen apart due to a plague in recent years that turned to once-proud ice city into a ghost town manned only by a skeleton crew. The margravine, Freya, is only 14, but with her parents dead, she finds herself in charge of the whole city. She has no household staff, apart from Smew, who finds himself constantly juggling outfits to adopts the roles of steward, chamberlain and so on. His official role before the plague was ... erm ... the Dwarf. He was there in a manner similar to a court jester, for the amusement of the margrave due to being a little person. But the head navigator is just ... the woman who kept the maps. The head engineer is going half-mad, seeing his dead son staring at him from the shadows, and the only reason the town’s still going is because his systems are the best on the ice and can mostly run on automatic. They have no doctor. The only other people of consequence in Anchorage are the Aakiuqs, the Inuit couple who run the air-harbour. The common workers of Anchorage number in the mere dozens. And yet, because they’re so fixated on their traditions, nobody will drop the formalities and just admits that they’re trying to uphold a class system that doesn’t work anymore. No, that’s not quite right - everybody realises it’s pointless to maintain the artifice of Anchorage’s social heirarchy, but nobody wants to be the first one to say it out loud. Much like Municipal Darwinism, nobody want to address the elephant in the room, that the system is broken and that people hold onto it because it’s comfortable in the face of uncertainty. Only in Anchorage’s darkest hour, when everything has been turned upside down and the conquerors are on their doorsteps, do the agree to drop the formalities, drop the artifice of class, and address each other as people, say what they think, and work to save what they have left. And of course, there’s the racism in the world. Life on mobile cities has made cultures smaller and more insular, considering we mainly see this series from the point of view of culturally-English towns. Throughout the first book there is a clear west vs east divide - the Traction Cities are generally English-speaking or multicultural enough that English will get you by. The Anti-Tractionist League, meanwhile, are south or east Asian, or else African, and are commonly understood to be ‘those brown people’. The only ethnically white Anti-Tractionists are from ‘Spitzbergen’ (likely Scandinavia/Finland and northwest Russia) and Hester Shaw’s family, and the latter lived on a town that floated out to an island and gave up running from predators forever. The way Tom reacts to this attitude calls to mind the way racists might refer to ‘race traitors’. There’s even an in-universe slur for people who live in static settlements; ‘Mossies’, because ‘a rolling town gathers no moss’. However, when Tom is taken to Shan Guo itself, he realises that all the propaganda he’d been fed his whole like is exactly that - propaganda. Shan Guo is described as beautiful - an endless patchwork of rolling fields and farms, colourful, bright, vibrant, heaving with life and energy. The Anti-Tractionists aren’t vicious savages, they’re just ... people. Tom can’t understand it at first. He wonders how people can live without the hum of engines or the vibrations of deckplates - he subconsciously equates city life with, well, life, and the absence of that makes him uneasy. But he can also see this culture before him, thousands of years old, outlasting even the end of the world, and he realises there is another way. The next time he sees London, he sees it from outside, from the side of the hunted, and he realises it’s not beautiful or efficient, just dirty, and huge, wrapped in its own waste smoke and driven only by destruction. For the rest of the series, even with the rise of the radicalised Green Storm (Anti-Tractionists Lv2), large Traction Cities are consistently the enemy. Tractionism as a culture is understood to only represent imperialism, destruction, and consumption, literally and figuratively.

SCIENCES SANS FRONTIERES

It should be noted that science and technology are not universally reviled by the series. As a dieselpunk series, a certain degree of technology is fundamental to the series existence. But this is a very different world than the one we know. On the one hand, engines exist that can drive entire cities. On the other, computers basically do not exist. The rare few that still exist are not in working condition, and nobody knows how to restore them. Heavier-than-aircraft don’t really exist - the third book introduces some, but they’re small, experimental ... barely more than short-range toys designed for flashy air shows but not real travel. The main form of personal locomotion in this world is by airship, and this world’s airships are far beyond anything we’ve made in our time. But lost technologies are heavily associated with the hubris and destructiveness of the Ancients. Until now. Like I said, the most powerful Guild in London is the Engineers’ Guild. And they got that way under the leadership of now-Lord Mayor Magnus Crome. It should be noted that Crome genuinely loves his city and wants it to survive no matter the cost. But under Crome, the Engineers began to dabble in sciences considered unethical to downright taboo. Most notable is the MEDUSA Project. Through Thaddeus Valentine, London came into possession of an energy weapon from the SMW ... and, more importantly, the working computer that runs the thing. In terms of Darwinist Evolution, this is like giving a monkey a gun and teaching it how to use it. MEDUSA exhibits a level of power no other force on Earth can match, and London is forced to deploy it early in a crisis. Originally, the plan was to march up to Batmunkh Gompa, the Shield-Wall that represents the only break in the mountains around Shan Guo big enough to permit a city, and blast it to cinders. Unfortunately, London attracts the attention of a bigger, hungrier city about halfway there, and is forced to fire MEDUSA at it to save its own skin. The sheer terror of what that weapon represents is revealed then. Panzerstadt-Bayreuth was the fusion of four massive cities, each one bigger and more powerful than London. MEDUSA killed it dead in one stroke - the energy beam set the entire city ablaze and ignited its fuel stores. Her engines nearly immediately exploded. When the fires go down enough for an Engineer scout ship to investigate, the people had been almost flashed into glass. The flash of light from the attack is so bright that, hundreds of miles to the south, Tom and Hester see the sky light up like a new dawn. The people of London are relieved, of course, that they didn’t all die that night, but more than that the entire city become suffused with the excitement of just how easy it would be to kill ... well, anyone they like, really. London doesn’t even stop to devour Panzerstadt-Bayreuth, as the Engineers can’t afford for the Shield-Wall to prepare for their arrival. Appropriately, and karmically, the finale has an accident lock down the computer lock down, with MEDUSA unable to fire but unable to stop gathering energy, and London melts under the heat of MEDUSA’s glare. But that wasn’t the only scientific sin committed by London’s engineers. I’ve already mentioned London trying to repurpose faeces as food, but we need to talk more about the Stalkers. Stalkers are kinda like discount Cybermen from Doctor Who - dead bodies, threaded with weird old machines and coated in armour, their brains hooked up to simple computers. Originally conceived as soldiers, they were believed long dead. However, one survived to the modern by sheer survivor instinct - Shrike. Through negotiations that are not the purview of this essay, he allowed the Engineers of London to take him apart and figure out how he worked, and hoo boy they did. The Engineers figured out how to manufacture their own Stalkers. The first batch are used as law enforcement like the Worst Robocops, but, again, the plan was to have Stalker workers all over Low London. Katherine, learning this, likens it to London ‘being a city of the dead’ (Apprentice Engineer Pod, to whom she is talking, grimly notes that the Deep Gut Prison is so awful, so callous with human life, that it already feels like that). Logically, the end-point of this idea is to have all workers in London be the resurrected dead, with just enough living to keep things in order ... oh, and they’d all be loyal to the Engineers, because remember, no Freedom of Speech here, and you can be sent to do the worst form of prison labour for dissenting against the Lord Mayor. With Crome being both Lord Mayor and Head Engineer at once, the Engineers’ creed is as good as law - traditionally, London Lord Mayors forsook their former Guild allegiances to show their representation of all of London, and Crome’s refusal to do that caused a bit of a stir. The Engineers are also keen to arm their security teams with some form of energy pistols, despite guns being outlawed in London and the police are only allowed crossbows. Crome’s rationale is the same as every two-bit mad scientist villain, of course - that science should not be held back by moral restrictions, and that progress for progress’ sake is essential for London’s survival. Really, it’s the Engineer’s survival, as they’re rather loathe to share these advancements except to exert power on those around. London isn’t the only example of technology being used to leverage control and benefit the ruling classes. Grimsby is a sunken wreck of a city somewhere in the north Atlantic, yet due to a complex series of airlocks the interior of the city is a secret hideaway of the Lost Boys, a society of children stolen from aquatic towns and trained to be thieves under the watchful eye of the mysterious Uncle. They will then take submarine walkers, attach to passing towns, steal whatever tools, fuel, food and riches they can carry, and vanish back into the depths. Uncle, naturally, takes the lion’s share of the haul. But Uncle maintains his power by careful access to technology, only letting the Boys have what they need and juggling the power structure by choosing team leaders, and punishing insubordination harshly and publicly. Uncle sees and hears everything in Grimsby with his surveillance network, and can address any give Boy in a heartbeat, training the Boys to never expect privacy from him, so that when he demands a progress update from a mission, they never question him. He rewards Boys who do well on burglaries, but more importantly than that, he chooses team leaders according to apparently inscrutable whims. The Boys believe it’s a mark of favour from Uncle, and thus social status, to be trusted with the limpet command and all the tech that comes with. Really, Uncle carefully give command to people he can trust to remain loyal to him, even if that means passing over a more talented Boy who might get a bit uppity. Even in a more mundane way, higher status in the Lost Boys means you can move closer to the heart of Grimsby, where you’re less likely to wake up and find your bedroom wasn’t as watertight as you thought and flooded in the night. Uncle, naturally, doesn’t care if a few Boys drown, so long as he doesn’t lose anything useful. Technology, and in particular access to unusual technology, is the dimension on which power is really decided.

THE END OF AN ERA

We’ve already established that this world is not a sustainable one. There are only so many cities. The inherent entropy of Municipal Darwinism is really showing. Once upon a time, big cities could ‘reproduce’, creating little satellite towns that could grow and become independent - even London had some - but those are no more. In a greedy desperation to keep moving, the predators are not reproducing, and static settlements can’t spread and grow fast enough to count there. The attack of London, and MEDUSA, turned staunch opposition into outright war, with the Green Storm being willing to doublethink their way into using the weapons of the Traction Cities in their fight to stop the Traction Cities, even recruiting ex-London Engineers to make weapons and stalkers for them, and eventually even seeking out another ancient superweapon - an orbital laser called ODIN - without a hint of irony. The Green Storm eventually face internal resistance, from Anti-Tractionists who disagree with the outright terrorism angle, and eventually crumbles. The last great Traction Cities stop. The last mobile city is New London, no longer a hunter but a trade platform, and even that probably stopped hovering about at some point. The ending is told by the great survivor, Shrike, who has cheated Death again and again, who outlived Tom Natsworthy and Hester Shaw, Valentine, Magnus Crome, and a thousand other heroes and villains. When he awakes, long in the future, Traction Cities are not even ancient history. They’re a dream, a fantasy, too incredible to be true. But Shrike remembers, and he teaches people the story of London and Anchorage, Arkangel and Airhaven, Brighton and Harrowbarrow. Did they learn the right message from Shrike’s story? Did they learn that ruthless imperialism is like hunting faster than the food can come back, and that you will starve before you have everything you ever wanted? Did they learn that hoarding resources, gatekeeping knowledge, will lead to ruin? Did they learn, or will the repeat the same mistakes of the greed and gluttony of the Traction Era? Well, who knows.

#mortal engines #wow that was a ramble and a half

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joa-quin-phoe-nix-fan · 3 years

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I AM ALIVE Charlie Sisters FF/imagine

I AM ALIVE

You had begun to worry. Charlie had been gone for 6 months, with only 7 letters even giving you any proof that he was still alive. You sat near your window, in the open prairie, worrying away like you did every day, thinking about how he could be dead, he could be lost, he could be kidnapped by one of his targets, he might not see his baby be born. You rubbed your belly sadly, the time was drawing close, and you really wanted your baby to see its daddy. More than anything you wanted Charlie to see his baby. You couldn’t imagine life without Charlie, who would take you hunting every Sunday that he was home? Who would make you the best baked beans in the entire west coast? Who would make funny, rhyming names for things like a Mean-Bean or a Dorsie-Horsie? Who would help you with the baby? Who would love you like Charlie did? You sat there silently, wracking your mind of reasons why he hadn’t written in 2 months. All of them more worrying than the last, when you heard a knock at the door.

You jumped up as fast as you could in your condition, rushing to the door, hoping and praying to see Charlie’s smug face looking back at you, holding the money he earned from the Commodore, ready to sweep you off your feet, covering your face with kisses. Sadly, it wasn’t him. It was Rex, a colleague of Charlie’s that you knew to avoid most of the time, Charlie said he was a sleaze who took married women away from their husbands while they were away. Normally, when he came over, you could almost smell the desire coming from him, but this time he looked genuinely concerned, his eyebrows furrowed close together. “Hey there, um...Missus Y/N. Hav-have ya heard from Charlie recently?” you moved closer to the doorframe, hoping it was one of his womanizing schemes “Uh...no Rex, I haven’t.” You started to panic, “Why do ya ask? Did somethin’ happen to Charlie? Oh Lord please tell me this is just another plot of yers!” Rex waved his hands in front of him, defensively, “Woah, woah YN, please don’t get ya bloomers in a bunch! The commodore has just been askin’ ‘cus he ain’t heard from him in a while...and the last thing we recieved from him was this...” he handed you a leaf, and your heart jumped you knew that even if he ran out of paper, he was known to send leaves with letters written on them. You turned it over and gasped. On the other side of the leaf was written, in now dried blood; ‘I AM ALIVE” Rex sighed and held your shoulder gently, “and I promise ya darlin’ this ain’t no plot...we’re all worried about him, and by association, you.” Your stomach dropped. This was the worst situation you could’ve imagined for Charlie, him MIA in the dangerous wilderness, after some bloodthirsty criminal, with the last message from him being vague and written in blood. You breathed in sharply to hold in the tears, “I-I ain’t heard nothin’ from him, Rex...I’m sorry.” Rex sighed sadly and shook his head, “I’m the one who should be sayin’ that to you, Missus...I’m real sorry...” he bowed slightly, tipped his hat, and left. Looking sadder than a dog left out in the rain.

You closed the door, putting your back against it when it had shut. Tears filling up your eyes as you held you hand up to your mouth in shock and slid down slowly to the floor, the weight of that news hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was one thing for him to not update you on what was happening, but he never forgot to message the Commodore. Where was he? Maybe he was too far to send letters...yeah maybe that was it. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be.

You woke up much later, still by the door, your eyes still stinging from crying yourself to sleep. It was dark out already. You grabbed the nearby stairwell railing to pull yourself up. You knew that the cows sure as hell were not gonna be pleased with how late you were but it’d be better if you milked them tonight, rather than have a cow-riot tomorrow morning. After you heaved yourself up again, you grabbed your gun, your bucket and a lantern, you walked outside, ready to vent to the cows about your day. It was a rather silly habit, but a habit that was strangely therapeutic and one that despite you being rather upset, seemed to calm the cows down...maybe they just liked hearing you talk.

As you walked to the cows, you saw what you assumed was a figure riding a couple acres away. You took no notice, thinking it was a lonesome hunter going back home after a long hunt. It was only after the first three cows that you realized that the sound of hooves hitting the dusty ground had gotten much closer. ‘It’s someone looking for Charlie!’ you thought as you jumped behind a bunch of hay bales, cocking your gun before they got close enough to hear you do it. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you heard the hooves stop by the stables, the rider jump down, and hitch up his horse. ‘Why would a killer or a robber do that?’ you wondered to yourself, with your finger drifting off of the trigger as an impossible thought passed through your head, ‘is that Charlie?’

You heard him walk slowly and tiredly up on the porch, shuffling his feet as if removing them from the porch would mean that he would instantly tumble over. If this was Charlie, you had never seen him this tired and sad before. Then you suddenly heard the man drop to his knees, at this point you thought it wouldn’t hurt to just peek at the man, you looked up, seeing a man with significantly longer hair and a smaller build than Charlie, kissing your porch! At this point you knew for a fact that it wasn’t your husband so you jumped up, grabbing your gun and aimed it at the man as you quickly walked towards him. “You best be getting off ma porch! My husband’s a bounty hunter and if he were here, he’d kill you quicker than I gaddamned will!” You knew it was a bad idea to tell this stranger that you were home alone but because he looked so small and sickly, you knew you could hold your own in a fight against him. The man crawled back, his hands in front of his head, shaking like a leaf in a tornado. “please...listen to me. I ain’t who ya think i am...” he whispered, hoarsely. Even with the hoarseness, you knew that voice as if it was your own. You dropped the gun, running close to him and cupping your hands around his angular face, “Charlie? Oh my god, is that really you, honey?” Charlie nodded weakly, tears now running down his face like a waterfall. “yeah, it’s me darlin’...”

After a long moment of hugging each other and crying, you brought Charlie into the house, sure that he was cold and hungry. As he sat in his armchair, you truly saw the difference, the crease where the top of his head usually ended was miles above the small, unshaven man sitting in the chair. He looed like a tiny scared puppy in a doghouse built for a doberman. It would almost be hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious. After giving him some bread, butter and chicken, that he scarfed down, almost choking as he did it, you started talking with him.

“W-where have ya been? I was worried sick...” you asked, hugging yourself and barely being able to even look at him in this situation, suddenly you remembered, reached into your pocket and pulled out the leaf letter and handed it to him, sitting down next to the chair, “and what...what is this?” he held the leaf weakly and sighed, defeated “I...was robbed...” he sighed, his voice only slightly less hoarse now, “My horse, my gun, my money, my paper and pens, my food, everything.” He stared off to space as he told his tale. “I barely begged hard enough to keep my clothes and the tiny shreds of my dignity that I had left. So I had to walk or crawl my way home. I ate wild animals and random leaves and berries I found. I got myself poisoned that way twice. I never took you out of my mind. When a man on a horse came past me and offered his help in exchange for my shoes, I didn’t ask for his horse, I simply asked him to send a letter to Oregon for me. That was the leaf. After he left me I realized my mistake and i kicked myself right there, but much further on I saw a horse lying on the ground, it honest to god looked dead. But it weren’t. I fed it half of the food I had scavenged and somehow it survived the last month of the journey. That’s the horse that’s outside, could ya maybe feed him? I named him Savior. He really helped me when I was at my worst.” This story was terribly sad, it rocked you to your core that he had gone through this all this time while you were at home, moping about how lonely you were. “I’m so sorry...if I had known I-” Charlie shushed you gently, stroking your hair, “You had no way of knowin’...I’m just glad you’re safe and alive, and that the baby hasn’t been born yet.” You giggled. Despite how sad the situation was, you were incredibly grateful that he was home and you loved how he could easily make a morbid situation even slightly humorous.

He stood up slowly, pulling you up at the same time. Once you were both standing fully (which took a while) he held you close to his chest. Despite him being much skinnier, he still stood quite a bit taller than you, he held your head up to his heart, it sounded much stronger and healthier than you expected. “It’s so loud...” you whispered to him, he chuckled lightly “It’s singing to you, ‘cause it knows you’re here...”

sorry if the ending is kind of short XD I still have no idea how to end stories correctly lol

#charlie sisters #charlie sisters x reader #joaquin phoenix imagine #joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix charlie sisters

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theunmappedstar · 4 years

Note

I dare you to give some random badboy au headcanons

so, i’m sorry, but “random headcanons” turned into “here’s the beginning of highschool badboy au plot that i have stuck in my head”... so... enjoy.

Sophie meets them because she joins Foxfire’s photography class as an elective. She has a group assignment that she has to complete, which requires her to take some photography scavenger hunt. She’s given a piece of paper with a list of different prompts she has to use to take pictures. (She’s mostly intrigued by the “street photography” bullet point).

Sophie gets paired up with Biana. They make quick friends and decide to divvy up the work - but this is also how Sophie learns about the boys.

She’d heard a little about them prior, but Sophie tended to only dip her toe into the gossip sparingly, so she doesn’t know exactly what’s up with these dudes

Sophie finds out that Biana is related to Fitz. Biana’s actually a real chatterbox when it comes to her family, so over the next week Sophie’s filled in on the majority of the timeline. (Also, the fact that everyone seemed to know of it, but her made Sophie feel really out of the loop and unpopular, but.)

The Vackers are a very wealthy and influential family. Biana’s parents naturally expected the most of their kids. Unfortunately, that only ended up dividing them. The three siblings weren’t very close when they were younger, but at least they talked - they barely interact normally anymore, according to Biana, focusing solely on their own lives and work. Alvar’s long since graduated, but Fitz and Biana are still held to their parent’s high expectations; they feel pressured to somehow reach above Alvar’s already-tremendous feats. Biana says even though it was rough, she never really saw it as a competition like her two brothers did. But that doesn’t mean she liked it, either.

Anyway, Fitz got so fed up with it and after a blowout, he managed to fall into what the Vacker parents love to call the “wrong crowd.”

The “wrong crowd” happens to be two kids - one from Foxfire Academy and one from a neighboring not-so-pristine school called Exillium.

Sophie’s interested as to who the two kids are, naturally, so she asks.

She almost immediately regrets that decision because as it would turn out, she knows those two kids.

Or, at least, she used to.

The first, Keefe Sencen, was surrounded by a lot of talk in her grade because of how he’d managed to skip a year when he was younger - and now Sophie finds that he’s apparently close to having to retake a year, since his grades have started to slip. She’d only seen him a couple times in elementary and had been paired with him for projects a staggering record of two times, but that didn’t mean he was one she would forget. (Those two group projects had been hell for her. He’d messed around with her so much and made her so frustrated and flustered and urg she hadn’t known how to act around a boy so obnoxious-but-cute).

Sophie doesn’t know if she’s surprised or not to find out that he managed to flip into the resident bad boy

The second one, Tam Song, happened to be a childhood friend (or she assumed that was the same Tam Song. There couldn’t be that many Tam Songs in the world, right?). She’d had a couple playdates with him before his parents had moved him and his twin sister away. She found out years later from her parents that the Songs had been having financial troubles and could no longer afford to be in the neighborhood/attend the academy

Sophie is baffled that the three managed to get together and start a reputation for themselves, no less

Sophie’s also baffled that they’re so well-known and yet she hadn’t really heard a thing about them; seriously, how unpopular was she?

When she relays the info to Dex and Marella at lunch, they tease Sophie that they’ve been waiting for it to hit her for years.

“...Why do you think we sit alone?” Dex asks.

Honestly, Sophie never really bothered to think about it. “I don’t know.”

Marella just snort-giggles. “Listen, you’re really smart, Sophie: you could build an entire AI system if you put your mind to it. But sometimes you lack a little thing called common sense.”

She doesn’t know whether to be offended or flattered.

She chooses to be flattered.

In the following days, Biana and Sophie get to checking off the to-do list for the assignment. Sophie’s first one requires her to take pictures of the interior of the school. She knows full well she could use her press pass to take pictures of the empty hallways during school, but that would require setting a time up with teachers, which would mean talking to teachers, which required basic social interaction... which.... was not very appealing and definitely not on Sophie’s list of Things I Want To Do.

She instead decides to stay after school for half an hour and take pictures.

She’s meandering around, snapping pictures here and there, trying to find out which angles would make the pictures less boring when she’s startled by a voice.

Sophie nearly drops the camera and whirls to find a boy sprawled across the bench outside the principle’s office. It takes her a moment to recognize him, but it eventually floods her brain.

Surprise, surprise - it’s Keefe Sencen.

He’s changed a lot since she last saw him. Granted, she last saw him when they were, like, six, but she lets herself be shocked.

Keefe’s got the whole getup. Ripped jeans, black tee, jet-black leather jacket... And he wears curiously, Sophie notices, an abundance of chains. Specifically, those rapper chains that dangle around your neck.

Sophie doesn’t realize that he’s called for her until he does it again. He’s asking what she’s up to, walking around with a camera like that after school.

She doesn’t know why, but “Yearbook” stumbles out.

She is not in Yearbook. She’s in Photography - close, but not quite it.

Keefe seems to feed off of her being flustered. It looks like he seriously enjoys it. he goes on to ask her what she’s got to take pictures of

She can’t really speak when he stands, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like that, so she just... hands the list over to him.

He quirks a brow and muses about the student/faculty box that has yet to be checked and he asks why she’s saved that one, since she’s been at school all day.

“Well, I... don’t really know how to casually approach someone and ask for a picture.”

It’s true. Everyone’s moving so fast and about their day during school hours and it’s especially hard to catch anybody after school.

Keefe just shrugs. “Then, you don’t have to.”

It takes her a second to realize what he means. He’s offering to let her take a picture of two of him.

It seems like a good idea. He’s right there and she can get it done and over with, but something about lifting the camera and snapping some shots of Keefe Sencen... Having to go home and know that she has access to pictures of him that she herself got to take...

He seems untouchable, is the thing. It seems like this is something that shouldn’t be happening - like he should have shooed her off like she was some human scum. It seems like they’re on two different levels. She’s the weird kid nobody really strives to talk to and he’s the boy that everyone’s terrified and annoyed (but secretly impressed) of.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Keefe interrupts her to assure her he doesn’t mind. He does ask if it sounds a little too self-centered, though, the way he just offered himself up for grabs.

Sophie’s not really listening because she’s too mesmerized by him combing his hands through his hair.

She kinda just blinks and mumbles some incoherent reply while trying to set the camera up. Her hands are super shaky and Keefe notices. Sophie stiffens when he outstretches a hand and asks if he can see the camera

“Um,” she starts, forcing herself to look at him, “I don’t think I should. I don’t own this and if it gets damaged-”

“Relax,” he murmurs. He retracts his hand instantly. “I was just asking. I took photography - I’m interested what camera they’ve given you. It looks different from the one I used; which seriously sucked, by the way.”

He pauses for a second to look her up and down. It makes her squirm, feeling on fire.

“And the pictures don’t have to be of me, right? They can be of students, if I’m remembering the guidelines correctly.” He waves the paper in his hands before reaching out to give it back to her. “And you, Miss...”

When Sophie recognizes he’s asking for her name, she blushes. “Sophie.” She plucks the paper from his hand.

He gives a swirling hand gesture, like he’s prodding for more.

“Foster,” she contends.

He nods, satisfied once he has her last name. “Foster,” he repeats, then continues, “Well, you’re a student, if I do say so myself. So, that means...” He lifts up his hands, pretending like he’s holding an imaginary camera. He pretends to adjust the lens and focus on her, finger hovering over the imaginary button that would take the imaginary picture.

He smirks. “Need a smile there, Foster,” he beckons.

She’s pretty sure she can’t get any redder. “I’m not really photogenic,” she argues, reaching forward to beckon his fake camera down.

He relents and let’s his hands drop, but his smirk remains. “Sure.”

She doesn’t really know what to say after that, so she hands him the camera with a mumble. Keefe eagerly takes it in his hands (which makes her notice the rings he has littered on his fingers) and he starts flipping and fiddling.

He says some random model name to her which she doesn’t really pay attention to. She only snaps up when his meddling ends and he asks, “Hey, by the way, how’ve the group projects been going?”

His smile seems more tender. More reminiscent. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, which makes Sophie realize he remembers her. And, in turn, he remembers those god-awful projects they were forced to endure together.

She’s pretty sure she turns redder than her rosy skirt. “You remember that?” she mumbles.

Keefe chuckles. “Remember? Can’t really forget.” He taps his temple. “Also, anything that involves a cute girl is immediately filed to the front of my brain.”

Sophie’s so struck by the compliment that she nearly grazes over his first fact. How had she managed to forget he had a photographic memory just like her?

She doesn’t quite know how to respond, but she manages to pull a smile and mumble something about needing to get to work if she wants to finish the project. Surprisingly, Keefe just smiles back and offers her the camera. She makes sure not to graze too much of his skin as she takes the camera from his hands, shaking. She thanks him and turns to bolt away as fast as her legs can carry her (because she knows she’s on fire and she knows he can see it and oh god-) when his voice slows her down.

“I’m serious about that picture thing, Foster. If you need any help, I’ve got time.”

She stops in the hallway to look at him. Sophie raises a slow eyebrow and gestures to the office. Her hand is unsteady, but she’s proud when her voice doesn’t shake. “You seem pretty busy to me.”

Keefe laughs. “Nah, this is normal. But I can find a way to make some time for you.”

Sophie’s sure he says something more along the line of, “All you need to do is ask,” but she’s pretty sure the entire world has become a blur. in a flash she’s said her goodbye and she’s speed walking out to Dex’s car (he offered to drive her home after school, that day. He does it whenever he has time, actually. They live in the same neighborhood, which is pretty convenient, given they’re best friends and adoptive cousins).

Dex can see she’s off her game, but he doesn’t delve into it. The car ride home is pretty quiet.

Also when Biana and Sophie see each other in class the following day, it’s pretty hard for Sophie to come up with an excuse as to why she doesn’t have that many photos. She promises that she’ll stay after school again to try and make them up.

She does.

And that’s when she meets Fitz.

Sophie doesn’t really know how it happened. She avoided the area she’d seen Keefe in at all costs, snapping pictures literally anywhere else she could find, but somehow she wound up outside on the curb. And somehow she ended up wandering through the mostly-empty parking lot, snapping pictures of the parking spaces that the seniors had decorated (every year the graduating class got to customize their parking spot with spray paint). And wandering through the parking lot taking pictures led to her spotting a few sleek bikes.

In hindsight, Sophie thinks she finally understands what Marella meant by “you’re smart but you have no common sense,” because she walks up to the bikes. They’re against the curbside parking spaces, so Sophie steps up on the sidewalk and begins observing the shiny vehicles.

She’s never really been keen on motorcycles (the idea of getting one kind of terrifies her) but she has to admit that they look good.

And Sophie, lacking that beautiful common sense, snaps a picture.

She barely holds back the squeak when someone behind her asks what she’s up to. Sophie turns around to meet two boys in leather jackets. They’ve both got dark heads of hair, but one is noticeably lighter. And the darkest sported silver-dyed bangs.

She’s pretty sure her insides shrivel. It’s them, there’s no denying. Her photographic memory compares Tam’s aged features with the ones from his youth, seeing how his soft face had turned to hard-and-handsome lines. And she can see the resemblance to Biana in Fitz’s equally-charming face.

(Also, the more that she thought about it, she’d actually been put against Fitz during one of the stupid elementary spelling bees. She severely prayed he didn’t remember her as spelling bee girl.)

“Sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly. She lifts the camera. “Photography. I can delete it.”

She should have asked before doing that. She seriously should have asked. She feels like she’s been caught and she’s considering turning tail and running when they shrug and tell her it’s fine. She’s pretty sure she’s dreaming when she gets asked if she at least liked the bikes or if it was just for the assignment.

She says it was for the assignment, but she does like them.

Fitz smiles at her for the first time and Sophie’s legs become jello.

Shit, how can someone look that nice while smiling?

But it doesn’t last too long because Tam asks who she is and where he’s seen her before. His head is tilted at her, dangly earrings twirling with the motion. Sophie can tell he does recognize her, at least a bit. All eyes are on her, so she feels a bit squirmy mentioning how she knows Tam, but once she does, his eyes light up and his eyebrows launch.

“Oh, Sophie. Shit.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Shit.”

Years later, it looks impossible to imagine that they’d ever been friends. They were so... different from each other, now.

They all start making semi-awkward conversation, discussing the school year and Sophie’s photography anything random they can come up with when Keefe rolls out of the school.

“Foster?”

She waves. “Oh, um. Hey.”

Keefe reaches his friends and his eyebrows crunch. He asks if they know her. Tam shrugs and says they knew each other when they were little, but they haven’t seen one another in years. Fitz admits Biana’s mentioned a Foster girl, but he doesn’t know her (Sophie’s pretty sure she’s dead. She didn’t know Biana talked about her at the house, even if it was something like measly dinner small talk.)

Keefe turns and grins at her, seeing the camera in her hand. “Yearbook again?”

She flushes. “Photography, actually.” Seeing his confusion, she continues, “I don’t know why I said Yearbook, yesterday. I’m in Photography, not Yearbook.”

Shockingly, Keefe just snorts. He muses that she’s something else before waltzing over and outstretching his hand. Sophie hands him the paper chock-full of guidelines again. Keefe starts muttering that she has a lot more crossed off than yesterday.

“You’ve still got a bit to go,” he points out.

Sophie just kinda nods. She’s mostly focusing on not letting her knees buckle in front of all of them. Her hands on the camera are sweating. It’s weird, how she’s managed to get caught in this situation. Everyone steers clear of these three, she knows, but now she’s somehow stuck in normal conversation with them. About photography, no less.

Keefe spots the street photography point and hums. He points to it, showing her the paper. “That seems interesting.” He meets her eyes. “Gonna take me up on my offer, yet, Foster?”

She swallows. “Oh, uh, street photography isn’t here, it’s-”

“On the street,” Keefe agrees, handing her back the paper. He shares one glance with his friends before meandering to his bike, slinging his leg over the seat.

Tam huffs a short laugh, grinning like he understands before he goes to hop on his own ride. Fitz is the last one behind, hands shoved in his pockets, just standing and smiling in amusement.

“You’re free, aren’t you?” Keefe implores. “We can make it quick. Drop you off back here - or wherever.”

Sophie chews on her lip. It is a tempting offer. She doesn’t really have a ride into the city planned, so it seems like the perfect opportunity. One quick ride, a few pictures, and she can leave. But that also means getting on a motorcycle. Which. . . kind of terrifies her.

“One ride, Foster,” Keefe promises, seeing the way she’s staring at the bike. “Does fifteen minutes sound good?”

Fifteen minutes is definitely enough time for her to get in a crash. Fifteen minutes is also definitely enough time for them to murder someone, but Sophie tries hard not to think about that.

Especially not when Keefe shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to her. Sophie catches it with a gasp, thankful that she doesn’t drop the camera. “Um,” she starts.

She cuts herself off when Fitz goes to his bike and pops open a back storage compartment. He snatches out a spare helmet, then waltzes back up onto the sidewalk next to her, reaching out his to trade the camera for the helmet.

Sophie swallows.

Seeing how nervous she is, he smiles, making a short nudge with his chin in the direction of the bike. “It’s up to you,” he promises.

“You won’t get hurt,” Keefe also assures. “You’ve got jeans on. And you wear that jacket and the helmet, you’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t like the fact that she has to take those precautionary measures in the first place. But, she guesses it’s just what one has to do. It’s like wearing a seatbelt in a car. This is the motorcycle’s seatbelt.

Sophie hands Fitz the camera and takes the helmet. She slips on the jacket, ignoring the heat that runs through her body at how nice it feels - and how Keefe looks at her.

Sophie clears her throat and puts the helmet on. Her fingers fumble horribly with the straps around her chin and no matter how much she tugs, she can’t get it right. Fitz has to come back over and help her, laughing gently. He narrates to her how to do it as he cinches it up for her with diligent fingers, smiling.

Sophie, however, is anything but smiling when he pulls away. There’s only one step left - to get on that bike with him, hold on tight to his waist, and pray that they don’t take her to some secondary location.

Sophie makes sure to look him in the eyes to know she’s serious. “You kill me, I kill you.”

Fitz chuckles. “Noted.”

#this is REALLLLY rough and just a concept #but #here you go #sokeefitz #sophie foster #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #tam song #marella redek #dex dizznee #anonymous #headcanon #kotlc headcanon #kotlc headcanons #sokeefitz headcanon #keeper of the lost cities #badboy au #kotlc badboy au

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boog-shitposting-edition · 4 years

Text

So I been playing a ton of Kenshi and watched all of the Mandalorian in a single day shortly before and it’s got me thinking about what makes what I consider a good action hero, because there was definitely a time where I thought the phrase “good action hero” was an oxymoron.

I grew up around some angry, unstable dudes who had that bad habit of watching horror movies and opining that in the same situation they would simply shoot the monster with the gun the character was holding. I got some views on the model of masculinity that sees the male ideal as functionally a tool for performing violence, condescension and occasional reddit-approved banter with all other emotional responses pared away or suppressed. This seems like a good way to manufacture a product for performing labor rather than developing a whole functional human being. So I generally veer away from that sort of thing pretty hard.

So I’m resistant to the Mandalorian at first, right? All the ads are basically star wars apocryphica and a power armored fighty gun boy. The last star wars thing I’d seen was The Rise Of Skywalker and my faith in the franchise is low. But it’s been a hot minute, the hype dies down, and my girlfriend is a better and more patient fan than I’ll ever be so we give it a go. And the first thing that really nails it for me is what a DORK the mando is. I’m delighted, his life is violence interdispersed with being an absolute buttfumble disaster. He slips and falls over things he could never have predicted, he burns his life down for a baby he finds in the desert. Pedro Pascal references Boba Fetts stiff menace and plays it off as someone who has no social skills other than stiff menace and it’s FASCINATING. Him explaining to the village woman who is obviously into him that he hasn’t taken the armor off since he was thirteen isn’t a badass declaration of martial devotion, it is the single saddest and most awkward interaction I have ever seen filmed and it hits all the harder for the fact that this is a character I’ve mostly ever seen as an action figure with a spring loaded missile backpack. Instead of being a faceless emotionless action-cudgel, Pedro amps up the body language in his acting to really sell you this heavily psychologically damaged, desperate, viking-space-catholic mess with no life skills other than violence and a devotion to his people’s creed that borders on obsession. Rather than paring himself down making him a psychological fortress, the Mando is an incredibly obvious walking raw nerve (”I’m not sad-” “Yes you are.”) So, Kenshi.

I’ve heard about this game on and off a few years and finally got it a few days ago. It’s been in early access since 2012, appears to be mostly getting finished by its modding community, and glitches like absolute woah. There’s no core storyline, just a post-apocalyptic setting with some surprisingly detailed autogenerated NPC interactions with some options for starting conditions and the sole goal of surviving. It’s essentially a rapid sequence of story prompts hidden underneath a closely interlocked system of XP grinding, survival mechanics and dismemberment algorithms, and is appallingly my shit.

My first run at the game got pretty far, went from a lone confused desert wanderer to a 13 man village running a tidy copper-mining operation to trade with the ant people. In the early game, fight mechanics are basically a death sentence; my first character immediately got her leg torn off by a goat and I had to restart. All skills grow only by excersizing them; you have to fight to get better at fighting, you have to LOSE fights to gain toughness, and when you lose a fight the consequences can range from “these bandits are stealing all your food” to “this monster is eating your leg/heart/head” to “these slavers are taking your character away and your game experience is Different now.” And while I was proud of myself for finding a way to survive, grow and thrive with a low-combat squad, once I tried the basebuilding mechanics that basically just meant my town was a source of free food and money for local bandits while my squad starved to death, unable to abandon our locale. So I got fed up and restarted.

As mentioned the game gives you different start positions; wanderer gives you 1 character, some money and pants. Guy and his dog gives you a dog, which is fun. Exiled officer starts you with good skills and the hatred of your former commander, which complicates things. Cannibal Hunters starts you already in a fistfight with 30 cannibals. It’s exciting times. But I figure this time I’d like to start my squad a LITTLE more capable of defending themselves, so I look at the Holy Sword start; you’re a bandit who starts with a stolen holy weapon, minuses in most skills, no money and a 20,000 bounty on your head from both major factions.

So I proceed to character creation and notice I can pick whatever I want for player species/subspecies with this start. There’s robot people and warriors made of stone and baseline humans and all sorts of fun options, but you remember those ant people I mentioned before? In game they’re called the Hivers, you find ‘em in 3 recruitable varieties (prince, worker drone and soldier) and they have an interesting in-universe quirk; ones that grow up in the hive are pheramone-addicted, chemically wired into the needs and wants of all of their fellows, but if you’re away from your kin for over a fortnight this addiction dries out incredibly fast and cannot be reinstated. Hivers who ever spend any time away from the hive are declared “lost ones,” and are often taken advantage of in the outside world as they long for a new community.

In survival sims I dont often play dedicated fighters, I always feel like being a brutal fight-beast isn’t really in the spirit of finding a niche to exploit and growing from a fumbling plebian to a major power. But I was already starting this game with my ONLY advantage being a nice sword. And the soldier hivers gain a buff to experience gained for melee attack and toughness, and a debuff to literally all else.

Manual labor. Science. Engineering. Farming. Cooking. First aide. In a setting that heavily prioritized your ability to survive using multiple vital skill sets, my character would start with negatives in his skills for putting on band-aids and FEEDING himself. So I gave it a go.

Getting more wild here, it turns out the Holy Sword opening also takes place in a time in the setting with more recent warfare, so a bunch of the starting villages are destroyed and it appears that more of the nearby cities are controlled by the factions that have a bounty on me. So my character CAN’T rely on other people or meet anyone to recruit at first. He can run, he can scrounge and scavenge, and as mentioned above starting characters can take lethal damage from GOATS so he can’t even hunt for food; the only way I was getting a meal was if I robbed someone or ran into merchants on the road I could hawk my salvage to for a scrap of bread.

He eventually finds someone willing to join him on his travels in spite of being flat broke, a shek named Ruka running from a dishonerable loss on the battlefield, and comparing their skills he’s so useless for everything besides combat that I assign him to bodyguard her. And again, this game’s appeal is that the survival mechanics make good story prompts, so imagine that in character.

“Fine, I need a change. I’ll join you.” “Thank god. Lead the way boss.” “What?”

Things regarding my characters bounty are starting to heat up in town, so we head north into hiver territory. We get attacked by bandits and heavily injured, my soldier gets knocked out, so Ruka picks him up and carries him until we find a hive town. I saw these guys all the time in my last playthrough, I survived by selling to them, they’re super friendly, should be fine. Ruka walks into the local shop and before I can have her ask for directions and a medikit the shopkeeper is already shouting- “SKREEE! LOST ONE! GET OUT! LOST ONES BRING MADNESS”

Apparently, my protagonist being a hiveless hiver means there’s a THIRD faction that’s hostile to him; his own goddamn people. Ruka has to leave him under a tree not just outside but like 50 feet from the edge of town, and just has to hope none of the local wild megafauna eats him while she rushes back in to buy things from the now abruptly friendlier shopkeep.

I’m finally sitting there, having Ruka watch my soldier hiver sleep while she cooks scavanged meat and waits for him to finish healing, that I realize what the story being generated here is and it’s a good one; a Hive soldier whose only skills are violence, frantically scavenging and stealing to survive until he can find the one circumstance where he’s comfortable, sacrificing himself to protect others. He steals a sword that’s obviously important to two major governments, just because he knows it’s powerful and thinks that power will justify his continued existence as a hiveless soldier drone, essentially buying his way back into his people’s good graces by performing his function. Literally wandering the world until he found a single person who was willing to boss him around again and devoting himself to their defense to a state of pathological damage just to feel like he has a hive again. It’s sad. It’s badass. It’s deeply, unsettlingly pathetic.

But I also think it’s what makes a really really good gruff action hero!

Hypercompetence in violence is really interesting when you acknowledge the damage it can do to your humanity in the storytelling! The Mandalorian is unsuccessful in repressing his empathy response so he just tries to tough through the pain it causes him as best he can, until he meets The Child and it snaps. The Hiver is essentially playing pretend at being still valued as a product for committing violence, even in the face of being openly rejected for his previously esteemed role. This stuff is INTERESTING.

TL;DR version, a lot of these “supersoldier raised by the military/fight wizards/karate” characters are super boring and obnoxious when they’re put forward as power fantasies, and really interesting when you realize that being raised by Fight Wizards is why they’ve never had a girlfriend and called their handgun “mom” once.

#kenshi #star wars #mandalorian

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schantzscribbles · 4 years

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Dear Evan Hansen Mermaid AU Part 2

Merpeople do form societies and interact with each other. They don't hunt each other and unlike their aquatic ancestors, they don't all follow migration paths. Some merfamilies will migrate.

Now I'll give you all the cute and fun and interesting stuff...

Connor loves to explore any wreckage he can find. He's super fascinated by human life and loves finding shipwrecks, plane wrecks, and even leftover skeletons.

He frequents the wrecks of military vessels most often and collects dog tags from fallen soldiers. He refurbishes them as much as he can because he likes to see the names of the men and women lost.

He often spies on humans who are boating as well. Be it a wedding boat, fishermen, or just vacationers, he just loves watching them from afar. However, the moment they spot him (usually only his dorsal fin on his tail), he dives away.

He's accidentally becomes and ocean cryptid when a group of divers got a photo of him, albeit it fuzzy/blurry.

He's obviously not aware of human cryptid culture.

Redditors think his viral photo is photoshopped.

Zoe isn't as curious about humans. She is curious of the sky above and loves to watch birds as they fly around and feed on fish.

She goes stargazing a lot against her parents wishes. It's dangerous at night and her parents (and most merpeople) fear poachers.

Zoe collects starfish on her tailfins. Since they are living creatures, she always communicates with them and makes sure they are okay with it.

Connor will leave jewelry and funky human artifacts he finds in Zoe's room. She doesn't know Connor is the one that leaves her random items and just assumes it's Cynthia.

Cynthia is fascinated with human artifacts and frequents a lot of merpeople who are traders for human trinkets.

However, she is terrified of humans and doesn't dare go near them. When she was younger, she got tangled up I'm a fishing net that belonged to poachers.

Larry is also fascinated with human trinkets, but not as much as Cynthia. Being an Oceanic Whitetip, he loves the tale of the USS Indianapolis.

He and Connor used to search shipwrecks together, but they've since grown apart and haven't hunted or scavenged together in a long time.

I already said a bit of this in my last post, but being a Coconut Octopus, Evan uses physical objects to hide in and behind as a form of camouflage.

Though camouflage isn't really necessary for merpeople being that they are able to fend for themselves and create/use tools, weapons, utensils, etcetera.

Evan's camo is more of a reflex with his anxiety. If he's nervous, anxious, or embarrassed, he'll find the nearest Evan-sized object and fold himself up to fit. His tentacles can fold together tightly, he just has to account for his upper body not being as flexible.

Heidi is a Mimic Octopus as uses her camo as more of a fun party tricks. Mimic Octopus are able to disguise with many backgrounds, but are also able to contort and arrange their tentacles to resemble other species.

When Evan was little, they would travel to shallow banks along islands where the sun shone through the water really brightly. She'd contort her tentacles and do little shadow puppets of other species for him on the sand.

So, Jared is a pufferfish and not a porcupine fish. He has spines, but they're very small and thin. They usually only show up when he's inflated.

He HATES being inflated but it's happens a lot.

Basically any elevated emotion inflates him. He's angry? Puff! He's playful? Puff! He's excited? Puff! He's sad? Puff! He's [redacted]? PUFF!

He doesn't care too much about human culture, but he is aware of this cursed video. He was hanging around a boat with a bunch of spring breakers and slipped a phone for a few minutes, stumbling across Youtube. Connor thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

Oh, yeah, so merpeople don't have any sort of electronic technology, but some of the most curious ones will snatch devices from boats. They are aware they don't work underwater, so it's usually like a dramatic spy scene of mermaids hanging out by boats with phones and tablets and messing around as much as they can for five to ten minutes.

Alana is super social and during vacations from school she'll travel with merpeople and regular aquatic life and migrate around the world.

She's traveled literally everywhere and has been doing it since she was a child. Her whole family used to go, but now it's just her. Her parents trust her to be alone.

Alana has come across Sea World and other marine parks with Orcas and it makes her incredibly angry. There have been a few instances where animals in captivity have... Mysteriously escaped back into the wild...

She does have a super playful side and is very curious of humans despite often having a negative judgement/attitude towards them. When she just wants to have fun or relax, she goes bow riding along the wake of boats. She's clever enough to not be seen.

Yes, there is merpeople high school because why not.

Again, science doesn't exist and this au honestly doesn't have rules.

So just go ham and make mermaids, y'all!

Part 3, anyone?

#deh #dear evan hansen #mer au #mermaid au #evan hansen #connor murphy #jared kleinman #zoe murphy #alana beck #heidi hansen #cynthia murphy #larry murphy

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ask-sincerely-sea · 4 years

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A rundown of the Mermaid AU

Here’s a bullet list of my Mermaid AU and most of the content I have imagined for it! These are taken from three different posts on my main blog, but for simplicity, I compiled them all here! It is long, but feel free to read and get a feel for this universe!

All the Murphys are sharks, but they’re all different types of sharks.

Science doesn’t exist in my world so don’t expect genetics and aquatic ancestry to be something that is strict. Most families tend to stay within the same family and/or genus.

Connor is a Shortfin Mako Shark.

Zoe is a Blue Shark (Fun fact: Blue Sharks are a species of Requiem Sharks).

Cynthia is a Whale Shark.

Larry is an Oceanic Whitetip Shark.

Evan and Heidi are both octopus.

Evan is a Coconut Octopus.

Heidi is a Mimic Octopus.

Alana is a Pacific White Sided Dolphin.

Jared is a White Spotted Pufferfish.

Although intelligent like humans, mermaids will exhibit behaviors akin to their aquatic ancestry.

Evan being a Coconut Octopus will hide within ocean debris as a form of camouflage. This is often triggered by spikes in anxiety, but he also uses it to avoid interaction.

Jared absolutely puffs up. It’s usually caused by elevated emotion. Sometimes he’ll puff up because he’s upset, other times he’ll accidentally cause himself to puff up just from laughing too hard.

The Murphy family is a family a predators. They all have an acute and accurate sense of smell. Larry, Connor, and Zoe are active hunters, and when they are in hunting mode it’s hard to break them out of it until they are satiated.

Merpeople do form societies and interact with each other. They don’t hunt each other and unlike their aquatic ancestors, they don’t all follow migration paths. Some merfamilies will migrate.

Now I’ll give you all the cute and fun and interesting stuff…

Connor loves to explore any wreckage he can find. He’s super fascinated by human life and loves finding shipwrecks, plane wrecks, and even leftover skeletons.

He frequents the wrecks of military vessels most often and collects dog tags from fallen soldiers. He refurbishes them as much as he can because he likes to see the names of the men and women lost.

.Hes accidentally becomes and ocean cryptid when a group of divers got a photo of him, albeit it fuzzy/blurry.

He’s obviously not aware of human cryptid culture.

Redditors think his viral photo is photoshopped.

Zoe isn’t as curious about humans. She is curious of the sky above and loves to watch birds as they fly around and feed on fish.

She goes stargazing a lot against her parents wishes. It’s dangerous at night and her parents (and most merpeople) fear poachers.

Zoe collects starfish on her tailfins. Since they are living creatures, she always communicates with them and makes sure they are okay with it.

Connor will leave jewelry and funky human artifacts he finds in Zoe’s room. She doesn’t know Connor is the one that leaves her random items and just assumes it’s Cynthia.

Cynthia is fascinated with human artifacts and frequents a lot of merpeople who are traders for human trinkets.

However, she is terrified of humans and doesn’t dare go near them. When she was younger, she got tangled up I’m a fishing net that belonged to poachers.

Larry is also fascinated with human trinkets, but not as much as Cynthia. Being an Oceanic Whitetip, he loves the tale of the USS Indianapolis.

He and Connor used to search shipwrecks together, but they’ve since grown apart and haven’t hunted or scavenged together in a long time.

I already said a bit of this in my last post, but being a Coconut Octopus, Evan uses physical objects to hide in and behind as a form of camouflage.

Though camouflage isn’t really necessary for merpeople being that they are able to fend for themselves and create/use tools, weapons, utensils, etcetera.

Evan’s camo is more of a reflex with his anxiety. If he’s nervous, anxious, or embarrassed, he’ll find the nearest Evan-sized object and fold himself up to fit. His tentacles can fold together tightly, he just has to account for his upper body not being as flexible.

When Evan was little, they would travel to shallow banks along islands where the sun shone through the water really brightly. She’d contort her tentacles and do little shadow puppets of other species for him on the sand.

So, Jared is a pufferfish and not a porcupine fish. He has spines, but they’re very small and thin. They usually only show up when he’s inflated.

He HATES being inflated but it’s happens a lot.

Basically any elevated emotion inflates him. He’s angry? Puff! He’s playful? Puff! He’s excited? Puff! He’s sad? Puff! He’s [redacted]? PUFF!

He doesn’t care too much about human culture, but he is aware of this cursed video. He was hanging around a boat with a bunch of spring breakers and slipped a phone for a few minutes, stumbling across Youtube. Connor thinks it’s the funniest thing ever.

Oh, yeah, so merpeople don’t have any sort of electronic technology, but some of the most curious ones will snatch devices from boats. They are aware they don’t work underwater, so it’s usually like a dramatic spy scene of mermaids hanging out by boats with phones and tablets and messing around as much as they can for five to ten minutes.

Alana is super social and during vacations from school she’ll travel with merpeople and regular aquatic life and migrate around the world.

She’s traveled literally everywhere and has been doing it since she was a child. Her whole family used to go, but now it’s just her. Her parents trust her to be alone.

Alana has come across Sea World and other marine parks with Orcas and it makes her incredibly angry. There have been a few instances where animals in captivity have… Mysteriously escaped back into the wild…

Yes, there is merpeople high school because why not.

Again, science doesn’t exist and this au honestly doesn’t have rules.So just go ham and make mermaids, y'all!

I’m still deciding on how I want to portray Miguel, but right now I’m thinking Red Lionfish or Pacific Seahorse.That boy is something very colorful and proud!

So previously I mentioned there being an education system for merpeople as they do form societies.

So all the teens (minus Miguel) go to school together.

Their school, as well as most of the buildings in their particular society, is made up of scrapped parts from shipwrecks and other human debris. There are also some buildings and landmarks carved out of the landscape, but they gotta keep it fresh, keep it interesting. They’re still discovering and learning technology, but in their own unique ways.

(Okay, you probably didn’t even care about that fact but as an enthusiast for a “rebuild from the remains” aesthetic, I have to sprinkle in my little funky twists.)

The particular “town” of merpeople they live in isn’t very large and is constantly changing size and population due to some mers moving in and out.

Evan broke his arm over summer break in a coastal accident.

Seeing that merpeople don’t fully abide by the living standards of their aquatic ancestors, they tend to mix, mingle, and migrate without too much structure. Obviously certain families with stay together and there are some pockets of merpeople who live by more strict cultural rules. But for the sake of au, Evan and the gang live in a more relaxed mer civilization.

So, over the summer Evan was working with a group of mers that focus on coastal wildlife. Evan in particular focused on coral health and how it was being affected by human activity.

But our boy is depressed and lonely, so one day he strays from his usual group of coworkers and ventured toward a cluster of fishing boats. The general rule is don’t go near humans, especially when on the job.

He noticed that some of the boats were anchored, so he grabbed one of them from the seabed, hoisted it up the surface, and launched it above water for his to come crashing down with force behind it.

His arm got pinned under the anchor, thus breaking it.

Now, the rest of the AU at the moment is more freeform and doesn’t follow the plot of the musical, but I did want to included how Evan broke his arm.

Connor is not dead in this particular version of the AU, but feel free to craft multiple storylines and arcs with different outcomes!

Connor does paint his nails!

As previously mentioned, he is very fascinated by human society and like to get a little too close.

So, one day he came across some spring breakers and watched as they went about their activities sunbathing and painting their nails. As soon as they looked away, he stole several bottles.

It’s rare for him to find nail polish, especially since he ruined his first bottle by opening it up under water and losing the contents. But whenever a party boat or a boat of spring breakers rolls by, especially with a bunch of girls, he always has to check.

He quickly learned that whenever he wants to do his nails he has to make a whole thing about hauling himself up to surface and propping on a rock or a beach for some time.

He’s collected his signature black as well as a metallic purple, glittery pink, and bright turquoise. He wears the black and purple the most. He loves the other two colors, but poor baby is insecure and wearing nail polish as a mer is already enough to cause stares.

Jared also thinks that human legs are hot.

When Jared is puffed up, other mers will bop him around like a volleyball. It’s an unfortunate thing for any and all puffers.

Evan’s dad is a Barracuda mer, which for a Barracuda and an Octopus to mate is incredibly rare. It’s a wonder that Evan didn’t come out a totally wack and new sea monster.

But like I said, science doesn’t really exist here! Anything goes! Be whatever mer you wanna be! Love whatever mer you wanna love!

#mermaid au #mer au #deh #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen au #evan hansen #connor murphy #jared kleinman #alana beck #zoe murphy #cynthia murphy #larry murphy #heidi hansen

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