#i wish this was smaller and easier to digest
Text
Brothers
9650 Words; Between AU, pre-canon
TW for death
AO3 ver
Gristle Junior was seven months and eleven days old on the day of his first Trollstice.
Or rather, he was seven months and eleven days old on what would have been his first Trollstice, were it not for the lack of trolls. And the day had started so well, too, anticipation electric in his veins as he bounced around his father’s room. He had been so ready to taste true happiness!
But the Trolls were gone, fleeing underground despite the best efforts of Chef’s underlings. Not a single Troll had been recovered, Gristle had been told, and from what little he had been able to see of the commotion—from the swinging shovels and pickaxes he had glimpsed in the plaza as he was being shuffled away from the action—supported that notion. Surely, if Trolls were being found, then surely there would be much less frustration.
But the day passed without a single Troll eaten. Gristle’s father, for who he had been named, had taken him aside to calmly explain that with no Trolls, Gristle would never be happy. Not ever. Nothing else could possibly work.
To a Bergen less than a year old, such words were absolute. And why should Gristle doubt his father? The King had lived for decades, an extent of time which felt like an eternity to Gristle Junior. Surely, if there was anyone who could know everything, it would be the King.
Gristle was seven months and eleven days old on the last chance he would ever have to know true happiness. The date clung to his mind, the damnation of eternal misery heavy in his chest. To a Bergen so young and inexperienced with the world, there could be nothing worse.
Chef was disgraced. Not a single Troll recovered, in all of that mess? Her exile was quick and loud—Gristle watched from the castle door with his father as Chef was bodily thrown through the gates, shouting curses he strained to hear. With a sigh, Gristle moved to turn away from the door, prepared to ready himself for bed.
“Your Majesty!” Two Bergens hailed down his father, bowing the moment the King’s eyes were on them. “We found…” The Bergen on the left had his hands cupped together oddly, perfectly concealing whatever would be inside. With a nudge from his partner, he bowed again, holding out whatever it was to the King. “We found this at the tree’s edge.”
Gristle Junior turned back towards the door, pressing against his father’s legs to peer at what was so urgent it couldn’t wait for daylight. The air was thick with anticipation as the Bergen’s fingers slowly parted, revealing what was delicately clasped in his hands.
It was a Troll.
Gristle’s eyes widened. His father inhaled sharply, peering down at the tiny shape curled in the palm.
The Troll stared up at them with wide eyes, curled in on itself and shaking. It was so small. How did creatures that small even exist?
The King hummed, leaning in further. Gristle Junior was quick to imitate, peering at the tiny Troll even more intently. This brought to light a detail that had been previously overlooked—a detail that seven month and eleven day old Gristle had no filter against pointing out.
“It’s gray.” Gristle said, peering down at the thing. Tiny, too. Could something so little really bring him happiness? “Is it sick?” He poked at the Troll, and it flinched back with a hiss, tail clutched in its paws.
“Inedible.” Gristle Senior growled out. He turned bared teeth to the pair before them. “Your effort is appreciated.” He said, “But there’s no use for a Troll that’s gone bad.” The King sighed, moving to reenter the castle. “Do as you wish with it.” He dismissed. “My son and I…”
Gristle Junior reached for the Troll. “It’s so small.” He whispered, staring down at it. Small and gray and baring blunted teeth in an approximation of a snarl… He looked up at the pair, eyes wide. “Can I have it?”
The Bergen holding the Troll hesitated, before tilting his hands towards Gristle. The Troll squeaked as Gristle scooped it up, voice tiny. Gristle squealed, clutching the Troll and running back inside, the rest of the world forgotten.
The Troll turned bewildered eyes up to Gristle. It trembled, shouting as Gristle turned a corner, but Gristle paid no heed to anything but the sheer novelty of his idea. His very own Troll! There was hardly much of a plan in the toddler’s head, but a simple idea was all Gristle really needed at his age.
Gristle bounced into his bedroom, Troll in hand. He moved to set the Troll down on the desk—
“Son!” Gristle Senior’s voice was seldom so loud—but when it was, it commanded attention from everyone in the area. And indeed, Gristle Junior turned his attention to his father, the Troll still squirming in his hand. “What are you doing?” Gristle had never heard his father at such a loss.
“Keeping it.” Gristle Junior said.
Gristle Senior walked across the room and peered down at the Troll on the desk, trapped between Gristle Junior’s hands. “A pet is a lot of responsibility, son.” He pointed out.
“You say the same about being Prince.” Gristle Junior responded.
Gristle Senior jolted slightly, taken aback. “That… is true.” He conceded. “But it’s a Troll.” He poked the Troll in question, sending it stumbling backwards onto the ground. “It will just get eaten.”
“But you said gray Trolls are inebidable!” Gristle Junior lifted the Troll—his Troll, up with cradled hands, pressing it against his chest. “That they’ve got no use, which means that eating them can’t do anything!”
“Inedible.” Gristle Senior corrected gently. He lowered down, to be closer to his son’s eye level. “Son, be realistic. The kingdom just lost all of its Trolls. Trollstice has been a tradition for more than a century. The shock of no more Trollstices will make the people desperate.”
The Troll stared up from Gristle Junior’s hands with wide eyes. Tiny claws too small to do any damage dug into Gristle Junior’s hand.
Gristle Junior huffed. “But they gotta listen to you, Daddy. You’re the King.” The people had listened when the King declared Chef exiled; Gristle had witnessed just that less than an hour ago. “If you say that my Troll is inedidible then nobody will eat it!”
The King sighed, tired and heavy. “You’ll need something to keep it in.” He advised. As his son cheered, he turned to the door, and made his way across the room. Once Gristle Senior reached the doorframe, he turned back to his son one more time.
“If I wake up tomorrow and find that thing is running around the castle, I will feed it to Barnabus.” He threatened. His face immediately lightened, and he left the room with a single, cheery, “Goodnight, son!”
Gristle Junior nodded at the closed door with the utmost seriousness. He turned back to his Troll, who he set on the desk gently. “Hear that?” He asked. “You stay in here, or else.” With that, Gristle propped his face up in his hands, leaning forwards. “My name’s Gristle. Yours?”
The Troll crossed tiny Troll arms and glared up at him. “I’m not telling.” It said, in a voice that reminded Gristle of the mice Barnabus ate.
“Then I’ll just give you one!” Gristle chirped. “How about… Trolly!”
“No.”
Gristle frowned. “You’re getting a name, no matter what.” He huffed, poking his Troll in the side. The Troll stumbled a bit, but remained standing. “You’re so grumpy.” Gristle noticed. “Just like… a Bergen…” He trailed off, something approaching realization creeping up his throat.
The Troll snarled. “Not a Bergen!” It insisted, tail smacking the desk.
Gristle stared. “You…” His eyes lit up. “You and I are gonna be best friends.” Gristle decided, poking his Troll again.
The Troll’s response was simple. Gristle yelped, yanking his hand back. The Troll fell over, rubbing at its mouth with tiny paws, and Gristle stared at the tiny teeth marks on his finger.
The Troll glared mutinously, as if daring Gristle to come within biting range again.
Gristle nodded. “Yep! Best friends!”
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was nine months and two days old when he learned the Troll’s name. He had been poring through a pet care magazine, oo-ing and ah-ing over the different kinds of pets that Bergens kept. From alligator-dogs like Barnabus to even frog-crows!
He had hit the section for small pets, though none of the kinds commonly kept by Bergens were as small as a Troll. He looked over at the custom cage his father had had commissioned for his Troll, from the pod taken from the abandoned Troll Tree to the sandy substrate in the basin. As usual, his Troll was down on the substrate, pressed into the corner while it worked its way through safflower seeds.
“Look!” Gristle held the magazine right up against the cage bars, pointing at the circled bird perch. “How does a swing sound? I bet you’d have a lot of fun with it, Trolly.” He didn’t expect a response—the Troll rarely ever spoke back, content with glaring and darting away when Gristle reached into the cage.
Which meant it surprised him all the more when the tiny creature spoke. “Branch.”
Gristle opened his mouth to continue speaking—stopped. “What?”
“Branch.” The Troll repeated. “My name is Branch.” Its eyes were locked resolutely on the sandy substrate, shoulders hunched and tail thwap-thwap-thwapping against the corner.
Gristle gasped. “Oh!” He’d never thought—he—Branch—
“That’s a weird name.” Gristle finally decided, leaning in. “Are all Trolls named like that?” He couldn’t quite read well enough to digest all the books he’d found about Trolls (or that had Trolls on the covers), so his only real source of information was what former Troll-handlers Chad and Todd (or was it Todd and Chad?) could tell him, when he saw them. Which wasn’t often.
Branch gave Gristle a deer in headlights look, a helpless sort of “how-would-I-know” conveyed through body language alone. Paws clenched and unclenched against the seed held between them.
Gristle shrugged, and went back to the magazine. “So,” He said, “You never said if you wanted a swing.”
“Don’t bother.” Branch huffed. “I won’t use it.”
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was five years old when his father led him into his study for the first time. The younger marveled at the book-filled shelves and neatly organized desk, at the candle holders set into the wall and the banners hanging down—this room was his future.
“My son,” Gristle Senior began. “What you will be starting today is a time-honored tradition of Bergen Royalty.” His voice had a practiced lilt, a deep timbre made of years of self-assurance. “For no Monarch rules Bergentown alone—it is the duty of Princes and Princesses to run the kingdom in concert with the reigning monarch.”
“Whoaaa…” Gristle Junior hopped up and down to see atop the desk. “I’m a Prince!” He realized, whirling around to face his father. “So I have to help you run!”
Gristle Senior chuffed. When he spoke, there was pride in his voice. “And that is exactly what you will start learning today.” He lifted his son with one arm, sitting down behind the desk and settling Gristle Junior in his lap. “Now,” He pushed a stack of books from the edge of the desk to the center. “Here are the best volumes to start with…”
The lesson continued on throughout the rest of the morning. After lunch with his father, Gristle Junior returned to his room with the stack of books he had been given, ready and willing to learn. He pushed open the door, and made his way over to the desk right next to his bed.
“There’s so many books I need to read!” Gristle lamented. “How am I ever going to learn it all?” He’d have to, though, to be a proper Prince of Bergentown. And he would! Bergens were tough, and royal Bergens were said to be the toughest of all! So Gristle would be the best Prince! No book could defeat someone as tough as him!
He was starting with history. But there was so much! He held out the book to Branch’s cage, showing off just how thick it was—and it was all pre-Trollstice, too!
Branch squinted at the tome, then returned to his digging. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Which was weird, because Trolls were supposed to live in trees—every book Gristle had read on them said so. But the pod in Branch’s cage—taken directly from the Troll Tree, no less—remained just as empty as it always had. There was even dust building up along the top!
“I mean, how in the world am I ever going to remember all this?” Gristle slammed the book down on his desk, prying it open. He was glad for Branch—the Troll was a good listener, in the five year old’s eyes.
The Troll in question poked his head back up, ears twitching. “Are you going to read it, or are you just gonna complain?” He asked, before going back to the hole.
“Right.” Gristle turned his attention back to the book. Slowly, he began, sounding out the words as best he could.
“The first re-cor-did history of Bergenkind dates back to… three… fow-sand years ago.” He began. “When Fow-ler the First wrote the… the first ever Law.” He continued reading, stumbling over words while Branch continued digging. Gristle let the history wash over him, entranced in the task set before him. Hours passed, and Gristle found himself being called down to dinner before he even registered that so much time had passed.
Three days later, Gristle found himself staring at a worksheet in frustration. He was supposed to fill it out without looking at his books, and he was struggling.
“UGH!” Gristle threw his head back, clutching at his hair as he seethed. “How can I remember the name of the first Bergen to write a law but not when?!” He smacked his head against the desk, groaning in frustration. The urge to go to his shelf and pull out the relevant book itched down his spine—but he had to hold strong! A good Prince knew how to look things up, but a great Prince could recall whatever detail was needed when it was needed.
Oh, how was Gristle ever supposed to be a great Prince?
“The first recorded history of Bergenkind dates back to three thousand years ago.” Branch said, casually breaking the frustrated silence. “That’s what your book said.”
Gristle looked at Branch’s cage, where the Troll was busy jotting stuff down on a scrap of paper. Gristle then looked over to the book on his shelf. Slowly, he pushed out his chair and went over to the shelf, opening the book to the first page.
“That’s…” He turned back to Branch. “You’ve got a good memory.” He said, returning the book to the shelf.
Branch muttered something that Gristle didn’t quite catch. Gristle shrugged, and went back to his worksheet. He’d have to read aloud to Branch more often, if Branch could remember stuff so well.
With a hum, Gristle continued on with the worksheet. It probably wasn’t in the spirit of the challenge to have a friend who could remember a lot of words, but Gristle wasn’t concerned at all with that notion.
He continued to talk to Branch as he worked, something light in his chest with the knowledge that Branch really was listening.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was six years old, and he and Branch were having a real good row. The kind of row that, had they been proper siblings, would have only been able to be settled by some proper Bergen roughhousing, with weapons and property destruction. A real riot-causing dispute.
It was hardly their first disagreement—Gristle had the faint bite scars all over his fingers to prove it. But it was certainly frustrating, born from weeks of buildup over a simple fact.
“It’s not healthy! Trolls are supposed to sing!” Gristle gestured to the book in his hand, which was way more useful than all the cookbooks he’d found. It actually went a bit into Troll health and growth, detailing all the ways and times that Trolls could become inedible. As Branch was, and had always been gray—or at least, as long as Gristle had known him—the book in question proved very useful.
“Well I don’t!” And that was the crux of the situation, the simple fact from which all of this had spawned. “And I never will!” Branch’s stand was resolute, unshakeable, even in the face of all of Gristle’s Princely Rage.
“But you have to!” Gristle insisted, gesturing again to the page he had the book opened to. “Trolls that don’t sing—this book isn’t very nice about them!” He was fumbling, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to say it. The book said that gray Trolls were to be removed from the Troll Tree and disposed of immediately. It didn’t say why, and Gristle was still a child—he didn’t question the words presented as fact. As far as he could tell, a Troll that had gone gray was just… it wasn’t right!
“You’re supposed to be happy.” Gristle pushed. “You’re supposed to sing, like a regular Troll.”
“Never gonna happen.” Branch insisted. “I’ll stay unhappy, just you watch!” He crossed his arms with a huff, tail twitching angrily.
“That’s not good!” Gristle responded. “You have to get your color back eventually!” The book said nothing about whether Trolls could regain their color after losing it. But it wasn’t right, for a creature so intertwined with music to never make a single note. And if the book said to get rid of gray Trolls…
Gristle cared about Branch, more than he could feasibly admit. The castle staff were fine, and his father was his father, but Branch—Branch was a friend. Someone Gristle could talk to who would actually listen, no matter what it was.
The book said it wasn’t healthy for a Troll to go gray. Gristle was going to be King someday, in the far distant future, and he’d be responsible for all of Bergentown. Even sooner, he would be a fully fledged Prince, responsible for helping his father with Bergentown. If Gristle couldn’t even take care of one tiny troll, then what were his chances of ever being good at what he was literally meant to do?
“And then what?” Branch gripped the bars of his cage, rage in every inch of his body. “You’ll eat me?”
“Of course not!” Gristle could never! Branch was… Branch was his friend! Inedible by Royal Decree! Gristle would sooner eat Barnabus!
“You’re lying!” Branch yelled back. “The moment I become edible you or some other Bergen will be serving me up on a silver platter!” His tail lashed about wildly, tears bubbling up at the corners of his eyes. “Because that’s all Trolls are to you!”
Gristle flinched back. He… he refused to admit it, but Branch had a point. Trolls were the only way that Bergens could ever be happy, and they had spent generations with a holiday dedicated to that very thing. But…
“You’re different.” Gristle insisted. Branch was his friend. “You’re not… you never sing and you’re always unhappy.” He huffed. “It’s like you’re barely a Troll at all!”
This time it was Branch’s turn to flinch, tail falling flat against the ground. “Maybe you’re right.” He said quietly, turning away from the bars.
“Branch, I—” Gristle reached out, only for his hand to fall back down when Branch glared at him.
“Fine, then.” Gristle grumbled. “We’ll just be unhappy together.” Between the two of them, Branch was the only one who had even a chance to ever be happy—Gristle would never get to eat a Troll with all of them gone, but Branch… Branch was a Troll. If anyone would ever get to be happy, it would be the creature who was quite literally made of the stuff.
“Fine!” Branch sat down hard on the substrate, arms crossed and turned away from Gristle. “Unhappy together!”
It felt like a promise, like a finality.
It felt like Gristle was failing hard at this whole “taking care of others” thing.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was seven years old with a form in his hand. He stood before Branch’s cage, expanded over the years to include deeper substrate and a small climbing tree. The… well, it felt weird to call him a Troll, when he was nothing like Gristle’s books, but what else could he be called?
A Bergen. At least, that was what he’d be if Gristle’s idea went through.
“I’ve been learning about law.” Gristle began, with no real preamble. Branch looked up from his orange slice, ears twitching, but made no comment. “And I found out something interesting.” He took a deep breath, and glanced at the memo in his hand. “Adoption Laws, Section Two. In the case of a non-Bergen being adopted by a Bergen or other being of Bergen citizenry…” Gristle hurriedly looked at the memo again, “They are considered, in all aspects of the law, a Bergen, with all of the rights and restrictions that such a designation entails.” He let the memo flutter down to the floor and looked down at Branch, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.
Branch clenched and unclenched his paws against the half-eaten orange slice in his lap, tail flicking behind him. “...what.”
“Listen.” Gristle leaned in close, holding up the form in his other hand. “If I adopt you, then you wouldn’t be in any more danger of being eaten!”
Branch squinted. “Aren’t you a little young to be a parent?” He asked, orange slice seemingly forgotten in his lap. “And I’m older than you.” He pointed out, somewhat bitterly.
“Ew! No! Not as a son!” Gristle waved his arms wildly, then pressed the form against the bars again. “As a brother.” He clarified. “Because… you’re more of a friend than a pet,” Gristle explained, “And it’s not fair to keep treating you like one. A pet.” He carefully gaged Branch’s expressions, watching as his face flickered through a series of emotions. “All you’d need to do is sign on this line…”
“It can’t be that easy.” Branch groused, tail flicking faster. “Bergens don’t do ‘easy’.”
“Well,” Gristle rubbed at the back of his neck, “We would have to get approval from Dad for it to go through.” He rallied, clenching his free hand in a fist. “But that’s easy! I mean, he let me keep you!”
“As a pet.” Branch stressed. He set the orange slice aside, brushing off his paws as he stood. “That’s totally different.”
“And that’s why I want to do this!” Gristle unlatched the cage door, not bothering to reach in—he had long since learned that Branch hated being picked up unexpectedly. Better to let Branch come out of the cage on his own terms. “Because what kind of Prince treats his friend like a pet?”
Branch’s expression fell, his shoulders hunching. His paws clenched and unclenched in the rhythmic way they often did, his tail flicking. Carefully, slowly, Branch clambered out of the cage, climbing down the flipped out door to settle on the smooth wood of the shelf. Gristle held out his hand, palm up, and Branch hopped onto it, letting himself be lifted over to the desk.
Gristle laid out the form. He’d double-checked every word to make sure it was exactly what he needed, and all that was left was to sign it and have it approved. Gristle had already signed it, his name penned in only slightly messy ink. Penmanship win!
Branch pulled a tiny quill from his hair, hopping up to gently dab it in the inkwell on the desk. As Gristle watched, Branch kneeled down in front of his line, and carefully signed his name.
“Think that’ll be enough?” Gristle asked.
Branch hummed. “Maybe…” He tucked the quill away and went back to the inkwell, hopping up and leaning so far in that for a moment Gristle feared he’d fall in. Branch kicked the side and lifted himself back and out, clambering over to the form and slapping right next to his name with his paws.
Two inky paw prints, right next to his name. “That should do it.” Branch decided, satisfied.
Gristle nodded, offering his hand again. As Branch hopped onto his palm and clambered up Gristle’s arm to his shoulder, Gristle grabbed the form carefully, blowing a bit to make the ink dry faster.
“Let’s get this done!” Gristle declared, running off to go find his father. It wasn’t the first time Branch had left Gristle’s room, nor the first time that Branch had ridden on Gristle’s shoulder. But it was the first time since the belled harness had been made that Branch had left the room without the jingle of bells signaling his every movement. Gristle realized it was weird, actually, to feel the weight on his shoulder and not hear the sound of bells he’d come to associate with that weight. But the harness was from when Branch was still a pet in everyone’s eyes—it wouldn’t do to make Branch wear it now.
And really, Branch was like a Bergen, in a lot of ways. He never sang or danced, he was disagreeable—even the gray of his short fur was similar to the average Bergen’s dull tones. Whenever he had something to work on, be it the den he’d dug or even old worksheets Gristle tried to downsize for him, he took to working on it just like a Bergen: with a grumble and the focused spirit that allowed Bergens to create sturdy walls and buildings. And he had interesting insights, too—Bergens disliked great heights, so even the castle couldn’t get very tall, but it was Branch who gave Gristle the idea to suggest subterranean expansion when the King presented the age-old issue of expansion logistics. Which was just funny, because Trolls lived in trees—yet Branch never once touched the dusty pod hanging in his cage.
Branch settled down on Gristle Junior’s shoulder, tucked just below Gristle’s ear. Gristle found a sudden bounce in his step, a mix of anticipation and excitement in his veins. Yeah, this whole adoption thing was a great idea! Maybe even the best Gristle had ever had!
Finding the King was easy—it was just before lunch, so King Gristle Senior would be just finishing up with the final petitioners in the biweekly levee. Normally, Gristle Junior would be sitting in his own princely throne beside his father, to listen and watch and get a general idea of how a levee worked—but he had… kinda skipped it, what with how eager he was to try out the adoption idea. Not that that was a major issue—Gristle Junior wasn’t meant to fully step into his duties as Prince until he was ten.
Still…
“Ah, there you are.” King Gristle Senior groused, shifting slightly in his throne. “Care to explain why you missed today’s levee?”
Gristle Junior stopped short, nodding his head in a bow. “My apologies, Father.” He kept his tone careful, regal, like he’d been taught. “I found something that needed attending to.” He explained, head still down.
Gristle Senior snorted. “Well, out with it, then.” He waved his hand encouragingly as his son looked up. “What grand idea did you come up with this time?”
Gristle Junior’s mouth pulled back in an odd way, and he fought the strange expression off of his face. With a simple flourish, he drew out the form, holding it out towards his father. “This.”
Gristle Senior took the form, glancing it over. His expression remained neutr—his eyes widened, as the contents of the form properly registered. The King’s expression scrunched, turning thunderous, before going down to mere annoyance. He turned that annoyance upon his son, and all but sputtered out, “What in the name of Berg is the meaning of this?!”
“It’s an adoption form.” Gristle Junior explained, pressing his hands together. He felt Branch shift slightly on his shoulder, and he held out a palm. Branch took the offer, sliding down Gristle’s arm to stand upon his hand, small and gray and steady.
“I can… see that.” Gristle Senior hissed through ground teeth. “But…” His expression became just as lost as the night that Gristle Junior had first met Branch. With a deep sigh, Gristle Senior looked down at his son and the Troll.
“Letting you keep a Troll as a pet is one thing,” The King began, “But adoption? Of a Troll? Are you insane?”
Gristle Junior felt oddly gobsmacked. “It makes sense.” He tried, unable to keep childish uncertainty from his voice. “Branch is the most unTroll Troll ever, he’s just like a Bergen and I think it’d be best if he was called as such, because then nobody would even think to eat him!”
Gristle Senior sighed, heavy and tired. “That’s not a good enough reason.” He started. “Son, do you have any idea what would happen if that… thing were to become your brother?”
“It’d be a serious crime to eat him.” Gristle Junior responded easily.
Gristle Senior brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling too low for Gristle Junior to make out the words. “...of all the—” With a rumbling groan, Gristle Senior regarded his son with a firm—but not wholly uncaring—expression. “You’re a Prince, my son. You can’t just go adopting every creature you see fit.”
“It’s just Branch.” Gristle Junior pushed back, “He’s already close enough to a Bergen, what’s adding the legal distinction going to do?” He shook his head. “This will all work out, Dad, I know it. I just need you to trust me.”
“Son, be realistic.” The King groused. “If that thing becomes your brother, then that makes it a Prince. There’s no way a Troll could be a Bergen Prince! Trolls are all about loud parties and sugar and silly games—they’re simply unsuited to laws and regulations and the hard work required to run a kingdom!”
Gristle Junior’s mouth opened—to say what, he wasn’t sure, but air was being forced up from his lungs and defiance was roaring in his heart, ready to burst out what would surely be a useful and clever retort—
“I can do it.”
As one, Gristle Junior and Senior turned to look at Branch. Branch took the combined attention with hunched shoulders, his tail clasped in his paws. “You want me to learn how to help run a kingdom? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll learn.” He dropped his tail and crossed his arms, expression firm.
“I don’t want you doing anything of the sort.” Gristle Senior growled, but Gristle Junior was already rallying.
“He can! Branch is smart, Dad, he’s where I got the idea for underground expansions from! He remembers all the stuff I read, and he listens, and he’d make a good Prince!” All of his reasons were true and proven—which meant a lot, for seven year old Gristle Junior.
“Preposterous!” Gristle Senior began—
“If you think it’s so preposterous,” Branch’s voice cut through the room like alligator-dog teeth through mice. “Then why not bet on it?”
Those three words echoed in the sudden silence of the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling and tangling up in the eaves. If there was one thing Gristle Junior knew his father could not resist, it was a wager.
Indeed, Gristle Senior’s face had turned contemplative, his hands steepled before him. “A bet, you say?” Something like satisfaction slithered its way onto his face. “Hmm, I think I see what you mean. A trial period, of sorts, is that it? To find out if you could even come close to being a Prince?”
Branch nodded.
“Yeah!” Gristle Junior agreed. “If Branch can prove himself then you have to let the adoption go through!”
Gristle Senior snorted. “Sure, fine.” He waved his hand dismissively, before turning his attention to Branch. “But when that little creature fails to keep up the pace, I’m burning that form and you’re going to put any wild ideas of adopting Trolls out of your head for good.” He glared down at the pair, lips curled in a derisive snarl.
“You have three weeks.” Gristle Senior declared. “Better get started.”
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was seven years old when he became a brother.
The wager had been… not as hard as Gristle expected. Branch had thrown himself into the challenge with a fervor that was only seen with master artisans undergoing hefty commissions. It had taken a lot of work, in those three weeks, but at the end of it all—
The cage had to be redone, renovated into a proper bedroom. The castle staff found itself expanded by two—Bernice and Groth, who had been hired to aid in the fiddly and sometimes frustrating art of turning tiny, Troll-sized writings into something that could be read by the average Bergen. Branch needed new clothes, and a proper bed, and a shelf for all of the Troll-sized copies he’d made and was making of the various books on Law and history and regulations, and had to attend meals and levees and lessons with Gristle, and—
It was so much. Gristle had known, when he had drafted that first attempt at an adoption form in the castle library, that things would change—but he had never quite imagined the sheer scope of it all. Suddenly, his brother was accompanying him everywhere, riding on Gristle’s shoulder or flinging himself through the halls with his hair. Gristle had heard some of the staff discussing pathways for Branch, where he’d be safe from being stepped on—
There was so much.
But…
Gristle had never had a brother. He had had a friend, in Branch, but it had taken so long for them to really get there. And now, despite how it had felt like the world was ending on that fateful failed Trollstice, all those years ago—
Gristle couldn’t imagine that day going any other way. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which he never met Branch, who was surely a Bergen in Troll skin. Branch was his friend—no, his brother.
“Hey, Branch?” Gristle rolled over and looked at the shelf that Branch’s things currently resided on, at the cage hurriedly covered with a sheet in an approximation of a proper room with real privacy. Late at night, in his unlit room, it barely looked like a cage at all. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”
Branch’s voice filtered down from the shelf. “Not really.” He admitted. “Why should I?” There was something oddly bitter in his voice. “It’s the day I was left behind. Again.”
Gristle Junior wasn’t sure how to unpack that. Or if he ever should. “I won’t leave you behind.” He promised, “‘Cause brothers stick together.” It felt like such a simple truth, to the seven year old Bergen.
There was silence from the shelf. It stretched on, almost uncomfortably so, feeding into the static of the darkness filling the room.
Gristle huffed. “You really are just like a Bergen.” He commented, “Always miserable.” He chuffed, something light in his chest that he didn’t fully register. “And that’s why you know we’ll always stick together.” He said, staring up at the darkness clinging to the ceiling.
“Unhappy together, then.” There was something soft in Branch’s voice—he must have been tired after such a long day.
Gristle sighed. Unhappy together. It sounded like a promise, like a finality.
It sounded like he was finally getting the hang of this whole “taking care of people” thing.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was ten years old when he was properly crowned Prince.
The day had been rife with tradition, from a breakfast banquet stocked with imported delicacies to the event itself out in the plaza. The old Troll Tree, withered from its abandonment, stood tall in the center of the space, dominating the whole scene no matter how Gristle Junior tried to look at it.
He fiddled with the clasp on his cape—his Princely cape, paired with his new crown to signify the change in status. The festivities weren’t exactly celebratory—the whole ceremony amounted to more of a town meeting, but with the best catering the royal kitchens could provide. Bergens of all kinds wandered about the plaza, taking advantage of the free food while Gristle Junior—Prince Gristle Junior watched on from his father’s side.
Branch—no, it was Prince Branch, now—stood to Gristle’s side, on a small platform made entirely for the occasion. His own blue cape and silver crown had to be custom-made, instead of passed down, but neither of the brothers were bothered by that fact.
“I still don’t understand how Glixry managed such tiny details.” Gristle commented, focusing in on the silver metal of Branch’s crown. “It even has tiny metal leaves!”
Branch reached up, touching the edges delicately. “It feels so weird.” He decided. “But… not bad.”
“Of course not! You’re a Prince now!” Gristle assured him. “Stand tall and proud, like a proper Bergen.” Gristle commanded, repeating the words he had heard so many times.
“Yeah…” Branch let his paws fall back to his sides, almost hidden under the edges of his cape—but Gristle didn’t miss the way they clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
Branch was older than Gristle, true. But the fact remained that he had started learning later, so it had been decided to crown them both when Gristle came of age, and not a moment sooner. So here they were, brothers crowned together, all of Bergentown around them.
There would be so many more responsibilities, now—Princes helped the reigning monarch run the kingdom, after all. They’d still have to learn as they went, but—
Gristle breathed in deeply. The Bergens—his people—they were all miserable. But they were hardworking and honest, and Gristle would do his best to be the Prince they deserved.
Gristle turned to look back at his brother, who was fiddling with his own cape clasp. Glixry had repurposed one of the bells from Branch’s old harness for the clasp, and even now it still faintly rung as Branch slowly paced around his little platform.
There was an odd expression on Branch’s face, satisfaction and an oddly melancholy contemplation firming his brow. Gristle huffed, snapping his little-big brother from whatever thoughts he was lost in. Gristle offered his hand, and Branch rolled his eyes before hopping onto Gristle’s palm.
As Gristle lifted his brother high above his head, something proud surged in his chest, light and electric in his veins. His face twitched in that odd way it sometimes did, but Gristle ignored the feeling in favor of looking out over his people once more.
He was going to be the best Prince Bergentown had ever seen! He and his brother both!
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was eleven years old when Branch finally pupated.
His book on Troll growth said that Trolls pupated when they were twelve or thirteen. It also went on about how Trolls were utterly inedible in this state, wrapped in their cocoons as their bodies changed and matured.
That Branch’s pupation had come late according to the books was worrying. That it had come at all was a stark reminder of the fact that, for all of his Bergen-like traits, Branch was in some small way still a Troll.
Gristle peered at the dark gray hair cocoon for the umpteenth time. None of his books said anything about whether Trolls could still hear in there, or even what really happened to them outside of “maturation”—all the book really cared to go over was how to identify a pupation cocoon, and that they couldn’t be eaten.
“Even if you can’t hear me,” Gristle began, settling back down with an interesting book he’d found—some kind of romance novel where none of the characters actually got together in the end. He’d heard the librarian going on about how it was a contemplative piece about the nature of connections, so he’d picked it up to go through. “But if you can’t then I’ll just read this book to you all over again when you’re out.”
The cocoon gave no discernible response. Gristle decided that that was fine, and began to read. He made it through a chapter and a half before being summoned for dinner with his father, and he gave the cocoon one final glance as he left the room.
“I see your… brother isn’t joining us again tonight.” Gristle Senior commented, as the first course was brought out.
“I told you, Dad, he’s pupating.” Gristle Junior huffed, licking sticky roe off of his fingers.
“Yes,” Gristle Senior nodded. “Trolls do do that, I’ve heard.” He went silent as the second course arrived, digging in with royal fervor. A few moments later, and he spoke again. “Hopefully this whole thing doesn’t set him too far back.” He commented airily, dabbing at his face with a napkin.
Gristle Junior scowled over his plate as a servant exchanged it for the bowl of soup acting as the third course. “Branch always keeps up.” He asserted. “And we won that bet fair and square, so you can’t go back on your end no matter what.” He sipped from his spoon with a pointedly royal slurp.
“And I have no intentions of backing out.” Gristle Senior slurped just a little harder. “I’m just curious.” And with that, the conversation was over.
Gristle stared down at his soup. Branch would keep up. He would. He always did.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle was eleven years old, and he was getting concerned.
Nineteen days. The books said that Trolls only pupated for a week, tops. But it had been nineteen days since Branch had disappeared into the spun cocoon, eyes glassy and unfocused. Nineteen days of a silent cocoon.
Gristle had long since finished that first romance novel, and the book on fence safety regulations, and was almost halfway into a book on the history of anchovy farming. And the cocoon still remained!
The worry was starting to affect his Princely duties, too. Maybe it was because he was used to working alongside Branch, and the absence was getting to him, but there was no denying it: Gristle was concerned. But what if trying to crack the cocoon open early ruined everything? What if he was supposed to crack it open, and he’d missed the deadline? What if being gray really was bad, and Branch…
Gristle didn’t want to think about it. He really, really didn’t.
The sun had long gone down when Gristle finally put his books away and retired to his bed. He glanced at the cocoon one last time before extinguishing the lights, worry like a rock in his gut.
The night passed. The sun rose again, creeping into Gristle’s bedroom through the window until it smacked against his eyes. With a groan, the eleven year old sat up, shading his eyes with a hand. He glared at the offending celestial body. “Every day.” He muttered. “Every day, you do this.” He was about to continue—
“Are you yelling at the sun again? Really?”
Gristle yelped, jolting hard enough to fall off of his bed entirely. He flailed wildly, scrambling to clamber back to his feet, frenetic energy in every inch of his suddenly-impossibly-awkward limbs.
“Branch!” Gristle leaned up against the shelf, examining the shredded remains of the cocoon through the door of his brother’s room. His little-big brother stood beside it, already having pulled on some pants. “You’re okay! You were in there for really long!”
Branch shrugged, walking over to his wardrobe. “Well, I’m here, so you can quit your whining.” There was a fondness in his voice that had Gristle rolling his eyes.
“Your tail’s still gone.” Gristle noticed. A lump settled in his gut, hard and heavy. “Branch…”
Branch turned around, twisting to look and confirm Gristle’s words. “Eh.” He shrugged, and turned his attention back to his wardrobe. “‘S not like it matters.” He decided, picking out a shirt to wear under his cape. “Bergens aren’t supposed to have tails anyway.”
Gristle winced. It was true, Bergens were tailless—but if they had tails, they certainly wouldn’t—
Gristle shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. “Sooo,” He started, as Branch was securing the belled clasp of his cape. “How do you feel?”
Branch carefully placed his crown back upon his head, then walked in a small circle. “I don’t know, stronger?” He tried, holding his paws out in front of himself and examining them. “I think my balance is better, actually.” He noted. As if to illustrate the point, he did a twirl, his cape flaring slightly with the motion. “My face feels kinda… hm.” Branch pressed at his jaw with his paws, before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Are you gonna get ready, or am I doing all your work for you today?”
“Oh!” Gristle whipped back around, running for his own wardrobe. “Right!” As he shrugged on his own cape, clicking the clasp into place, he turned back to glance at the shelf holding his brother’s room.
Gristle sighed, all of his worries abated. Why would he ever worry? His family was just fine, and would be for a long, long time.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was thirteen years old when he finally had to admit it.
He’d always hoped he’d get his father’s height, that he’d be able to stand as tall as the average Bergen in his adult years. But it had become clear that he would always be half average height, always doomed to needing steps to get onto the taller chairs.
It wasn’t the end of the world; Bergens could come in a range of shapes and sizes. That Gristle was so short wasn’t that big of an issue.
But Berg, did it feel like it! Gristle had spent his whole life looking up to his father—metaphorically and literally! And he was probably going to be stuck looking up forever!
“What are you moping about now?” And there was Gristle’s little-big brother, padding along one of the many paths set into the castle walls. The masons and carpenters had done good work with those paths—when Branch wasn’t running along them, they looked like simple wall decoration. It was real classy.
“I’m never gonna be tall.” Gristle grumbled, allowing himself a moment to lean against the wall in despair. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and hurriedly pulled away, flailing his hands as he tried to recover. “I mean—not that being short is a bad thing—”
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Branch groused, holding out a paw. “Because from where I’m standing, you are not short.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.
“I am, though.” Gristle lamented. “Most Bergens are twice my size. I mean, just look at Dad!”
Branch rolled his eyes. “At least you’re not Troll-sized.” He hopped down from the path along the wall to land atop Gristle’s head, just next to the crown. “Gotta count your blessings there.”
“I dunno,” Gristle started, swiping at his brother as the tiny Bergen pattered about on his head and ruffled his hair, “Maybe being Troll-sized would be nice. I could ride Barnabus around the halls with you.” He didn’t fully mean it—being the size of a Troll in a castle made for Bergens constantly forced Branch to find workarounds to even the simplest of things. But if anyone could manage it, it’d be Branch.
And Gristle had to admit: the idea of being able to ride on an alligator-dog, even one as old as Barnabus, was really cool. But Gristle was too big for that, and too big for his old trikes—all while being too small in so many other ways. It was like he was caught between, stuck at a size that would annoy him forever.
Branch dodged away from Gristle’s hand easily, chuffing when Gristle accidentally sent his own crown flying down the hall. Gristle growled, running after it, shaking his head in an attempt to throw Branch off. But his brother held on easily, always infuriatingly good at roughhousing despite his size.
It just wasn’t fair.
But, as Gristle replaced his crown on his head, and as Branch slid down to settle on Gristle’s shoulder, Gristle brushed away the annoyance.
It wasn’t the end of the world. Not by a long shot.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the unthinkable happened.
His father, King Gristle Senior, who had always been an unshakeable force, strong and proud in a kingdom full of strong and proud Bergens—
Gristle Junior couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. It just—it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!
But there was nothing that could be done. His father had fallen ill three months ago, and, despite every effort from every doctor in Bergentown, despite all of the King’s strength—
Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father passed from illness, gone overnight like a snuffed candle flame. Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when the title of King passed onto him, far too soon—he should have remained a Prince until he was a proper adult, until he was married with children who would become the Princes and Princesses that would help him run the kingdom—
Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his world shattered for the second time. The funeral was held out in the plaza, barely a week after his father’s passing. The same plaza as Gristle’s first and final Trollstice, as his and Branch’s official crowning as Princes. It felt as though every major life-changing event in Gristle’s life happened here, the caged tree looming over it all like a shadow.
It still… it just couldn’t be possible. His father couldn’t just be… gone.
Gristle returned to the castle in a daze. Some distant part of him knew that he would have no choice but to take up his father’s crown, and soon, but—
The rest of him was sinking slowly, the grief thick in his throat and veins and head. The fog was all-consuming, pulling Gristle into depths of unhappiness he’d never thought possible.
Gristle had believed his first and last Trollstice, the day where he lost any chance to ever be happy, would be the worst day of his life. Oh, how wrong he was.
Gristle didn’t know how long he laid like that, staring up at the ceiling of his room without seeing anything at all. It was as though the world around him had well and truly shattered, and now the pieces had all fallen away out of his reach. Gristle floated on the nothing for what felt like an eternity and now time at all, the mire in his head growing thicker with every passing second.
“Hey.”
Gristle rolled over on his bed, pressing his face into the comforter to block out the rest of the world.
“Hey.”
What was the point? Gristle was never supposed to be King at fifteen. He’d probably mess it up, bungle the whole thing, and then all of Bergentown would be just as dead as his father.
“Hey!”
Gristle groaned, shoving his face into the comforter. He didn’t have the time or patience for this, his whole world was falling apart, why couldn’t he have a good cry about it in peace—
Something small landed inches away from Gristle’s head. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was—only his little-big brother could land so lightly.
“Hey, idiot.” Branch pushed at Gristle’s chin, lifting the Bergen’s head off the bed by a few inches. “Chin up.” He demanded, baring his teeth.
Gristle forced his head back down onto the comforter. “Leave me alone.” He growled.
“Mm, nope.” Branch declared, moving around to pull at Gristle’s ear. “You’ve been in here long enough,” he sniffed, “And you need a shower. C’mon.” He pulled, and Gristle had to put effort into staying in place.
“No.” Gristle grumbled. “Just let me rot.” Every inch of his body ached with the grief clinging to his bones, and the very thought of getting up and doing anything made him want to vomit. The whole world made him want to vomit.
“Can’t let you,” Branch said, his voice edging into genuine worry. “C’mon, at least eat something?” He tugged at Gristle’s ear again, darting away as Gristle irritably swiped at him.
“I said,” Gristle pushed himself up ever so slightly, just so he could look Branch in the eye, “leave me alone!”
Branch shook his head, paws clenching and unclenching. “You’ve been alone.” He said. “I can’t leave you. Brothers stick together.” There was something heavy in his words, some deeper meaning than a childhood promise.
“And how are you supposed to help?” Gristle asked, sitting up fully. “What could you possibly do to make this better?”
“Not let you smell like a rotting carcass, for one.” Branch snarked. His expression immediately softened. “You need to take better care of yourself.” He urged. “Letting yourself rot only makes it hurt worse. Please.”
“And what would you know?” Gristle accused. “You and Dad barely even liked each other!”
“You think I don’t know what grief feels like?” Branch spread his arms wide, tears beginning to bubble up in his eyes. “My Grandmother was eaten on Trollstice before you were even born! DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GRIEVE!”
Gristle flinched back. All of his vitriol drained as Branch panted. “You…” Branch never talked about that, about those four years he’d spent in the Troll Tree. Gristle’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion hit him anew, his eyes beginning to sting.
“It hurts.” He sobbed, for lack of anything better to say.
Branch’s anger melted away. “I know.” He said, sitting down. “It hurts, and you want so badly to just curl into a ball and wish the world away—”
“But you have to pick yourself back up.” Gristle finished. “Because people are counting on you.”
“Because nobody else will.” Branch added softly.
Gristle sobbed, breathy and uneven. “I miss him so much, Branch.”
Branch nodded. “I know.”
“I’m not ready to be King!” Gristle’s face was wet, now, hot and sticky with snot and tears.
Branch nodded again. “I know.”
Gristle sobbed again, his whole body shaking with the motion. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
“It’s not okay,” Branch offered into the silence, scooting forwards, “And that’s okay.”
“It hurts.” Gristle whispered.
Branch nodded. No more words came, and Gristle continued to cry. All of his misery poured out, raw and real and painful, and Branch remained right in front of him the entire time. When Gristle finally ran out of tears to cry, he flopped back down onto the bed, and two paws pressed against his cheek.
The silence stretched.
Slowly, Gristle breathed. In, and out. His chest was still strung taut and raw, his face was cold and sticky, and his throat stung from the effort of crying so much. He had never felt so low. He knew the grief was far from over.
As Gristle breathed, Branch clambered up onto his chest. He kneeled down, and held out a paw.
“Unhappy together.” Branch offered. “Shit sucks, but it sucks less when we work together.”
Gristle inhaled, his breath choppy and uneven. “Unhappy together.” He agreed, offering his finger for Branch to shake. He sobbed again, and Branch wrapped his arms around as much of Gristle’s hand as he could manage.
Gristle Junior was fifteen years old when his father died. And it sucked, and hurt, and Gristle wasn’t sure he’d ever really stop grieving.
But, at the very least, he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much, but that simple fact helped.
+=+=+=+=+
Gristle Junior was twenty years old when Chef returned.
The day started as any other, really. Wake up, get cleaned and dressed, find his brother already awake and poring over details from the latest construction updates in the new quarter. Have breakfast, Branch darting about to steal off of his plate as he stole from Branch’s, like proper brothers would do. Go through the castle halls greeting everyone, Branch walking along the various small walkways lining the walls and arching up across hallways like tiny bridges. Prepare for the biweekly levee in the throne room.
It was as the final petitioner was leaving that it happened. A Bergen that Gristle only vaguely recognized emerged from behind a potted plant, swishing her cloak ominously as she all but marched towards the throne.
And then Gristle recognized her. The chef’s hat, the lavender tint, the wicked gleam in her eyes. He glanced to the throne beside his, and anxiety germinated in his chest at the sight of Branch still as a statue, eyes wide and locked onto Chef.
“Were you behind that plant the whole time?” Gristle asked, for lack of anything else to say. He realized immediately how stupid that sounded—but Branch made no comment on it, which was so unlike him that Gristle’s uncertainty ratcheted up another notch.
Chef grinned as she reached for the zipper on her fannypack. Slowly, she opened it, and a sweet harmony emerged from within.
Gristle gasped, the rest of the world forgotten. If Branch had any reaction, Gristle didn’t notice it, too entranced with the sight before him.
For in Chef’s fannypack was a handful of Trolls, bright and colorful and singing.
This… this could change everything.
No—this would change everything. For all of Bergentown! Finally, Gristle Junior could live up to his title, could be the King that brought happiness back to his people!
If he had bothered to look back at the thrones, he would have seen Chef glaring daggers into his back.
More importantly, he would have seen the look of utter uncertainty on Branch’s face.
#dreamworks trolls#gristle junior#branch trolls#king gristle jr#zaz writes#between au#death#themes of dehumanization (depersonization?)#WHY. WHY IS THIS SO L O N G#9K WORDS?????#N I N E T H O U S A N D W O R D S ??????????#anyway. here's the between au for anyone who was wondering#i wish this was smaller and easier to digest#but i jsut. kept adding scenes#EVEN AS I REMOVED THE TAIL SCENE AND SKIMPED OVER THE ADOPTION AND DIDN'T WRITE ANY SCENES BETWEEN GRISTLE SR'S DEATH AND CHEF SHOWING UP#anyway. branch is four years older than gristle (jr) in my mind#and also trolls are like bugs to me. hence the pupation#i have fish in a birdcage playing on loop rn and i think my brain is melting#it's a good song for this au tho ngl
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Hey, can you do sara or joe comforting a reader with bulmia? I'd not I understand .
Yes, I can write this! You must be psychic because I was scrolling the Joe Tazuna tag when I got this request.
Just a quick note: I don't have a lot of experience with eating disorders so if anything that I wrote is wrong or offensive, please let me know so I can fix it. I would rather be told than have harmful content on my page. Please remember to take care of yourself, and I hope this brings you some comfort.
Sara and Joe with an S/O who has bulimia
Warnings: Eating disorders (specifically bulimia). I tried not to be too detailed, but there are some more specific parts so proceed with caution
gn! reader
Sara Chidouin
-Sara's pretty quick to notice that something's up, especially if you're losing weight at a rapid pace and/or not eating in front of her
-She doesn't want to assume anything at first, but if she continues to see concerning signs regarding your health, she'll confront you
-When approaching you about what she's noticed, she tiptoes around the subject a little because she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but eventually she'll ask you outright if you have an eating disorder
-Sara sits with you and listens quietly as you explain what bulimia is and what it's like to have it, hugging you or holding your hand if you get visibly upset while talking
-She appreciates your honesty, but she's also really worried for you. She knows what you're doing isn't healthy and that if this continues you could really damage your body
-While she doesn't want to upset you, she highly encourages you to make an attempt at a recovery. She knows it'll be hard, but she wants you to be able to live a long healthy life, she can't bear the thought of losing you
-If you agree to try and recover, she pledges to be right by your side the whole time. If you don't, she'll probably tell a counselor or a professional about your struggles. While she's normally respectful of your wishes, she refuses to let you suffer like this anymore, she's going to get you help regardless
-Sara does a ton of research on bulimia after the two of you talk, she wants to be as supportive and as helpful as possible while you try to recover
-She also understands that recovery isn't quick, and it isn't always linear. She knows their will be days where you may relapse, or days where you won't be able to eat much if at all, but she's staying by your side no matter what happens
-She's aware that typically you binge eat a lot of food before throwing it up, so she decides to try and get you to eat a little bit of food everyday without purging it later
-You don't have to eat it in front of her, and she totally understands if you're unable to keep it down, she just figures that smaller portions of food may be easier for you to process at first
-If it's easier for you to digest, Sara will make smoothies or other healthy drinks for you to have. It may not be the same as solid food, but if it's easier to process then it's a good way to help you regain some nutrients
-If there's a certain type of food that's easier for you to eat, she'll have Kai make it for you. She won't tell him why if you would rather him not know, she's just not the best cook herself so it'll most likely be better if he makes it
-As time goes on, she'll slowly add more food to each meal (not a ton at once though) until you're able to eat full meals with less issue than before
-If you end up relapsing, she won't blame you at all. She'll sit with you and embrace you as you cry, assuring you that she's proud of you and that you're still making progress
-She still encourages you to talk to a professional, but she understands if that's not something you want to do right away
-As she's said before, she sticks with you throughout your whole recovery, and she's very proud of you no matter what happens
Joe Tazuna
-He can kinda tell somethings up, but he doesn't know what. All he knows is that your moods dropped and he wants to know why
-He's pretty blunt when he approaches you about it, he doesn't yet know the severity of what your dealing with so he just thinks you've been a little down for awhile
-I don't think he'd know what bulimia is, so you're going to have to explain it to him as well as how severe it is
-He feels so bad once he understands what's happening, not only because he approached you so suddenly about it, but also because he didn't notice the extent of what was going on before now
-He feels like he failed as a partner for not noticing sooner, so he resolves to make up for it by putting as much energy as he can towards helping you
-He tries to get you to eat more, but he doesn't downsize the portion of food he gives you
-You're going to have to really get it through his brain that you can't keep that much food down
-He's trying, he just doesn't really get it yet. He thinks if you can just eat the food without throwing up then everything's peachy, he doesn't understand the phycological factor
-Once he fully understands what's going on, he'll ask Sara for advice. He's worried he'll end up hurting you when he's trying to help you
-He gets Kai to cook you small but nutritious meals, he hopes they'll be easier for you to eat and keep down, but he's understanding if you can't
-He'll probably talk with an adult who would know how to help you because he knows he's nowhere near experienced enough to help you effectively
-He's better at emotional comfort than helping you directly with your bulimia, again he tries but he's not an expert
-He'll snuggle with you on particularly rough days, promising you that it'll get better and that he's here for you until it does
-If you developed the eating disorder because of poor body image issues, he assures you that he loves you and that he doesn't care what your body looks like, he just wants you to be happy and healthy
-If it helps you eat, he'll sit with you and talk to you about anything: his day, schoolwork, a funny story he wants to tell you, anything that may help distract you from thinking about eating negatively
-He tries to make you smile as often as possible. He also tries to make you feel like the most beautiful/handsome person in the world (because to him you are) and he wants you to know how wonderful he thinks you are
-Like Sara, he'll be with you the whole time you're recovering, and even though he may not be the most helpful at times, he loves you and wants you to be happy
#x reader#yttd joe#yttd#yttd sara#sara chidouin#joe tazuna#your turn to die x reader#your turn to die#yttd x reader#sara x reader#sara chidouin x reader#joe x reader#joe tazuna x reader#tw eating issues#tw eating disorder
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Alright, part 2 of the “behind the scenes” and such, this time: Class features, from 1-20.
Part 1 Here, Original homebrew here
Moving onto the features proper, and we start with Pact Crafting and its subfeatures. So, I'll stop here to talk on Binding Power. Binding Power is the big change that divorces the Vocator from the Binder. The original class in 3.5 granted you all vestiges known by default, but limited you to 1 vestige per day, increasing the number of vestiges you could have at once to 4 by level 20. One change I wanted to make was to incentivize weaker vestiges, since a low level vestige is harder to justify in comparison to a higher level one if they take the same resource. So, the idea was to make them use less of the same resource. So, yeah, you could bind a 4th level vestige for instance, or 4 1st levels. Its sorta like a spell points system to a sense, something I'm also quite fond of, since I like psionics, and has shown up in previous stuff of mine like the Mentalist and Weave Whisperer.
Right, up next is cantrips. This exists so as that the class can always have a fallback tool, so that even if they are caught fully pants down, no vestiges no nothing, you can still pop someone with an eldritch blast. Its a good thing for spellcasters to have, a decent back up tool, especially at lower levels.
Next is vestiges known, or well the 'Summoning seals' section. Having a limited number of vestiges known at once exists for a few reasons. For one, it makes the class easier to digest if you are just starting with it. With 2 known at level 1, someone picking up the class gets to pick up the class, look at the list of 1st levels, and with just a single point of binding power, each day they just have the basic choice of "Vestige 1 or Vestige 2?", which lets the level serve as a tutorial of sorts before the class gets complicated, which it sorta does in some peoples eyes.
Binding a vestige. The act of doing so takes 10 minutes, for the reason that you can reasonably do it whenever you have downtime, but cant really do so if you aren't really in a safe spot. This goes to encourage people to try and pick vestiges earlier in the day and try to predict what they'll need later on, like a wizard picking spells, which is in my eyes, a fun style of gameplay. I've also made it so that, the actual scribing of the circle and summoning takes 10 minutes, but the communication itself isn't directly described. This is so that if you wanna just treat is as a 1 round, hop in roll the dice, you can do that. But if you wanna sit there and watch the vestige be summoned and roleplay chatting and so, you have as much time as you wish to do that. Ah, of note is the use of may in "You may make a binding ability check against the binding DC of the vestige to bind it whilst it is summoned.". Originally, the optional rule regarding making a deal was included in this section as well (Albeit, way simplified and smaller), so this use of may was so that you could still summon a vestige for the sole purpose of talking to it, without needing to then bind it. Though now the wording sort of on its own is a little strange, but I kept it as is because hey, maybe it being written that way is of use to somebody by chance.
Ah, see invisibility! I added this for dual reasons. One, because well, I think its neat if people can use magic to try and spot / detect the vestige, and the choice was between it or detect magic, but the vestiges not being directly a spell effect made me go for see invisibility instead. It also ended up playing nicely with the extras content involving inquisitors, and them getting see invisibilty as a specialised tool to hunt vocators..
Ah! Next fun thing is influences, specifically the "Penalty equal to their vestige level". This is actually inspired by a running gag in my dnd party. At our table, a DM of ours likes to hand out inspiration whenever we do exceptionally great roleplaying, or make a really good joke, or so on. Though, unlike base game inspiration, this inspiration takes the form of a dice, anywhere from a d4 to a d12, which can be added as a bonus to the roll at any point in the session.
Though, what of bad jokes? With a particularly horrible pun, with a collective sigh and groan from the party, the DM chucks a d4, the "Negative Inspiration", the DM stating that such poor comedy will be met with a timely reduction of on average 2.5 to a roll in future. (Though, this 2.5 reduction is hardly ever actually used)
So, similarly, a vestige can do the same thing. Do something wrong, then they get to sit there and wait before they hand you a horrible -X to your saving throw to get back at you.
As for the negative being scaled off of vestige level, theres a few reasons to this too. It for one, works as a tie breaker, so say you're in a situation where you have two conflicting vestiges, that way the decision is a little easier since its safer to annoy a weaker vestige. But also, it serves to up the scale and might of high level vestiges. Sure, ignore a low level vestige? At some point you'll get a -1 later on. Rough, but it is how it is. But get on the nerves of a late game vestige? a -9 can be Devastating.
Plus plus, since it sorta scales alongside your character level, your newer vestiges might be a proper danger to annoy, but a low level vestige applying a -1 or -2 stops looking so bad, so a player might feel safe just getting a bunch of these. That is of course, until you have a close save turned into a fail. Because yeah, that sort of I feel psychologically would have you playing the type of character, like the trope of "Summoner has a bunch of spirits bound to them, grows too comfortable with them, and they come back to bite at the worst moment". Creates fun storytelling environments I hope?
Other cool thing! Spellcasting focus! Originally, the spellcasting focus was different in the early "Inside my brain" drafts, with the class' spellcasting focus being that they didnt need one, but to cast a spell they needed to temporarily manifest an illusory image of a vestige, who would cast the spell for them. Pretty sick flavor wise, kinda bad balance wise, since that means that A. you cant use spellcaster magic items on your spells, and B. you dont need a spell focus, ever. And like, I'm a big fan of the concept of the "you guys are in prison, you gotta struggle to find equipment" type arcs, where the fighter improvises weapons and the wizard looks around for individual material components and the Soul Blade gets to stand out with their unique summonable blades. Honestly yeah, I am a big fan of the "How do we sneak weapons in" schemes, and this just felt like a way to easy way to solve them.
So, in its place, an Arcane focus, but also a wacky one. The use of a knife/dagger worth 15gp lets you do the flavour of using Rite Knives to perform rituals and such often associated with occultism, but it also has a minor benefit of letting you just carry a weapon, albeit a dagger, as a focus, which goes well with the class giving a lot of martial buffs depending on the vestige.
Next notable thing is at 2nd level, Pact Arcanum. This starts with my other big thing I really like doing in game design: Stretching a resource.
So, I’m a big fan of when players are given a resource, but then given multiple ways to use it. Like, sure, “X feature, use it Y times a day” is alright, but “A and B feature, both pulling from the limited pool of C per day” always feels fun to write for me. Having a pool to work with each day and trying to work out how you wanna allocate it.
Pact arcanum is a pretty interesting feature for a few reasons. One one note, it is the classes core form of spellcasting, since it provides your limited list of spells to draw from. Though, this ability has an interesting dynamic with Binding. Both use binding power, but binding requires a large amount of time to do: 10+ minutes per vestige. Meanwhile, Pact Arcanum is on demand, lets you use a spell on the spot. In short, it creates a dilemma: How of your binding power do you use at once? Do you use all of it, granting you constant powers throughout the day, but have no ability to react with immediate powers? Or do you leave it free, leaving you more flexible, but at the cost of having a much more limited resource, since your limited binding power means your spells will burn it up quickly.
It presents the player with the choice between trying to guess what they will find useful or leaving themselves more vulnerable, but flexible.
Another thing it does, is its designed to get a player to re-interpret how they choose their subclass.
Base warlock has their subclass, and a list of bonus spells to pick from, which can supplement the already good warlock list. A fiend warlock for instance, might go for mostly warlock spells, but pick up Fireball for its raw strength at those levels. But mostly, the subclass spell list can sort of be ignored, since you can ignore it and not be really affected.
But on the Vocator, its a very different dynamic.
The vocator gets no base spell list, but it does get every one of their subclass spells. So a vocator needs to pay attention to what subclass spells they do take, since they will very much affect the spellcasting abilities of them.
Something like fireball can only be given as a fiend, healing from the celestial, and so on.
It creates an opportunity? I guess? To re-examine how you choose your vocator subclass from the warlock patrons, since the spells have a much more prominent role.
Oh yeah! The spells also are a source of a cool... is tech the right term? The vocator is a class that can gain the wish spell, since at level 17, the Genie warlock can take it. It also puts them in a really unique position to create a sort of “All in” build, by like, only spending two binding points, a level 20 genie warlock could potentially cast wish twice in a single long rest, in exchange for all of their binding power. Thats a lot of firepower, but thats also very taxing, since if you do so, you’re limited to very little binding power. Hell, at level 18, its even more risky, since doing so leaves you basically with just cantrips, not even invocations since those are Binding Power based.
Speaking of Invocations, Level 3, Occult Invocations. Now, the Vocator while gaining Invocations like a warlock, has them far less prominently, since the Vestiges are the focus. But, they still can use them, albeit limited by them having a resource cost, as well as maxing out at 4 known by level 20. Flavourfully, this is supposed to represent you making smaller and quick pacts for power, filling your narrative role of being the Contract Worker to the warlocks hired employee. So, whilst Binding is Binding, your subclass is you ringing up an archfiend or such and doing a quick borrow, this is more you ringing up a fairy or an imp or something smaller.
Ah, a useful note on wording here: While a warlock needs to meet prerequisites to learn an invocation, a vocator does not. However, they instead need to meet the prerequisite whilst they are activating the invocation. This has a purpose: See, lets say you wanna go all in on pact of the blade. You have the vestige to do that, as well as some bonus invocations from it, but what if you want more? Well, simply put, you learn pact of the blade invocations on your base Vocator invocations learnt, and then once youve bound that vestige, you now meet the prerequisites, and can as such gain the benefits of the invocation.
Another design note is how it fits in between Binding and Pact Arcanum. Invocations exist as a sort of middle point in terms of “Gaining power” and “Long Term Power”. While an invocation is usually weaker than a vestige, even one of equivilent cost, their upside is their raw speed. An invocation takes an action to apply, after all. So, say you’re being chased by guards. A spell can definitely handle them if they’re on your tail, but binding takes too long unless you can find a moment of time to use it. But an invocation, all it takes is you to have 6 seconds open, and voila, you have it.
At 6th level we get “Supress Sign” 4 levels later than the binder would’ve in 3.5, and also with different rules. The reason for it to be pushed back is because, I really like the idea of it being a challenge to work out “How do I hide the effects of this vestige”, and getting the ability to ignore it at level 2 feels a little too easy, yknow? So pushing it up to level 6 makes it so that dealing with signs is a more prevalent part of Tier 1, having you manage it as a proper issue whilst you are still arguably close to base humanoids in terms of strength.
Though, once you do get the ability to suppress it, it also makes use of concentration as a part of 5e. So you can now hide a single vestige, as long as you can focus on it.
This is much more narrative than anything. Though, there is a bit of gameplay to it, in that say, if you have multiple vestiges, you need to work out which you can get away with at what times. But narrative is the main one. For instance, for concentration spells, using them means dropping suppression, letting you have moments where from a non-vocators perspective, “Oh no! They’ve revealed their true form! They are in service of XYZ, and they’re casting spells!”. Plus, it also means that damage or going unconscious also reveals it, letting you have narrative moments where a vocator is knocked out and “Reveals their true form”
Level 7 is yet another big level in my eyes. One of the big selling points of the Binder is its versatility, since you could, quite literally, swap your party role entirely from one day to the next. The vocator gives up part of this due to the existence of subclasses, as well as their reduced number of vestiges known, but level 7 lets them begin harnessing some of that old switchbladey-ness. By letting you swap out your subclass, you definitely start channelling that flavor of being a masterless warlock, a disloyal agent of cosmic forces, by letting you break your pacts and create new ones. It also combos nicely with Pact Arcanum, since it also functions as a way to swap out your spell list, just as a cleric or wizard might, albeit instead of swapping individual spells from a list, instead swapping out an entire themed list.
Though yeah, the time delay does exist to ensure you cant swap every day, since you have to regrow and regain that power over some time, but still. Party healer out of town for a while? Swap to the celestial pact. Quest needs you to go sailing? Switch to the fathomless pact. Fighting aliens? GOO.
You can pretty much use downtime to prepare for whatever big challenge you might have ahead of you. Which I find neat.
11, Mystical Reserve. In earlier write ups of the Vocator, Binding Power and Level was 1:1, so say at level 20, you’d have 20 binding power. This ended up being problematic for me in terms of considering late game balance, since at level 20, you’d get two 9th level vestiges, which are designed to feel like all day, 9th level spells, which I didn’t really like the sound of. So I ended up lowering it to 15 at 20, going 2:1 post level 11. Though that too I didn’t like, since it made the class no longer scale linearly in power. I went back and forth over the two designs, until I came to the idea: “What if you could have those 5 binding points, but not have them cause conflict with vestige”. So the mystical reserve was created. With a 20 charisma, you have effectively 20 binding points and level 20, but cant actually bind more than 1 9th level at a time.
It also helps ease the pact arcanum and binding split at this point. Now you have a smaller pool for pact arcanum, you as a proper tier 3/4 vocator dont have to worry as much about this resource split, since you have a pool exclusively to cast spells from, so you can feel safe in using that power.
Funnily, this actually sorta inspired 4 vestiges, since this sorta invented the idea of having bonus pools of power points with limited application, and from it I drew the idea of the 3 Siblings (Plus their demon captor), the set of vestiges who give additional power points that can only be used to bind vestiges.
Level 13, Practiced Summoning gives expertise to your binding checks. This makes it so your earlier vestiges can be bound much more consistently, but it also makes way for the spike in vestige DC’s at later levels. Because yeah, late level vestiges should be intimidating, with their DCs in the 30s, so this lets you reach that, making those crazy hard looking checks actually become possible for your character, letting you feel a definite growth in power because now those initially crazy looking DCs are something you can actually catch.
The 18th level feature, Pact Burst, is a big defensive option. You get a big upside of auto succeeding or resisting a save / attack, in exchange for losing a vestige for 1d4 hours. This ability was inspired by the capstone on artificer to be honest haha. This feature sort of exists to provide a utility for lower level vestiges at late game outside of their powers, because hey, if you have some binding points to spare, and have a low level still known, slap em on and now you have a mini shield of sorts. It basically makes it so having lots of vestiges, especially low ones, is a pretty valid tactic at high level. Hell, you could probably do a sort of “Invulnerability” build of sorts by only taking low levels and then just having a ridiculous number of vestiges at late game as a sort of super armour. I love weird tech and builds, so yeah <:
The inspiration for this one also came from the Anima Mage, a binder prestige class in 3.5 which let you lose the abilities of a vestige in order to apply metamagic for free a few times a day, since yeah, the flavor of channeling a vestige in a very taxing way to do an effect, but then losing that vestige for a bit is kinda neat.
It also serves as a way to introduce the flavour of
Level 20: The big capstone, expel vestige
Im of the mind that capstones should be really, really cool, and should really mean something big for your character. Like, a wizards capstone is lame, but something like Druid or Barbarian? Now thats a good capstone
Expel vestige lets you well, expel a vestige and get your Binding Power refunded, afterwards you lose access to that vestige until your next long rest.
This basically lets you become the high point of a Vocator, a class thats designed to be able to change up their powers and abilities from day to day to fill any role, by gaining the power to swap it out multiple times per day. So, a vestige with more niche uses become much more useful, since you can bring em in just for a bit, and then end the binding once you've gotten what you need.
As is tradition, funky abilities with cool uses: The fact it uses a bonus action. This means that, with your Pact Arcanum spellcasting, you can look at a spell you know, go “Damn, I need this spell right now”, and expel a vestige and then immediately cast a spell, essentially trading a vestige for spellcasting, which is a fun place to end with the dynamic between Spellcasting and Vestiges.
This ability was inspired by a 3.5e feat with the same name, and similiar function (Albeit, the 3.5 feat was limited to once a day), because yeah, that kind of versatility is really cool, but also very strong and very suitable for a capstone if its limits are removed a bit.
Funnilly, earlier in development, this class had a completely different capstone. It was a power word kill esque saving throw of sorts, that functioned a little bit like the banishment spell mixed with power word kill? Its been a while, so I dont recall it exactly, but from what I remember, the way it worked it a creature had to make a save, on a success they took damage, and on a failure, they were banished for a minute-ish. If they had more than 100? hitpoints than they just stayed banished and took damage, but if they were below that number and were banished for the full duration, they became a vestige? Sorta?
Like, they got a summoning seal, but it was like a lesser one that could be easily learnt, and any binder could summon it if they had just seen the seal without it counting against their vestiges known, and it would cost nothing to summon them but you could just talk to them and thats about it?
It was a bit too over complicated, so I just sat on it until I decided to use expel vestige. Though, some of the ideas behind it ended up in other places. The Power word kill parts went on to be part of the inquisitors capstone, while the “Kill someone and use them as a contactable source of information” ended up being part of the vestige Alloces.
But yeah, weird that at one point, you could just create more vestige at some point. Dont know what the implications of that flavour wise would mean xd
So yeah, thats the notes on the class features. Next up will be the vestiges, though I dont know if that’ll be one post or several.
Thanks for reading this big long post
Yeah (:
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Who are your top 3 yandere characters right now
One thing I've learned is that I can latch on to certain characters for certain reasons depending on what I'm looking for emotionally so honestly my interest has been bouncing around a lot depending on just how my day has been going
To be honest I've been hella HELLA stressed so I've been going heavy on the escapism stuff. I still think of the Chocobros a lot so I would put them as number 1 without question. I've been recently thinking heavily on, like, if I were to sit down and start writing for them, what would it be and why. Most of my ideas involving them honestly just, have an embarrassing amount to do with American specific politics and culture so I don't know how digestible to everyone it would be but I guess the main theme is mostly just "wow Reader, where you came from is really shitty and horrible, stay with us, we think your environment is kind of making you a worse person" and situations revolving around that
Interrupting myself to add as a general thing, I need to remind myself that writing shorter stories is just fine, but for some reason I keep obsessing on emotional buildup and like, other things that are certainly nice to have, but not necessary. Been really considering writing several smaller stories with the goal of making them digestible but not horribly long as kind of. An exercise on restraint? Cause I'm kinda starting to wonder if my reluctance to write is partially mental illness-driven "make it perfect or don't make it at all" and like. That's so exhausting 🤦♀️
Number two would be. Hm. I would say still Valentino honestly 💀 im embarrassed by how bad I want hazbin hotel to come out so I can mindlessly consume whatever scraps of content of him will be in it. I'm feral. I'm hungry. I'm embracing my inner cringe. If you're into HH there's been a lot of buzz about the official Twitter posting redesigns for the show that animators have been saying are easier to animate and such, so, you know, more details for the show being released makes me hopeful for maybe a release later this year?
But nah with Val im mostly just having ideas of just awful downright fucknasty sex and also him just being horribly terribly jealous and possessive bc that's just. A big personal kink of mine as terribly unhealthy in an actual relationship it is. Also like. Four armed tall imposing monster is A Type for me ok. I have like. A thing for the possibilities brought on by four arms. Man when yall were ever kids too did you ever watch like Machamp from Pokemon or Ben 10 and think "hope this doesn't awaken something in me" because--
As for number three. Hm. There are honestly several different ideas that have been floating around for me. Being exhausted by my retail job reminded me of Nanami and his "fighting curses is no worse than working a regular job" and you know what? king shit. Man's right as rain. Been thinking about something with him and a reader with a similar mindset where he eventually realizes "oh wait, we harness negative emotions to fight curses, I wonder if Reader is potentially Digging Too Deep and possibly feeding into potential mental illness problems" which then leads into "well fuck guess I better take responsibility and start taking care of them"
I've also been having a few thoughts for Volo who is, you know, obsessed with knowledge and such and would definitely have a lot to learn from a Reader from the future, and also like, there's that whole thing where, he did technically, you know, physically threaten us actually. Like, you know what, im digging up his actual words:
"Not that you have a choice. Even if you don't wish to battle, I'm not above using force to take those plates from you."
So yeah, look at it from this perspective. If you consider Reader as, well, us and our player character, and we, or some of us, are technically people who have had "all sorts of pokemon adventures" as in when we've beaten such and such games and watched such and such movies. Imagine Volo hearing all of these crazy stories and tales and also seeing Reader's talent as a trainer and adventurous heart and just kind of like, becoming near zealot-like obsessed because Reader has Literally Met God Several Times, traveled through time, found lost underwater kingdoms, met pokemon from space, ones that granted wishes, so on, so on, and well... maybe he decides Reader is also some sort of divine figure for him to behold and revere and serve oh so diligently, never to part with. That Reader is such a magnet for the amazing and the unknown that he should keep you alongside him when he remakes the world and all that
Anyways long answer is long but anyways yeah I've got a lot of characters taking up space in my head and my heart and my pants and maybe I'll write something soon, who knows
#ive actually been looking into seeing if i can squeeze a desk into my room and see if that helps#like having a place to sit down with my laptop in my private room is a huge help haha
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It's so odd, looking back at the latter half of the 2010s when I was very active in the Markiplier fan community, and comparing it to me now being active in the Lupin III one. My feelings on those years as a loyal Markiplier fan have been mixed to positive: Quite a lot of the good vibes managed to outweigh the mental stress it put on me, but the few moments where it didn't were some of the most hellish my brain had to deal with. I remember a few moments of heated discourse resulting in at least one anxiety attack so bad that it wrecked my digestive system for a good long while. Once the fandom started to reach the tens of millions, it started becoming a lot more exhausting to keep up with all the fan creations and make sense of whatever discourse happened in the tag, and that eventually led me to retire @timmyboxtine.
Shifting most of my focus to Lupin III felt like moving from a bustling metropolis to a pastoral hamlet. The fandom is much smaller for sure, but it's also chill in a way that I've missed from the early years of the Markiplier fandom. It has been a steady drip-feed of fun, affection, and creativity, instead of a high-pressure hose of everything all at once, and that has made it easier for me to appreciate what other fans had to offer.
What probably shocked me the most is that it has managed to awaken some creative spirit in me. My main contribution within the Markiplier fandom was being a mediator and the occasional theorist while I made only a few fan creations that I'd rather forget. Meanwhile, aside from my occasional story/character analyses and opinion pieces, I've contributed a few creative things that I still look back on with genuine pride and fondness, and I have one ambitious endeavor in the works towards which I'm more dedicated than ever (I wish I could go into more detail about that, but it's gonna have to wait for quite a while).
I still appreciate the time I spent in the Markiplier fandom and I'm glad I got to experience its highs and lows, but I do not miss the big ball of stress it comes with now. I'm content here in the little Lupin III corner of the internet.
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Can you believe it is Thanksgiving already? The snow is already flying up North, so I am glad to be in Florida this year, and happy that I can see patients, family and friends another time before Christmas rushes in.
Give yourself the gift of a good Immune boost. There are so many herbs and supplements that will help you escape whatever comes your way. Your own innate Immune system, mostly located in the lining of the gut, is your best defense against a host of health issues. There are chewable immune supplements for the kids and anyone who hates swallowing pills. Scout’s Motto-Be prepared!
We are watching how much sugar we eat this year, so I will be making pumpkin pie with Monk Fruit and Stevia. The spicy desserts really lend themselves to these plant-based extracts that taste sweet to the tongue, but don’t contain sugar and don’t spike your blood sugar. I always double or triple the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, and that further balances blood sugar control.
Thanks to Birch Benders there are pumpkin pancake and waffle mixes. Avoiding gluten or eating paleo? If you can't buy locally, it's available on Amazon.
Turkey meat has the amino acid Tryptophan, which the body uses to make both Serotonin and Melatonin. So, that satisfied, feel-good mood after a big turkey dinner is partly from the unique benefits of turkey.
Don’t forget the digestive enzymes like Enzycore and Zypan or Betaine HCL to help you enjoy that good lean protein.
I am doing a lot of Telemedicine and long-distance consulting, so if you have family members who live elsewhere and need help, let me know.
See a healthy snack recipe perfect for Thanksgiving below.
The Pilgrims and the Native Americans came from completely different religious beliefs, cultures, countries, and customs. But they came together over the things they shared in common. We all need healthy whole foods, our families, and our friends. Sometimes we are fortunate enough to find people who can teach us the things we need to know to survive in new environments. Despite their religious differences, the Pilgrims undoubtedly thanked God for the wisdom the Native Americans shared that enabled them to survive in the harsh winter of their new home. Many of our best medicines came from Native American herbal tradition. Echinacea is a North American herb that is a powerful immune remedy, cultivated by Native Americans.i Sage, Motherwort, Willow Bark, and Saw Palmetto were other herbs the early herbalists learned about from the tribal practitioners.
Wishing you a Happy, Healthy Thanksgiving, with enough kindness and goodwill to share.
ihttps://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12808356/
Roasted Parsnip Chips
Parsnips are those cream-colored, odd shaped root vegetables that look like carrots. They are surprisingly mild and sweet when roasted. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a large roasting pan or cookie sheet with parchment paper (if you want to make clean up easier.) Slice the parsnips diagonally and spread out in the pan. I usually roast the larger pieces first, and add the smaller ones later for even roasting. Brush or drizzle the sliced parsnips with olive oil and salt to taste.
Roast for 20 minutes and check. We like them crispier, so I roast them longer, but they are ready whenever they start to turn golden brown. They can be roasted and stored in the refrigerator until ready to be reheated and enjoyed. Even die-hard vegetable haters may enjoy these!
Parsnips have great nutritional value. The mineral content includes manganese, magnesium, iron, zinc and phosphorus. Vitamins include B1, B6, B9, C, K, and E. They also have the fiber that our gut biome loves. And the contain Falcarindiol, an antioxidant that may destroy tumor cells.
In ancient herbal lore, parsnips were considered an aphrodisiac. Pretty good stuff for an oddly shaped carrot!
Let me know if you try this recipe or have another parsnip recipe to share.
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I was playing Katamari Reroll and thinking about autistic communication.
What's the one sentence summary of katamari? You control a rolling ball that accumulates objects and can roll up anything smaller than itself.
If you actually play katamari, this immediately unravels. many objects that are blatantly smaller than the katamari will not stick until you get even bigger, and speed also plays a role. A more accurate summary would be "you control a rolling ball that accumulates objects and as it gains size and momentum it can roll up progressively larger objects."
I would say that's a much better description, but an allistic would probably think that while it is more precise, it is less compelling and harder to understand.
If you're autistic, you're thinking - wait? harder to understand? but it is more precise and does not require further clarification. Surely it is easier to understand.
I'm guessing you also felt betrayed in science class every year as they revealed that actually, atoms can be split, matter can be created or destroyed, chemical reactions are actually always going both ways, biological sex is never just male or female...
Yeah, I think allistic people don't feel that way. I think they prefer to have an easily digestible version even if it is incomplete or inaccurate.
More examples:
I am at my job, back when I had one, and my manager asks which of affect and effect are the noun and verb. The answer he wants is that effect is the noun so that's what he should put in the email. The answer I give is that there is a psychological use of affect which is a noun (as in, flat affect, a symptom of autism*), but in the case he is encountering right now, and most other cases, he should use effect.
My driving instructor tells me to push the accelerator down "by the thickness of a pound coin". This is a very concrete measurement and I can follow this instruction. Later, she tells me to push it down "by the width of a hair". I reply that this is physically impossible as I cannot control my foot to such a precise degree. She tells me to stop taking her instructions so literally. I ask why she does not just say "by the smallest amount you can manage".
People often accuse autistics of taking things literally, but I think this is imprecise. I think we assume that people are talking with as much precision as possible, because that is what we would do. My driving instructor actually didn't mean the thickness of a pound coin as a precise measurement, but a general guideline, to be taken as one factor among many in determining how far to push the accelerator.
I had the good fortune to have an autistic parent and autistic siblings, and thus not spend my entire formative years constantly coming up against this. But dang I wish people would just put a bit of effort in and communicate our way. I think there would be a lot less misunderstanding if people didn't assume you were adding wiggle room.
*I actually have a very labile affect, because I have ADHD and also I intentionally deploy facial expressions for effect.
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The CRIT!
I was not heavily involved in the post production process. Drafts of the picture edits were sent to me, to which I provided feedback on. The main challenge we had was getting the edit down to our time limit without sacrificing quality, so I suggested various cuts we could do to accomplish this. Perhaps, however, I should have been more involved in the post production process as it was communication issues that led to our film being unfinished for the viewing to our class and lecturers. It was very disappointing not being able to show a quality piece for our weeks of hard work. However, we had a week to fix it, and I believe our final product is a significant improvement.
Critiques about my role (Production Designer)
1. A change in the actual layout of the scene, rather than just costume, would have helped give a clearer distinction of different days. This is something I definitely agree with, and wish I had thought of sooner. I didn’t want to alter the set too much as we only had until 3pm to shoot, as the pub opened and members of the public would come in. Therefore, we had to get everything wrapped up before then. Keeping this in mind, I thought it was best to make minimal changes to the pub, such as shifting furniture around, and hanging up a few photos. I do believe it would have been worthwhile, however, to have a few holiday decorations hanging around, or something like that to make the passage of time clearer. It also would have signified a greater passing of time, which would make the story more believable. Paul gets sick quite quickly in the matter of three days, and differentiating these days in different seasons would have made it easier to digest.
2. The characters don’t feel like they belong in that setting. Changes to the story and production design would have helped this. I do agree with this comment to an extent. Due to a change in our location in pre production, we had to rush to find somewhere else that could accommodate our shooting schedule. The Raging Bull was the only option. After a few script rewrites and costume changes, we tried to make do. I changed Dave’s costume and colour palette in particular to match the set, and be a bit more sophisticated to make them fit in a bit better. I also had the extras wear casual clothing to make them stand out and seem more out of place. I did not want to alter the actual set too much as we only had a limited amount of hours each day, and I did not want to waste time we didn’t have in a longer set up and take down of the set. Therefore, I tried to implement smaller changes like moving some of the more “abstract” arts and furniture out of the way and replacing them with framed newspaper articles, and more simple pictures.
Critiques about the film
Unfortunately, the film was not at a stage to be viewed by the time of the crit. It was very disappointing not to be able to showcase our weeks of hard work, and be proud of the final product. Here are some notes we got on the general film in different departments:
Positives
1. It feels cinematic - particularly in the dream sequence. The clash between tones made it very jarring and stood out. I agree. I liked the colour palette in the film overall, and loved how the autumnal and winter colours clashed with one another. The change in aspect ratio for this dream sequence was great as well, as it distorted the physical setting and made it seem as though we were in an alternate place altogether.
2. The performance from our actors were good, bar a few critiques from Paul’s actor. There was a particular enjoyment and commandment for their performances, specifically from Dave, in the shift to the dream sequence.
3. The story itself was beautiful. The choice to use older characters in a film with strong coming of age themes was a good choice, and unfortunately not something done. I agree. While I love a good coming of age story, they are mainly centred around young, white, middle class characters. It’s nice to see them catered to a different demographic, something which I think our writer and director, Lilith, did very well. The dialogue in the film was great. It didn’t feel too much, which is what we feared for in Dave’s dialogue. Particularly since Dave is very quiet, uttering limited words in other scenes. Ian, our actor playing Dave, did a good job of making this change believable, and the switch back and forth was seamless. His tenderness and caring heart came across very well, especially in silent moments.
Improvements
1. The biggest critique we got, of course, was the sound. It was unfinished and unsynced, which was a big let down.
2. The distinction between days isn’t clear enough. The main improvements in this would have been in production design, as I have mentioned above, but other things in post could help, such as music playing in the background.
3. The story, while very sweet, may have been a bit too much to fit into a six minute time frame. We did not get as in depth a look into Dave and Paul’s friendship as we would have liked. The suggestion we received was to cut more content out, and replace instead with longer shots and moments on Dave and Paul. I agree, and it is something we were definitely having trouble with during the post production process.
4. Certain handheld shots feel out of place. I agree, particularly with the shot of Dave walking away in the dream sequence. We view this from an odd, shaky frame coming from underneath Dave’s chin. It was very unalike the other, steady shots we were used to which threw me off a bit. I would have liked it better if it was from a higher angle, and maybe not over Dave’s shoulder.
5. This one wasn’t a critique from the class (or perhaps it was), but there were some points in the editing I thought were a tad bit jarring. Specifically, the timing of some cuts. A good example is when we cut from the third to the fourth scene. We had just ended the dream sequence. A longer pause on Dave as the bartender puts the beer down, and a longer silence of contemplation would make it a bit less jarring, and would allow the audience to sit in this surreal moment for a bit longer.
While we did leave the crit feeling quite disheartened. We were quite upset at how the edit was done, and the lack of progress, particularly in sound, that had been made. I wish that our editor, Bronte, would have come to us sooner if she was having timing issues that we could have helped her resolve. We were quite rightly upset, particularly at the fact the film was not double checked before screening. However, we have a week to fix it up, and I’m excited to make some major changes and make sure our beautiful story is communicated well.
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If anybody ever needed proof that I’m a masochist, sometimes I spend a half hour scrolling through “introvert/extrovert discourse” on various social media platforms just to remind myself how many people hate my general personality.
#sometimes you just need a healthy dose of reality#and the reality is i make life so much harder and more difficult and more draining for all the people i know#the reality is i bring nothing good to the table and just make everyone wish i would go away#i was looking for proof that i'm an inherently bad person who does not deserve any kind of care or love so thanks internet for giving me it#trust me i wish i could change my personality#and i have worked really hard to make myself quieter and smaller and easier for the people in my life to digest#but i know that's not enough#real life rants
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The Switch - Chapter 5
And our newly weds give each other impromptu wedding gifts that are the best wedding gifts ever, inspired by each other’s inspiration.
“I loved her to the point of invention” was the main driving force for this chapter. And obviously inspired by the USPS.
Actually believe it or not, chapter 4, 5 and 6 were all one big- fifty something page document that I knew would be too much to digest in one go so I broke it up into three smaller, easier to mentally eat and digest segments. Enjoy.
The Switch
Chapter 5
The wine in your cup was sweet. Your marriage platter, meant for you and for Kragan to share off of, was practically overflowing, with generous portions of each offering. Each bite was just as delicious as your groom was handsome.
You happily sat side by side in a special newly wed chair, big enough and wide enough for two to sit together at the head of the table. His warmth a wonderful comfort and seeping into you. The music was beautiful and delightful, upbeat and filled the room with heavenly sound. Your family and his were eating down the table, his family taking up one side while yours took up another as your family did their best to talk about plans and hopes and dreams for your future with Kragan.
Kragan and his family never catching on and noticing that with every utterance made by a member of your family was always prefaced with ‘if they get the chance’.
But you did. And while you appreciated the well-wishes- to hear ‘if they get the chance’ and mentally knowing that in all reality the answer was always going to be ‘no’.
Kragan however noticed that you seemed to be more somber, and more quiet, the more you listened to your family and his talk and could only come to one conclusion.
“Tess.” Kragan whispered which brought your attention back to him.
“Hmm?” You hummed when you turned towards him.
“Don’t feel like you have to live up to their expectations and their hopes and their dreams. All they are- are suggestions. You’re not going to disappoint anyone if we decide to not do anything that they’re saying right now.” Kragan reassured you in a soft whisper.
“Now, it’s just…it doesn’t feel real. I feel like I’m dreaming and that any moment now, I’ll wake up and find that I’m still betrothed to Ron. And that you and your wonderful family were nothing more than figments of my imagination. It still feels too good to be true.” You admitted in an equally soft whisper as you couldn’t help but feel your eyes grow glassy as you tried to smile happily but there was a bittersweetness in your eyes as your guilt grew by the heartbeat. You felt it growing like a enourmous weight on your heart and in the pit of your stomach. You suddenly had the overwhelming urge to just confess to everything and shred that marriage certificate to save Kragan his inevitable heartbreak. Because your success would inevitably be his sorrow.
“Well let me fix that.” Kragan offered before he leaned in and kissed you softly which got you to giggle.
“That’s not helping, it’s making it worse.” You can’t help but laugh as you covered your face with your hands to hide your blushing cheeks.
“Well, here, how about this.” Kragan offered as he pulled out the picture he had drawn up of The Contessina and put it in front of you.
“Awww, are you going to name a ship after me?” You asked him as you took the picture and looked at it, amazed how he seemed to draw this free handed, there was no marks that he used any kind of tool. But yet, his well trained eye and hand had crafted a masterpiece.
“I’m going to build you a ship and then name it after you. It’s going to be the first of its kind.” Kragan insisted.
“You’re going to do what now?” Thaddius asked, only overhearing his son say the words “build” and “ship”.
“He’s going to build me a ship!” You announced to everyone at the table as you smiled happily before you turned the picture over to show everyone at the table before you passed it around.
“This looks different than the usual skyship you like to design Kragan.” Thaddius noted when he took the picture and looked at it closely.
“That’s because it is. It will be the first of its kind and hopefully first of many.” Kragan began.
“How so?” Saffiro asked curiously.
“Salgria Shipping is known for its strong and stout shipping ships. Meant to hold vast cargos but get by on a limited crew. Because the smaller the space you devote to the crew’s lodgings and the crew’s food supply. That means that there is more space you have for cargo. But that also means that the more altitude gas the balloons have to have and the stronger the antigravity disks have to be and disbursed to keep the ship in the air. And the harder the engines have to drive and maneuver the ship when the winds aren’t fair.” Kragan began.
“But The Contessina will not be a cargo ship. I want it to be a luxury cruise liner. Every royal family in every kingdom that is by the sea- has its own luxury cruise ships on the seas to take their holidays on the seas. But the landlocked countries do not have that luxury. This would be a way to provide them that without interfering with borders with others. And the borders that countries have on their shorelines and in their harbors. I think the trend should also be adopted in the skies. Especially now that so much of the world is now in the D.A. There literally is now one huge ring that is safe to travel on that is on a clear latitude thanks to Yekmeni and Wakanear joining the D.A. Before we could only go as east as Forestrong and then had to go south to the Brighway line. And we always had to take a sharp turn southward to avoid the rest of Nuvaric to get to the Brighway Line.” Kragan explained.
“Now that safe latitude goes from the southern end to the Brighway Line all the way to the North Pole now that Wakanear is a Yekmenian province. Thanks to Yekmeni and Wakanear now in the D.A. Just about anyone with enough wealth and with enough intellect can travel throughout all the countries in it. Instead of just the merchants being the big travelers of the supersphere.” Kragan gestured, showing how that latitude had widened considerably.
“If we made luxury cruise ships of varying sizes and made them especially available to land locked countries. It would give them a sense of mobility without encroaching on their countries borders with other countries on the surface. Soon anyone could travel if they wanted to. Instead of being stuck into one country and one society, it would mean that anyone with enough capital could then travel the supersphere and do so in style.” Kragan explained.
“I think it’s brilliant Kragan.” You praised.
“Well since it will be a ship in your name, you should have a say in how it’s decorated and how it’s laid out. Since you already know the preferred styling of those in nobility. I’m going to be counting on you to help guide that aspect of it. So that The Contessina Class ships will be a world wide success and I want to make you in charge of the class and sector of Salgria Shipping. It will be a subgroup of Salgria Shipping but something that you’ll have the vast majority of control. I want you to set the price, set the different sizes and classes, from the smaller, more discrete and humble all the way up to the largest and most luxurious ships of the class.” Kragan insisted as your jaw dropped as did everyone else in your family. Your father was practically salivating at the prospect.
“Well Tessa, you’re going to need help, you could always recruit Saffiro to help you with it.” Your father suggested rather innocently.
“No I think Tessa should keep The Contessina Class ships and The Contessina section of Salgria Shipping with her husband, since it would be a project just between her and her husband.” Saffiro quickly countered with a meaningful smile to you, ignoring the looks from his parents.
“Well if I do end up needing help, beyond what Kragan can provide, Saffiro, you will be my first choice.” You placated which seemed to appease your parents well enough.
“Mildred?” You requested.
“Yes My Lady?” She asked.
“In the honeymoon suite, you’ll find on the desk a journal, it has a brown leather cover and has a compass inlaid into the cover. Can you bring it down to me along with a pen and an inkwell, I wish to share my ideas I’ve written down in it with my husband and my family now as well as write down ideas for this Contessina project.” You requested sweetly.
“Of course.” She readily left the room to do as you requested.
“I already have a few ideas if you would humor me.” You suggested to Kragan and his family.
“I’m all ears. Please, tell me what your ideas are. I’m sure they’re excellent. In fact, can someone get me a pen and some ink so I can write down whatever my brilliant wife is about to say? Because I’m sure it’s good advice.” Kragan smiled happily, pleased that you loved the idea and that it inspired you in turn before you waited for him to get a pen and an inkwell and readily made sure the pen was full of ink.
“You may need more paper, I have a lot of ideas.” You gently warned him as you got your journal and opened it. Granted your handwriting in the journal wasn’t your best but all week, every night, you had gotten more ideas before bed. Based on your conversations that you had had with Kragan each day and you had chosen speed at which you wrote over the aesthetic of the writing itself.
“Oh then I know they’re going to be good.” Kragan smiled happily.
“Have the stack of clean paper that was just delivered to me this morning brought to him.” Saffiro ordered a servant who left and came back with a heap of paper and set it down.
“Ok, I’m ready when you are My Dear.” Kragan assured you after he made sure the cartridge in the fountain pen he was using was completely filled.
“Well, wait to hold that judgment until I’m done speaking then, just in case you don’t like the ideas. Like I said, they’re just ideas I’ve had. They may be impractical.” You proposed.
“Tessa, there is absolutely nothing about you that is impractical. I have every confidence that whatever ideas you’re about to share are going to be good ones.” Kragan assured you, which melted your heart. That he would think and feel that way as your father and Saffiro were eagerly leaning forward to hear whatever you were thinking.
“I second that. You have yet to have a bad idea Tessa.” Saffiro offered.
“And I third that.” Your father immediately offered.
“And I fourth it.” Your mother smiled proudly.
“Well thank you for your votes of confidence.” You smiled bashfully at your family.
“So, if it’s not too forward of me, I’ve been thinking all week about Salgria Shipping. I know every Salgria Shipping boat has very distinct sails. Because that’s how you can recognize if the boat is in the fleet- beyond the make and model of the ship itself. Because Salgria Shipping Ships are already unique and set the bar and standard for the industry for having the most sound, well made boats and for having the highest delivery success rate of any shipping company in the whole of the supersphere. “ You prefaced which earned you proud and approving smiles from Kragan and his family as Kragan just beamed so happily that you thought that.
“The first idea is to have Salgria Shipping be a very notable and recognizable brand and that double SS on the sails should be your logo. And that logo should be copyrighted. The way a family crest is but it should be copyrighted with the D.A, of which you do most of your business in and with. And not just Solowards. The way Dorierra is world renowned for their bride program outside of the country and yet their exquisite goods within the country itself. Because every male Dorierran is an artisan, creating some of the best products in the supersphere. But usually only for the consumption of the Dorierran citizens and those lucky enough to travel there and do business there. It would be ideal if Salgria Shipping had a similar reputation. Only Salgria Shipping wouldn’t be known for goods, but for its remarkable service. Known throughout the supersphere. And that the Salgria Shipping brand be of course copyrighted in the country in which it calls it’s home base. And possibly copyrighted in every other country it does business in- in addition to being copyrighted with the D.A. itself.” You began.
“Smart.” Saffiro praised.
“Why is that important though?” Thaddius asked.
“It’s important that it’s copyrighted so that no other company can try to be a copycat. Because copycats can often do more damage to the original brand or product than anything else. And if it’s copyrighted with the D.A. especially. You have legal rights to the brand and to the logo. So that if anyone were to try to copy you, you can legally sue them for copying you, damaging your reputation, stealing your business away from you and slandering your good name with their bad business and have legal footing and rights to your business in any and every court of law within the D.A.. Like the way counties have their own flags to symbolize that country- or family crests have that crest to differentiate that family from any other. It’s the same concept. You are simply differentiating and legitimizing Salgria Shipping further and protecting it from anyone who would want to copy you but ruin your reputation if they end up doing bad business and stealing your customers. And the Salgria Shipping brand with the SS logo would be something that anyone and everyone can very easily, if not immediately recognize, get to know and easily establish respect and trust.” You began.
“And that the Salgria Shipping brand and logo would be associated with the entity that Salgria Shipping is and only with Salgria Shipping. So that if you are a person with goods, you will want a brand, with an easily recognized logo- that is not only legitimate in every respect, and is protected by the law. But also represents a company who is not only world renowned but trusted internationally to deliver your goods to their destination. And not just deliver them, but deliver the goods in their entirety and deliver them in as good of condition that you received them in and do so with reasonable speed. “ You specified.
“Love it, do go on Dear.” Kragan readily encouraged you as he quickly wrote that down.
“My next idea is, about the label system that you have. Because I understand you already have a label system. Which is good. It keeps things organized. But what if we expend that system to include so much more than just a label saying what is in the crate it’s being transported in, where it’s coming from and where it’s going. You could use special symbols, you could use special characters learned and known by the whole fleet. But the symbols and their meanings would be an enigma to anyone else who dares to board a Salgria shipping ship- when they would get into the hold to see if anything in there is worth stealing. And if you can’t understand the label and all the packaging looks the same. All they would see is a label with symbols. That they know nothing about, that they can’t decipher and so they have no idea if what is in the crate is something worth a hundred thousand gold bullion, or just a hundred or even just ten. But with a uniform packaging and just a label with a bunch of cryptic but very meaningful symbols on the labels that would be Salgria Shipping trade secrets, also copyrighted with the D.A. itself. All the packages, if you had uniform packaging, would look the same to the naked and untrained eye.” You proposed as you could see the look on Kragan’s face that he clearly loved that idea as he wrote down that idea too.
“And uniform packaging would mean much easier loading and unloading and handling. And better ways to pack it into the hauls.” Kragan readily agreed.
“And with having a business with a logo, that logo can go on the packaging itself too. And you could create little business cards to give to contacts with the address of a messengerari for your home base so that they can set up future business transactions and as long as someone is always at that home base to take the calls and can speak any language your customers speak beyond just the common tongue.” You urged them.
“We would need to hire a team of receptionists and have a space with a group of messengeraries with all the same address. But it would be worth it, especially if every call coming in is someone who wants to book a Salgria Shipping ship and if we regulated the flight patterns and days that each ship would make to specific destinations on a regular basis. That would more than cover the start up cost of the messengeraries themselves.” Kragan noted as he wrote that idea down along with his own.
“Exactly. And instead of focusing just on the big accounts with with the main merchants who already have their own way of doing things. You could even promote your business to smaller businesses. Especially ones small enough that the other merchants ignored because most merchants care about bulk and quantity instead of quality. Since Salgria Shipping has kept the same quality and even improved the quality of their ships, even when your business is booming and you are using the ships as soon as they can be built. Do the same for others with the same goal. That while they may be on a small production scale now, if they have good quality products and could grow in size but still keep their quality the same. They would be worth having them as a business associate. They too could become bigger and more notable businesses themselves if they started to use Salgria Shipping as their preferred method of transportation of their goods. And their own products could reach an international market instead of just a local one. And with their products reaching newer, higher demands, means that they would have extra incentive to grow and produce more goods. But yet they should do what you have done, and keep their quality up so that those buyers are still buying a quality product and investing in a quality shipping service.” You encouraged Thaddius and Kragan.
“You could have your own version of the Dorrierran Alliance. Have a Salgria Shipping Alliance. But instead of this alliance being countries and nations with a Dorierran bride ruling as queen- your alliance would be producers and businesses that trust Salgria Shipping and only Salgria Shipping with the safe, secure and guaranteed delivery of their goods. And to ensure that- offer insurance, at a reduced rate- say- five gold bullion for every fifty gold bullion worth of goods that the businesses themselves would happily pay to make sure that their goods, especially very valuable ones will definitely make it to its destination and be guaranteed to be delivered. And you could even offer free insurance for the less valuable goods and for the smaller businesses that already have high production costs. It would help them out as well and help them grow too.” You suggested.
“And I would be the first to sign up to be in such an alliance. And the insurance thing is absolutely brilliant and would instill the utmost faith that your company would be the right one for them to use. No one else offers that. And you would be the first and only one. And you’re the only one big enough to even try.” Saffiro readily offered.
“I agree.” Your father nodded in agreement.
“And you could even have a sliding scale for how much insurance you can reasonably offer and of course put a cap on it. Because surely something that is priceless should have a cap because if they try to sue you for all your money for losing it- that’s just a bad idea. But say for a shipment of goods that is worth- 5, or ten silver bouillon, is free, the insurance is free to the producer. But anything beyond that, the individual client- can choose to pay extra- depending on the value of the goods they are using your company to transport for them.” You suggested.
“Have the insurance payouts be small enough that it’s easily paid out, but not so high that you’re taking a risk by insuring all of it. And make it small enough that if every single thing was lost, you could easily pay out what it was insured for and still be in business. Because accidents and weather and storms still happen and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. And for the businesses to have that insurance policy on their goods- that will increase their confidence in Salgria Shipping as a brand. And that brand is one that they can trust that their goods will make it to their destination and thus trust that their livelihood is in good, trustworthy hands. And that even if the goods are lost, they are not completely out and have to take a loss, no matter how big or small that loss would be.” You suggested.
“And while that is a great and fantastic idea. I would have one caution.” Your father interjected.
“There might be people who will insure something for way more than it’s worth. And then purposefully give you a false destination and then once you try to reach that destination or a false buyer and you’re unable to deliver it, you should have a policy that their goods will be returned to them rather than the insurance be paid out.” Your father amended.
“Exactly. That was going to be my next point.” You nodded in agreement.
“Well then great minds think alike.” Your father grinned proudly.
“Thanks.” You smiled happily at your dad.
“So anyway, the rest of my point was that the business would feel more confident in using your business because of the insurance policy. Because that policy would be their safety net. And that trust would transcend any species lines. Because as long as you can provide that safety net in the insurance policy. The businesses in your alliance would not care what the species of peoples whose hands are carrying not just their goods but their livelihood. And thus this would make Salgria Shipping a brand with a reputation so sterling, that even the most prejudiced of people, will forgo their prejudice if it means that their bottom line and that their income and that their livelihoods are protected and assured because they are insured.” You proposed.
“You can even have an addition to the label system and a guarantee system that the intended destination did in fact receive those goods and that the goods were in good condition and have the receiver sign off and have that signature notarized by at least two witnesses that can also sign it. And in so signing, it was the witnesses and the deliverer saying that not only did Salgria Shipping deliver the goods, but that the goods were delivered to their destination and that the buyer themselves received the goods or that the buyer’s trusted representative did in fact receive the goods and you can even have them sign and initial it a couple of times to ensure that the signatures match. And have signatures on file. And then that certificate, or that receipt that the goods were delivered can be sent back to the manufacturer so that they can know for a certain fact that Salgria Shipping really did deliver them and any disputes to be had- would be between the buyer and seller and not with Salgria Shipping itself.” You explained.
“And that if anything happens to that cargo, the value of the cargo is insured. And because so little of the cargo ever gets lost or stolen while in your care and possession. The few times you would have to pay out the insurance- the fees collected from all the others who insured their packages, would pay for any other’s loss. So that your own bottom line isn’t affected. Or if it is, there is a buffer. You can even have a separate account at any bank you wish to- just for insurance fees and insurance payouts. And as long as you keep very detailed records of who paid what for which policy. Therefore not only would you have a copy of that, but the bank itself would have a copy just in case there was ever a dispute for someone trying to collect for more than they paid for. And that any insurance claims would be paid out of that account and not out of payroll or your own personal income.” You suggested as your brother and father was practically beaming with pride and smiling so bright and wide. Because these ideas were ingenious. And of course you would deliver such ideas in front of him and the rest of the family so that just in case the Salgria’s didn’t adopt these ideas. Others surely would as Kragan was wearing a matching smile as Thaddius was nodding in agreement to these ideas and really impressed by them.
“And that way your business accounts would be very organized. And not just trying to pay and receive payment into one big account. Because the banks surely would appreciate the distinction and the extra accounts and could assign a specific banker per account to keep it all straight.” Your father added.
“Oh absolutely. And if the Salgria Shipping brand, can earn and keep the reputation- that no matter who you are, or what you are. If you have goods, or if you have needs for goods, surely Salgria Shipping can help you with those needs. Which is why the alliance would be key. Because in that alliance, which all members would be recorded into a book. That should be kept on every single Salgria Shipping ship. That can easily be added to and treated like a catalog.” You suggested.
“And in that catalog- you can specify what company makes what product. What kind of quality that product usually is since you can test out the products yourself and see what kind of quality they are. And even leave reviews in that catalog of the products themselves. Along with the prices of those products as well. And even leave comments and reviews of the companies themselves. And of course dictate- who owns the company, who runs the company, what the names of the managers are or who is responsible for receiving any insurance payouts or who is responsible for receiving product complaints. And the dependability to not only get that product but deliver it in a timely fashion to any other place would be invaluable. Especially for food products that may be very perishable. Which is why skyships especially need to be fast but also accurate. So that those food products or other perishable products are delivered and that very little, if any of it, is lost to rot.” You specified.
“And that reputation would be worth it’s weight in gold and would set up Salgria Shipping to be a shipping monopoly. You would be the competition for any other shipping company. And Tessa is right, with the insurance as a safety net. The fact that most of your company is comprised of orcs, wouldn’t matter at all to anyone with any kind of sense. Because nothing speaks stronger and louder than money and profits.” Your father readily agreed.
“So make Salgria Shipping a brand. A brand that is so recognizable, so distinguished, so trustworthy and noteworthy. That it’s reputation alone would be enough to induce anyone to use it. No matter what species of person they are. No matter what kind of good they are making and trying to sell and who they are trying to sell it to. But that anyone and everyone seeing and using a product delivered by Salgria Shipping or uses Salgria Shipping themselves. And seeing either the ships or the crews- wouldn’t care who or what the crews of Salgria Shipping were. And that they would associate the packaging and the ships with their special sails with the Salgria Shipping logo- would be recognizable and associated with that reputation, no matter what language they speak- when they say the name of the company in their language or simply saying Salgria Shipping in the common tongue with their own native one. And they would say that name both in and out of the very expansive Dorrierran Alliance.” You advised.
“Which the fact that you already have a foot both in and out of the D.A. is huge. You could even have a discount for those who are in the D.A. if Dorierra were to agree to use your company and only your company. Even to ship their brides to their destinations, using the Contessina Class ships that Kragan will oversee the building of. And surely that fleet especially, would be very valuable to Dorierra. Instead of having to send their brides over land and sea- they can use the Contessa Class ships to use the trade winds to get the brides to where they need to go and do so safely and in style. The brides would get to their destinations in a fraction of the time and for a fraction of the price. Because either Dorierra can buy those Contessina Class luxury skyships outright. Or they can rent the ships.” You suggested.
“And for the Contessina Class Salgria ships, we can still keep the signature Salgria Shipping sails or we can even redesign the logo with special flourishes. So that even from a distance before people would really see the ship and see that it’s a luxury cruising ship. Just by seeing the special sails, they will know that the ship itself is special and that it’s cargo isn’t goods, but people, important people. And while these ships will be luxurious, we should still have them armed to the teeth so to speak. So that anyone who might want to steal the ship itself or the precious people sailing on them- for themselves will be in for a nasty surprise.” You urged Kragan and Thaddius.
“And especially for the Dorierran Contessina ships- we can even have special safe rooms within the ship to keep the bride safe just in case the ship comes under attack. She and her closest guards would be in the special safe room while her other guards fight off her would be attackers. And even for high value or super wealthy patrons who would either buy or rent the ship. If they would rent the ship, Salgria Shipping can offer their own special bodyguards. Those who are especially trained to keep the client safe even in the worst of circumstances. And in the cases of those who would buy the ships outright, they would hire and keep special guards on the ships. Who for a special fee by Salgria Shipping- could receive training on how to work the ship, how to get the precious client to the safe room and keep them safe while they fight off -any would be attackers. I understand that every Salgria Shipping ship is currently being fitted out with Yekmenian motherbear and cub cannons with the deadly rose cannonballs. We can have the same defenses on the Contessina Class ships.” You realized as you were writing as fast as you were talking in your notebook as Kragan was doing the same.
“Which would mean Salgria Shipping would need specially trained crews just for the Contessina Class ships. You would have one crew meant to man the ship and sail the ship. But you would have another crew, especially trained to keep the client safe and protected and defended. And yet another crew trained the way any servant in any high society house is- to serve the passengers and clients of the Contessina Class ships. The Contessina Class ships all by themselves would be exceedingly lucrative. And the Contessina Class ships would absolutely be a status symbol for the supersphere.” You appraised as you tried not to get money signs in your eyes but your brain was already imagining this sketch brought to live and tens of thousands more just like it sailing the skies.
“A mark of good breeding and education for any and every highborne Lady is how to manage her household staff. Which- Tessa has already had the greatest and best education possible and while I’m sure she will do all she can to train the staff at your estate as she is able to. You may want to work something out with Dorierra themselves. Because the servant population in Dorierra is the best in the world. And especially the servants who are assigned to visiting grooms are trained in a variety of cultures and languages so that they can serve whoever the groom is with distinction and success. Surely for the price of at least a few Contessina Class ships- you could hire at least a few households worth of servants from a range of quarters in Dorierra itself. And then with that population of servants have them hire and train others who wouldn’t necessarily be Dorierran by nationality. But surely just as a hotel hires a waitstaff, Salgria Shipping can hire its own special staff just for the Contessina Class ships. And those crews would be trained in how to properly care for their guests and treat them like they are royalty, even if they aren’t. And give the best service possible. That would also help drive up the price of renting a Contessina Class ship because it would be an experience that the patron would be buying. To not only travel the supersphere in style but do so in the utmost comfort. And be treated like royalty while doing so- so that they don’t have to bring all of their own private staff with them. And that private staff would not only be unfamiliar with sailing but unfamiliar with the ship and unfamiliar with the procedure and protocols on how to best serve the patron while on the cruise itself.” Your mother prompted. Which you nodded in agreement and wrote that down too.
“Exactly. And for Dorierra, depending on how big and how wonderful and luxurious these Contessina Class ships will be- it would be more than worth it to trade not just a good staff but trade special teachers and instructors. And even translators so that each crew can know not just the common tongue but the other more prominent and popular languages of the supersphere.” You readily agreed with your mother, smiling happily at her for coming up with a solution on how to move forward with the project when you would pass and couldn’t oversee this yourself.
“And with this new trend of tourists- many places would probably build and cater to traveling tourists. They can have attractions like gardens, or museums, or aquariums, or opera houses and theaters just to draw in these tourists and their money at these various destinations.” You readily agreed.
“Because all anyone would need is to build a skyport. Even if it’s just a tower, with an elevator system that would be high enough for skyships to dock and dock safely. You could even design special skyports just for the Contessina Class ships. So that any country, any place that wants the tourists that travel on the Contessina ships- can have their own Salgria Shipping Contessina Class Skyports. If you can build ships, you can build skyports to go anywhere as long as you have a flat base of say, ten, twenty acres to really lay a good foundation. And have roads leading out in any and all directions and build them close to the major cities with these attractions.” You proposed.
“In the same way you have shipyards to build ships next to the water to launch the ships into the water. You can have skyport yards to partially build and fabricate components of a skyport. That as long as any place can build a good and solid foundation of say either stone or even concrete- you can build a skyport on top of said foundation. And you can design and build them in such a way that they are pieces that are easily transported, like a puzzle. But once all the pieces are assembled correctly at their destination, they are as solid and steadfast as any mountain. And you can buy the land that the skyport is built on so you don’t have to rent the land and risk the skyport being taken over. And the country in which has these skyports will not be able to charge you fees just to have a skyport there, like paying rent. If you own the land and the skyport on it, You don’t have to worry about that country getting greedy and not just siphoning money off of the tourists, but you too.” You urged Kragan which got Saffiro to smile rather smugly to himself.
“If anything- any country, if they’re land locked or not- would be more than willing to sell you the best plots of lands just for you to build the foundations for the skyports there. And the income that place makes from the tourists will be all the fees and income those countries could want. Especially if those countries are in the D.A. and travel throughout the whole of the D.A. would not only be safe but encouraged. Becaue it would not come with the threat of being a traitor to your home country or un-nationalistic or un-patriotic.” You specified.
“And in all of these skyports, the crews can restock and resupply on whatever they need to for their journeys. And you can keep a crew there just to man the skyport and just to acquire goods and especially foods so that when the skyships land, they can unload the waste and garbage, refill their water tanks with fresh water that we can deploy special rain catchers or hook up plumbing to the local wells to pump that water into the water tanks on the ships. And waste water can be stored in a separate tank, pumped out and either treated and cleansed to be reused, or disposed of appropriately. And the ship can restock on fresh food while the tourists are out and about enjoying the various attractions nearby.” You specified as Kragan and yourself were both writing like crazy, your pens practically flying across the various pages.
“And especially since whoever is renting the ship- will have discerning tastes- the crews can then demand and be sold premium food products in those ports so that any meals made on board the Contessina Class ships would rival any estate on land. Granted the kitchens the ships would have to be specially made so that the risk of the entire ship burning and crashing from the skies would be mitigated. And while that technology would be expensive at first and especially if the materials used that are either fire proof or fire resistant wouldn’t necessarily be cheap- it would be worth the investment if the patrons could eat as fine a meal on board that they could eat in any palace on the surface. And therefore cooks and chefs from Dorierra or anywhere else- would be especially valuable. So that the cooks and chefs and the other kitchen staff could not only cook a wide range of foods but have the knowledge and skillset to offer a wide range of culinary delights to cater to any palate while also introducing international cuisine to their patrons. So that the patrons could broaden their own palates, while broadening their horizons, both literally and figuratively.” You admonished.
“This is brilliant. I love it. This is going to work out so well. I’m so happy I married such a brilliant woman.” Kragran praised in delight as he was already refilling the ink cartridge in his fountain pen with more ink because he had run out of ink because he was trying to write as fast as you were talking. While also adding his own notes to the ideas about how such ideas could be implemented and made into a reality.
You smiled happily at the praise and were so happy and delighted that Kragan obviously loved your ideas and even his parents were sitting there, in utter delight listening to your wonderful ideas in awed wonder as your family beamed proudly. Even Millie saw dollar signs in her eyes and would be urging Ron and his family to buy a Contessina Class ship. And if that was the only dealings it would have with Salgria Shipping, so be it, but it would put them on par with other nobility around the world.
“I should have charged you a hundred thousand gold bullion for her because you’ll make millions off just the Contessina Class ships.” Your father goodnaturedly teased Kragan and Thaddius which got you and everyone else to laugh.
“Oh at least 500,000 gold bullion. This is pure gold. But I would never put a price on the priceless, which is exactly what Tessa is.” Kragan rather seriously countered.
“I agree. Tessa has always been priceless.” Saffiro agreed.
“Oh stop.” You waived off bashfully but were delighted that Kragan thought so and felt that much more in love with your husband for thinking and feeling that way.
“So what other ideas do you have, because I know you, that can’t be the end of it.” Saffiro prompted you.
“You know me so well.” You giggled as you smiled and made a face at Saffiro who was just smiling so adoringly at you as you turned back to the ideas you had written down in the beginning of the book.
“Well my other idea is to expand the Salgria Shipping brand to include not just the ships, but the very crews themselves. If every sailor that works for Salgria Shipping, has a uniform with either the Salgria Shipping Company logo somewhere on it. To distinguish it the way the sails are distinguished from other ships. The uniform itself doesn’t have to be fancy for the regular Salgria Shipping cargo ships. But the uniform could definitely be much fancier for the Contessina Class ships because those patrons would expect it because every noble house has its own household uniforms in the family’s colors so that even when the servants are in town, they can clearly and easily recognize who is from what estate.” You began.
“Yes! I’ve been telling you that we’ve needed to have uniforms for years now Dad. See? If Tessa thinks we should have uniforms we need to have uniforms.” Kragan cheered happily as he wrote down the word uniforms in very large letters, underlined and circled the word a few times over to really make it stand out on the page.
“Well especially for the cargo ship crews- it would bode better if the uniform is slightly militarian in styling and design. Because the stronger- bolder lines of a military uniform could help with the impression that Salgria Shipping is an entity that is very serious in their business. How a navy is serious in their victory, a Salgria Shipping vessel is serious in it’s duty to deliver the goods to their destination with success. The uniform itself deserves respect and recognition and should symbolize your sailing prowess both in the sea and in the skies to everyone who sees them. The uniform itself could be something in a color that is not necessarily cheap but not too costly either. And styled in a way that is both classic and timeless so that the uniform doesn’t conform to one particular society and their fashion. But would be universally accepted, if not just a bit modern and stylish enough that those sailors could be off the ship and be in any port and fit in yet stand out and wear it with pride and it would transcend any country of origin or any country that the individual sailor would call home. The uniform itself should be something in the middle.” You specified.
“Even most nations' militaries provide their soldiers with at least one set of the army or navy’s uniform. You can do the same, provide one or two sets of the uniform to each sailor upon their hiring or “enlistment”. And two or three sets for every sailor when you implement the uniform to your existing crews. Since they have already been with you for a time and that time should be more than enough to warrant at least one extra set of the uniform. And for those who have been with you the longest, you can provide a set for every day of the week to really show that sailor that you appreciate all their years of service. And if any other sailor wishes to buy more sets, they can do so at a reduced rate so that they can change into a clean uniform especially when they are loading up cargo at one destination and another set of a clean uniform when they land and meet their delivery destination. So that the crew and the ship itself always appears to be clean to anyone who sees the crew and the ship in port and thus gives the greatest impression that a Salgria Shipping ship is a clean and safe ship.” You suggested.
“I agree. Two to three sets of the uniform would be the bare minimum.” Kragan readily agreed.
“So when you implement the uniform. When that sailor is on duty, they will be expected to be in uniform and wear that uniform “correctly” and can dress down in their regular clothes when they are not on duty. The uniforms themselves could be mass produced in a textile factory, There are machines of all kinds being invented practically every day. And other than paying for the raw materials and paying for those materials to be dyed, cut, and sewn together. It would be worth the expense if only to promote the brand of Salgria Shipping. And it would be important to have the uniform copyrighted too. Have everything from the color to the style, every detail of it copyrighted. And if a sailor were to leave, he has to turn in all his uniforms. Because if he sells them to someone else, anyone could infiltrate the company and make off with a whole ship’s worth of goods and no-one would be any wiser for it. And especially if the color of the uniform is a very, very specific shade of a color. The color itself is copyrighted so that anyone else making anything in that color, could not have a shipping company or a military uniform in the same exact color. “ You urged Kragan who nodded in agreement to that.
“And it would be free advertising the uniform gives whenever that sailor is in any port in the supersphere. That would be more than enough offset the expense of the uniforms themselves. And since the uniforms could be made in bulk but still have a good and decent quality. They could also be made in various sizes to suit the body conformation of every sailor easily. Make the uniforms in pieces and in sizes that don’t necessarily have to fit every sailor like a glove and be custom made per sailor. But if each piece is in a wide range of sizes, the sailors themselves can pick pants that fit them best, shirts that fit them best and even vests, sweaters and jackets that fit them best and of course boots that fit them best. The uniform pieces themselves should be large enough to move freely in and be able to work easily in. But taut enough that when the sailor wearing it, stands at attention or even performing their duty- it still looks and feels like it fits them well and that it doesn’t look either too big or too tight, but just right for them. And if the sailor wearing the uniform is comfortable in it, they then command respect and recognition both on and off the ship for just wearing it.” You admonished Kragan.
“You could even incorporate layers to the uniform itself. Include good shoes or boots with the uniform so that from the neck down, every crewman looks like one cohesive unit. In the same way a troop in an army or navy does. Put layers to the uniform so that those sailors sailing in colder climates would wear not just the uniform but matching gloves, hats and coats and capes or what have you. Again, make them big enough and warm enough to stave off the cold and keep them warm enough so that even in the frigid poles, they won’t freeze to death. And for those crews that sail regularly to the poles, the uniform should include a fur coat just for that purpose of staying warm in the poles.” You urged Kragan.
“But for those who sail either above the southern pole or below the northern one, but still in colder climates, should have at least thick wool coats in their uniforms for the same purpose. But also keep the uniform not so warm that the sailor sweats themselves into hypothermia wearing it while working. But it would actually encourage the sailor to actually work so that their body is at a comfortable temperature while they work. And that if they’re idle and not working, then they’re cold and you can tell who is working hard and who is hardly working by how cold the individual is. But also allow for the uniform to have lighter layers that the sailors sailing in warmer or even tropical climates could do so in comfort as well and not sweat to the point of being dehydrated or suffer heat stroke either. But the uniform itself should be something distinctive.” You urged Kragan who nodded his agreement to that as he wrote that down.
“The fabrics used would be wool for warmth since I’ve read that cotton kills if a sailor goes overboard. Because while dry cotton breathes easily, it pulls heat from the body when wet. But for those who stick to warmer climates, that wouldn’t necessarily always apply. Or it could be whatever other material would be best suited for that purpose.” You specified.
“And the fur wouldn’t necessarily have to be that fine. It could be beaver fur, something easy to keep the freezing rain and snow at bay, dark enough to hide any dirt but easy to clean off by spraying it down at least all while still keeping the sailor warm.” Kragan noted.
“Exactly. But that fur would still be enough to serve its purpose of keeping the wearer warm. And the fur would be a provision that would show the individual sailor that their service is precious enough that you are not just investing in that sailor, giving him an education in how to sail, how to read and write and how to decipher the meanings of the labels. But that- you also want to ensure their safety and comfort. It would also show that you, or at least the company as a whole- cares about them on an individual basis so that they don’t feel like an insignificant cog in a machine. But each sailor is an integral part for the company as a whole and are just as vital to the business as the ships themselves. Because a ship is just a ship without a crew to sail her and it’s the sailors that are the legs on which your company stands and moves.” You urged.
“Agreed! I absolutely agree. Thank you so much for seeing that!” Kragan thanked you emphatically.
“You’re welcome.” You offered as Kragan and yourself shared a bright and adoring and appreciative smile as love and appreciation for each other and each other’s intellect practically oozed out of every pore.
“The uniform would need to be durable. So that the sailor wearing it can still work and perform their duties, no matter how grand or how humble they would be. And yet the material that the uniform is made out of- should still keep the color strong and fast without fading in the sun. Especially for the skyships that are that much closer to the sun. You should stay away from colors that we know for a fact bleach out or fade quickly. Like red for instance, being the first to bleach out and fade away when exposed to a lot of sunlight. So maybe steer clear of red. And you could even run tests to see which colors would work best. While also complementing the wearer too.” You encouraged Kragan and Thaddius.
“But the uniform itself, every component of it- should also be very easy to clean. So that when the sailors have to wash and clean the uniforms themselves, or pay a laundress to wash them in a port. The cleaning can be done easily. The materials used should take to even the most basic and humble of soaps to let the dirt, stink and grime out of the fabric but still hold the color fast and strong and keep the scent of the soap for a little while so that even those who pass the sailors in the street smell the fresh and clean uniforms more than anything else. And still recognize the uniform as a Salgria Shipping uniform.” You specified.
“Ooh, or, you could even make or commission a soap company to make a special soap just for the uniform. A soap that will be especially good to get any kind of food stains or sweat stains or any other kind of stain out and keep the uniform clean and would be easy for any sailor to use and keep a washroom on the ships just so that the sailors can keep their uniforms clean while sailing in the cases where the journeys are especially long. But that special soap would have a distinct but pleasant scent for the uniform and again, that scent would be tied into the brand of Salgria Shipping too and could be copyrighted and even have the logo stamped into the bars of soap.” You suggested as you wrote that note about the soap down on a new page in the journal that you were quickly filling up.
“But the uniform should also be simple enough that it’s also easy to keep well arranged, neat and orderly. So that even when the crews are not on board but are in port- anyone would be able to see the uniform and instantly know that that sailor is a Salgria Shipping one. And instantly recognize and know that- that individual, like the company- is trustworthy and responsible. And that all those who wear the uniform carry the Salgria Shipping reputation with them. It would encourage your sailors to continue with their good behavior. And would also be advertising for Salgria Shipping for every person who sees that uniform, without even having to see a ship. Except overhead if they’re inland or on the sea if their country is by the sea.” You recommended.
“Oh I already know exactly who I’m using to make the soap. There’s a place in Fitsdale, it’s called Souja Tavern, I’m going to take you there and you’ll love it. Souja Tavern is fantastic. And Souja Tavern has a laundry service and a bathhouse. And there’s even a Souja Laundry and Soap Company. They make a very wide range of soaps for any manner of service and can sell bars of their specially made soaps. And their soaps are some of the best in the supersphere besides the ones in Dorierra. But we can get Dorierra soaps for the Contessina Class ships or even commission for very fine soaps just for the Contessina Class ships from Souja Laundry and Soap company. It would be cheaper than the Dorierran one. But again, we can barter a ship for the recipe and either create a Salgria Soap Company that makes soap solely for Salgria Shipping ships and it’s crews and the uniforms but also for the Contessina ships as well.” Kragan revealed giddily.
“Oh that’ll be perfect.” You smiled happily, happy that he already knew where and how he could get the soap to help with this endeavor.
“And especially since you pay your sailors so well for their incredibly hard work. It would give Salgria Shipping even more distinction. Because you’re not just the best Shipping Company in Forestrong, in Solowards, in Yekmeni, in Wakanear, or any other places that you are, but you would be the most distinct shipping company in the Dorierran Alliance and even the best shipping company in the world, in the whole supersphere.” You encouraged Kragan.
“But the uniform especially would also give each and every sailor a sense of family, a sense of belonging. It’s said that ‘the blood of the covenant, or the blood shed on the battlefield, shed by brothers in arms- is thicker than the water of the womb’. And while your crews do have to spill pirate blood or the blood of thieves on occasion. It would give each crew a sense of solidarity and brotherhood with not just their own specific individual crews, but with the fleet as a whole. So that you are a brand, a company, an entity that transcends borders, species and nationalities. And that every port would be lucky to have such well behaved and well paid Salgria Shipping Company sailors and travelers and tourists in their ports. But it would also serve the purpose so that every single sailor working for Salgria Shipping can recognize each other just by the uniform and know that they are among friends and brothers from other mothers.” You advocated which brought fond and proud smiles to Kragan and his family.
“And just like each nations’ military has specific insignias to denote an individual’s rank in that military force. Your crews can have something similar on their uniforms. And that would also impress upon every sailor the hierarchy and where they are in that hierarchy on the ship. And that would impress upon them that they can climb that hierarchy with hard work and with seniority on the crews and capabilities. And make it so that the higher ranking sailors can recommend others for promotions in the ranks when they see exemplary performance and exemplary behavior. And the insignias can be something easily attached to the uniforms. Either a few but strong stitches or pins. But the insignias can also easily removed if the sailor misbehaves or aggrieved the code of conduct. Because you told me that each crew that sails for Salgria Shipping does have a code of conduct and does have an honor system.” You stressed to Kragan.
“And you can even have special pins, like medals or other forms of identification that can show how long that particular sailor has sailed with the company. As a way of showing not just rank but seniority and a wealth of experience as well. So that the newcomers and newly “enlisted” can easily recognize who has seniority and the most experience and go to them for guidance. Instead of just “winging it” like some new employees often do.” You exhorted.
“You can even have the ones who have been with you the longest and who know the ropes both literally and figuratively be in charge of training the new recruits and train them in “correct” procedures of how to do things and what is the best and the most tried and true ways of doing things. And when those older ones who have been with you the longest and who can train others and when they get to be aged enough that they can either no longer do the work or no longer instruct others- help them to train their replacements so that the next generation will still have the knowledge passed down to them and can pass that on too.” You suggested.
“But also offer something of a retirement for those who have served for a certain period of time. The longer they were able to serve, the larger their retirement should be. And you can even start a separate fund just for the retirement of your workers. And have that account at a bank that accrues interest. Have every account you have- keep it with a well known, very stable bank that will stand the test of time with you, like with the D.A.’s international bank that they use throughout the Alliance. That way you have access to your funds wherever you are traveling within the D.A. And that way your workers have easier access to their wages too. And those who want to deposit their own wages into that retirement account so that their own deposits accrue individual interest so that their own retirements are larger in the long run. But you should also put a cap on how much of their wages they can do that. So put a reasonable cap, make it a percentage or even a flat rate if you want, whichever makes the most business sense, so that it would match the interest acrew-ment. So that again, your bottom line grows, and not shrinks.” You urged.
“And it would actually work out better if new “recruits” are given either a grace period or a training period. Where they don’t earn full wages because they’re still learning. You could even have special ‘new recruitment uniforms’ for them that aren’t full fledged Salgria Shipping uniforms. But would still have a uniform of their own and would still be distinguished. Have practice ships that run very easy, predictable routes and cargo that isn’t that valuable. So that you gently ease the new recruits into the work instead of just throwing them into the sea and see if they sink or swim. Train each one, and view each one as the investment they are. And as each one gains and then masters their skills, assign them to different crews. So that every crew has at least one “green horn” I believe is the term Kragan used.” You suggested.
“But after a sailing season and that green horn isn’t so “green” so to speak and they want to be a full fledged Salgria Shipping sailor, that’s when they get full wages, that’s when they get the full uniform and the full benefits of being a Salgria Shipping sailor. And that they’ll really know and understand what they’re getting into. They can either stay with the ship or help another green horn assigned to the ship the next season. But just don’t have an entire crew of nothing but green horns.” You suggested.
“Oh no, that would be a disaster, a whole crew of greenhorns, usually any more than five of them is enough to throw the ship into chaos.” Kragan supplied.
“Exactly. Have a limit on how many greenhorns are allowed per crew. If five is enough to throw things into chaos, then split the difference, no more than two or three to any one crew. Have a crew with the senior officers who know what they’re doing and have proven that they can do it well and have senior members of staff who can help train both the green horns but also help guide the others to fine tune their skills so that each one will eventually be a perfect professional.” You compromised.
“We could have a sliding scale, depending on how big the crews are, determines how many greenhorns they get. If the crew is only a dozen or less, one or two is the maximum. If the crew is a dozen and a half, two would be easy. If the crew is a couple dozen or a few dozen, five or six wouldn’t be that big of deal.” Thaddius suggested.
“Perfect.” You and Kragan simultaniously agreed and giggled when you did so.
“And if any sailor wishes to settle down in a place or man a port or man a skyport wherever they want to settle down in. They have that option. Or if they want to retire from the company altogether, they will have skills to suit them for the rest of their lives. Because surely once the Salgria Shipping brand becomes world renowned, any country within the D.A. would happily take any Salgria Shipping sailor into it’s navy. And while they would have to learn a different set of procedures and protocols to defend the country instead of defending the ship’s cargo. They would still be highly educated and highly skilled. But that any and all “trade secrets” that are copyrighted with Salgria Shipping, those stay safe and never leave that sailor’s mouth once that sailor leaves the company. Because again, copyright and loose lips sink ships right?” You encouraged.
“Agreed.” Kragan and Thaddius nodded.
“OK, that’s all I got in this notebook and all I’ve been able to come up with for right now.” You realized as you noticed you filled up that entire notebook and Kragan was almost out of paper.
“Hey you just gave me a lifetime’s worth of goals and you just laid the course to give Salgria Shipping as a whole - a path to success and a way to give just a humble shipping company, a way to become an empire and a conglomerate and have a monopoly on the shipping market to not just last for decades but centuries and generations and possibly eons. This is so much more than I ever could have hoped or dream to come up with on my own. You literally just outlined how to do it. Because wanting to do something or have something is only a dream unless there’s a plan on the how to attain it. You just gave me, us, the how. You just made a dream into an attainable goal that will be a reality. This is the greatest wedding present you could ever give me. I am humbled and in awe and so grateful and thankful. And so in love with you. Gods, Fate has been good for me for bringing you into my life.” Kragan praised as he and his family missed your family’s slightly faltering and guilty smiles as your Brother Saffiro gave your parents a meaningful look as they nodded in understanding.
“Well you did invest 50,000 gold bouillon into me. Which for some in the gentry, that’s five to ten years worth of income. I want to make sure that at least with me, you’ve made a good investment and can at least make your money back, with interest if at all possible in the next five years or so.” You tried to supply as you tried to keep the guilt out of your eyes and your smile.
“And if I can make a request.” Millie asked as she raised her hand at the end of the table.
“Can I get one of the Contessina Class ships as a wedding present from you?” Millie asked with a big cheesy and hopeful smile.
“Depends on how much it would cost to build one and how big and how grand you want it to be. But at the very least, I’ll see if your husband can buy you one at a discount, as a favor for a family member, how’s that?” You offered as you wrote down a small note on one of Kragan’s paper.
‘Make Ron pay through the nose but give Saffiro the discount as a favor to me’ with a quick but meaningful look to Kragan who returned it.
“But aren’t I your favorite sister?” Millie asked.
“Yes you are, but I also know you. You’d want a ship that could go for 100,000 gold bouillon. And this is still my husband’s business. He still has to make money to support himself and his family and all those that depend on him just like Count Roncharles does. The discount is the favor. And that’s perfectly generous enough.” You insisted.
“Especially since you’ve been avoiding her and her husband and his family all week.” Saffiro muttered under his breath at MIllie with a critical eye that she ignored.
“How about some dancing?” You suggested.
“Oh, actually Tess, I’m so sorry, but it’s already so late, I told Countess Lavine I’d be back at Crimore to go over china with her over an hour ago, but I didn’t want to miss your fantastic ideas or interrupt you.” Millie quickly excused herself before she called for a carriage to be brought around to the front.
“Of course, send them my best.” You politely urged her.
“Will do, love you, I’ll be back to say my full goodbyes before you leave.” She said as she kissed your cheek and hugged you goodbye before she quickly said her goodbyes and practically fled as you and Saffiro shared a meaningful look.
Millie got to Crimore and when she saw Ron and his parents eagerly there to see her, she started sobbing.
“Oh you poor thing, it must have been so hard to see Tessa go to such barbaric beasts.” Ron cooed as he comforted her and held her tightly to his chest.
“No, it’s not that, its...they’re going to be the wealthiest barbaric beasts on the planet thanks to Tessa.” Millie whimpered.
“What?” Ron asked.
“Let’s go inside.” Countess Lavine urged as they brought Millie into the house and offered her more tissues to clean up her streaking makeup.
“How is Tessa making them so wealthy?” Senior Count Lavine asked.
“Because her husband was inspired to create a luxury skyship. He drew it just before the wedding and presented the drawing to her as his wedding present. It’ll be a floating palace, a yacht for the skies, and is naming it and all others that will be built in it’s image- in her name! He named it The Contessina, and she’ll never get to see it when it will get built!” Millie sobbed on the couch as Ron and his parents all gasped and thier jaws were on the ground.
“What do you mean she’ll never see it?” Countess Lavine asked.
“You have to swear to me to never tell this.” Millie urged them.
“We give you our word. Leave us.” Count Lavine urged and ordered the servants in the room to clear the room.
“There was no horse accident. The horse accident is a lie. It was a lie my father created to hide the truth.” Millie confessed.
“What truth?” Ron asked.
“That Tessa is dying of cancer! She only has weeks, maybe a few months at the most left to live!” Millie confessed as Ron and his parents gasped loudly and his parents dropped their tea cups onto the floor as the teacups and their plates shattered and the tea splattered over everything.
“She’s what?!” Countess Lavine blanched.
“Two days before my father got the offer from the Salgria’s, my sister had two doctors come to the house. She had been suffering immeasurable pain in her side. The doctors who came, upon inspecting her and testing her, they found she has very advanced side sickness and a cancerous tumor bigger than both of my fists put together. That’s why she was wearing the higher waisted dresses and only a half corset. Because she’s in unbearable pain otherwise. That’s why my father agreed to the proposal from the Salgria’s. He was going to use those fifty thousand gold boullion and sell off everything he had to amass a fortune great enough to take Tessa to Dorierra for a collared moura cure. But she stopped him. She forbade him from doing so. She knew I didn’t want to married to that filthy sailor, and she also didn’t want my father to face financial ruination on her account. Because cancer is the one illness even a collard moura is very hesitant to cure because it’s so costly to them personally to cure. So she suggested the switch. She didn’t care about the Salgrias at all. She didn’t care who or what they were. She only accepted that offer to spare me and to save our family and set us up financially. She’s sacrificing herself for us.” Millie sobbed on the sofa into Ron’s chest as Ron and his parents were shocked and then moved to tears.
“But the doctors...” Count Lavine tried to argue as he struggled to grabble with this revelation.
“They were all bribed by Tessa and my father- to give a false report. An accident with a horse would excuse why her side is so tender. And it would excuse why she takes medicine to mask the symptoms of her real illness. And that report would keep the Salgria’s from becoming suspicious as to why she was so eager to accept them and their offer. And it would help ease you and your consciences into accepting me instead of her. She won’t be alive long enough for my wedding, which is why I absolutely insisted on being her maid of honor for hers. After the honeymoon, when she leaves, it will be the last time anyone in my family will see her alive.” Millie bawled.
“Oh the poor dear.” Countess Lavine breathed as she struggled to catch her breath since it felt like she just got the wind sucked from her lungs.
“And since the offer you had offered her from infancy always included hiers. She couldn’t in good concience continue it. So she worked so hard to switch her and I. Because I’m in perfect health, but she..she’s barely hanging on. And the medicine to mask her symptoms, is hardly medicine at all. It’s mostly poison to make her look healthy. And part of the poison is a form of birth control so that when she does die, she will not take any other soul but her own into the grave with her. But she’s told me that with every dose she takes, while it makes her appear healthy in the moment, it strips a day off the end of her life and she needs two doses a day.” Millie confessed.
“She’s a saint.” Countess Lavine cried, feeling so hurt and like her heart got pulled and crushed from her chest.
“She has sworn the family to secrecy. And she will only show the Salgria’s she’s even sick when they finally make it back to Forestrong. And the Salgria’s will never settle here. They’ll continue to do business. Even more business, but that’s it. Please, you can not tell a soul. Her honor and reputation are on the line.” Millie urged them.
“We won’t say a word, we assure you. But thank you for trusting us and telling us the truth anyway.” Countess Lavine assured Millie.
“And Tessa didn’t want you to know because she didn’t want to burden any of you unnecessarily.” Millie excused.
“Becuase she is the sweetest, most thoughtful woman in the world. Oh that poor, wonderful girl. Everything makes perfect sense now. Oh your poor family.” Countess Lavine praised as she sat and cried into her own hands.
“Tessa was just trying to save us all.” Count Lavine praised.
“Now I feel like an ass. I’ve been so mean to her my whole life. And yet, when she’s faced with death, she cared more about our comfort and happiness and our wellbeing and using the last of her life to insure the health and happiness of everyone else, even an asshole such as myself.” Ron admitted.
“How do I make this right?” Ron asked his parents and Millie.
“Well, she told Kragan that when he builds his fleet of Contessina ships, that she wanted him to sell one to us at a discount as my wedding present. And that a single ship would be worth a hundred thousand gold boullion. Because it will be built so grand and luxurious any and every king around the world, both in and out of the D.A. would want one. And that Dorierra themselves would want an entire fleet just for thier bride program. And that they were going to trade a few for households worth of servants to train all the staff on every crew in the Contessina fleet how to treat their guests. Who could either buy or rent the vessels and live like kings on their journeys and adventures as international tourists. Even have Dorierran chefs in the kitchens creating the best of world cusine for even the most discerning of palates. That you would be buying an experince to travel in the utmost comfort and fashion and style around the world and in the D.A. with the utmost safety. And even discussed how each ship would be armed to the teeth and have special safety protocols to keep the clients safe at all times.” Millie explained as Ron’s eyes as well as his parents grew wide in surprise yet even they could see the merrits of the idea.
“She turned an idea, from just a simple but beautiful sketch that Kragan drew. Into a multi-million dollar empire. Because she still has a good heart and she didn’t want the Salgrias to feel cheated when she would reveal she’s dying, especially when she’s dying so soon. She literally handed them the “how to become the greatest shipping company in the world” handbook as her wedding present to them. And they eagerly and readily accepted it and will be using it. Salgria Shipping is about to have the monopoly in shipping both goods and people in the supersphere. And while she planted the seeds tonight. She’ll never see them grow or blossom. And of course my father Saffiro were the first to be allowed in on it. She suggested a Salgria Shipping Alliance, like the Dorierran Alliance and that while the Dorierran Alliances are all countries with Dorierran queen’s. The Salgria Shipping Alliance would be all the businesses in all of those countries that want to do international commerce and avail their goods to an international market. In only or a year or two, no one will care at all that they’re orcs. Only that Salgria Shipping works and makes them money.” Millie explained.
“And she doesn’t see them as savage beasts, she doesn’t even see them as orcs. She just sees them with people, who just happen to have green skin and tusks. With a business with so much potential. And because Kragan has treated her like his equal and even his supierior in every way. And he humbly sought her counsel, and earnestly seeks her opinion on everything. That’s what earned him her remarkable businesss insights. And please don’t hate me, but I don’t neccessarily see them as savage beasts and filthy sailors or warring ors either. Especially when Tessa insisted that the ships and thier crews would not only just have fresh, clean uniforms at all times. But have washrooms on the ships themselves and that each sailor and each ship be spotlessly clean from now on.” Millie revealed.
“Oh good, anything associated with your father should be.” Count Lavine nodded in agreement.
“Kragan proved himself as a very capable and serious businessman tonight. And while I agree that they don’t belong in Solowardian high society and gentry. Kragan, with his Contessina ships and Salgria Shipping, do belong in Solowardian commerce. They’re going to be building skyports just for the skyships and seperate, bigger, larger, better skyports just for The Contessina ships. Either in or very close to the major cities with attractions. Like theators, or museums or whatever. Every country with a Salgria Shipping skyport and especially a Contessina class skyship port will have a huge influx of not just tourists but all their money in visiting these places. And give mobility to anyone with enough wealth to either buy or rent a ship. And especially to the land locked countries that have no access to the sea. I have no doubt every single family in every high society in the D.A. will eventually have a Contessina ship of varying sizes and levels of luxuriousness and she has promised me one of her greater ones. Tessa said it herself that it will be the next status symbol.” Millie revealed.
“And we will be blessed with such a gift, even at discount.” Ron realized.
“Yes. Because she loves me and this family as well as her own just that much.” Millie smiled through her tears as she looked up meaningfully at Ron.
“When she leaves your family’s estate for the last time. I insist that all of us go and say our own goodbyes to her. My wedding gift to her will be our lands just outside of town that we were going to build another estate on. It will be a source of immense pride for me. If Kragan will build a Contessina Skyport there. For the daughter in law I never...” Count Lavine choked on his sob.
“Millie, this in no way makes you any less wonderful and any less precious to us. In fact, because of Tessa’s sacrifice and her foresight to bring the treasure that you are- into our family. I will return it to her. It’s the least I can do after all these years.” Count Lavine insisted as he struggled to gain a firm hold on his composure.
“But it will be where our Contessina Ship will always be docked when we are not using it ourselves to travel the world. And I want a copy of Tessa’s best portraint to hang in it’s main sitting area. So that we will never forget her and her sacrifices and her gifts, even to us, even when we were so unworthy to recieve them. And while Fate has been cruel to take her from us so early. Fate saw to it that she will have a legacy greater and better than any other monarch. And I pray that Kragan knows and appreciates the wonder that she is and will treat her as such. She is a gem, as are you. And we will always love, respect, dignify and honor you. Because you are our touchstone not only to the DeBaringers, but to Tessa and to Salgria Shipping and especially to the Contessina line and class of ships that I will be so proud to own. And while I have not always agreed with your father’s decision to educate her as excelllently as he has, now I see that it was always her destiny to be so, if only to gift us all with such lasting gifts that will be passed down through the generations. So I will see to it that all of your children with Ron, whether they be male or female will recieve the same education. Maybe Fate will be kind to us and give us two more granddaughters who are just like their mother and thier aunt that they never will get to meet.”
“If I have a daughter who is anything like her, I want to name her after Tessa.” Millie proposed.
“I would be honored to give you one.” Ron insisted as he fought back his own tears.
“Come son, we have work to do.” Count Lavine urged his son.
“Yes we do, excuse me My Darling, I must make sure I do you the honor by honoring your sister the best way I can.” Ron excused himself from his fiance.
“I’ll see to Millie,” Countess Lavine offered her husband and son sweetly as she took Millie’s hand and led her to her suite of rooms.
“Thank you Ma’mah.” Millie thanked the Countess.
“Of course Millie. We love and adore you and I can promise and swear to never expect you to be like Tessa. We love you and we are so happy that we get to have you in our family and our home. Crimore could not have asked for a greater Lady to take of her than you. I know you will make us all so proud. It’s a good thing you didn’t recieve such an extreme education that Tessa did. Her brain working so hard, probably demanded more from her body than it should have and probably led to her body’s being so out of balance and...” Countess Lavine stopped herself before she said what she really thought because she didn’t want to hurt Millie any more than she was already hurting with such a horrible conclusion.
“Oh no, I agree, the imbalance from her brain to her body probably all but practically invited the cancer to grow like crazy. Because her body has had to power her mind more than anything and everything else.” Millie reassured her soon to be mother in law.
“Thank you for understanding. Your daughters will get the perfect education, just slightly more than thier peers but nothing to the extreme degree that Tessa has had. There needs to be balance after all.” Countess Lavine insisted.
“I completely agree and couldn’t have said it better myself.” Millie earnestly praised.
“Bless you child.” Countess Lavine hugged Millie as Millie hugged her back hust as hard.
#The Switch#The Switch Chapter 5#orc romance#orc love story#male orc x female reader#male monster x female reader#male orc x female reader insert#orc period drama#ok before you come for me#the balance of the humors WAS HUGE in the middle ages and in the reniassance.#and if any one humor was out of balance the whole body was out of balance and you got sick#I swear to God#this was a thing#this was a literal thing that they believed up until MODERN MEDICINE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD#Like the Greeks and Romans believed in this too#So this is the one thing that is actually historically accurate and is based and rooted in Earth's history#For being a fantasy story in a fantasy world#it's one of the few things I'll allow#even for as absolutely stupid and sexist as it is#but don't worry it's going to be ok#this is an angst with a happy ending story#this is part of the angst.#more to come and follow#strap in it gets worse#*starts piling my usual shit into a dumpster and get ready to set it on fire while also gathering smores supplies#Because we are gonna roast sweet fluffy marshmallows on this dumpster fire and treat it like a camp fire with camp chairs and blankets#it's gonna be fun#and pretty#in it's dumpster fire disaster self.
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Accidental Abduction AU - Permanent Residency
I rediscovered my Accidental Abduction AU the other day and today, well, uh, this happened. Enjoy.
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“Goodbye, Stanley!” Stan looked up from his current chore, weeding the vegetable garden, to wave goodbye to Angie and Lute. “We’ll see you for lunch!” Lute called in English. Stan grinned. The alien family was picking up his language much faster than he was picking up theirs, and they were thrilled to use English as much as possible.
If it was anyone else, it’d feel like they were rubbing it in my face that I’ve only learned twenty words in their language. But they’re nice people. And I like hearing what they really sound like, not whatever the translators make their voices sound like.
“See you then!” he called back. Angie and Lute walked through the orchard at the edge of the property, vanishing into the woods beyond it. Stan straightened with a groan.
“Your spine produced some odd sounds,” Merle’s voice said. Stan looked over his shoulder. The father of the family was standing nearby, carrying two bags of the feed they gave their livestock. Stan knew they were farmers; after all, he’d helped out on their ship’s smaller, indoors version of a farm during the travel to the planet. But he was surprised by how similar their livelihood was to Earth farming.
Or at least it’s like Earth farming on TV.
“That happens with humans sometimes,” Stan replied. He stretched, producing more popping sounds from his joints. “Our bodies make that noise.”
“Hmm. So it is of no concern?” Merle asked.
“Uh, not always. Sometimes that noise means you got hurt, but I’m fine. It’s just from me stretching after being hunched over for ages.”
“If you were injured, you would inform us, I am sure,” Merle said.
“Sure,” Stan said. Mearl saw through the lie.
“I understand you may have a cultural or societal difference that means you are reluctant to tell us when you are in ill health, particularly if it is minor enough to not affect your daily activities. However, we are unaware of much of human biology, and as such-”
“I need to tell you if I’m sick or hurt, I get it,” Stan muttered. Merle sighed.
“It is for your own good, Stanley. We are taking care of you. We cannot return you to Earth worse than we took you.”
If I go back to Earth. With each day that passed, Stan was more and more reluctant to go back to his home planet. Sure, Earth was a bit easier in that he knew a language spoken there and one of its many cultures. But that was where the easiness ended. He didn’t have money or a home or even a family that really cared about him on Earth. Here, though? I’ve got all three. The alien family currently housing him insisted on giving him an allowance, which he mostly used on clothes and food, trying out everything that he could wear and digest.
“No, I get it,” Stan repeated. He looked off in the direction Angie and Lute had disappeared to. “Where do they go every day?”
“Whom?”
“Angie and Lute.”
“Oh, they attend an educational facility,” Merle said with a shrug. “It is the learning season.”
“Wait, they go to school?” Stan asked. Merle nodded. “Huh.” Stan looked down at the pile of weeds at his feet. He felt insane for the question he was about to ask, but couldn’t help himself. “…Can I go?” Merle blinked in surprise.
“I did not think you wished to attend school,” he said, setting down the livestock feed. “Would you share your reasoning?”
“Well, I don’t get to see much of the planet. It’s just the farm and the weekly trip to town. It’d be kinda nice to meet some more of you guys and learn about your culture.”
“Ah.” Merle nodded wisely. “You are getting…” He frowned. “I am uncertain of how it would translate, as it is an idiom, but it refers to feeling uncomfortable staying in one place for too long.”
“Cabin fever,” Stan supplied.
“That is the human term?”
“English, at least.”
“So strange, that your planet has multiple languages,” Merle muttered to himself. He raised an eyebrow. “I understand this reasoning, but…most juveniles would be thrilled they do not need to attend their daily lessons.”
“If we were back on Earth, I’d be the same way. But alien school sounds interesting. And I wouldn’t mind some more time with Angie and Lute.”
“Hmm.” Merle seemed thoughtful. “Yes, that makes sense. Still, though, why would you wish to pursue any sort of schooling in a place you only plan to temporarily reside?” His Kelly green eyes bore into Stan. “Unless there is something you have not told me.” A silence stretched. “Stanley. Do not pretend you are not considering staying here. I have noticed how silent you get when we plan for your return to Earth. And your remarks about how your stay here might be longer than a year have not gone unnoticed, either.”
“…Fine,” Stan muttered. “I- I don’t wanna go back to Earth.” Merle sat down on one bag of feed and patted the other. Stan sat down on the other bag of feed.
“Why?”
“You guys are nicer to me than anyone on Earth is.”
“What about your family?”
“You know that I was kicked out,” Stan said quietly.
“Yes, by your father. Do you not have other family members?”
“Everyone fell in line when Pops kicked me out. I guess…I guess they all agreed it was what I deserved. Or that it was time for me to leave, since I wasn’t contributing anything to the family.”
“Impossible,” Merle said immediately. “Individuals contribute to a family by merely belonging to it.”
“Yeah, well, that might be in your family, but it’s not how it works in mine. Ever since I was a kid, I had to earn my keep by helping out in the family business.” Stan sighed. “If you guys don’t want to keep putting a roof over my head or whatever, I understand. But I- I don’t have anything on Earth for me. I don’t have anyone. So if you guys would be willing to let me stay and work here, I-”
“Of course,” Merle said firmly. He placed a blue hand on Stan’s knee. “We love having you with us.” Stan looked at him in surprise.
“You do?”
“Yes! You are a wonderful young man. Are you rough around the edges? Yes. But many people in your situation would be.” Merle smiled warmly, baring his nightmarish teeth. “We would be more than happy to continue housing you.” Stan’s heart pounded in his chest.
“R-really?” he stammered. Merle nodded.
“Yes. I will speak to the member of the Council supervising your case of accidental abduction and inform him of your wishes to stay here.”
“That- that’s great,” Stan said, relieved. He’d been worried the aliens wouldn’t want to let him continue staying with them, even if he helped out around the farm. Sure, they were nice, but it could have been an act from the parents. Angie and Lute, though, Stan knew for a fact genuinely liked him. They weren’t very good at hiding their emotions.
“However, all of this requires one condition,” Merle said somberly.
“What?”
“When we return to your home solar system during the flock’s annual intergalactic migration, you must visit Earth briefly. We will come to the planet surface with you and even walk around. But I want to ensure that your home planet does not call to you.”
“…Call to me?”
“Certain species do poorly when removed from their home planet. They are tethered too tightly to it,” Merle said softly. “You are in perfect health now, yes, but you may weaken the longer you are from your home planet. If you find yourself feeling better upon visiting Earth, you are likely tethered. In which case, we would be morally required to leave you.”
“O-oh.” Stan swallowed.
“However, if you are tethered, we will be able to make accommodations for you nonetheless.”
“I don’t need-” Stan started.
“Oh, I understand you may not need nor want assistance. But it is still available.” A twinkle appeared in Merle’s eye. “This information has not been shared with you yet, but one of my children actually resides on Earth. He is there to study your culture and language, as well as keep an eye on extraterrestrial activities that your species is not ready to encounter yet. Should you be tethered, and thus need to stay on Earth, we can arrange for you to stay with my son.” It felt like a weight was lifted off Stan’s shoulders.
I’ve slept on other people’s couches before, I can do it again until I get back on my feet. And I’ve lived with strange aliens this long, what’s another?
“Do you understand, Stanley?” Merle asked. Stan nodded. “Excellent. I will contact your case manager.”
“But, um, before you do that,” Stan said.
“Yes?”
“About me going to school…”
“Ah. Yes.” Merle chuckled softly. “I would be more than happy to enroll you. But while the translators may work on spoken words, they are not able to translate written words. We should probably teach you how to write at least your name in our tongue before sending you to Angie and Lute’s Advanced Chemistry class.”
#I'm gonna be getting a new brace tomorrow that might restrict my typing abilities for a while again so you better enjoy this ;P#Accidental Abduction AU#Stanley Pines#Pa McGucket#Lute McGucket#McGucket Family#ficlet#my writing#my stuff#speecher speaks
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like i’m gonna lose you ~ machine gun kelly
part one
word count: 2276
request?: kind of?
description: after a painful reconnection, he decides to prove to her that he will do anything to get her back
pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader
warnings: swearing
based (partially) on this song
masterlist
As he promised, the news of Colson and Megan’s “breakup” came a few days after our discussion. The news broke first on an few online tabloids, then Colson took to his social media to “confirm the rumors”.
“We’re just not right for one another,” he wrote in his post. “I still love Megan as a friend, and we’re going to stay in each other’s life. We both want our privacy during this time.”
Strangely enough, the conversation we had plus the actual confirmation that the fake relationship was over gave me a better sense of closure than our actual breakup had. I knew why Colson had ended things, and I knew that what he had with Megan wasn’t real and that it was over for good now. It was better than thinking he had suddenly stopped loving me after all those years.
Even with that closure, though, I stayed true to my word. Colson unblocked me and re-followed me on all his social media, and let me know he had unblocked my number from his phone by sending me a text. But I wouldn’t budge on trying to get back together with him. With the closure I had, I was starting to feel like I could move on from our breakup and be somewhat happy again.
It was hard to completely move on, though, when Colson was still trying to reach out to me constantly. He respected my boundaries and would stop whenever I asked him to, but it also didn’t take too long before he would message me again. Part of me wanted to block him back - it would’ve been beyond satisfying to reverse the roles on him and leave him blocked and heartbroken without explanation. But I was also enjoying getting to talk to him again, even if I knew it would lead to more heartbreak eventually.
The day I arrived home from work to find him sat on my doorstep, I felt something snap inside of me. The built up anger and sadness from the past year was finally bubbling over, and I had the exact person who had caused it all sat on my doorstep.
I got out of my car and slammed the door so hard I was shocked the windows didn’t shatter. “Colson, you can’t just fucking show up on my doorstep unannounced. This is borderline stalking now.”
“I want to talk like adults but you just keep brushing me off,” he retorted. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Respect my fucking boundaries maybe? Realize that if I’m telling you that I don’t want to talk to you or see you that I actually fucking mean it?”
He stood from the doorstep and shoved his hands in his pocket. “I know that you mean it.”
I glared at him as I tried to shove past him to get through my door. He moved to stand in my way again, which just made me feel even more angry.
“If you know that I mean it,” I hissed, “then leave me the fuck alone Colson. You’ve hurt me enough, I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“I know I hurt you,” he said. “And I know that there’s nothing I can do to fix that, but please, let me try at least.”
“You did try, and I turned you down, remember? Now fuck off.”
I managed to push him out of my way in order to get into the house. He stood on my doorstep watching me for some time, and I knew that meant he wasn’t going away. No matter how hard I wanted to let him go, I knew my heart wasn’t going to let me. I sighed heavily and turned to face him.
“This is your last chance,” I told him. “You can come in and we can talk like adults, but just know that whatever decision I make after this is my final decision. No more of this harassing me and showing up on my doorstep. If I tell you to leave and you show up again I will call the cops on you, and I have a feeling that’s the last thing your manager wants.”
Colson nodded and followed me into my house.
I watched as he looked around, taking in the familiar place that he once called a second home. Very little had changed since we broke up, except for the fact that I got rid of all the pictures I had of the two of us. I was sure he had noticed that.
“Your place was always so much cozier than mine,” he commented.
“It’s cause it’s smaller,” I told him. “Your place is good for all the people you have over, but when it’s just you and Casie it’s far too big.”
“It is,” he agreed. “I would prefer to live in a place like this.”
“You could’ve,” I found myself muttering. Unfortunately, I said it a little too loud and Colson caught the comment. His face changed then, a sad wave washing over him.
“I should’ve,” he said. “God, I’m a fucking idiot.”
“We’ve been over that.”
He followed me to the kitchen and sat down at my table. Despite it only being early evening, I decided this moment called for a glass of wine. I poured myself one, and decided to mix Colson a drink with the liquor I knew he liked most.
“Saying I didn’t mean to hurt you is the stupidest thing ever,” he said after taking a giant gulp from the glass. “Of course I was going to hurt you. I broke up with you out of nowhere and then just ghosted you for a year. I guess...I thought that would be easier. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t love you enough to fight for you over my career.”
“I’m glad you realize how shitty and stupid that idea you had was. I wish you would’ve told me from the start what the plan was. I wouldn’t have been as hurt if you had.”
“I know...I know.”
I took a sip of my wine and immediately wished it was something stronger, something that would get me fucked up within minutes of drinking it.
I was mentally kicking myself for letting him back in again. That time at the coffee shop hurt enough and that was an accidental encounter we had. But to actually bring him into my home when I was finally starting to move on? I must really like to be hurt, because it seemed as though I was constantly trying to hurt myself lately.
“What would you have said if I had told you?” he asked. “Truthfully.”
I took a moment to think the situation over, to try and decide how I would’ve reacted if he had told me from the beginning instead of just breaking my heart.
“I still would’ve been hurt,” I admitted. “Not by you but by your manager. He knew about us, and even though we never went public with the relationship, my friends and family know. It wouldn’t exactly have been as easy to explain the whole publicity stunt relationship thing to any of them. I’d probably try to come up with a better solution, and if that didn’t work then...I’d just have to accept it.”
“Would you have stayed with me?”
I was shocked by his question. “Of course I would’ve. Everything between you and Megan was fake, there were no real feelings. Sure, seeing the pictures and everything would’ve hurt, but at the end of the day it would be me you were holding and kissing and actually loving. I probably could’ve been friends with Megan instead of hating her guts.”
Colson looked down at his glass, which was now almost empty. “I thought you would’ve broken up with me if I told you the truth.”
“You don’t know me that well, obviously,” I said. “Colson, there were ways around this. You didn’t have to break my heart.”
I could see that his eyes were starting to become more wet with tears. He was trying to hide them, but once his eyes starting welling up, his nose and his cheeks became flush and I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow his tears.
“I fucking hate him, man,” he finally said, his voice cracking slightly. “He’s supposed to help me with my career, not put my career first over my own life and my happiness. And I hate myself too for thinking the best way to deal with this was to break up with you completely.”
I sat back in my chair, unsure of what to do. I wanted to comfort him, of course, but I didn’t want him to think that crying was going to get him off the hook. I was glad he was feeling my pain, but fuck did I ever hate to see Colson cry.
“I hated you, too,” I admitted. “I slandered your name to anyone who would listen. Eventually my friends got sick of hearing the name Colson Baker come out of my mouth, but they all knew how hurt I was.”
“Do you still hate me?”
I shook my head. “No. I never truly hated you. I just wanted to hate you, because hating you was easier than still being in love with you and watching you fall in love with someone else.”
He started to reach for my hands, but pulled away just as quickly. He sat back in his own chair, putting as much space between the two of us as possible. “There could never be anyone else. You’re my one and only, (Y/N), you always have been.”
I let the silence wash over the two of us. I wanted to let his words hang over us, to try and digest them and decide how I felt in that moment.
“I had a dream while you were on tour,” I said after a moment. “Well, a nightmare really. We had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, and when I woke up I couldn’t find you. You weren’t in the house, you weren’t answering your phone, none of your friends or Casie knew where you were. I began to panic. I went driving and drove the entirety of Cleveland looking for you, but I couldn’t find you. Around the end of the dream, I was screaming your name and I could hear you calling back to me, but the more I ran to find you the further away you got. I eventually woke up drenched in sweat and crying because I thought it was real.”
“That was the night you called me,” he said. “I remember I was having a bad night mentally and all I wanted was to have you on the tour bus with me, in my arms. Then you called, and I thought it was like...a sign or something. Something good.”
I couldn’t help but smile at this. “I never told you because I thought it was a stupid nightmare, and I didn’t wanna be one of those girlfriends that calls in need of constant reassurance about their relationship.”
“I would’ve reassured you no matter how many times you called me.”
I looked down at my own glass, nearly empty as well.
“Can we ever go back from this?” Colson asked. “Can we try to start over after what happened?”
“How do you start over after spending five years with someone?” I asked. “We were basically married, how do you just go back to square one after that?”
“Well...you try and gain that trust back, then you try and get things back to how they were before,” he explained. “I don’t expect it to happen overnight, but I can’t be without you anymore (Y/N). It’s driving me crazy, you drive me crazy.”
I felt tears stinging my eyes, and I realized in that moment that Colson was now freely crying in front of me. God, we were both just messes. I wished none of this had ever happened.
“You really hurt me,” I said, my voice just barley a whisper.
“I know,” he said. “I know I did. I don’t expect you to ever forget that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, I know that.”
“I’ll never forget it,” I confirmed. “But knowing the reasoning makes it easier to forgive.”
When he reached for my hand this time, I met him halfway.
“It won’t be easy,” I told him. “You know that, right? I’m not going to come running into your arms again after a few nights. You have to work for this, Colson.”
“I know,” he repeated. “I’ll do anything, (Y/N).”
Despite my better judgement, I sat forward and looked into his eyes. God, I loved those beautiful blue eyes more than anything in this world.
“You can start by kissing me.”
He nearly jumped over the table at this. He took my face in his hands and pressed my lips against his. I had missed this feeling so much; the pure passion that came with every kiss. I put a hand behind his neck to keep him close. I never wanted to let go ever again.
He pulled away first and rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”
“I don’t want to hear those words out of your mouth ever again,” I told him. “We’re forgetting this, remember?”
He smiled. “Okay, then how about these words: I love you.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. The magic words I had longed to hear for so long, they sounded so right coming from his lips. “I love you, too.”
#machine gun kelly#machine gun kelly imagine#machine gun kelly x reader#colson baker#colson baker imagine#colson baker x reader#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom#like i'm gonna lose you#meghan trainor
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just right
pairing: miya osamu x reader
tws: body insecurity, catcalling, self-starving
wc: 5.1k
prompt: Person A and B aren’t a couple, but A is crushing massively on B. A decides to change to get B’s attention, and while B doesn’t know about this crush, B starts to notice that A is starting to look and act differently... But B doesn’t like it and decides to confront A. What is the confrontation like? How does A react?
summary: the 6 things you want to avoid for him, and the 1 thing he wants you to avoid for him.
insp: GOT7′s Just Right, lovely - millz
special thanks to the betas that read over this @haikyuu-ink @fukuronani and @ardorwrites-hq-mha <33
this is a special love poem for all y’all that are going through something like this. psa: it gets better <3333
The lunch ladies were all flabbergasted when you skipped your usual side dishes and asked them to give you a piece smaller than your usual.
“But you’ll go hungry!” one of them said. You shrugged and gave them an apologetic smile. You turned your head to the side to avoid smelling even more of the scrumptious food in front of you. Instead, you focus your eyes on the small bowl in front of you. There’s some rice the size of a child’s fist coupled with a piece of fish smaller than an iPod shuffle.
Osamu pulls out his regular bento that he made himself after complaining that the ones you make weren’t enough to keep him fed throughout the day. There are three onigiris per usual. All three of them were meant to be for him, but you started nicking so much of them for yourself that he let you have one eventually.
So when you didn’t creep your hand from under his larger elbow to swipe at the snack, he stopped eating all at once. The onigiri hung suspended inches away from his ready mouth, locked in their place by your out of place habits.
He holds it out so tantalizingly in front of you, the human personification of the devil on your left shoulder egging you to take the snack from the plastic bag in front of you. Osamu doesn’t say anything, but the nudge on your arm and the small raise of his chin asks you soundlessly: “You’re not going to eat it?”
You shake your head and continue nibbling on the fish to savor the flavor for longer. Osamu tilts his head.
“You’re not going to eat it?” Osamu says out loud. Atsumu stops his blabbering from across the table and puts his chopsticks down.
“Oh? What’s this? Our gluttonous (Y/N) isn’t eating that much anymore?” Atsumu asks. You wrinkle your nose at the other twin. Osamu’s still holding the onigiri. He makes it look like an object worthy of being your Holy Grail, perhaps even better than that. It takes all your resolve to hold back from running to the lunch ladies and demanding seconds.
“I figured that you would be tired of me stealing your food all this time, so,” you pushed his outstretched hand away from you, “you can have it this time.”
“But I don’t want it,” Osamu says. He slides the unwrapped onigiri back to you and opens another one.
“You can give it to Atsumu,” you say, sliding the snack to the other side of the table.
“Yeah, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says, using your nickname for his twin. It drips in mock sweetness that would make anyone grimace. Atsumu mockingly opens and closes his hand, even though there’s a mountain of rice and enough vegetables to feed an unwasteful family for a month on his own plate. “Give it to Atsumu.”
Osamu rolls his eyes at his twin and looks back at you. Like he’s going to give the fruits of his hard work to his no-good twin. His eyes widen again as he taps your elbow with the onigiri like you’re a stray cat deprived of warmth.
“You don’t have to give it to me, ‘Samu. I’m fine.” The groaning of your stomach says otherwise. Osamu looks at you with his ‘I-told-you-so’ eyes. You bat your eyes and open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He holds out the piece of onigiri again.
You chew on the last mouthful of rice, sucking out all the flavor from the grains before swallowing it and putting down your chopsticks. Osamu keeps eye contact with you as you rise from the lunch table, looking like a puppy that had been kicked to the streets by its beloved owner.
“I’m on a diet,” you mutter, as you make your way back to class alone. “See you at practice later.”
Osamu stares at your retreating back, before finishing the onigiri that was meant to be yours.
Osamu forgot the name of the female idol a minute into the interview. The other boys in his class had been raving about her since class began. The minute the teacher left to go to the office, it was phones out and social norms out the window apparently, as they ogled the beauty giving the interviewer a way too good view of her legs.
He balances the pencil between his lips and nose as he eavesdrops on the conversation. He catches glimpses here and there of who they’re talking to, but they’re not enough to pique his interest. Truth be told, Osamu would much rather like it if the ones talking to each other in close proximity on a loveseat were you and him.
“Yo Osamu!” one of his classmates, Osamu has better things to know than his name, calls out with a slap on his back.
“Are you a fan of her too?” the classmates asks. Osamu twirls the pen around his fingers silently, not feeding into the question.
“There must have been something you liked about her,” one of the boys says, leaning on Osamu’s desk. Osamu has half the mind to tell him to move his arse to the dumpster where it belongs.
“She…” Osamu shrugs saying the first things that come to mind, “has a cute laugh, I guess. Doesn’t snort like those comedians on game shows,” he says. Of course, he doesn’t mean it, he just hopes that the boys will go away if he makes a dry comment.
The boys thought that Osamu couldn’t even digest the basic mechanisms of a laugh at the end of the day anyway, so they rolled their eyes and went back to happily watching.
You stare at your hands as you listen to his words on the other side of the class.
“And then she slams into the wall, face first. When I saw her through the window, I thought she was Peppa Pig reincarnated as a human, without the pig,” Atsumu jokes later at practice.
A smile breaks out onto your lips, widening into a hearty laugh. You’re about to slap your thigh in mirth, but are suddenly jolted back to reality when you catch a glimpse of Osamu.
You laugh, but your signature snorts and chortles are gone, replaced with a tinkly giggle that makes Osamu want to punch people who laugh like that. And the wide smile on your face is hidden behind your hands, what’s up with that? But since you’re the one that’s laughing, he clenches his fist and squeezes his knee to redirect his excess tension.
You keep it up for the rest of practice as you continue with your duties as manager. The first-years that see you as their friendly senpai chat you up as usual. Osamu has more pressing appointments, like the ball hurtling towards his face at 75 miles per hour, so the face of the fella that’s making you cover up your pretty little laugh automatically stamped onto the ball in Osamu’s mind, as he spikes the ball back with a deathly force.
Osamu’s always been content with the circumstances he was born in, but right now, he wished that he was born with a superpower. Telekinesis, more specifically, so he can ward off the hands that cover your mouth and the vocal cords that constrict the laughter that is so uniquely you.
Maybe that’s why he’s thinking about you much more than he usually does.
He doesn’t pay much attention to how much of it he’s giving you until Atsumu brings it up later on the way back home.
“Ya’ was staring at her so hard I thought your eyes were ‘bout to pop outta your ugly face,” Atsumu says. Osamu isn’t fazed, having faced almost 17 years of the same insults over and over again from his twin that just never seems to learn any new ones. He keeps walking.
“We have the same face, Einstein,” he retorts. There are a few minutes of silence between the twins as they pass the scenery of Hyogo. But curiosity gets the best of Osamu.
“Staring at who?” Osamu asks, finally getting his twin’s insult.
“Ya got the nerve to call me Einstein but can’t figure out something like that, eh?”
Osamu stops right in his tracks. Atsumu keeps on walking but stops as well when he realizes he’s left behind his twin. Osamu gives Atsumu a blank look.
Atsumu clicks his tongue. “(Y/N), ya’ dummy. From the way you were lookin’ at her, I thought she ate one of your snacks or something.” Atsumu rests his head between his hands.
“Not like ya’ would ever let anyone hurt her.”
You had anticipated what was going to come ever since the bus had dropped the team off at the beach. The boys of the volleyball team were overall respectful men, but they were teenage boys, at best. You caught their lingering stares and the way they would fight for the court nearest to the biggest gaggle of girls on the beach.
Which is why you had come prepared.
The boys rush into the sea one by one as they strip off their jerseys into the sand. You shake your head as you pick them up one by one. You roll up the sleeves of the crewneck to make it easier to reach below, but the sheer insulation it’s giving you is making it hard to take a step.
“Come on out (Y/N)! We’ll feed ya to the sharks!” Atsumu shouts from where he’s paddling in the surf.
“How about I feed you sand and rocks in your rice later tonight?” you holler back. Atsumu instantly goes slack-jawed and camouflages himself amongst the sea foam and other beach-goers.
There’s exactly one jersey missing from the bundle you have in your hand. Huh. All the boys should have finished practice by now. You scanned the beach line, looking for any black shirts in the distance. All of them were swimming in the ocean shirtless by now.
Except the one looming over your shoulder right now. You jump back at the sight of his shadow standing intimidatingly above you, but you reel back once you get a peep of his ash hair.
“Aren’t you going in the water, (Y/N)?” he asks. There’s a stick of fried squid in his hand. “You worked really hard back there, you know.” The combination of sudden confrontation and the crewneck’s heat-trapping material has you sweating a flood.
“I’m fine just sitting here, Osamu. You can go play with the boys if you want to,” you say. Osamu gazes at the water that reflects the sunlight so perfectly it mimics freshly polished diamonds. He rubs his chin in thought, before turning back to you.
“What are you going to do in the meantime?”
You settle back on the chair you had put in a shady spot before everyone else was even up. It took a little pocket money and some convincing, but the guy that owned the shaved ice stand right in front of the chair had saved it especially for you. You hold up the book on the table.
“Calculus.”
“In this heat?”
“Just because we’re at the beach doesn’t mean I can slack off on my studies.” You flip open the book. “You can just leave me here. I’ll be alright.”
Osamu looks at the sea, then back at you. You’re praying to the heavens above that he’ll just go play, so you can get this damn thing off without having to worry about any of them— especially the twins— seeing. It’s the first time you would be exposed this much around them anyways. You really should have brought a lighter and looser shirt along with you.
“Then I’ll stay here with you,” Osamu says. Shoot.
“Y-you will?” He nods. “Sure you don’t want to go cool off in the sea? Or get some food? You should really go out in the sun, you know. Everyone’s been asking me if you’re alright because you’re so pale.”
“Do they?” You curse at yourself as he pulls over an unused chair from an unoccupied table. Osamu sets it in the sun, inches away from where you’re sitting in the shade. He props up his leg. “This counts as tanning, right?”
“I guess,” you mutter.
Osamu puts his sunglasses on and goes back to eating the stick of fried squid. From time to time, he glances at your sweaty body. It was 30 degrees outside and you insisted on wearing the team’s winter crewneck? Some heat tolerance you had. Or probably it wasn’t your heat tolerance. Osamu wouldn’t know, seeing as he was interrupted by loud hooting.
“Nice bikini, sweetheart! Sure you don’t wanna share some of that with me?”
“I would tap that!”
“Major babe at 10 o’clock!”
Surely that couldn’t be the team. They had been raised better than that after a whole school year spent drilling the Peeping Toms of the team harder than ever, courtesy of their kickass manager: you.
Thank goodness it wasn’t. A group of boys around your age paraded around just a few meters from where you sat on the beach. Their noisy brags sent a young toddler screaming back to his mother and a poor dog back to the ocean. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for them as they made their way down.
“What about her, bro?” a scrawny one asked the tallest, most likely the leader of the group. They stopped just in front of the shaved ice stand you were lounging at, waiting at their friends to finish their transactions.
“Which one?” the leader asked.
“The one near the table.” You looked up. The boy was pointing a long, thin finger your way. There was no one around where you were sitting except for Osamu.
“Nah. Bet she’s not worth it. I wouldn’t go for her, and I feel sorry for the bros that do.”
They were talking about you.
You fished around in your bag for your sunglasses. Shoot, you had left them at the inn this morning. You settled for putting a hand on your temple in hopes that they wouldn’t see your eyes.
But you would be lying to say that it didn’t hurt. The one thing you were trying so hard to avoid during your stay at the beach now thrust on you when you didn’t even ask for it? After all you had taken to avoid it?
The lump in your throat was getting bigger and bigger by the moment. Maybe you should remove yourself from the situation. The boys already knew what time their curfews were and they were in good hands. You shut the book and put it back in your bag. Osamu pulls down his glasses to see you getting ready to go somewhere.
“Where are you going?” he asks. Osamu stands up again. Please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me.
“I’ll be—” your voice cracks. Shoot. “I’ll be back at the inn if you need me.” Before he can ask you any more questions, you turn on your heel and make your way back.
“Hey, say that again,” a voice says. It’s soft, but pillows used to suffocate people to death are also soft. It’s Osamu.
“Say what?” the leader asks. “You her boyfriend?”
You freeze in your tracks and take a peep behind you. The boys are chest to chest, Osamu having the advantage of height by only a few inches. The boy isn’t fazed at all. He smiles at Osamu,but it’s poison honey that would make anyone want to slap him across the face.
“I can hook you up with some chicks way out of her league. You could do it, man. Come on,” the boy says.
“Shut your trap,” Osamu retorts.
“You’re just salty ‘cause you couldn’t find a chick hotter than her.”
Things are going to get worse. Without looking back, you make your way back to the safety of the inn.
Maybe Osamu was lying about the scars on his knuckles.
Osamu loses his sanity at the same pace the clock ticks. A few more minutes left. Maybe he should go get some fresh air out in the hallways. The hallways are almost empty, save for a few last-minute stragglers that rush to get to their classes on time. With everyone that passes, the feeling of dread eats him up as he worries that you’re not going to make it.
“Morning, ‘Samu!” someone greets from behind him. The early morning sunlight on your face made it look like you had a rosy tint on your cheeks. As you stepped closer, Osamu realized that if he stroked a finger across your cheek, it would definitely come back absolutely stained with blush.
There was also a light sheen of pigment on your lips. Not like the normal shade of your lips weren’t perfectly kissable. But Osamu would digress.
“Are you wearing makeup?” Osamu asks. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You just…” Osamu gestures at your face, now caked on with makeup that you usually wouldn’t wear. “This is why you were late?”
“No! I actually—” But then there’s a knocking on the table at the front, and everyone is back in their seats in an instant. The bespectacled teacher surveys the room. His eyes linger a bit longer on your bedazzled look, but they flit away just as quickly to the open book in hand.
“Today, we’re going to talk about ideal types,” the teacher says. A few people in the back snigger, but the teacher pays them no mind.
“Miya Osamu! What are you looking for when it comes to a partner?” You roll your eyes at the classes jeering, but find yourself leaning back to hear Osamu’s answer. Osamu looks up at the ceiling.
“Someone… quiet? Maybe so I don’t have to deal with all their bull—” Osamu’s just bs-ing it of course, but there are people in the class that hand onto his every word like it’s the actual truth. Yourself included.
“Language!” the teacher snaps.
“In accordance with the reading material, does anyone know the reason why we have ideal types?”
“Yes, (Y/N)?”
“We have ideal partners whose natural defenses contradict with our own. If we’re shy and quiet, we tend to pursue people who are aggressive and pursuing, for example.”
“Good. Can anyone tell me how this would have protected us in the past?”
“Yes, (Y/N)?” the teacher asks again. The teacher sighs, even though you see no one behind you raising their hands. From your peripheral vision, you catch Osamu laying his head on his hands. He stares out the window like he’s bored with class… or perhaps bored with you?
“I... was just stretching, sorry.”
“Very well then.”
The second you put your hand down, Osamu looks back at the teacher. Did he not want to hear you yammer on again? He did say that he liked quiet girls.
All the more reason for you to turn it down a notch.
So you do, during math, when you clearly have a final result of 25 written clearly on your paper. Yet when the teacher asks for answers, you fumble with the pencil on your desk to make it seem like you’re working.
And again, during science, when your group in lab has finished the experiment yards above everyone else. But you stall and crumple up the paper near your chest, and only hand in the result once another group has gone and given the teacher theirs.
And again during History, when you give another lame excuse that your report on Date Masamune isn’t finished, just so you wouldn’t be the only one presenting in class that day. Osamu clearly sees the papers with “One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu, Date Masamune,” on the title page, but says nothing.
He doesn’t really do anything. It’s your life after all, why should he tell you how to live it? But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss your quick answers to the teacher’s questions, always summing up the points better than the teachers.
In the end, he leaves you be and ignores the feeling in his gut he gets whenever he sees you wearing more makeup than you usually do. That is until he’s passing by the teacher’s office on his way to practice and happens to spot you. It’s unlike him to care about other people’s business, much less snoop into them, but Osamu finds himself stalling at the water fountain next to the door even when his own bottle is still full.
“I just think I ought to hold back a bit. Everyone probably thinks I’m a bit overbearing, so i’ll just… tone it down a bit,” you say. Tone what down?
“You don’t need to, (Y/N),” someone, probably your science teacher, replied.
“It’s alright, sir, I promise.”
“Really? You seem to have changed a little this past month.” Pure facts. Even though he never said it out loud, anyone would have noticed the way you put on more makeup and started to become quieter and quieter.
“I haven’t, really.”
“You’re also starting to become more tardy, (Y/N). Is everything alright back home?” You chuckled.
“Everything’s fine, sir, it really is.”
How believable.
The final straw that breaks the camel’s back comes a few weeks after that. Coach looks over at the boys that aren’t playing on water-refilling duty, their manager absent and nowhere to be found.
“Where’s (Y/N)?” the coach barks at the second years. Aran shrugs and looks expectantly over to Atsumu and Osamu.
“Sick. Stomach flu,” Atsumu says in the middle of his set.
“And no one’s gone and checked up on her?”
“Her mom said that (Y/N)’s “not in the mood for entertaining guests,” or whatever excuse she has for missing that killer math test yesterday.” Atsumu puts in air quotes for emphasis.
It’s Osamu’s turn to serve, but his legs don’t seem to want to move anywhere. They’re anchored down to the floor by the thought of none other than you. You were generally healthy, with no other severe conditions that would knock you out for a long time. And Osamu was with you for the past few days. You hadn’t eaten anything sketchy, albeit you did eat a lot less than your usual portions.
He shrugs it off and slams the ball to the other side of the net.
The bell screeches from up above, the savior melody of bored students who are aching to eat and spend some time away from the teachers.
“Hey, (Y/N), wanna go get some…” You heed him no mind, the only acknowledgment of his presence a slight bump on his shoulder as you walk out into the hall. That’s odd. Osamu steps out of the classroom to call your name out into the hallways, but you’ve disappeared under the wave of students heading for lunch. Rather than embarrass himself, Osamu decides to go eat.
He has half a mind to go get you from your other friends to go home when the sun starts to dip against the Hyogo sky. A raised eyebrow graces his face as he is told that neither your friends can be able to locate you, what with your bag and other possessions gone from your lockers.
Practice is another pain in the back to deal with, harshened by a new realization. It’s been dawning on him for a long time now, but he’s hesitant to take any action without further proof.
Osamu lays a hand on the doorknob of the locker rooms. There are whispers outside the door. Normally, he couldn’t care less for other people’s business—tea was where Atsumu truly shined— but of course, it just had to be your voice on the other side of the door.
“Why can’t you just give it to ‘em yourself?” Atsumu asks. If this was going to be a scene straight out of a cliche teen romance, Osamu would make a run for it. You click your tongue.
“Just because, Atsumu. Give it to him or I’m not leaking the answers to tomorrow’s chemistry quiz to you,” you reply back.
“If this wasn’t my twin, I wouldda cast you out to the streets already, (Y/N).”
“He’s better off not seeing me, okay?”
Oh. Well, now all the puzzle pieces have fallen into place.
You’re cornered. Why does coach have to have this day of all days to direct his frustration at Osamu. Maybe coach’s anger wasn’t really that baseless though— Osamu constantly missing his serves and crooked spikes would be enough to irk any volleyball player enough to make him run laps around the gym. And since it was getting late and everyone wanted to go home, who else to better oversee Osamu’s punishment other than their sweet manager?
“And… 100,” you call from across the hall. Osamu crouches on his knees and pants. With heavy, laboured steps, Osamu trudges all the way to the wall next to the bench where you’re sitting. And promptly makes himself comfortable just a meter a way from you on the wooden tiles. You furrow your eyebrows at him from on the bench.
“Hey, (Y/N),” he asks almost lazily. You grip the bench seats. Please don’t drag this out, please don’t drag this out. Osamu turns his head slowly to fix his eyes on your shaking figure. You spy the door over at the edge of the gym, wondering if you can make it before Osamu’s athlete reflexes can catch up to you.
But your neck moves on its own, turning your head around to make direct eye contact with your former best friend.
“Take ‘yer makeup off.” Osamu says it like a command, the tone of his voice alone enough to make you reach for your eyebrows that you had so painstakingly labored over this past morning to look presentable… for Osamu.
“What?” you ask. With a click of his tongue, Osamu rises up from his position laying down on the floor and moves to where you’re sitting. He doesn’t break eye contact as he puts either hand on the sides of your hips, effectively caging you inside his arms. You can feel his heavy breaths on your forehead.
Osamu looks up at you. For someone like him, he looks disoriented as can be. Pupils widened, breath turning shallower, and sweating even heavier.
“Why’re you doing this, (Y/N)?” he mumbles. “You’re clearly uncomfortable under all that makeup, and I can tell you wanna punch the daylights out of that girl for making fun of Isaac Newton’s wig.”
He catches himself, realizing that the volume of his voice is growing steadily louder and louder, and that you’re shrinking in your seat. Osamu sighs and takes his hand off the bench. The air is now fresh, but Osamu’s musk is still enough to make you dizzy with images of his face only a hair’s width away from you.
You’re not sure if you hate it.
“I-I’m sorry?” you ask Osamu, who has now taken a seat on the bench right next to you. He leans on the wall, only eyes moving to look at you. Osamu shrugs and takes a swig of the water bottle on the bench before dropping his head in between his legs.
You scoff. Osamu, being the one to say all this? The nerve this boy has. The mental wall that is the dam to your emotions breaks.
“You really are dumber than Atsumu, eh?” Osamu perks up at the sound of your voice. “You know why I didn’t go to school for those two days? I burned myself on my hair straightener, because I didn’t want to take a chance to let you see me like that!”
You let the neckline of your sweater fall, the purple, rectangle burn still as clear as day on the skin of your neck. Osamu’s eyes widened. He raises a hand to touch it, but the likes of an invisible lasso hold him back from getting anywhere near you.
There’s a burning behind your eyes. The ground under you felt like a waterbed, wobbling with each step you take. This was not how you planned your first confession would go, but here you were.
“It’s because I like you, you dummy!” you cry, standing up.
Your words echo throughout the empty gym. If it didn’t echo through Osamu’s mind, then you were—
“I’m the dummy here? Tch, yeah right.”
Osamu looks to the sides of the hall like he’s planning an escape route. Well, no way to escape this situation now. You’re both mice in a trap, lured by the cheese that is your feelings, and pinned down by the current circumstances. He locks eyes with you for a second, before his eyes find something more interesting to look at— your lips.
“Only an airhead like you would go on to change themselves just so I would like them,” Osamu rises up to his full height, “when I already do in the first place.”
“You… what?” you ask.
“I like you.” Osamu can’t seem to make a decision on wether to look at your eyes or not. “But fuck that, if ya think ya gotta change yourself for me, then I’d rather not date at all.”
You scoff. So all your efforts had been for nothing?
“But you said you liked quiet girls! And—” Osamu raises an eyebrow.
“You believed that?”
“What else was I supposed to believe?” you screech.
There’s a large hand that’s harsh enough to send the hardest spikes across the net, yet gentle enough to toss the most careful sets and decorate the most delicate pieces of food in his bento. It’s on your cheek, wiping away tears that you didn’t know were there.
Hands lead up to muscular arms that greet you as you step inside his comforting embrace. There’s nothing except the sound of muffled crying through the halls. He does what he can, patting your back and offering his sweaty jersey as your handkerchief. If anyone walked in the gym right now, he would have given them a glare to send them running away for as long as they could run.
“That I like you just the way you are.”
taglist: @akaashit-baeji
#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#haikyuu x reader#osamu x reader#inarizaki x reader#miya osamu oneshot#miya osamu scenarios#haikyuuwritersnet#miya osamu x y/n#y/n#fluff#angst#haikyuu#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu scenarios
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Hey there! In regards to your post about white people adapting JTTW, how do you feel about Overly Sarcastic Productions' JTTW Videos?
Oh man I have a lot to say about this so I’m putting it under a cut, but
TLDR: OSP’s stuff is mostly harmless and I don’t think they’re being actively malicious or anything but like- they’re white and there is a loaded history behind white people using the stories from POC’s cultures, especially when the story seems to be made more “digestible” from an outside lens. Sometimes it feels like they don’t research enough, or even put in enough effort sometimes, and it sort of sucks to see when they’re profitting off it. It’s fine if you enjoy their adaptation and I’m not attacking OSP or anything, but I want people to recognize the experience they’re in for is a Chinese story through a white lens.
Also, tbh, just support Chinese people telling Chinese stories when you can. I know there’s no Chinese-made easily digestible mythology channel when you can watch JTTW right now, but that’s just a general rule of thumb. Support creators of color, please.
OSP’s stuff is mostly harmless and I don’t think they’re being actively malicious or anything but like- they’re white. As a POC, I’m never going to feel completely okay with white people adapting the stories of my culture without consulting some people from said culture. There’s a long history of POC’s religions being brushed off as “myth” and “fairytale” and although OSP don’t do that, the history of white people doing that is still there and thus as a POC, I’m not 100% comfortable with white people profitting off my culture’s stories. I think it’s great to introduce JTTW to more people, but honestly, I sort of wish they left that space to the people this story is important to.
(Also, I get that their channel style is very light-hearted and humorous, and JTTW is only getting the same treatment as their other adaptations, but look- a white person poking fun at POC’s gods is going to feel off no matter what.)
Also, the fact that they ended up using the Arthur Waley names really rubs me the wrong way. You’re gonna call them by their correct names for a while and then default to what’s “easier” for you? Literally, there’s no reason for them to use the whitewashed 4kids names and given their platform, they’re influencing a lot of people’s first interactions with JTTW so I just really hate that decision. I’d honestly sit through them mispronouncing the actual names because that’d mean they tried. And if I’m being completely honest, it doesn’t sit right with me that white people profitting off JTTW (both in terms of video monetization and channel merch), don’t put in the effort to learn how to say names correctly.
I also really dislike it when people take what OSP say as gospel because there’s a lot they get wrong in a lot of little ways. (OSP saying they’re “nothing if not faithful to the source material” in the first ep is quite a bold statement from some gweilo ngl)
I’m not really sure where they got “Sanzang is the main character” from, but most Chinese sources I know of don’t really say that? So? Hrm. Also small stuff like “studying the Dao! [shows drawing of Buddhist monks and not Daoist priests],” “I don’t know why they call him Sandy [if you google translate the first character, his surname is sand],” “the name Zhu Wuneng [shows characters for ‘Zhu Bajie”],’ “[makes the artistic choice to paint the Jade Emperor entirely green including his hat and therefore branding him a cuckold as per Chinese culture and THAT IS QUITE DISRESPECTFUL NGL]”, “[calls Taishang Laojun “Lao Tzu”]” make me feel like they’re not putting enough effort in doing their research? Like, yes, JTTW is a long story but stuff like mixing up Daoism and Buddhism and using the wrong characters for a name is stuff that’s really easily avoided.
And smaller detail but I don’t think they really get just how ubiquitous JTTW is in Chinese culture so I personally don’t find it as enjoyable an adaptation. Like, JTTW is an important story, but also it doesn’t occupy the space of a holy book where very few people actually go read it, and it doesn’t occupy the space of classical novels like Shakespearean literature where very few people actually go read it. As arguably the most approachable book out of the Four Great Classical Novels, JTTW is very common knowledge in people’s minds cuz everyone grows up hearing the story (some people even have it as summer reading). There are a few title chapters that people can instantly recognize, there are a few villains that people can grow up naming, and most people have a specific set of imagery that associate with each character. Stuff like this is humorously apparent when you do stuff like compare the English dub of Monkie Kid to the original Mandarin and discover just how much more added exposition there is. Small details in OSP’s adaptation, like Red Boy’s character design being a fully grown man instead of a baby, just bring you out of the story and remind you you’re not getting the full experience. It makes me feel like they just didn’t know Red Boy is traditionally a child with a huadian, whereas if I saw a Chinese adaptation with a fully grown Red Boy, I’d assume they were making a conscious choice to change it up.
Honestly a lot of their adaptation just feels very.... made digestible for non-Chinese audience, and not in a particularly faithful way? Like yeah you can make a story more easily accessible to people not originally from a culture, but don’t strip away parts of the culture, you can explain the parts of the culture and that’ll be infinitely more productive.
I understand a lot of people became interested in JTTW because of OSP’s work and I think that’s great! It’s cool to see JTTW gain more recognition in the western world! This isn’t an attack on OSP’s work and you’re totally able to enjoy watching it. I just want people to recognize OSP’s version of JTTW is a Chinese story told through a white lens.
And while i’m here, I just wanna say- tbh, just try to give the same support to Chinese people telling Chinese stories. I know there’s no Chinese-made easily digestible mythology channel when you can watch JTTW right now, but that’s just a general rule of thumb. Support creators of color, please.
#asks#anonymous#journey to the west#overly sarcastic productions#honestly a lot of this just comes down to representation#not a problem with osp personally but like- so many of their fans do stuff like ship Guanyin with people and call the Jade Emperor an idiot#and i feel like maybe OSP isnt emphasizing enough the nature of JTTW as a story if their fans feel comfortable doing *that*#hey people who found my jttw art from osp? please read this#edit: @dorkshadows also brings up the good point of..... wukong being misrepresented as someone who lacks braincells#like yes wukong has a shit ton of brute strength and he can solve problems by beating them up#but most of the time he doesnt? he is the literal embodiment of wit#he can make dumb decisions but honestly ive always seen them as arroange rather than pure impulsiveness#im an abc so im not the best authority but like... arent monkeys supposed to be seen as mischievously clever in chinese culture.....#its not the dumb ooh ooh ahh ahh monkey concept from western culture#idk the way wukong is portrayed just feels like a very westernized interpretation#please go look at @dorkshadows tags because theyre good too
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SSraii's not that rudimentary thumb
Journ-Neet-/
©® SSraii
୬/୦୨
started and completed the living world totally
mistakes corrected ✔️
SSraii should study
୨୧/୦୨ made to get this cutie pie today 💚
& yes you may know or may not know but I'm coming here everyday to edit to let you know that I was alive today with your prayers & Lord's blessings and I'm studying , preparing 🦩. for betterment.... ..... 🌸
୯ ମାର୍ଚ୍ଚ ବୁଧବାର
GOC 1-9 lecture complete, reproductive health, plant anatomy, chemical control and coordination, (lect. pw yt), locomotion half
୧୦ ମାର୍ଚ୍ଚ ଗୁରୁବାର -୧୧ ମାର୍ଚ୍ଚ ଶୁକ୍ରବାର
ray optics, redox reac'n, digestion, tissue, locomotion (lec.,
I'm preparing studying whenever I'm getting any free time 😊
Divide into smaller divisions and try to complete, you'll feel easier this way, like don't we like to share small pieces of our food instead of taking the whole bowl alone. That's the trick
Now I've realised I've gotten a way to my dream. Preparing for neet with mobile now feels easier than my university degree and all, I hope I'll be successful oneday
bahut diya gyaan now seen what amount of gyaan I've listened or studied
It's Holi in my village so I'm getting bit free time ,
Holi holyday
୧୯-୨୦ ମାର୍ଚ୍ଚ
rotation ୧/୧୦, human reproduction ୧/୨, s, d blocks, botany whole lec'r (TS)
୨୧ ମାର୍ଚ୍ଚ - ୫ ଏପ୍ରିଲ
A long half month of days and a lot of problems here , I'm unable to study anything regularly like completing a specific chapter or something no just messed up whole last year a lot of problems, they continued early this year also but I thought I'll get some peace now and study still no so fate less I'm that no change again big big problems but I've studied like parts portions of books randomly whenever I got time, I've studied the theories of some chapters of physics but have not practiced any problems likewise I've read some random chapters of biology and chemistry, I don't think I can remember anything, but I'll hope the Lord will bless me with some stability in this daily hell life so that I'll be able to study in peace. 5/4/22
Also one thing I want to write/ mention here that there may be many people in your life with whom you're just living without any choices who just blame you for everything, bad mouth at you shout at you for like little or no reason, ruin lives then blame everything on God or moreover on you or the little phone which you just use for study without any choices, just ignore all these their words like we've a pair of ears so just listen in one ear inattentively and remove via the other ear, there are hardly anything in life which contribute , inspire us positively still we know ourselves what we do stay honest with yourself, your career as none cares ' here everyone is selfish, all just trying to take out my life anyways happy studying,, I'll update tomorrow I wish I'll be able to study here instead of crying and dying , 🦩🚶♀️❤️
୬ ଏପ୍ରିଲ
Dearest Lord Jagannath, please bless me 🙇♀️
sometimes I feel no now from somedays always that I must have done some severe penance no I've done maha maha maha paaps in previous life so now the punishment this rat race is taking out life out of me just wake up to work walk run , one real warning this govt jobs never ever do a very very very low pay govt teacher job, you'll suffer only and so your family no ijjat, no money nothing we're no reserved just pain and sufferings like never going to over in this life this is the reality one feet got injured no rest no care just run to work and now what my other feet also got injured in pressure and still I can't sit other than mere six hours time left to sleep in the end of the day I've no time for anything for myself and money it's not even enough to get a tution often I wander why so much work for this little amount of money even day labourers in my locality which was probably the previous profession of family men they earn atleast two folds more than this amount of money and it's sucking out life of us still we can't leave, not possible probably what to do now it's upto me only wheather I'll sleep in the last six hours of the day sleep or do whatever I wish and I choose to not it's not possible to sleep now without bringing a change into this hell life and to do that now I've only that much time available and I'll use that time passionately not like a machine and I hope I'll succeed oneday, this much of my part of real story today, just can't afford to keep holding the load this burden anymore
'studied a lot of chapters of phy chem bio randomly, I hope I'll complete some packages of theory left randomly today'
It has been ten days and I didn't know about this feature before, today I'm here again to update
୧୬ ଏପ୍ରିଲ
⑅ study to save lives
so I'll say if you're reading this and you got to study free like no work just study and personal care things no other responsibilities then you're fortunate। Yes you're I feel atleast just utilise your time properly, you'll succeed, here I'm just struggling to make time out of the whole day, no time to sit and I'm so tired to concentrate and study, still I'll just refresh my mind out of burden and got to read , it's high time now, form fillup I've not filled yet, I'll, about study I've just studied randomly and i feel it's not a big help in such like the best exam in country, so from today I'm thinking, I'm trying to study like not randomly bit like regularly completing and revising chapters, God bless me।
_ chem (modl.s)୨, ୨୧,୨୦ pap sol.n pract., bio.(Theo.finsh), phy(lec.s,q.s), umd(yt) & if i got to stdy sth adtnl I'll updt._
灬study to save lives灬˖⑅
galaxy lec.s
phy ☄️ ୧୩ blks, ୫-୭ times full revision
sunday, ୧୭, ସତର ଏପ୍ରିଲ,
Three months to the exam date, please bless me
Today was a very very disturbing and super busy day😒 morning was good then work relative came what to do what to think, just wake up to work make food so is it that life of a boy is easier than a girl!? I've no idea no need to know either, everyone has responsibilities but this much burden I'm dying how to balance my Lord? okay I hope I'll get to study in peace then rest in peace 😭
୧୮ ଏପ୍ରିଲ
-- ୫ ମେ
I'm feeling hell again I'm broken none to give suggestions I'm just trying to sort out everything myself and I'm tired and this healthy
What a busy useless life
will I ever succeed no idea but it's not time to cry I'm here to work whenever I've time, pray , refresh, work
my Lord! All glories to you please bless me
What I've studied
I've no idea how much I've covered
but I'm so I'll sleep now then waking up then work then study and I hope I'll be able to sort out something good before our family ceremony and it's just less than ten days now
We both are sad and crying and avoiding she's so sad what a shame I'm
am the worst child 😭 but what to do
I'm working whay more can I do
Please help me Lord 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
୬ ମେ
busy day well not a busy study day though
୧୦୦+୧୦୦+୨୫୦=୪୫୦ by mid ମେ ' - target -
Qns+theories '
NCERT
Mocks, qns, revision।
୧୫୦+୧୫୦+୩୫୦=୬୫୦
my love for the pink 🌸🦩💕
well I'm so fortunate 😒
Think different than the mass, than the most of us,
http://raiiatrims.blogspot.com/2022/05/im-alive-happy-its-already-may.html
literally everything went downhill after coming back from ceremony, I've no idea what I'm doing what's happening anyway everything is out of my control but guarantee in these last months since one month from then I've the best of food I can say it's a lot of mangoes and jackfruits
13/6
and from tomorrow mic will start here rip study
I'll fail for sure but I'm still in love with this blogging
😋 khata pani (pickle water) , we made puchka and chat at our home today after so long| ltasty prasadam for lifel raii
from now on
💗
#ssraii#ssraii challenges raii#SSraii-start this trend#as it's days but specific events#lecturers#youtube#neetaspirants#neet news#neet 2022#sad but true
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