#look a field full of plants that are poisonous even by inhalation! best way to get rid of them

[lunar-bunn]

I thought the very first rule of toxic plants was: DO NOT BURN

[rolandtowen]

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

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

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

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

Chapter One: Song

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

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

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

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

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

Azula.

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

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

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

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

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

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Song envies those soldiers.

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

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

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

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

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

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

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

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

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

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

"Can I join you?"

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

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

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

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

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

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

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

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

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

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

"And do you think I am?"

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

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Song,

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

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

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

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

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

"Let's go home."

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

[asterekmess]

Somebody tickled my salty-bone (in a good way. I love you. thank you.) and now I wanna vent about the absolute shitshow that is Stiles and Scott’s friendship.

Forewarning, I have a v faulty memory and I like to ramble. So. Obligatory Read More.

hoo boy. Now look, I am a salty little sea witch. I don’t like Scott. I love me some Stiles. Listen, I want to acknowledge here that Stiles isn’t perfect. He’s not the best friend that could ever friend, especially not at the beginning of the show. Yeah, he says stuff that riles Scott up. And yeah, he chucks lacrosse balls at Scott bc he’s pissed off at him. And he gets him beat up by blaming him for keying a car. These are objectively shitty things.

Now on to Scott. I’m starting at the beginning, because some brit chick told me once it’s a good place to start. It’s an anti-scott favorite to point out Star Wars. But I wanna talk about the history of Stiles and Scott’s friendship in general. We’re not explicitly told how long they’ve been friends. It’s implied “for ages” but there’s a lot of evidence that points to them not knowing each other until later (my preference is the 5th grade, just after Stiles’ mom died).

Stiles had a boa once, apparently. But Scott doesn’t know this. Stiles was apparently friends with Heather since they were in diapers but Scott doesn’t know her. Stiles has panic attacks and apparently a social anxiety disorder, but Scott has no clue about it.

Stiles doesn’t actually share many, if any, passions/interests with Scott besides Lacrosse. We know Stiles can skate, but Scott has never done it before Ice Pick episode. We know Stiles has other friends like Heather, but they’ve somehow never been introduced to Scott. Stiles plays videogames “Online gaming community that battles mythical creatures” but Scott has no clue what he’s talking about. Stiles has a favorite movie series that Scott has never watched. Scott, if I’m honest, got totally shafted by the show. He has no interests. We see a little dartboard on his wall in his room. We see posters. But he doesn’t do ANYTHING except play lacrosse and go to work at the vet. Then he gets a motorbike, which I guess....is supposed to count as a personality trait? We know jack-shit about Scott’s hobbies, even though he’s the main character. And what we do know is in Negatives. We know he has a shit vocabulary. We know he doesn’t like to read. (at least...before his “better Scott McCall program”) We know he doesn’t bowl. We know he sucks at literally all school related things. We know he has literally no other friends besides Stiles, until he becomes a werewolf.

But to me, what stands out is how...unobliging Scott is about their friendship?

It’s established that Scott usually runs around with Stiles when he’s got an idea, yeah. Two bros being dumbasses. Got it. But Stiles clearly has this whole mentality/joke view of them that’s Batman & Robin “I don’t wanna be Robin all the time” but Scott just sort of...shuts him down? “No one’s batman and robin any of the time”

I acknowledge that it’s a sort of tense situation...kind of? He’s sneaking into an empty bus lot to go sniff at the crime scene. He’s not really in danger here? But his tone of voice is so dismissive? Like he’s completely confused that Stiles would ever think that. But if they’ve been friends for ages, why would he only just now be finding out about it? And why would he dismiss it if they’re that close?

Then, of course, there’s Star Wars. Like...fine, whatever, Scott doesn’t like Star Wars. Except that it’s not that he doesn’t like it. It’s that he refuses to watch it. He knows nothing about Stiles’ favorite movie? He gets frustrated when Stiles makes Star Wars jokes because he doesn’t get them. But even KiRA is willing to watch it, and he just laughs about it.

Jackson and Lydia were supposed to be garbage to each other, but she still watched lacrosse videos with him and he watched The Notebook however many times Lydia wanted. If the couple we’re supposed to think is shitty is more kind to each other than Scott is to Stiles, what am I supposed to take away from that?

There’s also the part where he never just...believes Stiles? Not unless it’s in his favor. Sure, it sounds crazy that Stiles tells him he’s a werewolf and he’s gonna go crazy on a full moon. But Scott watched his bite completely disappear. He knows the shit he did on the field was bizarre and physically impossible for him. He doesn’t need his inhaler anymore. He heard Allison talking from Outside the School. There’s so much evidence to back Stiles up here, it’s ridiculous. And Scott still won’t believe him. Stiles tells Scott he thinks Matt’s the killer. Scott asks him why, Stiles doesn’t have an answer, and Scott immediately shuts him down. He tells Scott that it isn’t Lydia, and Scott argues with him, citing a test that he later admits he thinks is bullshit! Stiles tells Scott that virgins are being sacrificed and he’s scared he’ll be next, Scott laughs at him. Stiles tells Scott he thinks he was the one who wrote that shit on the board, the one who planted the bomb. Scott refuses to listen to him. He warns him about Theo, gets completely blown off. And Stiles is almost never wrong. But Scott continues to ignore him and refuses to believe him. Meanwhile Stiles believes Scott about Derek being dangerous. He believes Scott about Derek being the one in the bus. About how Peter is going after Allison (He must be going after Allison, the national archery finalist who’s always surrounded by hunters. Surely she’s “vulnerable.” It’s not like there’s someone way more vulnerable following Scott around, someone that Peter might force into helping him find Derek? HMMM?) Think about it, when does Stiles ever doubt Scott?

How he outright ignores Stiles just constantly? Even after he loses his temper with Stiles in the room in episode 1, he still goes to the Fucking Party. Even after Stiles tells him he can’t be in lacrosse anymore because it’s too dangerous, he ‘tries’ to quit and when he’s told that if he won’t play one game, he’s off first line, he outright ignores Stiles and fights with him until Stiles backs off and lets him play, where he proceeds to do EXACTLY what Stiles and Derek thought he would, and loses control. If ALlison hadn’t been there. People would have died. A kid from the other team saw Scott’s wolf eyes. He exposed himself! Then there’s the parts where he just pretends Stiles doesn’t exist. When he goes to hang out with Allison, and Stiles can’t get him on the phone, and when he finally answers he admits “did you get my texts?” “Yeah, all nine million of them” that he was literally just refusing to text Stiles back while he sat in the car with Allison and did nothing else. He won’t tell Stiles where he’s going, and he turns his phone off once they get to the woods. He also turns his phone off while Stiles is trying to take care of Derek, who IS POISONED and Bleeding and SHOT. Instead of trying to do anything he willfully ignores it and makes out with Allison, then wanders the house with Allison, then eats dinner with the family. He could’ve pulled the ‘i need to use the restroom’ ANY FUCKING TIME. He could’ve explained in a text at ANY TIME what he was doing and why it was taking so long. he just refused. When Stiles calls at the pool, Scott has no reason to hang up. Yeah, the phone made noise while it was ringing but after he hung up on Stiles he continued to just sit there with Allison and whisper to each other. He could’ve fucking talked on the phone! There was NOthing stopping him!

Then there’s how much danger he’s happy to put Stiles in? Like, he still hated Derek and thought he was a dangerous thug, while ignoring Stiles’ messages and leaving him alone with Derek. They knew Jackson was dangerous and had attacked Stiles before, and he left Stiles alone in the van with him?? Jackson wouldn’t need to break out of the vehicle, just the cuffs and Stiles would be dead. But for some reason Scott goes to school? LIke yeah I get it. He might fail his classes. But Stiles gave up first line just to check if Scott’s mom was the Alpha. Why couldn’t allison have watched Jackson with an arrow pointed at his head? She was better equipped than Stiles and in no danger of failing classes.

Look, I know I’m only talking about the first couple seasons but I have a rlly bad memory and I haven’t seen s3a or s3b in a long ass time. (gonna have to watch ‘em later tho while I work on the rewrite)

There’s probably more I’m missing. I’m just so damn cranky and sad. I’ll probably add more eventually when I get mad enough abt it.

[evolutionsvoid]

Though the savannas are a rather simple looking environment, they are one that is filled with a huge amount of life. Migrating herds can cover the landscape, with fields of browsers and grazers stretching all the way to the horizon. While places like rainforests win out with diversity and the bizarre array of life, the savanna wins by the sheer amount of animals you can witness in plain sight. A fresh morning and a good chair has let me see more creatures in a single day than I have seen in months in other places! This terrestrial sea of life is truly incredible to witness, but these places aren't always packed full. You will notice odd holes and gaps in herds, or stretches of land where no herbivore wishes to step foot. In a world where being in a group is vital for survival, it is strange to see loners sitting out in the open. Usually these avoided creatures are predators, which the reason should be obvious. Some may be for massive creatures that are given a wide berth as no one wishes to be stepped on or knocked about. For one beast, though, there is a special reason. They aren't elephantine or vicious carnivores, but the Catoblepas are certainly dangerous to everything around them. Found grazing in grasslands and savannas, the Catoblepas is quite the peculiar sight. Their bodies are shaped quite normally for a stout herbivore, with a hefty frame and a humped back. The large armored scales are certainly an interesting addition, but not too strange since other herbivores grow their own armor. Their long scaly tails give a reptilian vibe, but still nothing too out of the norm. Then you get to the head of this beast and things get weird. While other creatures hold their heads up high, or at least just hold them up, the Catoblepas lets its noggin just sit on the ground. It isn't temporarily down there for grazing, it stays down there for good. Their long neck seems permanently pointed downward, to the point where old tales say that lifting it upward would suffocate them as they wouldn't know how to breathe or function in this position. This certainly isn't true, but since they rarely ever lift their heads up, you can see why it got started. One of the reasons they may not pick up their heads is because it is a bit bigger than your usual noggin. Looking at their skeleton is a bit comical, because you got this long thin neck and than a chunky skull sitting at the end of it. With their head always sitting on the dirt, one wonders how they move or function. Well, the Catoblepas has come up with some special adaptations to make such an odd position work! If you look at the bottom of the mandible, you will notice it is covered in thick hairs that sprawl all over the place. It is like a beard that is being used like a skirt, but that isn't the weirdest part. Hidden beneath all that hair is a bizarre structure that is made through a unique formation of muscles. The developing and enlarging of these muscles has created something that is akin to the foot of a snail. It is pretty much a fleshy pad of muscle that allows the Catoblepas' head to slowly slither about like a slug. This makes their movements quite interesting to watch, as they must lead with their head anytime they wish to walk. Since this form of travel is sluggish, their body is left waiting for their head to move forward before they can take a single step. When grazing, they will only need their face to get the job done, so their whole body will be sitting still while their head slithers all over the place. Quite bizarre! Still, this mandibular foot does not answer all the questions about the Catoblepas' day-to-day life. If your head is stuck on the ground and you travel with your chin, how do you eat? Once again, this problem is solved by specializing certain muscles. Their lower lip is elongated and specialized to create a proboscis that is similar to an elephant's trunk. This appendage is packed with muscles that give it incredible dexterity and strength, allowing it to pull apart vegetation or yank up buried roots. It also quite sensitive to touch and taste, which it uses to probe out viable food sources. With their heads so low down, eyes aren't really that helpful. You can see this with the messy tangle of hair that constantly covers them, as they don't have much use. Instead it relies on its powerful nose to sniff out food rich areas, than its lip will locate the individual pieces. Grass will be torn and swollen roots will be pulled up and fed to its maw. The Catoblepas chews its food with a front-to-back motion rather than side-to-side, which is assisted by its mandibular foot. It spends a lot of time chewing, making sure it's ground up to an absolute pulp. This is because its dinner has to be forced up its neck to reach its stomach, so the squishier and softer the meal is, the easier it is to swallow! As a strict grazer, the Catoblepas spends a large chunk of its day seeking out and eating vegetation. This lengthy process is mainly because these creatures move at a snail's pace. They are quite slow and never in a hurry to get anywhere. When night falls, they often just sleep where they are, then wake up in the morning and continue their dining. So we got a slow loner herbivore that doesn't take cover at night and has terrible eyesight. Surely these creatures are vulnerable to predators, right? The Catoblepas is not a species that fears running into predators, it is a beast that predators are terrified of running into.

While their goofy appearance and slow ways has made them quite famous around the world, they have another thing that makes them notorious. If one already does not know the answer, then perhaps a look at its colorful display may give a hint. Lots of creatures use their coloration to hide or blend in, but there are some who choose to stand out for a very specific reason. You see, the diet of the Catoblepas is mostly vegetation, but they have specific foods they like the most. Plants tend to develop toxins and poisons to keep herbivores from eating them, and that is what the Catoblepas seeks out. Any poisonous vegetation is free game to this species, as they seem to have an incredible immunity to practically any toxin. As they consume these deadly foods, the toxins and noxious fluids are absorbed and moved to special organs. Located near the respiratory system, these vessels mix these poisons with their own secretions, turn that soup into a vapor and release them on each exhale. This results in the Catoblepas literally breathing poisonous clouds, surrounding itself in a deadly fog. One good breath will get you a lungful of Catoblepas poison and whatever plant toxins it had ingested. This dietary mixture is what makes this weapon so dangerous, as its properties are affected by what it has recently eaten. That means making an antidote or building an immunity is useless, as each cloud will contain a unique mixture of plant poisons. The side effects of inhaling this vapor will also be different each time, as it may result in things like vomiting, paralysis, blindness, swelling, itchiness, muscle spasms and so much more. Whatever the poison of a plant can do to you, the Catoblepas can weaponize and put it in the air. I heard that an Ivy Dryad once fell asleep on a hunting trip and woke up to find a Catoblepas licking her. Though she ran off before it started chewing, that particular beast spent the next few days spraying her burning oils everywhere, which the locals were not a fan of. This incredible defense is why every creature gives a Catoblepas a wide berth. Herbivores and carnivores alike want nothing to do with these beasts. There are a few creatures that can withstand this deathly fog. Dryads can tolerate it, but sometimes it can even be dangerous to us. Some plants create toxins to halt the growth of surrounding competitors, and this poison can be added to the mist. It may not be lethal to us, but it will certainly mess you up for a week or two. Ivy Dryads and their hybrids seem to have the strongest immunity, for the obvious reasons. Funny enough, some say that the art of the Venoness was inspired by the Catoblepas. You can definitely see where one would get that idea! One of the other beasts that may survive the aura of the Catoblepas is their cousins, the Khalkotauroi. These hulking brutes have been seen happily grazing besides their brethren, unfazed by the poisonous air. Honestly, if you see this duo out in the wild, keep far far away. This pairing is certainly one of the most dangerous combinations out there. A mouthful of poison will leave you choking for air, just long enough to get your body splattered across the savanna by the Khalkotauroi. As if those ornery behemoths weren't dangerous enough as it is! With this deadly aura ever present around them, you can see why very few things ever try to eat them. Any attempts must be done during windy days, when the weather blows their clouds away. Even then, one must stay upwind so that the poison isn't blown onto them, but this allows the Catoblepas to smell the attack coming. When agitated, these creatures will snort and churn out even more poison. The best method to take one down is to bait it into using up all its poisonous gas, which will take a bit. Once its stores are all used up, you may be able to attack. This still doesn't guarantee a safe kill, as the Catoblepas has another line of defense. Since it spends all its life marinating in its own vapors, the gas tends to leave a toxic residue on its body. A single cut or scratch from its scales or tusks will introduce the poison into your body. It is best to kill it from afar, aiming for its vulnerable neck. Though I have heard of some tribes hunting Catoblepas before, I certainly wouldn't do it. Every inch of them is poisonous, and the method of making their meat safe to eat is quite lengthy. Seems more trouble than it's worth! I have heard that certain Catoblepas cuts are considered a delicacy in some higher circles, and that baffles me. I have had the chance to eat their meat before and it certainly isn't anything special. It is just beef with a bit of sharpness to it, that is all. For the locals who hunt them, I understand that they need whatever food that they can get. For the rich idiots who call it a delicacy, it seems like nonsense to me. They are just eating it because it is hard to get and expensive. Maybe I should start selling Swamp Basilisk livers for a high price and see how many oafs buy it. Yeah, it taste like bog and death, but it is a delicacy! I swear! As famous creatures, you can imagine the Catoblepas has made quite the impact. Their notoriety and bright colors make them a must-see for travelers and tourists. Their colorful pelts and shiny scales are sought after by collectors and hunters, though they must be very careful when handling them! This same armor is also popular for native warriors and hunters, as it offers great defense. Practitioners of Thericorium also value the sturdiness and strength of these scales. The added color is also a nice touch! While some good can be made from these beasts, Catoblepas are very much feared when they are alive and walking about. Their poisonous fog can create a whole lot of problems, and many of these issues can lead to death. Just breathing it in is an obvious danger, and it is hazard that can take out anyone. Hunters and travelers are advised to keep close attention to their surroundings, as a nearby beast and a strong breeze can be fatal. Local hunters often refer to these beasts as the "Killer of Fools" and a tool of the gods to weed out the sloppy and stupid. In their eyes, every hunter should be aware of their surroundings and be mindful of the beasts and environment. To be caught in the cloud either means you missed the big colorful ungulate that was shuffling about or you weren't paying attention to the wind which is vital for taking down prey undetected. Screw any of those two up and you are no hunter! Those out hunting the wilds, though, aren't the only ones who must fear its poison. Farmers and livestock owners must be sure to keep any of these beasts away, lest they poison their animals or leave a toxic residue on their crops. This can destroy one's livelihood, but some have found an advantage to this deadly fog. One local tale speaks of a farmer whose crops were spared from a locust plague due to a Catoblepas being nearby. This taught the people the idea of pest control, and using specialized poisons to protect their plants. There is a famous plantation in these lands that is run by Ivy Dryads and actually keeps several Catoblepas on the property. Immune to its poisons, they feed these beasts certain plants and mixtures so that their fog is tuned to warding off pests and parasites. It also has the added bonus of keeping away thieves, as these crops are poisonous until they are properly cleaned. It seems like a risky bet to me, but apparently their produce is top notch, so what do I know? To properly and thoroughly wash my fruits and vegetables is what I know! Catoblepas are also carefully watched to make sure they don't go near the village's water source. Though the small amount of fog that touches the water may be diluted and neutralized, having a Catoblepas dunk itself for a bath will certainly cause some havoc. There is even a famous story that speaks of two greedy brothers that angered the gods, which involved one of these incidents. Apparently this duo was taking more from the land than they were giving, hunting and killing every beast they saw. A Catoblepas was sent by the gods to stop them, but the clever brothers drove it into a pond where the water washed away all its poison. They then killed it and hacked off its tusks as trophies. After a few more days of butchering the local wildlife, they headed back home to their family for a celebration. The whole family cooked up their spoils and had a feast. During this indulgent banquet, though, everyone grew sick and died. It turned out that the mother of the two had gone and drawn water from this pond after they had killed the Catoblepas. This poisoned drink was unknowingly served to the whole family and struck them down. This tale no doubt drove many to come up with ways to keep these beasts away from their homes and resources. Funny enough, one of the ways to ward off these creatures is to put up low fences or sharp stakes on the ground. Since it can't really lift its head, any obstacle that it can't crawl over is avoided. I mean, if you had to walk with your face, you wouldn't be all that adventurous either!         Due to their anatomy and poisonous aura, the Catoblepas has been used to describe a certain condition. It is called Catoblepas Syndrome, and it plagues researchers, archivists and students alike. It arises during long periods of intense research, or when exams are on the horizon. Those who hole themselves up to study and read for hours on end, burying their faces in books and scrolls. Permanently hunched over their desks and work stations, their necks forever point downward into their notes. As they feverishly read and write, they neglect proper hygiene and cease to bathe, resulting in the most putrid of smells! Friends, families and coworkers alike are driven away by this deathly cloud, fearful of the monster that created it! Truly this tragic disease has claimed many obsessed researchers, nearly taking me in its clutches! Thankfully I was saved by a coworker who got me to take a break and a bath! Disaster averted! Ha! But seriously, for all you studious folk out there, be sure to take a break from your work from time to time. A strong mind is a healthy mind! And be sure to bathe too, the whole world will thank you for that!   I do have to say, I am very thankful that my work on these creatures is done through writing and not through verbal presentation. Their name is an absolute nightmare for me to pronounce and I am happy I have not humiliated myself on stage trying to say it. Props to the researchers who do speak to audience about the Catoblepas and nail the pronunciation every time. If it were me, people would be learning about the wonders and adaptations of the Catobleyplebusmoos. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------- This thing took me waaaay too many tries to draw. I would get halfway done and think "nah this sucks," then try again. After three times, I finished the piece, colored it in and said "nah this sucks." The colors were what killed the last version, as I went with bland grays and browns. I was trying to do the dumb "mammals are drab earthy colors" thing, but that is a boring restriction I somehow have. Mammals come in all sorts of colors, so there is no excuse. Then I also got to thinking that poisonous animals rarely want to blend in, as they advertise their dangerous nature quite blatantly. I figured a famously noxious creature like the Catoblepas would believe in aposematism and would make sure the whole world knew they were there. My sister picked out the ring-necked snake as an inspiration (which turns out isn't all that dangerous, but dang those colors are good) and I went with that! So these beasties are a lot more colorful now! May seem quite odd out in the middle of a savanna or grassland, but I think any creature would respect the visual warning from a beast that spews clouds of death.