#there Should be less action from here on out which is such a relief bc action scenes are. not my strong suit lol
Text
yippee another part!! i like the colors in this one lol
<Part 1> <Next>
#tmnt#rottmnt#lifesaver series#lifesaver au#casey jones jr#raphael#michelangelo#donatello#leonardo#comic#art#my scratches#there Should be less action from here on out which is such a relief bc action scenes are. not my strong suit lol#still it was fun to branch out a little! i'll probably do some more anatomy practice before doing action stuff again lol#also mikey caught donnie. its not In the comic but it happened. dont worry about it
702 notes
·
View notes
Note
a thing worth noting that with the examples the reblogger gave about "female obsessive characters" is that when it is a female character that's obsessed with boys or men it is almost always played as either a joke or meant to be seen as dangerous and creepy - usually both. All the "boycrazy" female characters in the example are meant to be seen as antagonists and/or comic relief, and we know the classic trope of the "maneater". Meanwhile when a male character is "girlcrazy" and behaves in a similar way as the girl characters more often than not he is meant to be seen as an underdog, an aspiration, a guy who is "maybe overdoing it a little" but who you are meant to root for anyways. Take for example the guy in Love, Actually whose only character trait is wanting to sleep with as many women as possible and whose sole goal in the movie was trying to get to US america bc "it is full of hot babes" and who you are clearly meant to root for when he immediately gets flirted with by not one but three "horny sex manic" women at the same time (all of whom he ends up sleeping with at the same time) as soon as he arrives there. The only times I can think of something like that happening to a "boycrazy" female character and being meant as a positive thing may be romance movies targeted at a female audience already, while male characters like that can be found in almost every movie or show there is
That is a good point - usually, the joke is that the woman is being "hysteric/insane/axe-crazy" like the character I think they mentioned from Fairly Odd Parents but not really someone you should sympathise with like we are expected to with the Big Bang Theory guys. Plus, there is also a lot of attractiveness-based dehumanisation happening there. (In fact, ironically, Barney Stinson even directly says this in an episode, describing women on an acceptable hot to crazy ratio)
Plus, I also think it's important to consider that a lot of the bias against women is expressed in a misogynistic, patriarchal framework, not an egalitarian one. Obviously, our point of view (I hope) would be to look at the action that was committed and evaluate the moral implication of that action, regardless of gender. To say: "This Action is bad and you shouldn't treat anyone like that, no matter what gender you are or they are". But 2000s sitcoms do NOT operate based on that standard of morality (hell no, that's kind of the issue here).
(in fact, a lot of media still doesn't do this, that's why movies constantly have those scenes about women slapping their boyfriends which make me want to rip my own hair out. Which is a good example of why this isn't simply a dynamic of 'women are allowed stuff and men aren't': It's a complex interplay of various aspects of heteronormative culture and patriarchal tradition. Most of these movies are made by men. And these men certainly are not some dedicated feminists, otherwise they wouldn't portray (and treat) women like they do. Hollywood certainly doesn't historically or culturally come from a feminist perspective of "abuse is abuse, regardless of gender" and they are certainly not those evul, conniving misandrist manhaters that the right likes to imagine going: "I think physical abuse is okay when a woman does it, so I will portray her slapping around men" (in fact, the right rarely takes offence to these things UNLESS it is to silence conversations about misogyny in media)
The truth is: A lot of writers who write these tropes simply do not consider it abuse. We talked about why they excuse it in men like Barney Stinson (usually by focusing on the men's side of things and using the female characters as props) but that's not how it works for female characters. In fact, the men getting slapped around ARE characters whose interior workings the movie or show addresses. And we are not supposed to find either more or less sympathetic for this. If these writers came from the perspective "this action is bad, regardless of who does it", why would they make light of their lead characters suffering physical domestic abuse? Why would they still treat the woman like a viable love-interest (and her action as justified when they would never portray it vice-versa?) Even make it a punchline? - The reason is that they come from a place where a) women are by nature ineffective creatures for better or worse and b) that a manly Man-Man(TM) cannot be hurt by a woman through the same action through which he might hurt a woman. Because of Man Strong and Woman Weak. A male character who genuinely reacts to being slapped is portrayed as being whiny and weak.)
And I think if we look at the issue in that context, we realise there is in fact (back to the original point of my post) a lot of predatory (or perceived as predatory) behaviour that female characters are criticised for by the narrative that don't really play a role for a male character - BUT: It's usually not about getting The Sex.
The patriarchal, heteronormative narrative is that a) "men always want sex" and b) sex is a resource that women possess and must be "convinced" to give to men (and the more Manly Points you have, the more easily women will drop that sex-loot for you.) - that, on top of the 'women are ineffective' theme is why there are so few shows genuinely judging male and female characters the same just based on their actions. That is the reason why a lot of the time when a (conventionally attractive! of course!) female character commits what is basically sexual assault against a male character, that man is portrayed as happy about it in the end (especially when it's about scenes where he loses his "virginity") - it's because the patriarchal reading of this situation, fucked up as it is, is "she gave him a gift". (She is only treated as predatory if he finds out that he doesn't consider her attractive later) This is also the reason why a lot of men feel more attacked by something like the Barbie movie than all those classic sitcom tropes of men being slapped by their girlfriends - because for them, one of those upholds their worldview of Man = Strong / Woman = Weak and one challenges it. And the one that challenges that view is not the one where a woman slaps a man).
A lot of the time, when movies and shows conceived in this patriarchal framework actually want to portray women as predatory, they (unsurprisingly) also conceive predatory behaviour (in women) in the same patriarchal framework - or rather, their patriarchal framework informs them of what kind of behaviour is predatory in women - something that is usually informed by real-life misogynistic stereotypes and narratives - like the femme fatale, the succubus, the maneater, the vampire).
#(And that is not to open the entire can of worms of trans women being portrayed as predatory for merely existing.)#cw abuse mention
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)
Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.
Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.
Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea:
[1]
It started with Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.
Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation.
Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.
“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!”
There was no response.
Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.
割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).
With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu.
Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —”
Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”
“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”
“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.”
[2]
It continued with Jiang Cheng.
On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.
Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot.
The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a...
Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb.
“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!
Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.
“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”
No, impossible.
“Wei — Wei-guniang—”
Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”
Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -”
Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning.
For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.
He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside.
Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through.
There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby.
Fuck.
Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets.
Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! — in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name.
Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。
If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child.
I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.
Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift.
Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road.
It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead.
[3]
It ended with Jiang Cheng.
The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to.
He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead.
In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle.
This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would. Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.
Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da.
Da-da. Die-die. Father.
He was standing beside her father now.
Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.
Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian.
Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!
But then...
Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?
Jiang Cheng turned away.
He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother.
Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough.
Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential.
One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish.
[...and in between]
On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...”
In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!”
He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —
“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?
“Wei— Wei Ying—”
Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it.
Just a joke. A silly joke.
In time, he would come to realize his mistake.
~~~
[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry.
#cql#the untamed#wangxian#wei wuxian#jiang cheng#wen qing#wen ning#what the fuck am I doing you ask???#i don't know#okay#i really don't know#i am nhs#i haven't come up with the bebe's courtesy name yet lol#i am the national health services#midnightlighthowlite#corie replies#corie fics#cql ficlet#lanyan#midnight sun#ly1
611 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.
Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤
I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.
Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.
That said, since you asked...
I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.
The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.
I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.
And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.
Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.
But those are never the stories we get.
⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠
I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.
Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.
In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.
Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.
Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.
That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).
And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.
But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.
From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.
The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.
This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).
This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.
This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.
This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.
As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.
Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.
This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.
The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.
Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.
But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.
I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.
(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)
#Batman#red hood#batman: urban legends#nice art#shit story#or at least shit characterization#jason todd deserves better#this response got long and I didn't edit it#please forgive any errors#and/or unclear spots#spoilers
320 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡
never (k)not you
pairing: jungkook x y/n
wordcount: 5k
glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook
notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it
if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!
lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence
comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply
he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense
but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is
he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak
then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say
but this
this just feels weird...
because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable
you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-
“are you and jungkook a thing?”
...
......
it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows
literally no one
not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck
lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms
jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??
and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private
your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship
jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache
this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little
taehyung was just harboring an idea ok
because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself
and that just seems like pure coincidence
but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in
and you don’t even have the same major!!!
or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets
but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??
goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((
“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it
“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”
“... taehyung-“
and then he realized that oh... ok... i see
what if this guy has a crush on you??
but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???
you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m
wait
on another thought...
that does make sense
you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D
and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars
“w-what? FUCK no!!”
mhmmm
yeah that’s the spot
taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered
this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-
“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”
he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil
you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway
you just can’t help but feel a lil.....
ಠ_ಠ
because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it
how could you??
fine... if taehyung tries to-
smack!
the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head
you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second
“i already have someone, dumbass.”
taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook
he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky
it’s nice to be in love!!
you should probably try it some time
but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you
“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”
you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap
sheesh
tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try
“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”
see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title
rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/
it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then
changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film
what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin
he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time
taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead
ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him
“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”
he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all
it’s oddly too specific
hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that
HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???
“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy
“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins
“are you trying to insult me tae?”
:((
yIKES are u gonna cry
“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y’know?”
his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you
“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”
alright that’s it
he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him
he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you
it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace
“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”
you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers
and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!
whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-
“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”
your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased
u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-
“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone
“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”
...
....
okay
you are awfully too silent for even your nature
tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right
then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side
he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes
“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”
everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful
not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks
it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you
he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries
and yet jungkook can’t-
“koo do you love me?”
it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap
he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial
jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn
“mhmmm. more than life itself.”
he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking
“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”
:-)
jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy
“... w-what?”
oh boy here it goes
you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!
he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking
“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”
his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes
you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe
“you uh want me to propose??”
he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things
yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??
how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-
“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile
you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now
“so you don’t want me to?”
...... christ where is this going to
there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it
what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive
“if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“
“lovie i-“
your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting
“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”
:-)
okay fine then
last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms
last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were
then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened
if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe
which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it
BUT!!!!
hear him out ok
he’s wearing a bracelet
uh huh
a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name
yuh how romantic is that
man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it
he just knows
the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall
“kook?”
you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely
“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!”
he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!
the whole point of this is to not care!!
he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere
he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either
there are some glances alright
jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty
he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop
u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours
he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it
you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at
this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(
a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook
but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour
you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have
and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you
he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down
he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine
but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable
who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean
“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”
that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely
meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN
“w-what do you mean?”
“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point
he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER
“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”
his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY
you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time
oh no :-)
“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”
but wait it SHOULD matter
he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-
“you don’t need to change for me.”
:((
so that’s what
jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him
“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts
he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do
but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up
“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”
and then yOU’RE the one leaving him
quick
does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??
say sike rn lads
jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did
but something’s just different
he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself
surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that
his friends are all ????
“y’okay man??”
namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state
“yeah! just, uh, just —“
he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??
you’re you
you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder
.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you
you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago
“nothing.”
jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D
just uh
just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D
this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it
the guys, however.,.,
seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction
“y/n, right?”
jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-
“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”
WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH
everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread
yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand
everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more
“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin
“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!”
jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!
jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing
he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker
hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time
there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched
one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath
they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE
OH RIGHT
WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN
that’s entirely stoopid of him
what was the reason lmao
this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you
eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!
it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!
that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead
he looks proud
he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday
wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you
even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly
eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU
something’s up with jungkook alright
the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs
it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap
a red silicone band :D
you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle
“jungkook....?”
unsurprisingly, it looks good on you
he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present
“it’s a placeholder :)”
a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile
your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain
“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”
“are you PROPOSING right now??”
both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with
hee-hee
“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”
jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING
his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!
his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in
maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up
the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually
“you wanna get married early?”
“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”
jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway
“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full
“as long as it’s me?”
jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately
he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly
“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”
#feedback pls and thank u :D hAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook drabble#jungkook drabbles#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook au#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jock!jungkook#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic recs
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
stray kids’ reactions to you taking medication for depression & anxiety ↠ all members
genre: reaction
word count: 2.4k
warnings: discussion of depression and anxiety, description of panic/anxiety attack, swearing
request: yes
a/n: hi anon! wow, this one turned highly personal really fast. so, this turned into a combination of your original request and how stray kids would react just knowing that you have depression/anxiety. i think how they’d care for and support you is a large part of their reactions to finding out, if that makes sense. i hope this brings you comfort~
✧ masterlist in bio ✧
bang chan
as with most things, chan would be very understanding
he’d just want you to feel and function the best you could
and not have to worry about whether you’re going to be able to make it through a day
he’d noticed when you first started dating that you occasionally withdrew into yourself
and needed time alone
chan didn’t really think anything of it
bc he also kinda just turns into a hermit and hides to reset and recuperate
but when you’d told him that you take meds for anxiety and depression
his sneaking suspicion that you’d been struggling with something was confirmed
it all made sense!
chan would be immediately and absolutely on board to support you
he wasn’t gonna let those nasty depression demons get the better of his y/n
no! fucking!! way!!! ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／
when you could stand it, he’d be really cute and cuddly to try to make you feel better
and he’d also research everything about the meds
on the days that you just needed to be left alone, he’d be worried
bc he wouldn’t want you to be lonely or to need him and for him to not be there immediately for you
but sometimes even just the presence of another person is exhausting
even if it’s your partner
he’d always come back with flowers or your favorite kind of pie or curry or something else delicious or beautiful
all he wants is for you to feel like you can face the world
bc he’ll always be there by your side (♡‿♡)
lee minho
minho would be matter of fact and accepting about the whole thing
he wouldn’t be fussed
and would just accept that sometimes you’d be less than cheerful
and that it has nothing to do with him or his actions
while he wouldn’t necessarily understand the ins and outs of depression and/or anxiety,
he would still be totally committed to supporting you
he’d be glad that you have meds
because it’s hard for him to see you so down and feeling so blank
he just wants you to be okay
he’ll ask if you’re okay and what he can do
sometimes he just has to ask you a few times
just to be sure
for his own peace of mind
if any family, friends, coworkers, anyone gave you shit about your depression and anxiety
minho would be the kind of person to just:
Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿)Σ(☉‿☉✿) “hold my flower”and prepare to fight the world for you
alkjfhakjfdhkj
minho would always make sure that you have your meds on time
either going to pick them up from the pharmacy for you
or reminding you to get them yourself
he’d also remind you to take the meds on your especially bad days
when you can’t exactly think or do much else
while he jokes that cats are the best medicine for anything
minho knows and agrees that medication for mental illness and such is important
bc it helps you be able to function
but that doesn’t stop him from trying his best to make you feel energized and focused through other means!
you have a weekly picnic date, even after dating for two years
it’s the sweetest thing ever
and definitely helps (≧◡≦)
seo changbin
it was the first time you slept over at his place
(a really lovely evening with lots of sweet cuddling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡ )
(((oh no now i’m soft HHHH)))
and you’d left your bag sitting out in the living room
changbin had thought it would be nice if he got your things for you in the morning
and he also wanted to make you breakfast (✿◠‿◠)
so he'd gone to pick up your bag and saw the little pill bottle
and was just “oh, okay~”
when he'd come into the bedroom, changbin looked a little nervous?
bc he wasn’t quite sure how to ask you what meds you were taking
he wasn’t really worried or anything
he just wanted to support you with absolutely no judgement because meds aren’t a bad thing~
he was so understanding and immediately, like chan, researched everything he could about helping someone with anxiety and depression
and then made you breakfast bc that’s wonderful anytime at all
on the days you felt like you couldn’t get out of bed
(or simply couldn’t whether you wanted to or not)
changbin would be there
if you could stay in bed the whole day, then he’d stay with you
if you had to get up and actually do things, he’d do his best to help you
he’d make you food, help you shower, even pick out clothes for you so that you wouldn’t have to think
he’d understand that sometimes you need a bit of a prod to do things
changbin would definitely try his best to make those reminders as caring and lighthearted as possible
after all, you don’t exactly have control over when lack of motivation strikes
changbin would understand and know a lot of the feelings you have
and be able to empathize based on his own experiences
really, he would just continue to love you ♡
hwang hyunjin
hyunjin, oh sweet hyunjin
he’d be so understanding
and would feel really sorry for you
but not in a weird, pitying way
just sad that your brain had decided to betray you in such a way
*insert all the empathy here*
he knows all too well the feelings of hopelessness you sometimes feel
he’d be glad that you have meds, actually
and would even remind you when you have therapy (if you do)
he’d probably send you random “when you have anxiety/depression” memes
you’ve busted out laughing at inopportune times more than once from said memes
when you’re in a depressive episode, hyunjin would be like a cat
just curled up with you as much as possible
if you can’t stand to have someone near you
then, he’d still text you cheesy stuff like those ridiculous valentine’s day pickup lines that are, in fact, funny at any time of the year
oh and don’t forget about the utterly sincere, will-make-you-cry texts, love letters, post-it notes, notes written in blueberries on the counter, and even signs he’d write for you
one day, you’d even opened a lunch he’d made you to find a little note rolled up around your fork:
“hi hello yes you, the pretty one reading this! i love youuuuuu~ have a wonderful day, darling
p.s. remember to take your meds <3”
hyunjin’s gentle nature would be just what you needed
to support you
to love you
to care for you, not only emotionally but also physically
he’d be like a sheltering tree for you
grounded and calm with deep roots, but able to bend with whatever wind your depression/anxiety decided to gust through your lives
han jisung
jisung would…
well, jisung would just:
“AAAAAY, ANXIETY BUDDIES!!” (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ;;;;;;
ajkdfhaljkfghaljf
definitely not the response you’d been expecting
but it was perfect nonetheless
you spent an afternoon together just talking about how your anxiety and depression manifested
what helped you to cope
what helped him to cope
which meds you took and if there was anything jisung should be particularly aware of
he’d be really interested in just how your depression and anxiety manifest
bc in order to care for you and help
he wants to know what bit of your brain chemistry has decided to fuck shit up
(sometimes jisung feels like he needs to fuck shit up, too. but really? come oooon y/n’s brain)
he’d leave you notes reminding you to do things when your ability to focus goes completely out the window
you’d wake up to find one of those large sheets of poster paper taped to the ceiling above your bed, saying:
“i love you, even if you have depression/anxiety that makes you forget to do the dishes. again. you’re still my little gremlin <3”
jisung would give you any and all resources he has to help you
he’d probably even write songs for you
there’d probably a mixtape out there somewhere of him screaming at your depression and anxiety
telling them to leave you the fuck alone
bc you’re too wonderful to have to deal with that shit
your weekends together would be spent in the bedroom
under the covers
giggling your asses off
and cuddling
bc it’s dangerous outside the blanket ( ｀^´ )
lee felix
felix would be so chill about it
you’d tell him and he’d just be like
“okay! so what kinds of toppings did you want me to put on this pizza again?”
you’d just kinda blink at him
you’d been worrying about what he’d say
and if he’d leave you or something
(thanks, irrational brain. love you. NOT! ffs)
as if lee felix would ever leave you,,,,,,
it was a relief not to worry about that
felix would still bundle you up in the biggest hugs ever
and smile his sunshine-filled smile at you
honestly, that alone should be enough to cure depression
but, unfortunately, it’s not
((*shakes fist at depression/anxiety*))
but with felix’s smile and meds, you’re feeling much better, thank you
felix would try to make life brighter for you after finding out
he’d understand that sometimes you want to do things but just can’t
there’s no rhyme nor reason to it
and it wouldn’t matter to him
bc he’d still get to spend time with you, even if it just meant sitting on the couch watching movies
felix would know that sometimes he would just have to make decisions for you
not in a controlling way
but just because your anxiety over making decisions and following through with things would get the better of you
he’d make sure you drink water and eat lots of yummy food
his deep voice is the most calming thing oh my god
and whenever you have an anxiety/panic attack
felix would immediately catch you up in his arms and slow dance with you through the entire episode
even if you’re barely able to stand, he’d hold you up and support you
just so, at an incredibly scary time, you’d have the most loving arms around you
kim seungmin
you were having a panic attack when seungmin came over one time
and you’d just kinda slumped against the wall as soon as he’d come in the door
aaaand you’d had to explain what was going on
but seungmin had just helped you breathe deeply
and eventually you’d calmed down to the point that you felt like
well, like a limp noodle (＠_＠)
you know that feeling when your body is so exhausted from having a panic attack
that you can’t exactly do much else?
yeah. that.
so, he would be glad that you have meds for your depression/anxiety
like jisung, seungmin would want to have A Stern Conversation with your depression/anxiety
bc he’s tired of its shit ψ(｀-´ )ψ
not because he can’t deal with it or you
no
because he hates to see you in so much distress
also,,,,,,
no one should have to feel like there’s no joy left in the world, irrational thinking rules their brain, and like they’re trapped in a cycle of dysfunction, no matter how hard they try
bc sometimes just trying isn’t enough
and seungmin understands that~
sometimes you just need a little outside help
he’d come up with all sorts of things he could do for you to help ease your anxiety
he’d write down all your triggers just so he’d know what avoid
or what to tell other people to avoid alkdfjhakljdfh
bc we all know seungmin is that person (-_-;)・・・
when he found out that you have trouble deciding on food at restaurants
he’d immediately printed out the menus to all the restaurants you loved
just so you could take your time deciding at home
and not feel overwhelmed
aksjfhlskfjdh what a good bean
seungmin is just a sweetie who wants the best for you, really
plus, when you’re feeling better….
the two of you can go on adventures!! (⌒▽⌒)
yang jeongin
jeongin would be a little baffled that someone’s brain could be that cruel to them
“you mean you sometimes just can’t be happy?”
“yep, or function, really. sometimes moving or getting out of bed or eating just isn’t a thing”
‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚
“don’t worry about. i’m on meds for it so it’s not as bad”
(◕︵◕);;;;
“jeongin i promise it’s okay…..”
“HHHHHHHHHH”
you just ended up cuddling him and explaining how depression and anxiety worked
(or rather, how fucking annoying and, even, debilitating they are)
that made him happier bc he understood
he’d try to help you do things that help with the depression
like going for walks
or drinking enough water
definitely regulating your sleep
jeongin: “i know, i know, y/n! it’s hard but you haaaave to wake up”
y/n: “mmph” (￢_￢)
jeongin: *lightly swats you with a pillow* “get! up!!”
y/n: *grumpgrumpgrump*
nights are even harder alkjhsjkslkfjhs
jeongin, on the phone: “no you’re not being a night owl tonight. no! y/n~~~~ come on, i’m tired and wanna go to sleep”
y/n: “but i’m not tired!! i’m just gonna play one more round of this and then go to bed. i promise!”
jeongin, not having any of your shit: “uhuh….”
y/n, *sweats*: “i promiiiiiiiiise”
…………………
3 am
jeongin, via email: “this is an automated reminder to G O T O S L E E P”
y/n: “shit.”
he’d want to be there to listen to you whenever you needed him
even though he doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing
jeongin would do his best as a kind and properly aware person
like everyone else, he just wants you to be okay
#ultkpop#stray kids#stray kids reactions#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#stray kids drabbles#stray kids x reader#skz#skz reactions#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz drabbles#skz fanfic#skz fluff#skz angst#bang chan#lee know#skz minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#.moonlight#moonlit-han
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
“...On June 26, ad 4, Augustus adopted Tiberius. Livia’s son, forty-four years old, now became officially the son of her second husband. Henceforth he is called Tiberius Julius Caesar and is clearly the man designated to succeed the emperor. As he had in the past, Augustus made provision for the possibility that Tiberius might not necessarily survive him. Agrippa Postumus had not given any evidence of being temperamentally suited for high office, but Augustus perhaps hoped that in the general way of things an unruly youth could mature into a responsible adult. Hence the emperor adopted Postumus on the same occasion.
Moreover, Tiberius was obliged, before his own adoption, to adopt his nephew Germanicus, who would thereby become Tiberius’ son and would legally have the same relationship to Tiberius as his natural son, Drusus. The marriage of Germanicus and Agrippina followed soon after, probably in the next year. There is no reason why the unconcealed manoeuvring on behalf of Germanicus should have upset Livia unnecessarily, despite the clear implications of Tacitus that it did. Germanicus, after all, was her grandson as much as was Drusus Caesar. The arrangement reinforced rather than weakened the likelihood of succession from her own line, as was to be demonstrated by events.
The marriage would prove extremely fruitful. In time Agrippina bore Germanicus nine children, six of whom survived infancy. The first three were sons, great-grandsons of Livia: Nero, the eldest (not to be confused with his nephew Nero, the future emperor); Drusus (to be distinguished from the two more famous men of the same name: Drusus, son of Livia, and Drusus Caesar, son of Tiberius); and Gaius (destined to become emperor, and known more familiarly as Caligula). She also bore three surviving daughters, Drusilla and Livilla, and, most important, the younger Agrippina, mother of Livia’s great-great-grandson, the emperor Nero. The adoption of Tiberius in ad 4 would have been an occasion of joy and satisfaction for Livia, and would have helped to efface any lingering grief that still afflicted her over Drusus’ death.
If we are to believe Velleius, not only Livia but the whole Roman world reacted jubilantly to the new turn of events. Needless to say, his account should be treated with due caution. There was, he claims, something for everyone. Parents felt heartened about the future of their children, husbands felt secure about their wives, even property owners anticipated profits from their investments! Everyone looked forward to an era of peace and good order. A colourful exaggeration, of course, but there probably was considerable relief among Romans that the succession issue seemed at long last to be settled.
…In the immediate aftermath of the adoptions the ancient authors inevitably tend to focus on Tiberius and the campaigns he conducted in Germany and Illyricum, and they virtually ignore Agrippa Postumus, whose name was to be invoked later by sources hostile to Livia. A few details about Postumus emerge. In ad 5 he received the toga of manhood. The occasion was low-key, without any of the special honours granted Gaius and Lucius on the same occasion. It also seems to have been delayed. Postumus would have reached fourteen in ad 3, and under normal circumstances might reasonably have been expected to take the toga in that year. Something seems to be wrong. Augustus had certainly endured his share of problems with the young people in his own family. The pressures facing the younger relatives of any monarch are self evident, given the sense of importance that precedes achievement, to say nothing of the opportunists attracted to the immature and malleable, and prepared to pander to their self-importance.
As Velleius astutely remarks, magnae fortunae comes adest adulatio (sycophancy is the comrade of high position). These pressures must have been particularly intense in the period of the Augustan settlement, when no established standards had yet evolved for the royal children and grandchildren. Gaius and Lucius, the focus of Augustus’ ambitions and hopes, caused him endless grief by their behaviour in public, clearly egged on by their supporters, and on at least one occasion Augustus felt constrained to clip their wings. Gaius’ brave but distinctly foolhardy behaviour during the siege of Artagira is surely symptomatic of the same conceit.
There is no reason to assume that Postumus would have been immune from the pressures that turned the heads of his siblings. Whatever traits of haughtiness Postumus might have displayed in his early youth, they were not serious enough to have entered the record, and the exact nature of his personal and possibly mental problems is far from clear. The ancient sources speak of his brutish and violent behaviour. Some modern scholars have suggested that he might have been mad, but the language used of him seems to denote little more than an unmanageable temperament and antisocial tendencies.
For whatever reasons, eventually Augustus decided to remove him from the scene. The details of this expulsion are obscure. Suetonius provides the clearest statement, recording that Augustus removed Postumus (abdicavit) because of his wild character and sent him to Surrentum (Sorrento). The historian notes that Postumus grew less and less manageable and so was then sent to Planasia, a low-lying desolate island about sixteen kilometres south of Elba. Tacitus has no doubt about where the ultimate responsibility for Augustus’ actions lay. Postumus had committed no crime.
But Livia had so ensnared her elderly husband (senem Augustum) that he was induced to banish him to Planasia. Tacitus’ technique here is patent. The use of the word senem is meant to suggest that Augustus was by now senile, even though the event occurred eight years before his death. Incapable of making his own rational decisions, he would thus be at the mercy of a scheming woman, just as later Agrippina the Younger reputedly ‘‘captivated her uncle’’ Claudius (pellicit patruum). No reason is given for Livia’s supposed manoeuvre—which as usual, according to Tacitus, was conducted behind the scenes—except the standard charge that her hatred of Postumus was motivated by a stepmother’s loathing (novercalibus odiis).
Yet nothing in the rest of Tacitus’ narrative sustains his assertion, and the historian himself admits that the general view of Romans towards the end of Augustus’ reign was that Postumus was totally unsuited for the succession, because of both his youth and his generally insolent behaviour. Moreover, Augustus had made the strength of Tiberius’ position so patently evident that Livia would hardly have considered Postumus a serious candidate. This seems to be confirmed in a remarkable passage of Tacitus which uncharacteristically reports public reservations about a potential role for Germanicus, supposedly Tiberius’ rival.
After reporting the popular view that Postumus could be ruled out, Tacitus says that people grumbled that with the accession of Tiberius they would have to put up with Livia’s impotentia, and would have to obey two adulescentes (Germanicus and Drusus) who would oppress, then tear the state apart. Tacitus concedes that even the prospect of the reasonable Germanicus and Drusus being involved in state matters caused consternation. This surely offers some gauge of how far below the horizon Postumus was to be found. The precise reason for Postumus’ removal to Sorrento, if it was not simply his personality, is not clear. The initial expulsion may have been provoked by nothing more serious than personal tension between him and his adoptive father.
Whatever the initial reason, it soon became apparent that if Augustus had hoped that sending his adopted son out of Rome would solve the problem, he was mistaken. Dio places Postumus’ formal exile to Planasia in ad 7. If, as Suetonius claims, he was sent first to Sorrento, what might have precipitated the change in the location and the more grave status of his banishment? We have some hints in the sources. Dio suggests that one of the reasons for Augustus’ giving Germanicus preference over Postumus was that the latter spent most of his time fishing, and acquired the sobriquet of Neptune.
Now this could point simply to irresponsibility and indolence, but the picture of Postumus as an ancient Izaak Walton serenely casting his line does not fit well with the very strong tradition of someone wild and reckless. His activities may well have had a political dimension. The choice of the nickname Neptune could allude to the naval victories of his father, Marcus Agrippa. The fishing story might well belong to the period after Postumus’ relegation to Sorrento. This could have proved a risky spot to locate Postumus, because it lay just across the bay from the important naval base at Misenum that his father had established in 31 bc. The innocent fishing expeditions might have covered much more sinister activities.
Augustus may well have concluded eventually that Postumus was too dangerous to be left in the benign surroundings of Sorrento. During Postumus’ second, more serious phase of exile, on the island of Planasia, he was placed under a military guard, a good indication that he was considered genuinely dangerous rather than just a source of irritation and embarrassment. This final stage of banishment was a formal one, for Augustus confirmed the punishment by a senatorial decree and spoke in the Senate on the occasion about his adopted son’s depraved character. Formal banishment enacted by a decree of the Senate would be intended to make a serious political statement and should have buried completely any thoughts that Postumus might have been considered a serious candidate in the succession.
We cannot rule out the possibility that Postumus became involved, perhaps as a pawn, in some serious political intrigue, if not to oust Augustus then at the very least to ensure that he would be followed not by a son of Livia but by someone from the line of Julia. If Postumus was being encouraged to think of a possible role in the succession, it might reasonably be asked who was doing the urging. Although there is no explicit statement on the question in the sources, many scholars have accepted the notion that there existed a ‘‘Julian party,’’ responsible for much of the ‘‘anti-Claudian’’ propaganda directed against Livia and Tiberius that is found in Tacitus in particular and possibly derived from the memoirs of Agrippina.
…Whatever the intrigues in Rome, Livia’s son was able to keep himself aloof and to play the role that suited him best, that of soldier. Tiberius conducted a brilliant series of campaigns in Pannonia for which a triumph was voted in ad 9. (This was postponed when Tiberius was despatched to Germany in the aftermath of the disastrous defeat of Quinctilius Varus, in which three legions were lost.) When the Pannonian triumph was voted, Augustus made his intentions crystal clear. Various suggestions were put forward for honorific titles, such as Pannonicus, Invictus, and Pius.
The emperor, however, vetoed them all, declaring that Tiberius would have to be satisfied with the title that he would receive when he himself died. That title, of course, was Augustus. It also appears that a law was later passed to make his imperium equal to that of Augustus throughout the empire, and in early 13 his tribunician power was renewed. His son Drusus Caesar received his first accelerated promotion, designated to proceed directly to the consulship in ad 15, skipping the praetorship that should have preceded this higher office.
The virtual impregnability of Tiberius’ position should be borne in mind in any attempt to understand the final months of Augustus’ life. In the closing chapter of her husband’s principate, Livia reemerges in the record to play a central and, according to one tradition, decidedly sinister role. This is perhaps the most convoluted period of her career, where rumour and reality seem to diverge most widely. To place the events in a comprehensible context, it is necessary to note one later detail out of its chronological sequence. As we shall see, after Augustus’ death there was a rumour reported in some of the sources that Livia had murdered her husband.
In the best forensic tradition, a motive would have to be unearthed to make the charge plausible, especially since sceptics could hardly have failed to notice that Augustus had never enjoyed robust health and was already in his seventy-sixth year. Death from natural causes could hardly be considered remarkable under such circumstances. The requisite motive would indeed be produced, and the kernel of the intricate thesis that evolved is found in a brief summary of Augustus’ career by Pliny the Elder. Among the travails that afflicted the emperor, Pliny lists the abdicatio of Postumus after his adoption, Augustus’ regret after the relegation, the suspicion that a certain Fabius betrayed his secrets, and the intrigues of Livia and Tiberius.
Pliny’s summary observations are clearly based on a more detailed source, which suggested that Augustus felt some remorse about Postumus. This simple and not improbable notion is developed by other sources into a far more complex scenario that creates an apparently plausible motive, because it could be claimed that Livia would have wanted to remove her husband before he could act on his change of heart. This reconstruction of the events is clearly reminiscent of the closing days of the reign of Claudius, when the emperor supposedly sought a rapprochement with his son Britannicus, to the disadvantage of his stepson Nero, and thereby inspired his wife Agrippina to despatch him with the poisoned mushroom.
But it is important to bear in mind that as Pliny reports the events he limits himself to the claim that Augustus regretted Postumus’ exile, without further elaboration, and although Livia and her son supposedly engaged in intrigues of some unspecified nature, Pliny assigns no criminal action to either of them. Pliny’s ‘‘skeleton account’’ is to some degree validated by Plutarch. In his essay on ‘‘Talkativeness,’’ Plutarch, in a very garbled passage, relates that a friend of Augustus named ‘‘Fulvius’’ heard the emperor lamenting the woes that had befallen his house—the deaths of Gaius and Lucius and the exile of ‘‘Postumius’’ on some false charge—which had obliged him to pass on the succession to Tiberius. He now regretted what had happened and intended (bouleuomenos) to recall his surviving grandson from exile.
According to Plutarch’s account, Fulvius passed this information on to his wife, and she in turn passed it on to Livia, who took Augustus to task for his careless talk. The emperor made his displeasure known to Fulvius, and he and his wife in consequence committed suicide. This last detail was perhaps inspired by the famous story of Arria, who achieved immortal fame in ad 42 when she died with her husband Caecina Paetus, who had been implicated in a conspiracy against Claudius. Plutarch’s confused version of events does not inspire confidence, and in any case, although he gives Livia a more specific role than does Pliny, he follows Pliny in not attributing to Augustus any action, only supposed intentions.
Dio’s account is a much contracted one, but derived from a source that has added a very important wrinkle to the story and has Augustus taking action on his change of heart. Dio says that Livia was suspected of Augustus’ death. She was afraid, people say (hos phasi), because Augustus had secretly sailed to Planasia to see Postumus and seemed to be on the brink of seeking a reconciliation. This bald and surely implausible story, involving a round trip of some five hundred kilometres, is given its fullest treatment in Tacitus, clearly drawing on the same source as Dio.
He says that people thought that Livia had brought about Augustus’ final illness, because a rumour entered into circulation that the emperor had gone to Planasia to visit Postumus, accompanied by a small group of intimates, including Paullus Fabius Maximus. Fabius, clearly Plutarch’s ‘‘Fulvius,’’ was a literary figure of some renown, a close friend of Ovid and Horace. He was also an intimate of Augustus, consul in 11 bc, governor of Asia, and legatus in Spain (3–2 bc). He would thus be a plausible participant in this mysterious expedition. Tacitus reports that the tears and signs of affection were enough to raise the hopes of Postumus that there was a prospect of his being recalled. (It is striking that Tacitus is ambiguous about the meeting’s purpose and is too good a historian to bring himself to claim that Augustus had gone there to commit himself to Postumus’ rehabilitation.)
Fabius Maximus supposedly told the story to his wife, Marcia, and she in turn passed it to Livia. The text of the manuscript is corrupt at this point, but Tacitus seems to say that this indiscretion came to the knowledge of Augustus (reading the text as gnarum id Caesari). The subsequent death of Fabius, Tacitus says, may or may not have been suicide (the implication is that Augustus ordered it, as Plutarch suggests). Marcia was heard at the funeral reproaching herself as the cause of her husband’s downfall (this presumably is how the story got out).
After this detailed account Tacitus undercuts his own case when he goes on to say that Augustus died shortly afterwards, utcumque se ea res habuit. The force of this phrase is essentially ‘‘whatever the truth of the matter.’’ It hardly inspires conviction. The story of the adventurous journey to Planasia and the tearful reconciliation has generally been greeted with scepticism by modern scholars. Jameson is an exception. She uses the Arval record to argue that Augustus did take the trip, noting that on May 14 there was a meeting of the brethren for the cooption of Drusus Caesar, the son of Tiberius, into their order. Fabius Maximus and Augustus were absent from the ceremony, and submitted their votes, in favour of the co-option, by absentee ballot. But is there anything remarkable in their absence?
Clearly, the election of Tiberius’ son was not in reality a particularly important occasion, for Tiberius himself failed to attend. Moreover, Syme notes that no fewer than five other arvals were absent from this meeting, and that there could be a host of explanations for Augustus’ absence. Also, if the co-option was seen as an important family event, then it would surely have been the very worst time for Augustus to try to slip away unnoticed. The emperor was by this time in declining health, so weak that he even held audiences in the palace lying on a couch. In ad 12 he was so frail that he stopped his morning receptions for senators and asked their indulgence for his not joining them at public banquets.
Yet we are supposed to assume that he made the arduous journey to Planasia, and that he did so without Livia realizing what he was up to. It is also important to observe that both Tacitus and Dio drew on a source claiming that Augustus was on the verge of making amends with Postumus. An actual reconciliation seems to be ruled out by the later sequence of events. Certainly he did nothing whatsoever on his return to strengthen Postumus’ position or to weaken that of Tiberius. Finally, one might ask whether Augustus could ever have seriously considered recalling Postumus. He had put him under armed guard. There were plots to rescue him. His supporters published damaging letters about the emperor. It all seems implausible. Syme suggests that the details of the journey might have been added soon after Augustus’ death, a ‘‘specimen of that corroborative detail which is all too apparent (and useful) in historical fictions.’’ Syme bases his argument in part on aesthetic considerations. The episode as it appears in Tacitus is introduced in an inartistic fashion and appears to have been grafted on as an afterthought, introducing two names, those of Fabius Maximus and his wife, Marcia, that will not be mentioned again in the Annals. Moreover, neither Pliny nor Plutarch mentions Planasia.
…The plot described by Suetonius might then have been a last desperate effort to rescue her. In any case it seems to have come to nothing. In addition to the supposed political intrigues in the period immediately before Augustus’ death, there was no shortage of signs that the gods, too, were feeling distinctly uneasy, ranging from the usual comets and fires in the sky to more opaque portents, like a madman sitting on the chair dedicated to Julius Caesar and placing a crown on his own head, or an owl hooting on the roof of the Senate house. But Augustus seems to have had no premonition that he had little time left when he set out from Rome in August 14.
At that time Tiberius was obliged to leave the city for further service abroad, and he departed for Illyricum with a mandate to reorganise the province. Livia and Augustus joined him for the first part of the journey. This very public gesture is an affirmation of the emperor’s faith in Tiberius—a very odd signal to send if only a few months earlier he had become reconciled to Postumus and had changed his mind about who would succeed him. The party went as far as Astura, and from there followed the unusual course of taking a ship by night to catch the favourable breeze. On the sea journey Augustus contracted an illness, which began with diarrhoea.
They skirted the coast of Campania, spent four days in Augustus’ villa at Capri to allow him to relax and recuperate, then sailed into the Gulf of Puteoli, where they were given an extravagant welcome from the passengers and crew of a ship that had just sailed in from Alexandria. They passed over to Naples, although Augustus was still weak and his diarrhoea was recurring. He managed to muster up the strength to watch a gymnastic performance. Then they continued their journey. At Beneventum the company broke up. Tiberius headed east. As Augustus began the return journey with Livia from Beneventum, his illness took a turn for the worse. Perhaps he had a sense that his end was near, as he made for an old family estate, in nearby Nola, where his father, Octavius, had died.
Augustus was not to leave Nola alive. His condition quickly grew worse, and on August 19, 14, at the ninth hour, in Suetonius’ precise report, he died. According to Tacitus, as Augustus grew more sick, some people started to suspect (suspectabant) Livia of dirty deeds (scelus). Dio is more specific, but is still cautious about the charge. He notes that Augustus used to gather figs from the tree with his own hands. She, hos phasi (as they say), cunningly smeared some of them with poison, ate the uncontaminated ones herself and offered the special ones to her husband. As can be seen in his handling of other events, Dio does seem to relish rumours of poisoning.
He relates, for instance, that Vespasian died of fever in ad 79, but adds that some said that he was poisoned at a banquet. It was similarly said that Domitian murdered Titus in ad 81, although the written accounts agree that he died of natural causes. In the case of Augustus it may be possible to discern the origins of the rumour. Suetonius confirms that the emperor was fond of green figs from the second harvest (along with hand-made moist cheese, small fish, and coarse bread). Given Livia’s interest in the cultivation of figs (she even had one named after her), she may well have had an orchard at Nola to which she would have given special attention during her stay.
Dio in fact seems to have had little personal faith in the fig rumour, for he goes on to speak of Augustus’ death as ‘‘from this or from some other cause.’’ By its nature the fig story is unprovable yet impossible to refute. It falls in the grand tradition of such deaths, the best-known being the supposed despatch of Claudius by a poisoned mushroom. If Livia murdered Augustus, then her timing was oddly awry, for she had to go to considerable trouble to recall Tiberius, who was by then en route to Illyricum. Why not do the deed when he was still on the scene?
It is perhaps worth bearing in mind that Livia had an interest in curative recipes. It is possible that she would have inflicted one or more of her own concoctions on her husband. In the unlikely event that he was poisoned, alternative medicine might be a more plausible culprit than the murderer’s toxin. From Beneventum, Tiberius headed for the east coast of Italy, where he took a boat to Illyricum. He had barely crossed over to the Dalmatian coast when an urgent letter from his mother caught up with him, recalling him to Nola. There are different versions of what happened next. Tacitus describes Augustus in his final hours holding a heavy conversation with his entourage about the qualifications of potential successors. Dio and Suetonius allow him a lighter agenda.
They recount that he first asked for a mirror, combed his hair and straightened his sagging jaws. Then he invited the friends in. He gave them his final instructions, ending with his famous line of finding Rome a city of clay and leaving it a city of marble. In conclusion, he asked how they would rate his performance in the grand comedy of life. He seems to have taken a high score for granted, because just like a comic actor, he asked them to give him applause for a role well played. (The curious coincidence of the comic actors brought in during Claudius’ last hours should be noted.)
He then dismissed his friends and spoke to some visitors from Rome, asking about the health of Tiberius’ granddaughter Julia, who was ill. The most serious discrepancy arises over the part that Tiberius might have played during the emperor’s final hours. Dio preserves one tradition, which he says he found in most authorities, including the better ones, that the emperor died while his adopted son was still in Dalmatia, and that Livia for political reasons was determined to keep the death secret until he got back. Tacitus reflects a similar tradition, reporting uncertainty about whether Tiberius found Augustus dead or alive when he reached Nola. The house and the adjoining streets had been sealed off by Livia with guards, and optimistic bulletins were issued, until she was ready to release the news at a time dictated by her own needs.
The story is reminiscent of Agrippina’s arrangements after the death of Claudius. She was similarly accused of keeping the death secret and posting guards as Claudius lay dying. The suspicions about Livia do not appear in the other extant accounts. Velleius reports that Tiberius rushed back and arrived earlier than expected, which perked up Augustus for a time. But before too long he began to fail, and died in Tiberius’ arms, asking him to carry on with their joint work.
Suetonius is even more emphatic about Tiberius’ role. He says that Augustus detained Tiberius for a whole day in private conversation, which was the last serious business that he transacted. His final moments were spent with Livia. His mind wandered as he died—he thought that forty men were carrying him away—but at the last instant he kissed his wife, with an affectionate farewell, Livia nostri coniugii memor vive, ac vale (Livia, be mindful of our marriage, and good-bye), then slipped into the quiet death that he had always hoped for.
That Livia might have kept the news of Augustus’ death secret for a time is certainly plausible—there are all sorts of sound reasons why the announcement of a politically sensitive death might be postponed, although the similar delay after Claudius’ death is disturbingly coincidental. She also may well have put pickets around the house, but no sinister connotation need be placed on the action. The final hours of Augustus would doubtless have attracted the concerned and the curious, who in such situations follow a herd instinct to keep crowded vigils. After Agrippina the Younger had been shipwrecked near Baiae in ad 59, crowds of well-wishers streamed up to her house, carrying torches.
The same would surely have happened in Nola, and some sort of control might have become necessary to give the dying emperor some peace. The house certainly became a place of pilgrimage afterwards, and was converted into some sort of shrine. The romantic account of Augustus expiring in Tiberius’ arms may be highly coloured, and Suetonius’ claim that Augustus and Tiberius spent a whole day together sounds exaggerated, given that Augustus’ health was fading so fast.
But it is difficult to see how that whole sequence of events could simply have been invented if it did not have at least a basis of truth. In any case, rumours surrounding the events at Augustus’ deathbed were totally eclipsed by dramatic developments across the water. As an immediate consequence of the emperor’s death, Postumus also lost his life: primum facinus novi principatus fuit Postumi Agrippae caedes (the first misdeed of the new principate was the slaying of Agrippa Postumus), as Tacitus words it.
The events of this first and possibly murkiest episode of Tiberius’ reign have been much debated, and it is probably now impossible to disentangle fact from rumour and innuendo, since there is considerable ambiguity in the ancient accounts of the incident. The general outline of the events is not particularly controversial. The officer commanding the guard at Planasia executed Postumus after he had received written instructions (codicilli) to carry out the deed. Postumus had no weapons other than his powerful physique, and he put up a valiant but ultimately futile struggle. A desperate attempt by a loyal slave, Clemens, to save him was frustrated when the would-be rescuer took a slow freight ship to Planasia and arrived too late.
After the execution, the officer then reported to Tiberius, presumably still at Nola, that the action had been carried out. He did so, as Tacitus describes it, ut mos militiae (in the military manner), presumably in the sense of a soldier reporting to his commander that his orders have been discharged. Tiberius denied vehemently that he had given any such orders. According to Tacitus, he claimed that Augustus had sent the order, to be put into force immediately after his death, and insisted that the officer would have to give an account to the Senate. Tacitus at this point adds a new wrinkle to the story, and gives a role to a figure not mentioned in any of the other sources in the context of this incident.
The codicilli, he claims, had been sent to the tribune by Augustus’ confidant Sallustius Crispus. This man was the great-nephew and adopted son of the historian Sallust. Although his family connections had opened up the opportunities for a brilliant senatorial career, Sallustius chose to fashion himself after Maecenas and seek real influence rather than the empty prominence of the Senate. He rose to the top through his energy and determination, which he managed to conceal from his contemporaries by pretending a casual or even apathetic attitude to life.
He acquired considerable wealth, owning property in Rome, and among other landed estates he could list a copper mine in the Alps producing high-grade ore. More importantly, at least until his later years, he had the ear of both Augustus and Tiberius, as a man who bore the imperatorum secreta (secrets of the emperors). When Sallustius learned that Tiberius wanted the whole matter brought before the Senate, he grew alarmed, afraid that he personally could end up being charged. He interceded with Livia, alerting her to the danger of making public the arcana domus (the inner secrets of the house), with all that would entail—details of the advice of friends, or of the special services carried out by the soldiers—and urged her to curb her son. Beyond this general framework the details are highly obscure, and, it seems, totally speculative.
Tacitus says that Tiberius avoided raising the issue of Postumus’ death in the Senate, and Suetonius observes that he simply let the matter fade away. There would thus have been no official source of information. Yet fairly detailed narratives have been passed down, which could have come only from eyewitness accounts. In particular one has to wonder how the supposed secret dealings between Livia and Sallustius could ever have become known. This uncertainty over the source and reliability of the information clearly makes it impossible to determine who was ultimately responsible for Postumus’ death.
Suetonius summarises the problem nicely. He states that it was not known whether Augustus had left the written instructions, on the verge of his own death, to ensure a smooth succession, or whether Livia had dictated them (dictasset) in the name of Augustus, and, if the latter, whether Tiberius had known about them. Dio categorically insists that Tiberius was directly responsible but says that he encouraged the speculation, so that some blamed Augustus, some Livia, and some even said that the centurion had acted on his own initiative.
Tacitus found Tiberius’ claim that Augustus had left instructions for the execution hard to believe, and describes this defence as a posture (simulabat), suggesting that the more likely scenario was that Tiberius and Livia hastily brought about the death, Tiberius driven by fear and she by novercalibus odiis (stepmotherly hatred). Velleius may have been aware of these speculations, for he is very cagey about Postumus’ death. He insists that ‘‘he suffered an ultimate fate’’ (habuit exitum) in a way that was appropriate to his ‘‘madness’’ ( furor). Velleius may well have been deliberately ambiguous to avoid becoming enmeshed in a contentious and sensitive issue that might reflect badly on Tiberius.
Scholars have generally been inclined to exonerate Livia, and only Gardthausen has held that Livia was totally responsible, without even Tiberius’ complicity. Syme accuses Tacitus of supporting an imputation against Livia ‘‘which he surely knew to be false.’’ The implication of Livia has been challenged by Charlesworth in particular. He sees it as emanating from the same tradition that had her poisoning Augustus. Certainly Pliny’s brief summary imputes no criminal action against her. She seems on principle to have refrained from taking independent executive action. (The picket she set up around Augustus’ house would be the only known counterexample.)
At most, it is possible that she knew of such an order, but it seems highly unlikely that she initiated it. Even if a meeting did actually take place between Sallustius and Livia, as Tacitus alleges, this need not mean that anything sinister had necessarily been underfoot. Sallustius may have wished simply to appeal to the wisdom and experience of Livia to counter the political naïveté of a son who had spent his career on military campaigns and had not yet become adept in the complexities of political intrigue. The suppression of information about the activities of the soldiers could just as easily have been meant to refer to Augustus’ instructions as to Livia’s, in a system where secrecy for the sake of secrecy was considered a vital element in the fabric of efficient government.
If Livia had somehow been involved with Sallustius in carrying out Augustus’ instructions, there would have had to be secret and dangerous communication between Rome and Nola, unless Sallustius was also with Augustus at the end (and Tacitus would surely have mentioned his presence). Tiberius seems largely exonerated by his own conduct. If he had been guilty, he would hardly have wanted an investigation by the Senate, and could simply have claimed that the execution was carried out on Augustus’ orders or even have reported officially that Postumus had died from natural causes. We can surely eliminate Dio’s barely tenable suggestion that the guard might have executed Postumus on its own initiative, and the hardly more convincing notion that Sallustius Crispus similarly might have acted on his own initiative.
On balance, the most plausible suspect is Augustus, although plausibility is far different from conviction. Augustus might well have issued standing orders to the tribune to execute Postumus the moment news of his own death arrived. Sallustius could well have sent the announcement of the emperor’s death in Tiberius’ name (with or without his knowledge), which could account for the centurion’s coming to Rome to make a report to Tiberius.
When he needed to, Augustus could behave quite ruthlessly against those who threatened him. He put to death Caesarion, the supposed son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, for purely political motives. He also could be harsh towards his own family. He swore that he would never recall the elder Julia from exile, refused to recognise the child of the younger Julia, and would not allow either Julia burial in his mausoleum. It was he who had set the armed guard over Postumus. Moreover, Augustus did make meticulous preparations for his own death.
He left behind three or four libelli, with instructions for his funeral, the text of the Res Gestae, a summary of the Roman troops, fleets, provinces, client-kingdoms, direct and indirect taxes—including those in arrears— the funds in the public and in the imperial treasuries, and the imperial accounts. There was also a book of instructions for Tiberius, the Senate, and the people. Augustus went into considerable detail, with such particulars as the number of slaves it would be wise to free and the number of new citizens who should be enrolled.
He was clearly a man determined not to leave any issues hanging in the balance, and the future of Postumus would have been an issue of prime importance. Postumus’ death was the final blow for Julia the Elder. From this point on, she simply gave up and went into a slow decline, her despair aggravated by her destitution. She received no help from Tiberius, although he had earlier tried to win leniency for her from her father.
According to Suetonius, Tiberius, once emperor, deprived her of her allowance, using the heartless argument that Augustus had not provided for it in his will. As we have seen, Livia might well have helped the exiled Julia at one point by giving her one of her slaves, and she certainly helped Julia’s daughter when she was sent away from Rome. But she does not seem to have tried to intercede on this occasion. Julia died in late ad 14 from weakness and malnutrition. The new reign had got off to a bloody start.”
- Anthony A. Barrett, “The Public Figure.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome
#livia drusilla#postumus#octavian#tiberius#roman#ancient#history#anthony a. barrett#livia first lady of imperial rome
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. III
summary: Mando picks out the planet Sorgan for the three of you to lie low on. Things get complicated, Reader gets a glimpse of how hectic Mando's life can be as a bounty for hire, and everybody is confused about feelings.
word count: 14.5k (...help)
author’s notes: Good LORD I was stuck on this for way too long. Between my creative focus being elsewhere and just being completely stuck as to how I wanted some scenes to play out, it took a lot for me to do more than a sentence or two at a time and then forget about it for days or weeks at a time.
This was also hard to write bc I am very uhhh put off by Omera and her original role as the possible love interest and I was trying very hard to remain believable/respectful about her. Cara Dune was also hard to write because of certain actions by her actor, so she's got a little bit of a lesser role.
I'm saying this now, with future chapters I am not going to be going episode-by-episode like I originally intended. I might jump around and have some "filler" things, I may completely skip over some episode happenings, I may diverge from canon here and there, but generally the outcomes will be the same as the show. I cut out the actual battle of Sorgan too bc this is already too long and I am terrible at writing action scenes. :v
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) // ao3 link
---
It had been a couple days since you’d set yourself up a space in the hold. At least, it felt like a couple days. You weren’t accustomed to space travel and dealing with the lack of solar cycles to indicate the passage of time, so it was difficult to tell exactly. It didn’t really matter, in the end, but it was still a little annoying.
In that time, you spent most of your time getting to know your way around the Razor Crest’s small layout, what panels and buttons did what, and making sure the child on board was cared for and didn’t get into anything he shouldn’t. Easier said than done, as that kid was surprisingly sneaky and far too curious. He seemed well-behaved, right up until you weren’t looking, and the next thing you knew he was doing something like rooting around in a pile of netting and getting hopelessly tangled, or trying to put things in his mouth to teethe on.
Right now, the kid was up in the cockpit with Mando. Even though you were on board to help out, Mando still seemed to feel better when he was in the same room as the kid versus you being the one supervising, and to be honest it was nice to have a break from babysitting. You had never wanted kids of your own to begin with, and though this kid wasn’t exactly your standard child, it reinforced that at the end of the day, the factor of being able to give the child back to their actual caregiver played a large role in just how tolerant you were of them.
The entire ship suddenly jerked to the side and sent you crashing into the hull wall, your shins narrowly avoiding smashing against the edge of one of the crates lying around. To say you were shaken was a bit of an understatement, despite not a moment later, the normal smooth flight pattern returning and the ship righting itself. Did Mando hit something? Was some part of the ship on the verge of breaking down completely? You did a quick sweep to make sure none of the weapons lockers were damaged and that nothing was in danger of going ogg. You swore, this man had far too much firepower on board and one day it was going to come back and bite him.
Fortunately, everything was where it should be and the only things really out of place was your now-askew space, and your frazzled self. Huffing, you sped over to the ladder and clambered up to the cockpit to see if you could find out what was going on. On your way up, you could hear the low, modulated voice of Mando speaking, very likely to the child with the tone you could pick up.
“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple months, you little womp rat? Nobody’s gonna find us there.”
“Nobody’s gonna find us where?” Your head and shoulders were poking out of the ladder hatch, arms folding over the edge as you gave the pair a pointed look. You weren’t about to let Mando decide where you were going to camp out for months without you giving some input.
The Mandalorian turning to face you with the child in his lap was almost comical, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t expecting to be called out on. You didn’t see any sign of concern over whatever had shaken you down below, so you figured you could bring that up later.
You could see a holomap beyond Mando, though it was too far for you to make out any of the text on it. You dragged yourself the rest of the way into the cockpit, righting yourself and coming to a halt just far enough that you could read the screen.
“An outer rim planet.” He leaned aside and let you read the screen’s details. Sorgan, huh. You vaguely remember that name from when you were compiling planets for Mando back when this whole mess started. The details past that escaped you, though. You squinted as you read on. No populations outside of small settlements to speak of, no starports or anything industrial… and it was one of those planets made up of a single biome - swamp.
To be honest, you weren’t thrilled at the idea of actually camping out for so long in such a place. You were so accustomed to being in places that had somewhat larger settlements, and absolutely more tech than this planet likely had, not just for business but simple things like staying entertained. But you were even less thrilled at the fact that this was a swamp planet. You knew not all swamp planets were the same, but the simple holomap readout didn’t indicate any further details about what kind of swamps it was made up of.
You hope above all things it’s not a bog planet like Nal Hutta. Gaseous atmosphere, skies choked by sickly green clouds, brown water, hardly any land to speak of.
You turned and gave Mando a look. “No information about the biome past ‘swamp’?”
He shook his head in that slow, deliberate way of his. You exhaled through your nose.
“Not a fan of swamps?”
“You could say that.” You turned back to the screen, like staring at it might make it give up more information. Maker , you missed your database.
“How far away are we?”
“Not very, maybe an hour or two.”
You stepped back and fell unceremoniously into one of the passenger seats further back in the cockpit. The child, who had been watching you through this whole exchange, seemed to lose his interest once you sat down and went back to looking curiously around at the controls laid out in front of Mando. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and you started to suspect he had something to do with the ship going sideways earlier. Probably got a hold of the controls somehow.
“I guess I’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get a look at the planet.”
The Mandalorian nodded, and turned back to the controls to pilot you all there.
You had been closer than you anticipated, though it was still not a very short journey. Instead of going back down to the hull, you opted to stay in the passenger seat and simply wait. Jumping to hyperspace was something you had yet to get used to, but after so long of the smooth traveling with the smears of light streaking past the windscreens, you found you could relax a little and rest your eyes.
A jolt in the ship as you exited hyperspace shook you awake. Blinking and sitting up in your chair, you peered out the window at the planet taking up the view.
Deep green. Streaks of blue. White cloud cover. You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the chair back.
“Acceptable?” There was a hint of amusement in Mando’s voice. You smirked at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” You actually were looking forward a little to seeing just what kind of plant life was on this planet. You could see a fair amount of tree coverage, which meant forests. It had been far too long since you’d seen proper forests, let alone been out in one. You had tried to replicate it with your plant corner back home, but it was never the same. Some time amongst real trees would do you good.
The descent had you watching out the window the whole time, surveying the landscape as its features came into view. It had its marshes and rivers, but equal amounts of coniferous forests and solid land. This place could almost pass for an arboreal biome planet in places. You spotted very few settlements on the way in, too, and what you did see looked to be the most basic of small villages.
Mando landed the Razor Crest some ways away from a small market, hidden amongst ample tree coverage. He locked down the controls and lifted the kid with one arm, removing a small silver ball from his clutches to attach to one of the levers in the array.
“I’m going to go out and find us some lodging. Wait here with the kid. Don’t let him touch anything. I’ll be back.”
He passed the child off to you, with such surety that you’d take him that he nearly dropped the little one on you before you could respond. You grabbed him with both hands in a slight panic, thinking he was about to fall, and in doing so your fingers gripped into the gloved ones already supporting his weight. Even with the barrier between skin-to-skin contact, it was awkward and had your face heating with embarrassment that you’d accidentally touched the bounty hunter. He, however, made no indication of any such reaction, damn that helmet making him unreadable. His hands withdrew once it was certain the child was in your grasp safely.
You and the child stared at each other as you held him out before you, like you weren’t sure what to do with him now. He looked back at you with a similar expression, and you swore there was a hint of some sort of mischief underneath it. Oh, he had definitely been the one to make the ship go off-kilter, no doubt now. And knowing your luck, he was going to do more of the same once Mando left. You’d already experienced him trying to eat trash despite you actively watching him, you knew he was capable of more.
Mando descended the ladder into the hold, and the sound of the ramp opening up reached the cockpit. You looked out the windscreen, watching as the Mandalorian appeared in your field of view just as the sound of the ramp closing itself back up sounded.
And that was all it took.
The child turned into a complete nightmare the instant it was clear Mando was gone. It didn’t matter what you did - first he fussed and squirmed to be let down, so you did, and the second you turned your head he had somehow managed to get into the pilot’s seat and was attempting to mess with the controls. Every time you picked him up, he fussed again, wriggling and whining loudly, and whenever you set him back down he went straight for whatever he knew he could get in trouble for. You tried to keep this up as long as you could, which proved to be a pathetic five minutes or so. It was like having an extra-smart, extra-naughty loth cat with thumbs on board.
“Okay, kid. We’re going down to the hold. You can’t accidentally start the ship up down there.” You snatched the kid up under his armpits, and though he continued fussing, it was much less, like perhaps he wanted to be in the hold. You knew that the hold had just as much, if not more, for him to get into trouble with, what with the armory down there, but it was better than possibly starting up the engines and taking off.
You awkwardly climbed down the ladder with one arm latched around the child, and once you reached the floor you set him down, hoping he’d behave a little more. How wrong you were. It was like the kid instinctively knew where the controls for the ramp were, because he made a beeline for that panel - knocking whatever he could out of the way just to accentuate his point - and reached his-far-too-short arms into the air like he could possibly reach it if he just tried hard enough. No amount of you trying to redirect his attention or picking him up to set him down elsewhere worked, he would cry and go straight back to the panel and give you repeated looks with big, desperate eyes, like you were a monster for not understanding he wanted to open the door.
“Mando told us to stay here. So we’re going to stay here until he gets back.”
It was when the loud crying started that you knew you had lost the battle.
That alone was one of your top reasons for not desiring children - you couldn’t handle the noise that came with an upset child. Not for any good parental reason like not wanting to see them sad. You genuinely couldn’t stand the screaming, it set you on edge and made you want to scream in turn. And here one was, cries bouncing off the hull walls and drilling into your eardrums with far more force than you could have imagined possible for something so small.
You rushed as fast as you could towards the control panel and slammed the button to open the ramp.
“OKAY! Okay, okay, you win, we’ll go find him.” You glared down at the kid, whose clear face and perked ears indicated the crying had all been an act. You sighed heavily. He’d only known you for maybe a few days and he already knew how to get you to do what he wanted.
“He’s not going to be happy, you know that, right.” The child just tilted his head at you, smug little face seeming to say “no, he can’t get mad at me”.
You wandered back to your area not too far off to get some of your outerwear on - your belt, your ear piece, your blaster, whatever you might need in the immediate future. The neck gaiter you loosely wore got pulled up to securely cover the lower half of your face - it made you feel more secure, somehow, when you were venturing out into strange places. You picked the kid up and awkwardly shifted him to one arm, making your way down the ramp, and hoping you wouldn’t get into too much trouble with the bounty hunter. The kid, meanwhile, happily burbled in your grasp.
With a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you marched out onto the planet’s surface in the direction you had seen Mando go.
-
You were right. Mando wasn’t happy at all.
He had been trudging along, lost in his thoughts about what kind of lodging he should be looking for now that there wasn’t just him, but you and a child to account for, but still attentive enough to his surroundings that when he heard what sounded like distant footsteps crunching through the undergrowth he paused.
It was when he heard the sounds of the child babbling and you calling out to him to wait that his wariness turned to mild panic, and he rushed towards where he could hear your voices, hand staying within reaching range of his blaster. What had happened? He told you to stay back at the Crest and yet here you were, with the child. Had you been discovered, and just barely escaped? Was the Razor Crest captured?
He came to a halt just a few feet from you, surveying you and the child for any signs of distress or damage, stance wary and ready for a fight.
“What happened?” His tone was terse, apprehensive.
You looked wryly down at the bright-eyed child in your grasp, and back up at the bounty hunter. Or rather, somewhere in the general vicinity of him, as you found you couldn’t look directly at him.
“He, uh. Was very upset at you leaving without him.”
Mando’s defensive posture deflated and he tilted his head in a way that you knew he was giving you a disbelieving look.
“I told you to stay put, and the kid throwing a fit is all it took for you to leave?” He didn’t miss the way your mouth tightened into a thin line and your brow furrowed.
“He wouldn’t stop trying to be destructive, and when I tried to move him he’d just scream and go for the ramp! Look, I told you I wasn’t the best out there with kids.” You snapped, glaring into the blank visor.
Honestly, he could tell you were disappointed in yourself for caving so easily, and he probably wouldn’t have fared much better with his own lack of experience with children. But you could have been followed, and now the ship was unattended. The child, however, looked content as ever, his plan having worked. He sighed. It was what it was at this point. At least he was still in range that could lock the ship up remotely with his vambrace controls, which he set to doing immediately.
“Come on, then.” He motioned with a hand as he turned back to the direction he had come from, cape swirling around his form dramatically. You exchanged a tired glance with the smug kid, having half a mind to set him down and make him walk the rest of the way to wherever you were going.
“You’re lucky you’re at least a little cute.”
By the time you get to civilization, you’d let the kid down to walk - just beside Mando, and you just behind the child. Two unlikely bodyguards for an equally unlikely “dignitary”. The towering trees thinned out on the edge of the small market center, man-made structures beginning to appear. The buildings were small, mostly made of wicker and wood, with very little in the way of tech. The people were equally simple, their dress and presentation reflecting their rural occupations.
With the interest of the child in mind, Mando led the three of you into a common house, the busy sounds of kitchen work and the smell of grilling food easily reaching you before you even got to the entrance. It would have been more welcoming, if it wasn’t also accompanied by nearly everyone turning their eyes to your odd trio and whispering amongst themselves. On one hand, you couldn’t completely blame them, as the three of you were like the lead-up to a bad joke come to life. But it still made you very uncomfortable, knowing without a doubt that you were being watched and discussed. You hated the feeling. You self-consciously adjusted the fabric masking your face and furrowed your brow to try and give off the most “do not approach” energy you could, glancing around at the tenants. Not many of them returned your gaze, save a few, including one woman who didn’t at all look like she was from there. Strong, wearing armor and weapons - not to the extent of the Mandalorian, of course. But you could still feel that she wasn’t to be messed with. You averted your gaze quickly.
The child, meanwhile, was bright as ever with this new place he was in. He looked around the establishment, taking in the new scenery and the light filtering in through the gaps of the woodwork with his big eyes. You in turn watched him, as Mando located a table for the three of you. You followed suit and sat at the table, and as you turned to see what the kid was up to, you noticed the little one had locked eyes with a tooka cat beneath the chair of a nearby tenant. The child was curious, but you knew enough about tooka cats to know that the way it was looking back meant it was interpreting the child’s staring as threatening to its peace. Very few animals took maintaining eye contact as anything but a challenge, and this was no different.
“Leave it alone, kid.” You murmured just loud enough that you hoped he’d hear. Your words were too late, as the cat’s lips pulled back and revealed its enormous maw of teeth in a menacing hiss. The child flinched back with a frightened noise, and next thing you knew you were snatching him up by the ruff of his oversized coat and plopping him in the seat beside you.
There was barely any time for any of you to exchange glances when a proprietor approached the table, face weathered but welcoming.
“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”
“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando motioned with his hand towards the child. You suppressed giving the armored man a skeptical look for ordering the most basic of things for the kid, when it was obvious they had more substantial food in this establishment. It was fine, you told yourself, he had the final say and this wasn’t the place to call him out on his decisions.
“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?” Mando shook his head. The proprietor turned her gaze to you expectantly.
“No, thank you.” You put your palm out in a placating gesture. Even though the aroma of food filtered through your face covering and had a tempting quality to it, somewhere as public as this was absolutely not somewhere you’d be comfortable trying to eat at. If you could take it to go, maybe. But you had no idea where you’d even be staying at this point, or how much longer you’d be looking for such a place. No, you could wait.
The proprietor nearly began to speak again when Mando cut her off.
“That one over there, when did she arrive?”
So, you hadn’t been the only one to notice the intimidating woman across the room. Well, it wasn’t that difficult, with how much she stuck out amongst the residents of the planet. You three were equally as noticeable, and you didn’t miss how the woman was still watching you, though she was trying to be discreet about it. There was wariness coming off of her, you could feel that much.
The proprietor glanced towards where Mando had indicated the strange woman to be, seemingly confused. “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”
Mando continued pressing her for answers she didn’t have. “What’s her business here?”
“Business?” The proprietor looked as confused as ever. “Well, there’s not much business on Sorgan, so I can’t say…” The sound of credits clinking onto the countertop reached in your ears as Mando casually tossed some onto the tabletop. You were too busy watching the woman out of your peripheral vision to pay too much attention to what he was up to. The proprietor mentioned the woman not being a log runner, and offered complimentary spotchka before she left to retrieve the order.
The moment the woman stood and moved to leave the common house, you discreetly rapped your knuckle against Mando’s vambrace. The black T of his visor turned towards you, and you vaguely twitched your fingers in the direction the woman had been moments before.
“She’s leaving.” You murmured as lowly as you could so Mando could hear but others couldn’t. You didn’t get any impression of real danger or malice from her, but knowing that the three of you had prices on your heads, you had a feeling the bounty hunter would try to follow her and make sure she wasn’t about to report on your whereabouts to anyone.
Mando stood from his seat, gaze trained on the doorway to the establishment. “Stay here with the kid. I’ll be back.”
And there it was. You exhaled through your nose and looked down at the kid, comically small in his chair and watching as the beskar-clad man made his way to the exit and out of sight.
You wondered how often he went out of his way to pick possible fights like this.
The proprietor returned to the table and placed a small bowl in front of the child, breaking you from your thoughts. The complimentary bottle of spotchka made an appearance, too, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. Alcohol was never something you liked, between it being an acquired taste and dulling your thoughts. You still nodded appreciatively at her before she left to tend to the next table.
Before the kid could finish picking up his bowl, the faintest of sounds reached your ears. While you normally wouldn’t pay much mind to such things in a public place, there was some notion in your mind that it was the buckethead getting into a fight with the woman from earlier. You looked over at your tiny companion, who looked up at you over the brim of his bowl and towards the doorway Mando had left through moments earlier.
“He doesn’t need our help, we’ll just get in the way.”
The kid seemed to take that as a challenge, and hopped down from his seat and began to toddle off.
“Hey, no, we are not going out there-” You jumped up and tried to herd him back towards the table, and you almost succeeded, but the little green thing was surprisingly determined and avoided your awkward movements, both of you caught up in a ridiculous dance. The tenants were watching you and your face heated with embarrassment. You finally scooped up the rapscallion with one arm, narrowly avoiding some of the broth sloshing from his bowl and onto the floor.
“Fine, we’ll go see what’s going on. Just stop trying to run off on me.” You pointed meaningfully at the kid with your index finger, peering into those big dark eyes and hoping he actually listened. He looked back at you with those big bright eyes and perked ears in a way that somehow told you he understood.
You carefully set him back on the ground. “Stay close.”
Exiting the establishment and turning the corner was as far as you needed to go to see just what you suspected - Mando and the woman scrabbling to get the upper hand against the other. It was almost comical, in a way, even though blasters were involved and the situation could very well turn dangerous.
And it nearly did just that when the two fell on the ground with blasters pointed at each other’s heads - causing you to pull your own blaster from its holster - except everything was interrupted by a very loud slurp from the child as he watched from beside you, bowl of broth clutched tightly. The slow turns of their heads and prolonged look from both of them was enough of an announcement of a stalemate as any. You snorted and shook your head slightly at the scene.
“I take it you don’t actually want to kill each other, then.” You slightly lowered your blaster from where it was aimed at the woman. You didn’t miss the way Mando paused in a way that you imagined he was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He turned his attention back to the woman he was still vaguely pointing his blaster at.
“Would you like some soup?”
-
You all returned to the table you’d had back in the common house. The woman - named Cara Dune, you learned - told you her story. She was a former shock trooper for the former Rebel Alliance working on Endor, with no additional support, and as soon as the ex-Imperials were gone the politics got out of hand and she found herself working to “keep the peace”. Beating rioters and favoring delegates wasn’t what she’d signed up for, so she left, and now had a price of her own for desertion. She recognized Mando as being part of the Guild and suspected he’d come looking for her. She kept glancing curiously at you throughout her explanation, like she wasn’t sure what to make of you tagging around with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and why he was even letting it happen. Sure, the child was an equally puzzling factor, but she seemed to sense he was a touchy subject.
She eventually turned to you after her explanation was finished. “So what’s your story?”
You shrugged, idly adjusting one of your wrist pieces. “He got my house blown up and put me on a wanted list, so this is his way of dealing with the guilt.”
Cara visibly bites back a laugh and tries to hide behind her own cup of broth. You glance over at your companion, whose stiff posture tells you he’s not sure how to react, but he’s definitely embarrassed to some degree.
The ex-trooper downs the last of her broth, and stands from the table. “Well, this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She gives you all a curt nod, and walks away.
Mando leans back in his own chair and looks between you and the kid, who’s working on his second helping of broth. “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”
-
The walk back to the Razor Crest was a somber one for you. Now that you had spent some time on the surface, you’d actually taken a bit of a liking to the place. But Mando was right - as remote as this planet was, it could likely only handle one fugitive at a time. Looked like it was back to the ship directory to root through whatever systems it could access. You tried not to let your mind wander off to mourn your lost database again. This was exactly why you compiled lists of multiple options, in case something like this happened and one of those choices fell through.
A tug on your pant leg dragged you from your mulling. You looked down and were met with the concerned face of the child looking back up at you.
“I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” The kid burbled quietly at you in response. That seemed to catch Mando’s attention, as he was now looking questioningly back at you.
“Something wrong?”
You exhaled through your nose, trying to come up with a brief answer that wasn’t too revealing. You weren’t big on talking about your feelings, and you got the impression that neither was Mando, so between the two of you it would be better if it was kept to a minimum.
“Feeling a little useless on the front of hunting for a planet, that’s all.” It was the first time you’d felt this useless in a very long time, to be honest, but you weren’t about to let that part out.
Mando turned back to continue the trek back to the Razor Crest. “We’ll figure something out.” His tone was superficially dull, but you could tell he was trying in his own way to sound reassuring. That counted for something.
Once you made it back to the Crest, which was safe and sound amongst the trees, the two of you got to work - the Mandalorian using the dying daylight to look over the ship for maintenance, while you took up the task of sifting through the planetary database for your next options. Originally Mando wanted you to take the child up with you so he’d be better contained, but after a pitiful look from those big, dark eyes, it was over and decided that he’d watch him. The “watching” very quickly turned into “put the kid to bed”, thank the maker.
It felt like you’d had barely any time to really start your search when you saw what looked like lights on the ground from your view in the cockpit. You slowly stood, watching the lights as they drew nearer. That couldn’t be anything good.
You clambered your way down the ladder and into the hold just as whoever it was pulled up. It was a small cargo sled, one that barely seemed to be holding itself together, with two men of seemingly modest origins on it. Mando wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, as he continued his repairs and ignore them as they tried to get his attention.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Mando didn’t stop working. “There something I can help you with?”
You slowly made your way towards the ramp, taking care to accentuate the sound of your boots hitting the floor and make your presence known, Mando could take care of himself, but if they knew you were here they were less likely to try anything than if he were alone. You shot them a warning glare when they glanced at you, but watching their already-anxious expressions deepen almost made you regret doing so.
“Uh… yeah… raiders.” “We have money.”
You raised an eyebrow at them.
“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Mando still made no indication he was going to stop his work for them.
That was enough to get them stammering. First about how they’d read about Mandalorians, and how they thought he was one based on his armor, and if half of what they read was true then they could recruit him for help. One emphasized again, that they had money.
“How much?” Mando had paused his working, turning more attention to these strangers.
“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”
“Krill… We’re… krill farmers.” “We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.”
You don’t know what else you were expecting from locals of the planet, but the coin purse one of the men held up as proof of payment was sad to say the least. Krill farming and spotchka brewing didn’t strike you as a very lucrative business anyways, but if that was all they could muster…?
“It’s not enough.” And there was Mando, confirming your suspicions about what his rates were. You didn’t recall him being picky about his bounty, but thinking back, he did go for higher bounties more often than not. It looked like he still held onto that standard despite no longer being part of the Guild. Hell, if you were going by your own rates, what they appeared to have on hand wouldn’t even cover half of your cheapest services.
Mando finished what he’d been doing and made his way up the ramp towards you. The men following him up the ramp was unexpected, but not frightening. They were desperate, and you were getting a better sense of just how much.
“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.” One of them tried to look to you for support. You stared back apprehensively.
“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.” Mando brushed past you, using your form as a barrier between him and the strangers as he retreated further into the hold.
“This is everything we have! We’ll give you more after the next harvest!” You stayed where you were, crossing your arms and staring the men down. You knew you should feel bad for them and try to convince Mando to do something, but with the last time you extended help ending with your entire life up to that point being destroyed, you were too wary to do so.
The two men looked between each other and your standoffish presence. Defeated, they slowly turned to return to their sled, talking to each other as they did.
“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere.”
Mando had only made it a few feet past you by then, so he was definitely within earshot of their conversation. He stopped and turned on his heel, coming up behind you and stopping just behind your shoulder. It took everything in your power to appear unbothered by just how close he stood.
“Where do you live?”
The men paused, turning back to look at the man that had just dismissed them.
“A farm, weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.” The hurt was apparent in the man’s voice.
“In the middle of nowhere.”
“…yes?” The confusion was palpable. You knew where this was going and you weren’t sure you liked it.
“You have lodging?”
The men started to realize where this was going, too, and jumped to provide answers he wanted to hear.
“Yes, absolutely.” Mando briefly glanced at you, as if he was about to ask what you thought. Unfortunately for you, that never happened and he made the decision on his own.
“Good.” Mando motioned to them. “Come up and help.” He motioned to you as well, and began pulling out cargo crates to have them start loading.
You approached the man, once the other men had carried one of the crates far enough that they’re out of hearing range.
“Mando, I don’t know about this. Middle of nowhere or not, Dune’s right, this planet can’t handle more than one fugitive at a time.”
Mando continued moving crates to the ramp. “If it took them all day to get here, they’ll be isolated enough.”
“That kind of distance from civilization, however small, hasn’t stopped bounty hunters before. You of all people know that.” You glared into the T-shape of his visor. You also knew that all it took was enough time for word to get out about sighting a certain beskar-clad Mandalorian traveling with a green child to reach interested ears. For all you knew, it could be happening right now.
Mando stopped his actions to turn and face you fully.
“We can always move on after the job if it doesn’t seem right.”
You sighed heavily through your nose. That seemed to be him trying to tell you he wasn’t about to change his mind. He had been doing this longer than you, you supposed. You glanced towards the closed door of his bunk, where the child was sleeping.
“…fine. But I’ll hold you to that.”
You briskly moved to where your makeshift corner was and started gathering up your own things for whatever sort of stay you were in for. Behind you, you heard Mando exchange a few more words with the men as they loaded the last of the cargo he’d pushed on them onto the sled.
His heavy footsteps approached you. “I’m going back into town for a while.” You turned, and noticed the pouch of credits that one of the men had shown you earlier clutched in his hand. “Stay here to keep an eye on them and the kid. I’ll be back.”
You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “At least he’s not awake to make me come chasing after you this time.”
You swore you heard a slight snort from beneath that helmet.
-
He’d returned some time later with Cara Dune in tow, and after rousing the kid the four of you joined the two men on their journey back to their village. The cargo sled, thank the maker, was the only part of the ride, no connections made with another transport like a boat like you were fearing. You didn’t like boats much, the swaying made you anxious. Five people made it a little crowded and awkward, and try as you might to sit as far as you could on some strapped-down cargo, to try and preserve some sense of personal space, you found yourself nearly falling off one too many times.
“That’s a good way to fall off and get left behind.”
You narrowed your eyes as you stared at the beskar-clad man that had basically just talked to you like a parent.
“It’s fine. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”
The way he tilted his head was enough for you to practically see the skeptical look he was no doubt wearing on his hidden face. The kid, sitting beside him, watched you intently.
“Nobody’s doing anything but waiting out the ride.” He pointed to a spot on the cargo just in front of him, where there was definitely enough room for you to fit, though it meant if you tried to stretch your legs out they’d be right alongside his. Clearly, he didn’t care about that if he was doing this.
You stared at the spot like it was a trap. Almost as if to prove a point, the sled went over a particularly pronounced piece of terrain and jostled you. You very nearly fell just like Mando had said you would. The only thing that kept you from going completely overboard was your grip on the cargo’s ties, but you still flopped embarrassingly around. You saw the man’s head tilt to the side as if to say “see?”
Defeated and embarrassed, you clambered down into the open area. Thank the maker Cara Dune had decided to try and get some sleep earlier, and the two farmers transporting you were busy navigating. You didn’t think you could handle having them involved in this, admittedly silly, exchange. You kept your gaze down, not daring to even look up at the Mandalorian. The kid, however, earned himself something between a glare and a smirk when you heard a small giggle come from his direction.
You drew your legs up into your new space, both to keep from invading even more of Mando’s space, and to keep out of the child’s space as well. Mando could handle an accidental kick if you absent-mindedly shuffled; the little green one probably wouldn’t fare so well.
Once you’d settled, you leaned back onto the cargo packed behind you and tried to get as comfortable as you could manage. Which wasn’t much. Mando, however, seemed capable of doing it, as he slowly fell backwards and folded his arms behind his head. You didn’t realize how broad he was until now, seeing up close how much space he took up just by doing that. And all over again, you felt like you were in his space, and needed to get out of it out of respect. But there was nowhere to go.
You had to snort to yourself when the child mimicked the bounty hunter and tipped backwards onto his much-softer surroundings, peering up at the dark sky with equally dark eyes. At least he was content to do that.
The sled ride stretched on for the duration of the night and into the morning, the farmers switching shifts partway through. You’d never really fallen asleep all the way, just dozed in the same position you took when you initially settled in. Your eyes had closed, and you became somewhat less aware of your surroundings, but the slightest of unusual sounds or movements still drew enough attention that you’d crack an eye open to see what was happening. All through the hours of darkness and through the light breaking over the land. So when the sled began to approach the village, you could hear it. The sounds of people working, distant voices. Opening your eyes and pushing yourself upright, you turned to look up ahead. In the distance you could see the beginnings of some sort of settlement.
You shifted your attention to the others on the sled. Cara Dune was still sleeping, though you didn’t know how. Mando and the child seemed to be out, as well. It was harder to tell with the bounty hunter because of his helmet, but the way he laid there was convincing.
Reaching over, you lightly grabbed one of the child’s clawed feet and shook it to get his attention.
“Get up, kiddo.”
He blinked awake, eyes squinting in the morning light and mouth working to remedy having gone dry while he slept with it open the night before. His big eyes shifted around to look for his Mandalorian guardian, body relaxing once he located him.
You weren’t going to try and use touch to see if he was awake, though. That could get you stabbed or shot, what with the combination of his reflexes and waking up in a strange place.
“Mando.” You raised your voice, hoping volume alone would do the trick. Fortunately for you, it did. The man shifted and groaned like he had just come alive, his helmet shifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was looking at you.
“We’re there.”
The armored man slowly drew himself upright into a sitting position. As much as he’d tried to get comfortable, he knew he’d be fighting with a back ache for a while after sleeping like he had. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already dealt with before, with his longer bounty hunts taking him far from his ship and civilization and requiring him to put comfort to the wayside. You, however, had probably not had to relegate yourself to such circumstances. You looked like you hadn’t actually slept, bags present beneath your eyes and a subtle, narrow-eyed scowl he hadn’t seen before on your face. You probably didn’t even know it was there.
The approach to the village was quickly noticed by the villagers, and before you knew it there was a crowd forming to welcome you.
And a lot of them were children.
You could see and hear them immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled through your nose for a moment to steel yourself, both for the crowd and the large percentage of it being so young. You hadn’t even had a chance to really get used to the green child you were tasked with helping out with. And these kids could talk .
The sled came to a stop, the slight jarring motion shaking Cara Dune awake. She looked around, mind working to remember the circumstances that landed her in a strange vehicle with equally strange company.
The first thing the children of the crowd did, was fixate on the child companion of yours in the sled. They were all murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, and the kid looked back at them with equally curious intent. None of you had any idea when he was last around anyone of his mentation.
“Looks like they’re happy to see us.” You heard Mando’s voice crackle through his voice modulator. Cara Dune smiled, but all you could do was blink tiredly. You weren’t ready for this.
One of the children, a girl, broke away from the crowd and got closer to the smaller, green child, greeting him personally. You watched the interaction carefully. She seemed to notice, as she quickly made eye contact and ducked away back into the safety of the other village children.
With that, everyone disembarked the sled and began unloading cargo. You slowly rose from your spot, knees protesting from staying folded for so long and making you grit your teeth. You grabbed the pack you’d brought with you, slinging it over your shoulder and hobbling off of the sled to join the others, who were carrying their respective luggage. The child had been surrounded by the village kids, the curiosity on both sides still strong and outweighing the apprehension of the strangers with him.
It was time to be shown where you’d be staying, though. Without any words exchanged, Mando shuffled over to gather up the child, kids scattering, and you, Cara Dune, and he were led to your accommodations.
The village was modest, but cozy. The huts all had a distinct charm to them, with the same woven look as the common house, and reminding you of fishing baskets. Smoke rose from some, and in the distance you could make out man-made ponds where they likely farmed their krill.
You were all led to what appeared to be a building other than a hut. There’s a woman there, apparently putting the last touches on preparing it for guests. When she sees you approaching, she stops fussing with the blinds and turns to face you. You don’t miss how she’s focused in on the Mandalorian, with some sense of hesitation, like she wasn’t anticipating how meeting a Mandalorian in person would be. You couldn’t blame her, honestly.
“Please, come in.” You let Mando lead, watching him walk in and put his cargo down onto the floor. The woman turned and seemed mildly surprised when you entered as well, like she hadn’t really seen you before when you made your approach. Again, you couldn’t blame her - if you’d never met a Mandalorian before, it would be hard to notice anything else. That, and it made sense that should word get out in the village about a Mandalorian arriving, the last thing anyone would talk about would be his companions.
“I apologize… I didn’t realize how many guests there would be.” She glances briefly at you and the child individually. You began to feel guilty about being there at all. Of the adults that were there, you were by far the least useful for the job involving the raiders, and of the resources available for guests you felt like it would be better to distribute them amongst the others before you. The child, too, you felt deserved things before you did. You didn’t miss him looking up at you with his big dark eyes, as if he could sense your discomfort.
“Is, uh, there anywhere else available—“
“This will be fine.”
You give the beskar-clad man a perplexed look when he cuts you off. You were attempting to give the man his space back, surely he would like that better than having you hole up in the same small building?
“It’s not any different from the ship. We’ll make do.” He was looking back at you through that dark visor as if he had heard your thoughts. You blinked.
“Are you sure?”
The curt nod he gave you told you the conversation was over. Well… as long as he was okay with it.
The woman took that as her cue that she could speak again. “I’ve stacked some blankets over there, I can get more should you need them.” She indicated the area she meant. You nodded appreciatively at her.
There’s a very slight sound from the doorway, and both you and Mando turn to see the girl from before that had been talking to the child. She attempted to hide behind the doorframe, bashful about being noticed, but the woman goes to gently pull her back into sight and gently hold her to her side.
“This is my daughter Winta. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, she’s not used to strangers.” That explains the extra feeling of being watched you’d felt on top of the village at large watching you, this girl must’ve followed along. The woman turned to face her daughter. “This nice man and his friends are going to help protect us from the bad ones.”
Winta looked shyly at you and Mando, and politely whispered a thank you. The woman took her daughter by the hand, leading her outside. “Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some space.”
Just like that, you were left alone with your usual companions.
You glanced around, seeing that it was essentially just one open room. That wouldn’t do. Whatever Mando told you, you knew he would appreciate having a space to himself. You, also, would appreciate some semblance of privacy.
Speaking of Mando, he hadn’t moved to unpack at all, he continued to stand in place as he tried to process what he’d gotten himself into. He’d done plenty of jobs, with plenty of clients, but he wasn’t at all used to being treated like a “nice man”, as the woman had put it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fee about it.
His buffering was briefly interrupted when you pushed past him into the barn, and began to root through the blankets that had been left and other supplies that had been pushed off to the side to make space.
“I’m going to build some sort of divide for the room. To at least make it feel like there are two rooms instead of one.” You began draping things over your shoulders and arms as you found them, and looking up at the ceiling and the walls to see what you had to work with. Part of him wanted to tell you to just sit down for now, since he could tell you weren't rested at all from the night before. But he also felt like he wouldn’t be able to stop you from your current activity until you’d finished it. He resigned himself to getting his cargo unpacked.
What he doesn’t know, is you were also trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You had noticed how the woman had briefly paused in the doorway as she left to look back - at Mando, and only Mando. You didn’t know why, but something about it bothered you. Was it a look of apprehension and were you offended on his behalf? No, that wasn’t it. It was some other expression that was subtle and layered and happened too fast for you to read. But it still bothered you. You tried to brush it aside and get to working on your new project instead.
-
Before long you had constructed a simple set of walls from various things you’d found around - you’d taken some sheets from the pile of blankets, and used them in conjunction with some netting and poles to fix them to the walls and ceilings similar to what you had done with your space back on the Razor Crest. A crib had been provided for the child, and you moved that onto the “half” that you’d designated Mando’s space - the larger section, and the one with the window. Your “half” was more like your “third” of the bar’s interior. Really, you didn’t mind. Mando had been busy unpacking and reconvening with Cara Dune to offer any input until it was done, anyways.
Later in the day, you’d more or less finished unpacking what little you’d brought, and Mando was tending to his rifle. You sat on a crate, idly fussing with the settings on your blaster, musing to yourself if you could possibly bother the bounty hunter in the future for something more substantial.
“Knock, knock.”
The woman from earlier stood at the door with a tray of a few plates of food in hand, her daughter in tow. You could see them, but their attention was turned to Mando and the child, who was standing in his crib. “Come in.” Mando’s voice sounded from beyond the divide in the room.
The woman entered, setting the tray down on a nearby surface and picking up a plate from it. Winta stepped forwards shyly, asking if she could feed the child. Mando wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure.”
You watched from just around the edge of the divide, as the girl first knelt to feed the child, and then asked if she could play with him. Mando seemed just as fond of dealing with kids as you, hearing his sigh and flat “sure” in response. You smirked at that.
Once Mando had set the child on the ground, Winta immediately darted out the doorway with the child in tow. Mando started to protest, but the woman held him back. You didn’t know why, it was such a simple thing and she was coming from a place of experience where he had none, but for some reason… it made you bristle slightly. You felt like she was overstepping her bounds somehow. You shook your head briefly. She didn’t know any better, it was fine.
The woman then reached for one of the plates of food, to set on a surface closer to where Mando had been maintaining his rifle. “I brought you some food, I noticed you didn’t eat out there. I’ll leave it here for when I go.” Mando awkwardly thanked her, and moved to turn away.
You were hoping she would leave, then, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked if she could ask Mando a question. With his approval, she continued.
“How long has it been since you’ve taken that off?”
Oh, the helmet question. That was bound to happen sooner or later, honestly. You hoped she didn’t say anything too intrusive or insensitive.
“Yesterday.”
“I mean in front of someone else.”
The air felt heavy. You couldn’t quite see from your position where he was looking, but you saw him motion through the window towards what might have been the child and Winta, and other children based on the sounds of play you could hear.
“I wasn’t much older than they are.”
The woman sounded almost horrified that he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since then. The bounty hunter protested, saying that after his parents had been killed, the Mandalorians had taken him in and cared for him as their own.
It’s not like you knew what his past was, or what you expected it to be, but hearing it like this was like a punch to the gut. It was a horrible thing for him to have gone through at all, let alone as a child. You arguably had only just been getting to know him, but the fact that this woman he had never met before was able to get this fact out of him at all, let alone such a personal fact, stung. He had told you earlier that he’d trusted you. That should’ve been enough, and should’ve stopped you from having your thoughts run loose like they were.
“...I’m sorry.” The woman sounded genuinely sad.
“This is the way.”
“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”
Finally, she left. It did not escape you, though, that she hadn’t stopped to see if you had been there to let you know that she had brought you some food, as well, as you also had not left to go get food since arriving. That hurt a little bit, but with the way the prior exchange had gone it probably just slipped her mind. It wasn’t her fault. She was being a good host, she still brought it, didn’t she? You could swear, though, that she seemed to feel some sort of draw towards the bounty hunter and was acting on it in small ways. And you could not figure out why it bothered you.
Once she had left completely, you quietly crept out from behind the divide to retrieve your own plate. Mando was still standing before the window, watching the kids playing with the child. The woman now approached the crowd, no doubt to supervise and make sure they weren’t being too rough. You felt his eyes turn to you slightly.
“I uh… I’m sorry. About what happened in your past. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t not hear that part.”
Mando inclined his head for a moment, and then looked back up at you. “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have told you if it had come up.”
That lifted your mood a bit. Plate in hand, you wandered over to stand before the window, not too close but beside where Mando stood, to watch the kids.
“Looks like he’s having fun.” Mando hummed in agreement, arms folded.
You don’t notice, but the Mandalorian had turned his head ever so slightly to look at you without giving away that that’s what he was doing. He’s usually not the best at reading people, but he could tell that something about the interaction he had just had with the woman had upset you somehow - he also had not missed how she had left after speaking with him and hadn’t tried to see if you were around to speak to you, as well. This was a different kind of upset than what he had seen when you were first on his ship, after your home had been destroyed. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like this now. He realized didn’t like seeing you upset, or to be linked to the reason you were upset.
The two of you stood there for a few more moments, watching the villagers and the child play. You cleared your throat.
“Well, I still don’t like eating around others. I’m going to my ‘room’.” Mando felt a small smile flicker on his face at that, as you left and went back to your area.
Once you were there, you had been about to pick up a piece of the food when you heard the tell-tale sound of Mando’s helmet being removed. You didn’t know if it was the closer proximity or the conversation that had just happened, but you retreated even further into your area until you were as far away as possible, like somehow even being too close while his helmet was off was just as bad as seeing his face.
-
The job turned out to be much more complicated than any of you had thought. Surveying the woods showed that the raiders were in possession of an Imperial AT-ST, a formidable weapon to have even against trained troops, let alone a defenseless krill farm. Cara Dune was especially off-put by it, having seen the mech in action and barely escaping to tell the tale. Mando, blunt as ever, tried to tell the village’s occupants to just leave and find another place on the planet to farm, but that went over horribly - everyone was angry, saying that he’d agreed to the job and that he should keep to it, that they had lived there for generations and it took so long to even get the farm established, and so on. They insisted they could be taught to fight and help take on the raiders, stubborn in not wanting to leave their homes. Somehow, their desperation won over the bounty hunter and ex-shock trooper, and it was decided that the entire village of twenty-odd people would follow Cara Dune’s instructions to modify the village grounds into a battleground to take down the machine, and the raiders in turn.
The biggest hurdle was teaching the villagers how to fight to begin with. Nobody knew how to deal with hand-to-hand combat. None of them - except the woman, whose name was Omera - knew how to fire a blaster.
That also meant that Mando’s entire arsenal he’d brought along with him would be put to use arming everyone.
While Cara Dune was working with melee training her half of the adults, Mando was overseeing the target practice. You were more familiar with firing a blaster than you were with physical fighting, so you were attempting to help in that department, as well. You had certainly fired off your fair share of one-in-a-million hits in the times you’d even had to use your blaster, but you had no idea how you were able to do it. It was just… an instinct, somehow, that kicked in right at the moment it was needed, and would vanish just as quickly before you could even try to comprehend it. Still, though, you could try.
They were terrible.
Shots were flying and only a small fraction were landing anywhere, and of those, even less were hitting their intended targets. Except for Omera. Every shot she fired landed square in the middle of her target, one after the other. You could see Mando watching her closely, nodding when she turned to look expectantly at him with a slight smile.
It makes you grit your teeth and you don’t know why. He’s allowed to be impressed by someone from a backwater planet being good with a blaster. He was allowed to be impressed by her tenacity to defend her village. He was allowed… and whatever this strange feeling was that you had, wasn’t allowed to get in the way. That was up to him.
You had been walking between the villagers, giving them pointers on how to better aim, but once you’d noticed what you had with the widow and Mando, something shifted in you. And unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching you, probably more than he had been watching Omera. Your eerie accuracy with your own blaster when you fired off and hit the targets, the way you went from person to person to curtly correct their poise, the way your eyes flashed as you stood back and looked from trainee to trainee with a calculating, concentrated look to determine who needed fixing where. This was a new side of you he hadn’t seen. It was intimidating… but in a good way. He caught himself being confused by his own thoughts, and reminded himself sternly that he needed to concentrate on training everyone and getting things ready.
That night, the plan would be executed. Luring the raiders out, having the villagers go hand-to-hand with the raiders while Mando and Cara Dune took care of downing the AT-ST. You hoped it would work.
-
In the weeks following the successful defeat of the raiders and destruction of their AT-ST, you stayed put in the village. You and Mando and the kid didn't have anywhere better to be, and Mando still stood by it being a good place for waiting out the hunt going on for the kid. Unlike Mando, though, you didn't feel completely safe. You still felt like it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. The raiders didn't all get killed, and though they probably hadn't laid eyes on the child, let alone the village's children in general, it would have been difficult for them to miss the beskar-clad man that they went up against. Word was going to get out.
Mando wasn't convinced. There was nothing besides your sense of unease to indicate that sort of thing would happen, and he needed more substance than that to act. And so, you were stuck there for the time being.
So you tried to make do with living during that time.
Mando spent his time being the quiet watchman of the village, keeping his weapons he'd brought along in top condition just in case. It couldn't hurt to stay vigilant. And it helped you be more at ease to know he hadn't completely shrugged off the possibility of danger.
And when he wasn't cleaning his weapons for the millionth time, or making sure the child wasn't getting into too much trouble with the village children, he was watching you.
He noticed the way you'd go sit out at the far edge of the village clearing, by the edge of the water beneath the shade of the trees, scribbling things in the odd flimsiplast book you'd brought along with you. He got curious one day and wandered over to where you were, making the excuse that he was patrolling the perimeter and just happened to be passing by you on his way. He got to see what it was you were doing - you were sketching the huts and ponds, as well as the trees and animals, making notes beside them. You didn't limit your note-taking to sitting out on the edge of the village, either, sometimes you stayed amongst the buildings and watched the locals and made notes about them.
There were more than a few times that the child would break away from the village kids and watch you, too, and there were times you'd tear a page out and let him scribble on it alongside you. It was endearing to watch, though he'd never admit it, how intensely focused the little one would be on mimicking you during those times. He saw you do your best to be social when the rest of the kids would inevitably crowd around the two of you and watch what you were doing, and begin asking questions. They did that to him, too, with his weapons, and he would try to tell them stories he remembered hearing as a child himself. You didn't seem to tell them stories, so much as just facts about how this or that worked, or how things are different on other planets in this or that way. They still seemed to take it in just as well.
When you weren't note-taking, or trying to avoid being swarmed by curious children, you'd be in the village kitchens, taking advantage of having proper cooking facilities outside of the makeshift space on the Razor Crest and trying out local ingredients and recipes. The child was frequently your taste-tester, and he loved every bit of it. There were times that he'd take a bite of something you'd made, and instead of downing the rest of it, he'd look around for Mando, and upon spotting him he'd hurry over with the food in hand, waving it up at him as if to say "try it". He would, of course, wait until he was in the privacy of his own space, but he'd always try it. He had to admit, though he knew the locals had been working with the ingredients for generations and were by no means bad cooks, there was something about your cooking that he liked better. He knew you'd brought along some of your own spices and that you put your own spin on things, but it was deeper than that and he didn't know why.
He notices that though you try to converse with the locals when appropriate, you frequently retreat to be in his presence and just sit quietly. It starts as you just going back to the barn and him happening to also be there, but over time it evolved into you actively seeking him out in moments where he was apart from the others, wherever that may have been. It was… nice.
It was also nice that, on some nights where neither of you could sleep, you would wind up quietly talking about this or that through the makeshift wall in the barn that divided your sleeping areas. The conversations were about mundane things, never lasted long, and were always quiet because of the sleeping child nearby. But it was a new thing for him that he found he liked. For so long he had traveled alone and in complete silence, and while there was still a degree of silence and separation between the two of you, it was different.
The villagers seemed to act like you would just stay there forever. Names were learned, bits and pieces of life stories were swapped, some degree of familiarity was established.
There was absolutely no way anyone could miss how attentive Omera had become to ensuring you all were still tended to, but especially in regards to Mando. He was civil in return, and you swear he had started to open up to her and go beyond just being polite. You, also, did your best to be civil towards her, but it was difficult for some reason. It was not your place to decide who was allowed to be friends with who, or how they responded to such actions. Not your place to feel put off by another person getting close to arguably the only person you knew beyond vague acquaintance-ship.
And this didn’t just feel like someone building a friendship, either. You did not know why it bothered you as much as it did. But here you were.
One day, you, Mando, and Cara Dune were all on the porch of the barn, lounging for lack of a better word. Cara Dune sat reclined in a chair, you on the edge of the porch, and Mando casually leaned back against the wall of the barn. He looked very relaxed and it took you a little more effort than normal not to just stare at the rare sight.
And then Omera appeared.
She had been in the barn doing some tidying up, as hosts do. As she exited, she handed a cup of spotchka to Cara Dune, who thanked her, and then she turned to Mando.
“Can I set you something in the house?” She briefly turned her vision towards you, to indicate the offer was extended to you as well, but it went right back to the bounty hunter before you could answer.
“Uh… thank you. Maybe later.” He mumbled his answer, awkward as ever. The woman looked back at you, and you shook your head to her offer, not daring to try and open your mouth. She seemed satisfied with that, and turned to watch the village children playing with the child. He’d captured a frog, and wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth and trying to swallow it like a vine snake. The children laughed and groaned in amused disgust. The frog turned out to be too big for the little one and he spat it out, and everyone cackled as the frog hopped away, no doubt startled by nearly being eaten.
“He’s very happy here.” Omera’s voice broke the silence on the porch.
“He is.” The bounty hunter’s voice responded.
“Fits right in.” And with that, the widow walked away. You watched her leave with narrowly-disguised distaste on your face. The kid was still a target for all you knew, and that little comment implying he should continue to stay just made you realize how little they understood about the consequences that could come their way should the hunters find him. Being able to actually be a child was good, yes, but not at the expense of having another event similar to the raiders, one they wouldn’t have time to plan for.
Apparently, Cara Dune had some thoughts of her own.
“So what happens if you take that thing off?” She nodded at Mando, indicating his helmet. “They come after you and kill you?”
Your distaste turned to her next.
“No, you just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara scoffed at his answer. She looked at you to see if you thought it was as ridiculous as she did, a smirk on her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, and her smirk faded a bit. You’d known, and you respected his cultural beliefs not to badger him like she was trying to do.
“I was gonna say, if that’s it, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all for you to just slip it off and take up living here, raising the kid and sipping spotchka.” She motioned in the direction Omera had left with her glass.
“The beautiful young widow would be more than happy to help with that.” She looked back at you. “Am I right?”
Your skin felt like it would scramble right off your body.
Somehow, hearing Cara Dune confirm that she, too, had seen Omera’s interest in Mando made it all too real in your mind. And she wouldn’t be making such comments if she didn’t think Mando had similar feelings, either.
Why did it bother you so much?
You heard your name, realizing she was actually waiting for an answer from you.
“Yeah, sure.” Your voice was quiet and clipped, a poor attempt to keep your feelings veiled. Cara Dune finally noticed your tense posture, the discomfort very apparent in the line of conversation she’d started up.
She immediately regretted her teasing about the widow. Unlike you and Mando, she was actually able to read people. Mando may have been oblivious to it, but she could see now that you were more fond of the bounty hunter than she initially thought. She’d sensed some sort of dislike towards Omera from you, with how brief you kept your interactions with her, but this made it make sense. Kriff, you were probably oblivious to it, too.
Mando’s modulated voice brought her back to the present. “You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks ago. It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”
You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes. “Finally.” You’d only been trying to convince him to do that the moment you’d chased the raiders off. “I thought it was going to take bounty hunters actually showing up to get you to make that decision.”
You swiveled where you sat to look at the man pointedly. He shook his head lightly. You could almost hear the good-natured smirk under his helmet. You couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your mouth yourself.
As forward as Omera was with hinting her interest towards Mando, Cara Dune thought, you weren’t too bad of a companion choice for him, either. You might not be the worse of the two, either, as far as the dynamic between you. As long as the buckethead wasn’t alone.
She looked back to where the kids were all playing. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s gotta tell him that it’s time to leave.”
“I’m leaving him here.”
You and Cara Dune stared at him.
“Traveling with me… that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life here.”
No. You weren’t going to let him decide that easily.
“Mando. Do I need to remind you that the kid is being hunted as much as you are?” He started to protest, but you continued, standing up from your seat to face him fully, crossing your arms. “And, like you said, the fight with the raiders will have drawn attention. We sure didn’t kill them all, some got away. ‘Word travels fast’.”
Mando stared back, at a loss for words, and looked to Cara Dune for backup. She only shrugged, indicating you had a point.
“...if anyone was going to come, they would have done so by now.”
You dropped your arms to your sides, an incredulous expression on your face. Really? Really?
“Mando-”
He held up his hand to stop you. Such a simple motion shocked you enough to derail your thoughts. He really wasn’t changing his mind, was he…? Was he that ready to leave the kid behind?
Was he that ready to be rid of you …?
Leaving the child here meant your current “job” would no longer exist. It meant having to figure out where to go next, how to start next.
You weren’t ready for that.
You looked down at the wood flooring of the porch. You couldn’t figure out how to argue back in a way that didn’t sound selfish. Defeated, you turned away from the beskar-clad man and faced away, looking at the children playing again.
Mando truly felt like this was the best option for the child at this point. He wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable parental figure, and per your own admission you didn’t do well with kids, either. The kid needed other kids to be around, adults that were willing and happy to raise him. You needed to be able to actually settle down somewhere you could rebuild. This tiny village, with its lack of technology, wasn’t it, and it wasn’t on his cramped ship with his stubborn self, either. You deserved better. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid, or to you, but it wasn’t about what he wanted.
The three of you solemnly watched the child play with the other village children.
“It’s gonna break his little heart.” Cara Dune muttered.
“He’ll get over it. We all do.”
You didn’t want to agree with him, on that last line. But he was right.
-
Everyone had finished packing, all that was needed was for it to be loaded onto the cargo sled. The air felt weighted, and it wasn’t from the humidity of the surrounding swamp.
For you, the air got even more oppressive when you saw Mando approach Omera and lead her slightly away from the others to speak to her. You knew he was just asking her to watch after the child. But you could see the way she was looking at him. You could see Mando fidgeting, almost shyly. You could feel your face get tingly. Why was this so hard for you? It wasn’t about you.
You couldn’t hear the exchange, but you could tell Omera was saying something back at him, and the way her expression changed, you almost felt like she was asking him to stay, too.
But then, pulling you from your wallowing in self-pity, you felt the same thing you’d felt back at your old home, just before the bounty hunters broke through and your life as you knew it ended. The intense, physical feeling of wrong, of something in your head thrashing about telling you to run. Telling you to grab the kid and run.
They were here.
You sprinted towards where the village kids were, focusing in on the child, drawing your blaster.
"Mando!”
Whatever had been happening between Mando and Omera was forgotten, the widow spinning around to see what the shouting was, and Mando falling into a defensive stance, hand going to his blaster handle.
Your timing couldn't have been better. As you skidded to your knees to grab the frightened child, the village children scattering in confusion and fear, blaster fire rang out and a scorched blast marked the earth right where he had been sitting. You ran in a crouch to hide behind the nearest barrier you could get to, in this case some of the cargo that had yet to be loaded. The child whimpered and clutched at your clothing, and you clutched him closer, blaster raised in your other hand in case you needed to peek around and return fire.
You heard chatter from the other adults, and peering around the corner of the cargo, you see Cara Dune and Mando rush off int the trees. Omera is quickly herding the children to safety. You stay where you are, slumping against the back of the cargo, knowing Mando won't let whoever's out there get away. You look down at the kid in your grasp, who is looking back up at you with those dark eyes you'd gotten used to.
"I told him it wasn't safe here."
-
Just as you had warned him, the shots had come from someone carrying a tracking fob for the child. Cara Dune had seen to the demise of the hunter, and the tracking fob was destroyed. If it had been a different situation, you would have been more smug about being right.
But as it currently stood, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could.
The cargo sled was fully loaded, with additional supplies beyond what you’d brought with you, and the child was seated up where he could see out. You sat close by, not wanting to chance having to make a dive for him again. You hadn’t anticipated being so protective, but here you were. The village gathered around to see you off. Cara Dune offered to escort you back, but the decision was made to completely bypass going through town and just go straight to the Razor Crest. For once, you agreed with this decision.
“Well then, until our paths cross.” the two exchanged a firm handshake. She looked back and nodded at you, and you returned it with a raised hand. It was good to know you had an ally out there now.
You’d anticipated leaving by then, but when Winta rushed forward you had to suppress a groan. You were so ready to leave behind the other kids and yet here they were again, prolonging the goodbye process. With little regard for any sense of personal space, she wrapped her arms around the child in a hug. You leaned away a little to give them room. You didn’t expect her to release the child and give you a hug, too.
“I’ll miss you so much.”
You were frozen, your mind having drawn a blank and your body unsure of what to do. It took you a few moments to regain your senses, and you awkwardly put your hands on her shoulders.
“Uh… us too.” She pulled back and gave you both a shy smile, and scampered away back to stand by her mother.
Omera smiled and nodded at you in farewell. You tried to do the same, but you couldn’t guarantee your smile looked anything other than awkward and forced. You were terrible at this.
“Thank you.”
Mando nodded at her as well, and finally, he boarded the sled, and you left the small village.
It was strange, you’d only been on the Razor Crest for a few days before the stay on Sorgan happened and took up the following few weeks of your life, but somehow the ship felt more like home than the village had.
The three of you all sat in the cockpit area of the ship, Mando at the controls, you sitting in one of the chairs with the child in your lap, you idly letting him mess with your hands.
Now that it was just you three, your curiosity was getting the better of you.
“So, Mando… what was Omera saying to you before the bounty hunter attacked?”
Mando flipped a few more switches and dials on the controls and sat back in his chair. “She was suggesting we stay, too.” You mean she was suggesting you stay, you thought to yourself.
“...if the hunter didn’t show, would you have?”
He turned to look at you. “Would you?”
You huffed. “I liked being in the trees, but… too remote for my taste. Too closely packed. Too many kids trying to see what I was doing.” Too much of Omera trying to be friendly with the Mandalorian. You didn’t say that part, though.
He turned back to face the windscreen. “If I had wanted to settle down somewhere, I would have done it years ago.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not interested in living the sedentary family life.”
Somehow hearing him say that took a huge weight off your mind. But that still didn’t answer the selfish, nagging question you still had.
“Did you like her?” You still didn’t know why you cared so much. But while your courage was up and you were on this train, you had to get it out. Mando’s head tilted in your direction slightly.
“She was… nice. But I don’t think I liked her at all the way she liked me.” He turned back to look at the expanse of space before the ship. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was glad that you all got out of there before he had to tell her that. He wasn’t as oblivious as some thought, he could definitely tell that the widow was harboring some kind of affection towards him. He just didn’t feel the same way back, though. He never did. Besides, even if he did, his idea of how to live was so different from hers that it just wouldn’t work. Living on a farm, having and raising kids, staying in one place? Absolutely not.
You looked down at the child in your lap, tugging on his claws that clutched your fingers, trying to hide the little smile of relief on your face. He perked his ears at you and babbled, seeming to sense you weren’t as weighed down as before.
“You could’ve been free to go start your infochanting back up somewhere, though.” You looked up, a little surprised at the slightly quieter tone to Mando’s voice.
He had come to appreciate your company, but he wasn’t about to directly admit it.
You shook your head and huffed. “Honestly? I don’t mind.”
You looked back down at the kid, gently grabbing the ends of his long ears and fussing with them, making him squeal.
“I’m kind of glad to be back on this bucket of bolts with you.”
You hadn’t made any indication of it, but Mando liked to think you were talking to him just then, and not just the child. Hearing those words stirred something in his chest, and though he couldn’t pin down what it was, he wouldn’t mind feeling it again.
#the mandalorian#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#gender neutral reader#din djarin#mando#reader insert
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
ask: hello :] could i request a fic where maybe yechan's messing around with the rest of the group (maybe during a game, like their minigame heaven?) and ends up with a concussion, and the boys take care of him afterwards? thank you!! (also! trying to choose a favorite lucy fic on your survey was difficult bc i love all of them lmaooo, but especially the ending of your recent wonsang fic, yeop's little comforting bit with the tentative song was super soft and cute :(
tw: blood (from a bloody nose), a head injury/concussion, mentions of alcohol/drinking, fears about death and brain damage from injury, lots of medical inaccuracies (probably), hospital setting
thank you again, anon, you're so sweet <3 i hope you enjoy the fic!!
caution: ghost stories may cause injury –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
the clatter of raindrops against the roof was a soothing backdrop to the absolutely bone-chilling stories that gwangil seemed to never run out of. it had been yechan’s idea - telling ghost stories while they were drinking. gwangil was always teasing him for being too scared to hear them, and yechan had hoped the alcohol would help. wishful thinking, it turned out, but the realization came too late, because there was no way yechan was backing out after egging gwangil on.
it didn’t stop him from curling up in the safety of sangyeop’s lap and covering his ears for the scariest parts of each tale. it didn’t stop him from whining about how sangyeop was the only nice member of their band, either, because that earned him a placating head pat from the vocalist, which felt quite nice.
at the other end of the couch, wonsang was doubled over, cackling at yechan’s terror and at the stories gwangil was telling. he was laughing so hard his stomach evidently hurt, which, in yechan’s opinion, served him right.
still, nights like this were quite fun. sangyeop, who was authentic and kind even on his worst days, became warmer and softer at times like this, and absentmindedly carded his fingers through yechan’s hair. yechan felt safe, even with the fear, which really did him very little harm in this environment. gwangil was a fantastic storyteller, all the more dramatic with the buzz of a few beers, and looked adorable with his cheeks flushed pink. the rain continued on, a steady and calming rhythm to support the melody of wonsang’s laughter.
yechan wished nights like this would never end, but drowsiness began to weigh on him. he sunk into it, breaths deepening and evening out, and thought that he hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time.
moments later, a clash of thunder jolted him awake and into motion. there was a moment where reality and his dreamscape blurred, and so in an attempt to scramble away from a hazy looking darkness that was probably a ghost, yechan smashed the back of his head against whatever was behind him.
almost immediately, yechan’s ear was assaulted with a too-close cry of pain. he jumped up and away from the noise, still half-asleep, and tripped over the coffee table. yechan realized with a touch of humor and a hefty sense of guilt what must have happened just before losing consciousness.
——
the room felt far too bright as it came back into focus.
“woah, hyung, are you okay?” gwangil’s voice roared loud in his ears, enough to send spikes of pain through his head and stabbing at the back of his eyes. yechan thought the younger man must have been right next to him, but as he took in his surroundings, he realized that gwangil hadn’t even been speaking to yechan, but to sangyeop, a few feet away.
he must not have been out for long, then.
his relief was short-lived. sangyeop’s face was a bloody mess, expression scrunched up in pain. as his eyes met yechan’s, he tried to mask it, but the damage was done. yechan felt sick at sangyeop’s forced smile.
“i’m alright,” sangyeop said, taking a tissue from the box gwangil was offering. “looks worse than it is, i’m sure. yechan-hyung, are you okay?”
“yes,” yechan croaked, finding his throat painfully raw. sangyeop really was the kindest out of all of them, he thought, feeling triply miserable. yechan wasn’t at all sure that he should be standing, but he figured checking on sangyeop was the least he could do, so he made his wobbly way back to the couch.
well, yechan thought, he’d managed to ruin their peaceful night. wonsang, who rarely drank but always mellowed out when he did, was now standing with his shoulders hunched and tense. everyone else looked just as alert. they were all very much awake and feeling as sober as they’d ever been. it was unlikely that anyone was going to want to hear any more scary stories.
yechan felt his eyes burn with tears of anger and embarrassment, and tilted his head back so that they wouldn’t fall. he regretted the action almost immediately. black spots ballooned in his vision and pain bloomed from the back of his head. it was enough to make him woozy. fortunately, wonsang caught yechan before he toppled over, his brows furrowing in concern. yechan quickly waved him off.
“sorry,” he said, wiping away the wetness he’d failed to keep from his cheeks, “i’m no good with blood, and the alcohol, you know, it doesn’t help.”
wonsang nodded, even though he didn’t look convinced. he looked viscerally worried, actually, which made yechan worried, so he turned away. what he couldn’t see would hurt less.
“we should all get some rest, probably,” yechan said, trying to move on from wonsang’s silent interrogation and also genuinely wanting to sleep. he snuck a quick glance at sangyeop (the sight of blood really wasn’t doing him any favors) and was relieved to see that gwangil was helping him clean up what looked to be the tail end of the bleeding.
the others readily agreed with yechan’s suggestion. it was nice to be listened to, for a minute, until yechan found himself alone and in pain and still sick to his stomach, only now he didn’t have the excuse of being grossed out by blood which meant that something might actually be wrong.
maybe he was just tired. yechan tried to convince himself that was it, but something told him it wasn’t. then again, it might have been the voice of his paranoia saying that, telling him that he might have a concussion and that something awful could happen if he let himself fall asleep.
even when he tried, though, sleeping eluded him. the pain had not lessened and had spread to his neck, and even the soft pillow hurt his head. yechan bit his lip, tried to make himself think clearly, and concluded that the solution was informing himself on head injuries via the infinite wisdom of the internet.
the internet told him that he might be dying, that he might have lose his memory or his ability to speak, that maybe his brain has become more akin to a scrambled egg than a functional part of his body, and all sorts of other things that yechan tried desperately to be okay with, or to not think about at all. he tried to focus on the rain, but the rain - the soft, soothing rain, even without its thunder - seemed to have turned on him. he no longer heard a rhythm, but the echo of what felt like each individual drop, amplified, booming, and painful.
——
about three hours later, gwangil found yechan curled up in a corner of the couch, crying softly. his computer was balanced precariously on his knees, light glaring off of the wetness on his cheeks, and gwangil could see that his eyes were bloodshot.
“hyung!”
yechan responded as though he’d been struck, flinching away with a muffled whimper.
“gwangil,” yechan whispered, sniffling. “stop shouting.”
gwangil, who could not remember the last time he’d heard yechan whisper - if he ever had at all - was thoroughly shaken. one thing he was certain of was that he had never seen any of his hyungs cry - not from anything other than being overwhelmed by emotion during a performance.
he didn’t know what to do.
for a few moments, his hands fluttered about uselessly, looking for something to touch, something to fix - but even just speaking had caused yechan pain, so he didn’t dare make contact with the older man. instead, his fingers settled on the the computer and pulled it from it’s owner’s easily relenting grasp.
as soon as he saw what was on the screen, gwangil felt ice cold fear shoot through him. it must have shown on his face, because yechan’s hand, unsteady as it was, ran up and down his arm.
“it’s okay, gwangil,” yechan said, breath shaky. “it’s– i’m just–”
yechan broke off, the absence of words speaking for itself. gwangil inhaled slowly. the instinctual fear had begun to melt away. as soon as yechan started comforting him, gwangil began to understand that the older man was scared, too, and that the words on the computer screen said more about yechan’s fears than about his actual condition. gwangil knew how internet searches went when it came to investigating one’s health.
he nodded, and took another deep breath.
it was probably not as bad as they’d both feared. yechan would most likely be okay. that didn’t mean that gwangil would take this lightly. something was wrong, even if it probably wasn’t life threatening.
another breath.
he thought about how long yechan had sat here alone, hurting and scared and putting himself at further risk, deliberately keeping it all to himself. gwangil thought about how little that mattered, and felt his momentary frustration dissipate. it had been hours already, and yechan was still worried about this - he wasn’t a hypochondriac. something was wrong.
“hyung, you know, right?” gwangil said at last, trying to speak gently. “we have to go to the hospital.”
in the silence that followed, gwangil feared that yechan had stopped breathing.
“okay,” yechan said quietly, finally, exhausted and resigned. and then, in the same voice: “i think i’m going to throw up.”
“…fuck.”
gwangil didn’t know that much about concussions, but he was fairly certain that it was bad practice to move someone with a head injury. if yechan’s uncharacteristic stillness was anything to go by, he would guess that the internet agreed. he didn’t want to leave yechan alone, either, but after careful consideration, gwangil decided being quick was his best bet. he darted off, first to the bedroom. he shook sangyeop awake - quite roughly, probably, but he didn’t have time to be gentle.
“‘gil? wad’s wrong?” sangyeop slurred, half asleep, still.
“yechan-hyung’s hurt his head–”
sangyeop stood up so fast, he almost passed out before he could do anything to help. gwangil steadied him.
“we’ll need you to drive and - can you keep an eye on him? i’ll be right there.” there was a snag in gwangil’s voice, suddenly, the kind that meant a seam was about to come undone and ruin an entire garment. they didn’t have time for that, but sangyeop took a moment to lay a reassuring hand on the back of gwangil’s neck before they parted ways. it was a taste of “you did well, thank you” without the exact articulation - but the words would have to come later.
sangyeop found yechan sitting in the dark with his head in his hands as if it weighed a hundred pounds. he approached slowly, and spoke softly. “yechannie-hyung?”
yechan didn’t even look at him. “sangyeop?”
he hummed lightly in confirmation, and blinked quickly, willing his eyes to work better than they were meant to in the dark. yechan had a hand over his mouth, and sangyeop winced. he suddenly understood where gwangil had run off to, and hoped he wasn’t having too much trouble finding what he was looking for.
“hyung, can i rub your back?”
there was a moment of hesitation, and then a very quiet “please.”
sure to move slowly in order to avoid jostling the couch, sangyeop sat next to yechan. the older man slumped against him, and sangyeop could feel him trembling - from pain or nausea or both, sangyeop wasn’t sure.
“i don’t want to go to the hospital,” yechan mumbled. his voice was muffled against his hand, and unsteady. something like a broken laugh seized him before he continued, “we haven’t left yet, and i already want to come back home.”
sangyeop ached. it was something he excelled at, aching for the people he loved. sometimes it was a strength, and sometimes it just hurt. “i know,” he gently massaged yechan’s shoulders. “it will be okay,” he said.
gwangil returned with a mixing bowl soon after that, so sangyeop never found out if yechan believed him. as soon as the bowl was in yechan’s arms, he was retching. it came on violent and painful - with every retch came a gasp of pain at the movement, and the pressure, and it wasn’t long before yechan started crying.
sangyeop offered a hand, and yechan squeezed it readily. with his other hand, sangyeop did his best to hold yechan’s head steady as his body expelled the day’s meals and the night’s alcohol as well as it could.
in the end, once it started, it was over quickly. after about five minutes of unproductive retching, yechan’s body rebelled suddenly and forcefully, ejecting all of its contents one wave after the next. sangyeop worried that yechan didn’t have enough air, and found gwangil’s muttered reassurances to be a comfort, even though they weren’t meant for him.
fortunately, yechan retained consciousness, sputtering coughs earning him oxygen as his body let up. even so, it was alarmingly clear that the ordeal had sapped every ounce of energy he’d had left. tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.
gwangil took the bowl without a word, and sangyeop stayed with yechan, hoping the silence was a comfort.
“it hurts,” yechan said, brokenly.
“i know,” sangyeop whispered. the older man looked miserable. “hyung, we’re going to have to get you to the car. gwangil can catch up.”
any other day, sangyeop was sure yechan would have wanted to wait. he hadn’t meant the suggestion to be a test of how poor yechan was feeling, but it confirmed it anyway, had there been any doubt.
“okay.”
gwangil caught up to them well before they made it to the car. they’d taken the stairs, weary of the damage an elevator might do, and it was slow going. by the time they made it to the car, yechan seemed to have run out of tears, or perhaps stopped them by sheer force of will.
fortunately, the hospital wasn’t far. that didn’t make the drive easy, but at least it wasn’t long. yechan was so out of it by the time they arrived that he put up very little resistance about entering, even though it was one of his least favorite places. he was just too tired.
after filling out some paperwork and answering some basic questions, sangyeop and gwangil were forced to wait in the lobby while yechan was taken - more reluctantly, this time - for examination on his own. sangyeop took the opportunity to text wonsang and fill him in on the details, hoping it would soften the sting of being left out of the loop for a short while. gwangil went to the restroom, and returned with red-ringed eyes.
“gwangil…” the younger man turned away, embarrassed, but sangyeop just laughed and hugged him to his side. “you did really well,” he said. “yechan-hyung will be okay now.”
gwangil nodded, but didn’t seem fully convinced until the doctors told him the same thing. it was a weight off of everyone’s shoulders. they were told that yechan needed dark, and quiet, and rest, which would be best achieved at home - but that he should stay the night for supervision. sangyeop and gwangil both decided to stay. it was an easy decision, no conversation needed - there were only a few more hours until morning, anyway.
——
wonsang woke up to a series of text messages that felt like a horror story.
he knew it wasn’t sangyeop’s intention. it was just the way he explained things: chronologically, rather than in order of importance. like, say, maybe mentioning that yechan was going to be fine right off the bat, instead of burying it in the middle of expository explanation and loads of medical jargon.
he knew they’d had other priorities, but he still intended to complain about it when they returned.
it didn’t happen. shocking, really, because wonsang was fond of harmless complaining. it generated good discussions, and he liked the attention, sometimes. he liked the reassurance that he would be heard, if he needed something.
this time, though, wonsang took one look at yechan and wanted nothing more than to make him feel okay.
he was sure the previous night had been worse, but that wasn’t comforting. the yechan wonsang was seeing looked fragile and brittle and pinched - it made him look old, the pain. wonsang wasn’t used to believing the age on yechan’s ID was accurate.
“hyung…” wonsang’s voice was watery when he spoke, much to his own surprise. even having sifted through sangyeop’s messages to find the reassuring truth that yechan would be fine, the worry had been overwhelming. it was still there, but seeing yechan home, in person, had a bigger impact than wonsang had prepared himself for.
“aw, wonsangie, don’t cry,” yechan said, teasing, but his eyes were warm and understanding. gwangil snorted, softly.
“says you.”
sangyeop elbowed the youngest of the group gently, and wonsang wasn’t sure that he wanted all of the details behind that exchange, if tears were indeed involved. if he did, the figured he could get them later.
at the moment, he just wanted to know that yechan was alright.
the group had breakfast together, just a light meal. they agreed that wonsang would keep watch on yechan while gwangil and sangyeop caught up on their sleep, so the group parted ways after that - half of them to the bedroom, the other half to yechan’s bed in the living room.
it wasn’t exactly reassuring, seeing yechan so compliant. wonsang tried to stay quiet, reminding himself that’s what yechan needed, but once he’d ensured that yechan was comfortable and properly resting, the words slipped out anyway.
“hyung, are you really okay?”
yechan blinked slowly, drowsiness clearly weighing him down, and he smiled. “wonsangie, come here.” wonsang obeyed, and yechan brought wonsang’s hand to his own chest. “i’m okay. you can feel it, right?”
under his palm, yechan’s heart beat. it was a steady rhythm, comforting. at times, wonsang had sought out his own pulse for similar reasons. rainy days had never been good to wonsang, and he liked to blame the inconsistency of the rain’s pounding for that, but the steady beat of a heart felt nice.
“it was scary,” yechan said suddenly, honestly. “and it hurt. it still does, but it will heal.”
wonsang’s breath shuddered, and then smoothed. “i’ll stay with you, hyung,” he said. he could hear a smile as yechan spoke again.
“i know.”
——
a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to give your input on some exclusive previews of upcoming fics and to make my day! :)
——
feel free to send more asks! / rules
#tw vomit#tw emeto#emeto tw#sick yechan#tw concussion#head injury#tw injury#tw blood#lucy sickfic#kpop sickfic#sickfic#shin yechan#choi sangyeop#shin gwangil#cho wonsang#tw anxiety#lucy#tw throwing up#tw hospital#[ caution: ghost stories may cause injury ]#omg this is my longest fic to date#finally broke 3000 words :D#and i still have a longer fic in drafts :')#good job pip ur getting there
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok now that I have time/space to breathe again, I wanted to do a writeup on the unusual reaction I had to the second Covid vaccine dose. I debated posting this, because I don't want to go against the "I was vaccinated and it's fine!" encouragement train. And I 1000% encourage EVERYONE to get vaccinated if possible. But I have not seen much documentation of the averse symptom I got, except in some case studies I specifically looked up so details below. Big TMI/gross warning however.
Mostly I'm posting this because I had to do SO much self-advocating/arguing with the Dr at my urgent care clinic, and if you're not as read up on weird medical issues as I am, you might not be comfortable doing that. But IANAD, just describing my experience and what I read, which ended up being very long because it was awful and I have a lot to complain about I guess, sorry.
Basically: for me the vaccine triggered an inflammation response, which in itself is normal. The usual muscle aches/joint pain/slight fever. It also triggered an outbreak of ulcers in my soft tissues. Basically, a bunch of canker sores in my mouth/throat. I am already prone to getting these when I get sick or stressed out, so no biggie, annoying and painful but I could handle them. Canker sores are distinct from cold sores in that they form inside the mouth as crater spots, usually around the size of a pencil eraser (though can be bigger or smaller), and will develop a white film across the crater as they develop and start to heal.
An unfortunate fact I have learned: the mouth is not the only exposed “soft tissue” of the body. this group also includes genitals.
So 2 days after the vaccine I noticed a "burning sensation"/rawness downstairs, which turned into a sharp pain, especially when going to the bathroom. I obviously knew this was abnormal and because of what was happening in my mouth, had a pretty firm idea of what was happening, but was ready to brace myself through the healing process. However by day 5 I had 8 red, crater-like sores on the tissue of my vulva. Essentially they are open wounds, and urine is an acid, so you can imagine the hell that using the bathroom had become. Even just sitting hurt.
As someone healthcare-averse, even I knew this was untenable, and went to Urgent Care for the first time in my adult life. I told the NP what was going on, how they matched the canker sores (NOT cold sores) in my mouth in onset/form--and she immediately, without even looking, diagnosed me with herpes.
Lots of people have herpes or other STIs, and that's fine. I know I do not have any, and wanted to pursue treatment for what I was sure they were--Non-sexually acquired genital ulceration (NSGU). I had even found three case studies of COVID patients who had developed them. I had spent several harrowing hours on google images making sure that the sores I had did not match any STI I may have magically acquired during a year of social distancing. I even brought up multiple case studies, including a woman who had them as a Covid reaction in a neighboring state. Didn’t matter. She looked at them and went “Yikes! Herpes!” and prescribed me:
1) an antiviral, which I said I did not think would do anything because the trigger for this was a vaccine not an illness. She said it was probably a herpes flare up already in my system. I reiterated that I have had similar sores in my mouth since childhood and that all my past doctors and dentists agreed it was not viral but something related to an immune response. She said the antivirals should clear them up in a few days.
2) a topical 5% lidocaine ointment, aka an oral grade numbing gel, which was essentially what I was after anyway.
I would have preferred a steroid course to the antiviral, but agreed to start taking them until she got the results of the bloodwork I needed to come in the next day for. I asked how many days after taking them I would expect to see a difference/if she would reevaluate treatment if they didn’t have an effect in a certain amount of time, and she said if they hadn’t cleared up by Monday then she’d look into other causes (spoiler, they did nothing in that 4 day span). to her credit, when she saw me pick up my bike helmet (because my car had been at the mechanic for a month by then), she was properly horrified that i was having to bike everywhere with this situation and printed off some coupons/called all the prescriptions into the grocery store pharmacy next door instead of the CVS my insurance likes a mile away.
So eventually I got home and took my pill & went to put on the ointment so I could use the bathroom for the first time in 8 hours. I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say I had an extremely, overwhelmingly painful 10 minutes of application. Like absolutely awful burning feeling. However once that faded, I was indeed actually numb, and so I figured it was worth it. Got my bloodwork done on Friday (biking there & home again). On Saturday, I thought that you know, maybe a prescription anesthetic shouldn’t be doing that or at least have some sort of warning? And read the details on the jar.
Good things about lidocaine: it is a powerful numbing agent and lasts pretty well for an hour or two.
Bad things about lidocaine: you cannot get oral grade lidocaine without added mint flavoring.
I happen to be EXTREMELY sensitive to mint. Like I still can’t handle breath mints or mouthwash, and used bubblegum flavored toothpaste until I was 14 and found a brand with half as much mint flavoring as is typical. Even if you’re not, mint has no business being anywhere near genital tissue. Even on an average person that could cause awful burning.
to make a long saga shorter I had a very frustrating back-and-forth with urgent care involving many rerouted phone trees, visit in person, unhelpful receptionists, and attempts to find over-the-counter alternatives. All were fruitless so I just suffered all weekend until the urgent care Nurse Practitioner called me back on Monday and was suitably apologetic/outraged about the mint thing, and looked up every OTC product that might work as a substitute, since she couldn’t find any prescription level without mint. On Tuesday she called back again having found this:
It’s 4%, so just below prescription strength, while not oral grade, it’s actually fine for soft tissues as long as not fully ingested/internally applied. And most importantly, ABSOLUTELY NO ADDED FLAVORINGS. there is also a spray version that comes in a bottle, which under no circumstances should you try because it uses alcohol as a propellant and I had a very bad 5 minutes after testing that one. But the cream one is fine and brings blessed numbness in around 5 minutes with only minimal contact pain--they are still open wounds after all.
I use this for the next 7 days. By this point the sores have gotten worse and larger, and then started to heal and shrink again. Mouth canker sores go through a similar ~2 week process, so this is about what I expected.
Finally the results of my bloodwork came back, and I was negative for all STIs. The NP was dumbfounded and apologized, and agreed to look up more information/treatment options for cases like this in the future. I’m not surprised her reaction was to assume herpes as it IS very common, but I’m sure other women experience NSGU’s and receive improper treatment. If you look them up, they’re even mentioned as being predominantly a problem for “young or prepubescent women” which, reading between the lines--it’s not that these become less likely if you’re older or sexually active. Doctors just make assumptions and don’t always look past the easy answers.
So if you or someone you know ends up with these--from the Covid vaccine or as a complication of upper respiratory infections in general (as they ARE an immune response and can just Happen to you)--here is what works as treatment. If you can see a doctor you trust, still do that. But if they don’t listen or if for some reason you can’t seek treatment, here is the course of action I recommend:
Pick up that over-the-counter Pain Relief+Lidocaine NON MINTY numbing cream ASAP. Sores go from “annoying” to “excruciating” in only 3 days, so it’s best to get in person or with rush shipping. Sit in front of a mirror and gently apply with a q-tip, and wait 5 minutes for the medicine to take effect.
Pat gently dry with toilet paper, don’t make wiping motions. If you don’t feel clean enough, pat more with a wet washcloth and rinse it out, or hope in the shoer for 5 min just to rinse.
There may be pus or reside from the ointment that doesn’t go away with just rinsing. Every 2 days I made a half-strength bath of epsom salts, NUMBED FULLY, and then took a 10 minute bath to fully cleanse the area. the salt will sting terribly if you wait any longer, so I recommend standing and rinsing after this time.
The vulva is more exposed to air than the mouth. this may cause the sores to crack/bleed as they dry out. to avoid this, after using the restroom and cleaning yourself, you can apply a thick coating of Aquaphor on top of the sores. It will need to be rinsed off before you apply more numbing cream however, so if that is too many steps I recommend just using the Aquaphor overnight.
You may think its ok to get up in the middle of the night to pee without the numbing cream bc you have to go really bad and just once will be fine but it is NOT you will REGRET IT.
Unfortunately if you have sores on both sides you may develop what is known as “kissing sores”, aka sores directly opposite each other that touch when the area is not spread open. this means that after an extended period of time (overnight), the sores will try to heal into each other and opening the area back up painfully rips the tissue apart. INStEAD of ripping them apart, take a washclosh, run it under warm water, and do a hot/warm compress on the area. this will loosen the sores back up and separate them painlessly.
This is not exclusive to people with a vulva, they can also happen on scrotal/anal tissue. However it does seem to much more frequently affect people with typical XX sex organs.
If you develop these, PLEASE fill out an averse reaction form or your country’s equivalent. Also, I’m so sorry and if you need emotional support or have questions please feel free to get in touch.
Most likely, these will not happen to you--the vast majority of vaccinated people have not had this as a side effect. But it IS popping up more and more, and it is good to know about it in advance so you can be prepared to deal with and treat it without as much anxiety and all the hoops I had to jump through to get good care. Overall I’m still glad to be vaccinated, but if I had known this was a side effect, as someone already prone to canker sores I would have waited to vaccinate until my car was fixed a week later a the very least :|
#covid#covid vaccine#averse vaccine reaction#nsgu#ive got my finger on the block button for whatever pornbots this post activates do not try me#anyway#gross warning sorry :( if u dont want to know about my tmi personal health dont read this one#ramblings#wharglbargle#i dont wish these on anyone i cant describe what an awful experience this all was#tried to be more humerous bout it in the post but i cried p much nonstop at urgent care and many of the days after#long post#plagueblogging#still better than getting covid and dying tho so
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Logan's Flawless Plan to Getting Out of Being Sick
Ao3
Summary: Logan was sick. He was well-aware of this fact. He was also well-aware that he had better things to be doing than lying about and ‘resting.’
His husband disagrees
Content: Sickfic, fever + coughing are the only mentioned symptoms, brief unsafe binding, one alcohol mention, taking more medicine than the dosage amount, the consequences of that (gaps in time/memory, minor hallucinations, senses going fuzzy), half-collapsing, swearing, transmale!logan, transmale!remy, lots of sappy losleep
Pairing: Romantic losleep
Notes: Three of them:
-Based on this post
-You’ll notice Logan doesn’t try to keep Remy from getting sick. This is bc they both know Remy’s already doomed to get sick, given he and Logan live together. This was important to me to say bfchsdf
-This story’s in Logan’s POV. And Logan is very loopy. Keep this in mind.
~~
Logan was sick
“You’re not going to work today.”
Terribly, horribly sick.
“Yes I am.”
But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job, damnit.
Logan heard his husband sigh as he tried to properly tie his tie for the fifth time. The normally easy, effortless action had become difficult, his fingers slow and fumbling as he tried to pull the loop together. He dropped the fabric with a huff after another attempt failed.
Hands that weren’t his own entered his field of vision, tugging the tie off his neck. “You shouldn’t be wearing this anyways.” Remy murmured, likely tossing it to the side. “You’re already coughing enough without it.”
“I’m not coug-” Logan broke off halfway through his sentence, taking a moment to cough into his arm and think about the irony of the moment, “-coughing that much.”
“Mm-hmm. I call bullshit, darling.” Remy said, brushing some of Logan’s hair behind his ear before resting his hand against Logan’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sick, is what you are.”
“No, I just-” Logan once more paused to cough, Remy guiding him to sit back down on the bed when a few seconds passed and he was still coughing.
“You want to finish that sentence?” Remy asked, tone slightly mocking but mostly concerned.
“Alright, fine. I’m sick.” Logan admitted before continuing on petulantly, “But I’m still going to work.”
“No, you’re not. You’ll just make yourself worse, and you’ll get all your students sick while you’re at it.”
“They have better immune systems, and I‘ll keep plenty of distance between myself and them.” Logan reasoned. “I’m going to work.”
Remy shook his head. “You have a minor death wish, babe. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful boyfriend?”
“Husband, Remy, we’re married.”
Remy’s eyes widened in both surprise and recollection, and Logan let out a little content sigh, leaning his head against Remy’s shoulder. “We are, aren’t we?” Remy said, voice joyfully awed.
“We are.” Logan confirmed. “I got you a very pretty ring for it and we exchanged some very cheesy vows and everything.”
“I know. Just forgot for a moment.” Remy said, raising Logan’s left hand so he could press a kiss both to the back of his hand and over his wedding ring. Logan knew he should tell him not to, warn him of germs and the like, but he found it doubtful Remy would listen to him anyways. “Now. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful husband?”
“I have important lessons to teach. And it’s unfair to just abandon my students with no warning.” Logan answered. “They at least need a warning that I’m not going to be there tomorrow.”
Remy rubbed circles into the back of Logan’s hand. “You really want to go in, huh.”
“Yes. But only for today, I promise- I’ll stay home tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure you can make it through the day, babe.” Remy said, concern once more leaking into his voice. “Your temp’s real high, and you haven’t even been up for an hour yet.”
“One class then. I can leave a note for the rest of the classes. Please, Rem.” Logan begged. “Just one class.”
Remy pulled his head back a bit, still allowing Logan’s head to remain on his shoulder while also letting him look at Logan’s face. “Why do you want to go in so badly, hun?”
“I promised my students I wouldn’t flake out on them if they didn’t flake out on me. I have to keep that promise.”
“I hardly count being too sick to work ‘flaking out.’”
“Please, Remy, please?” Was Logan’s only response, using his new advantage of Remy being able to see his face by pouting. Remy always folded when he pouted. “One class. Just so I can leave notes for the students. Please.”
Remy’s resolve against his pouting husband lasted for five seconds. “You know I hate it when you do it.” He huffed, though he didn’t sound very annoyed as he moved to card his fingers through Logan’s hair. “One class. That’s all.”
Logan let out a sigh of relief and slumped further against Remy. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Remy said. “But I’m coming with you to make sure you don’t try to stay longer. And you’re staying home tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you’re going to get changed into your comfy clothes. You don’t need to be in your polo and slacks right now.”
“Fine.” Logan said neutrally, still just thankful he had managed to convince Remy to let him go at all. Hopefully, going through the motions of the first class would make him feel better, thereby making him less sick, thereby letting him further convince Remy he was fine enough to work the whole day. A foolproof plan. Probably. “Can I at least leave my binder on?”
Remy went stiff next to him, which Logan thought was rude, considering Remy’s shoulder was much nicer to lay against when the muscles in it weren’t so tense. “Hun, please tell me you’re joking.”
“About what?”
“Having your binder on while you’re having coughing fits, that’s what!” Remy said, sounding slightly frantic. “Love, you know I’d give you anything I could, but you need to take that off. Now.”
Logan whined against Remy’s shoulder, not particularly inclined to feel childish for doing so. “I like it on.”
“I know you do, starshine, and normally I do too, but right now I’d really, really like it if it was off of you, okay?” Remy said, still sounding frantic though his voice was very gentle. Ah. That meant he was really worried. Maybe Logan should take the binder off.
“...Alright.” Logan mumbled, trying to not feel too put out. He was sure there was a good reason Remy wanted him to take his binder off. Granted, at the moment, he couldn’t remember it, but he tried not to worry about that. He didn’t need to remember all the important stuff. Remy would remind him. Remy was good like that. Remy was so, so good.
“Alright. That’s good.” Remy said, sounding calmer. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead before getting up, making sure Logan wouldn’t fall over without him supporting Logan’s head before stepping away. “I’mma grab you your sweater, okay? The nice, big lumpy one. And some other comfy clothes. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Logan nodded as he started to tug his shirt off, aware that his polo didn’t count as comfy clothes. Remy nodded with him before turning and wandering out of the room. Logan wasn’t sure where he was going- to be frank, Logan wasn’t completely sure where the door he had gone through led to, but he was sure that wherever Remy was going, it was the right place to be going.
Though it took a fair amount of fumbling, Logan managed to shed his shirt and binder, having moved on to fighting his belt buckle by the time Remy returned.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Remy said, dropping a pile of clothes next to Logan as he easily undid the belt, pulling it free of its loops before helping Logan to pull his pants off as well. “There we go.”
“I took off my binder.” Logan said, a bit abruptly. He knew that Remy could see that the binder was off and next to him, but he felt he had to say it too, just in case, to make sure Remy wouldn’t start sounding frantic and worried again. Logan didn’t like when Remy sounded like that. Remy shouldn’t have to be frantic and worried.
“I know, love, I saw.” Remy said, reaching up to cup Logan’s cheek. “And I’m so proud of you for doing that. You did very good, yeah?”
Logan nodded. “Yeah.”
Remy smiled at him. “Let’s get you into these nice comfy clothes now, okay? Then we can go and make sure you’re not late for class while also being very cozy and very lumpy. And I’ll be lumpy too so we can both suffer the world binder-less together, because I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is.”
“True love is you.” Logan said, and while he wasn’t quite sure where the words came from, or exactly what they meant, he was sure he meant them.
Remy chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re loopy.” He said, picking up the first article of clothing on the pile- a pair of dark sweatpants. “Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
It took ten minutes for Logan to get dressed, mostly because he insisted on trying to put on each article of clothing himself, only to be forced to accept Remy’s help when he proved unable to fully pull anything over his head. He did, however, manage to get the pants on by himself, and he decided that was the greatest achievement of his life.
Remy got himself dressed while Logan put on his shoes and prepared his ‘secret weapon’, only taking three minutes to get on an outfit nearly identical to Logan’s, which Logan considered to be unfair. He looked good, too, even in his bigger jacket and with his tousled hair. Logan felt and looked like a lump. A hot, frustrated lump. Though maybe that was the minor fever.
Logan took a swig of his secret weapon and tried not to choke on the taste. Hopefully the fever would be taken care of soon enough. And he could deal with being a lump if it made Remy happy.
At Logan’s grimace after his sip, Remy, who was waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, raised an eyebrow. “Forgot to add the sugar to your tea?”
Logan shook his head. “Not tea.”
“...What is it?”
“My secret weapon.”
Remy frowned. “Logan, honey, I can’t let you drink vodka while you’re sick. Or whiskey. Or whatever alcohol you have in there. And I definitely can’t let you bring it to school-”
“It’s not alcohol!” Logan defended, just managing to bite back on a ‘mostly.’ That wasn’t going to help him or his mission.
Remy’s eyes widened. “Rat poison is worse.”
“Why do you- it’s not rat poison either, I promise.” Logan said, taking Remy’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s just some tea. My throat’s raw, that’s all.”
“...I thought it wasn’t tea?”
“Did I say that?” Logan asked, because he really wasn’t sure. Everything felt fuzzy, memory included. He hoped that meant the secret weapon was kicking in and not that his fever was getting worse. He had things to do.
Remy was still watching him a bit too closely and Logan realized he hadn’t given a very good answer. “We should be going.” He said, hoping that would distract Remy. He knew pushing the point that he was only drinking tea would result in Remy wanting to taste said tea to be sure he wasn’t lying and Logan knew that wasn’t going to work.
Luckily for him, Remy let it slide.
“Yeah, we should.” He agreed, reaching over to grab his coffee before wrapping his free arm around Logan’s waist, pulling him close as they started to head for the door. “I already got the keys in my pocket.”
“I can walk perfectly well on my own, you know.” Logan pointed out, even as he leaned into Remy’s grasp. Just because he didn’t need to be coddled didn’t mean he didn’t like to be near to his husband.
Remy chuckled. “I know, babe, but I also know that you keep wobbling with every other step. I don’t need you adding a bad fall to your list of problems.” He teased. When he got to the door, however, he stopped before opening it, glancing at Logan with light concern. “Are you sure you want to go to work? I know you want to warn your students you’ll be gone, but the more rest you get, the quicker you’ll be better-”
Logan silenced Remy by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’ll be just fine, dear.” Logan said as smoothly as he could. “But your worry is appreciated.”
Remy didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he still nodded, pressing a quick return kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Alright. I believe you.” He said before he moved to open the door, somehow managing the feat despite still holding his coffee cup. Leaning slightly more into his touch, Logan allowed Remy to lead him out to the car.
The ride to the university Logan worked at was unimpressive, mostly due to the fact that Logan barely remembered a minute of it. He felt as if all his senses were going fuzzy at the edges, what little focus he had left becoming untrustworthy as he could’ve sworn he saw green stars dancing across the windshield at some point during the drive. The lack of feeling was, however, sufficiently numbing the pain of his fever, so Logan was taking that as a plus.
He only realized they were at the university when Remy was shaking his arm, looking at him funny as Logan partially snapped out of the daze he had been in.
“Are you sure you’re okay, sugar?” Remy asked, sounding once more worried. Logan frowned. He didn’t want Remy to sound worried. “We can go home if you need to…”
Logan shook his head instinctively when he heard home. He couldn’t go home. The whole point of this was to be at work and get into his schedule and pretend everything was fine until it was and feel better so that Remy didn’t have to be worried.
“If you’re sure.” Remy said, though he certainly didn’t sound very sure. Logan frowned more as Remy helped him get out of the car, leaning against him without comment this time. Remy made a very good support. Especially when the entire world was jumping up and down. Repeatedly.
The walk from the parking lot to his classroom was not one Logan remembered, but Logan tried not to let that bother him. He must have drunk more of his secret weapon, though, because the world was starting to become easier to focus on again. The world was also filled with purple and yellow scars that seemed to be tearing apart the fabric of reality, but Logan was fairly certain those were always there.
A blink took him from outside his classroom to inside, where he found his class already waiting for him, all eyes on him and Remy as soon as they entered. Good. They were there, and he could see them clearly. Double win.
“Professor…?” One of the students (send Logan home if he knew which one) said hesitantly. Probably confused by why Remy was there.
Logan patted Remy’s shoulder, hoping that would signal to him that Logan didn’t need his support anymore. Remy promptly let go of him, albeit slowly, watching Logan carefully to make sure he didn’t fall over the moment he stood on his own. Did Logan wobble? No, not at all.
...Maybe a little.
Logan rubbed at the new bruise he had on his hip that may or may not have come from him stumbling into a desk, hard. Okay, maybe a lot. But it was fine, he was fine- he hadn’t fallen over, yet, and that was what really mattered.
By the time he had made it to his desk, set in the center of the front of the room for a reason Logan was sure was very logical, all eyes were on him, including the eyes that were normally still on their phones or closed in faux rest. Another point in his favor. No need to call the class’s attention when he already had it.
Of course, now he needed something to start the lesson with. What was the lesson anyways? Actually, while he was wondering, what class did he teach? How was Logan going to start a class he knew nothing about?
Logan’s gaze flickered to the corner of the classroom, ignoring the sea of concerned looks from his students to focus on the concerned look from Remy, who had even taken his sunglasses off just so Logan could see it. If he had ever had them on. Had he? Didn’t matter. Unimportant. What was important was that Logan had an idea: if he didn’t know how to start class, he would simply steal Remy’s style.
That thought (and no others) in mind, Logan slammed his thermos on top of his desk.
The entire class, Remy included, startled at the noise, all thrown off by it. The only reason it didn’t startle Logan was because he didn’t hear it. At the newly bewildered expressions of everyone in front of him, he cleared his throat, still channeling Remy as he began,
“There’s more pressure in my sinuses right now then there is at the bottom of the sea.” A lie- the real problem Logan was dealing with at the moment was the fever he couldn’t feel but could taste (it tasted peppery, which was appropriate, Logan decided). That and the fact that Logan didn’t think it was humanly possible for his sinuses to be more pressurized than the bottom of the sea. Maybe it was. He should test that.
But not now. Now the class was clearly waiting for him to continue, and continue he would, because he had planned an entire paragraph of this and he was going to say all of it so long as he had vocal cords.
“This,” Logan paused. The container in his hand had a name. Too bad he couldn’t remember it. Logan clicked his tongue, deciding a substitution would have to do before he started again, “This thing’s full of NyQuil.”
That sparked a reaction- gasps from multiple students, and one person he was fairly certain was his husband yelling, “That thing’s full of WHAT!?” Logan nodded to himself. Good. Reactions were good. They meant that his class was following along.
“I’m going to drink it while I teach,” Logan went on, ignoring the continued gasps of shock and possible horror, “and when your heads are replaced by swirling rainbows, I will cancel the rest of class.”
That, of course, was a ridiculous timeline to set. The students’ heads would never become rainbows, swirling or otherwise, which mean Logan wouldn’t have to cancel class, which meant he could teach the full class, which would certainly go over as well in reality as it had in his head, and when Remy saw how well he was doing he’d let him teach for the whole day through. It was a foolproof plan. He truly was a genius.
“Professor… is that safe?”
Logan was pulled from his thoughts and mental back patting by one of the students in the front row. He wasn’t quite sure who they were, probably because their face was blurring into the student’s next to him. He took a swig of the NyQuil. Hopefully that would fix things.
“It’s perfectly safe, as long as I don’t die while doing it.” Logan answered, which was true. Another true thing was that Logan… didn’t know if this was safe. But NyQuil was medicine, so it couldn’t be too bad to take extra of it, right? Right. Right right right right right right-
“Sir, maybe you should go home.” Another student spoke up, sounding concerned. A chorus of agreeing murmurs rose at the suggestion.
“That’s what I told him to do!” Remy added from his spot leaning against the back wall. “But he said he had an obligation to not ‘flake out’ on all y’all lovelies.”
“That’s a great sentiment, prof, but uh… really unneeded.” A student who Logan could see right through said. “We’ll be fine without you for a bit… you should get your rest.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Logan said dismissively, taking another sip from his thing of NyQuil. He no longer cringed at the taste, mostly due in part to the fact he could no longer feel his tongue- therefore meaning he could no longer taste much of anything. “I’m perfectly fine to teach. There’s no need for me to rest.”
“Bullshit.” Remy said, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the stairs, though he didn’t go down them just yet. “I love you hun, but that’s bullshit. Do you even know what you’re teaching today?”
Logan frowned. “Of course I know. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Then teach us.” A student near the back said, which Logan considered rude, because he was fairly certain that student was ganging up with his husband to… something. They were certainly doing something. Something trap-y probably. Normally Logan was very good at avoiding traps. But he had to see them coming to do so.
“I will.” Logan told them flatly, doing his best to look as put-together as he could as he turned down to look at his desk. Surely, his lesson plan was somewhere there. That would have all the answers he currently couldn’t remember.
Luckily for him, his lesson plan was right in the middle of the desk, easy to see and grab. Perfect. Now, if the words on it would just stop dancing, Logan would have everything he needed to convince his husband and class he was perfectly fine.
Logan drank more of his no-longer-a-secret secret weapon as he lifted the paper up to his face, hoping that by decreasing the distance between his face and the paper he would also decrease the dancing of the letters. He was fairly certain it would work because ‘distance’ ‘decrease’ and ‘dance’ all started with the letter ‘d.’
Sadly, his perfect theory was somehow proven wrong- the letters got closer together when he raised the paper, but they didn’t stop dancing, now waving and wiggling in place, as if to spite Logan and his attempts to read them.
“Love?” Logan jerked as he turned towards the source of the word, surprised to find Remy only a few feet away from him. When had he gotten so close? “What are you doing?”
Logan waved his lesson plan at Remy. Wasn’t it obvious? “Checking the lesson plan.” He answered as he took another sip from his thing, ignoring Remy’s frown when he did so.
“I know I’m not a professor, hun, but I think that’s an attendance sheet.”
Now Logan frowned as he moved the paper back in front of his face, squinting at it. It seemed the letters were now willing to still, albeit only a little, just so that Logan could see it was, in fact, a list of student names followed by boxes that, when marked, could indicate a wide variety of things. None of the boxes could, however, tell Logan what his lesson was.
“So it is.” Logan commented neutrally, flipping the paper over to see if perhaps the lesson plan was hiding there. “So it is.”
“Yeah… sweetheart, I’m starting to think it was a bad idea letting you come here.” Remy said, prompting Logan to look up from his search for the lesson plan to focus on Remy instead. That proved hard to do, however, given his face was blurring into a swirl. Logan frowned, feeling distressed. Remy’s face wasn’t supposed to look like that. It was supposed to be pretty and have a chin and brilliant eyes and other features Logan was sure he also loved.
“Your face is wrong.” Maybe if Remy knew his face was wrong, he’d fix it, and it would look right and Logan wouldn’t have to feel distressed and upset and very unable to focus on mundane things such as teaching.
“And you’re proving my point.” Remy responded, though he didn’t seem to be trying to fix his face, which was very unhelpful of him. Though maybe Remy couldn’t see that his face was wrong. Maybe only Logan could because of his stupid fever. Of course it was still messing with him. Nothing another sip of NyQuil couldn’t fix-
“Yeah, we’re not having any more of that.” The thing was taken from Logan’s hands before he could actually get any of the drink into his mouth. He looked at Remy in betrayal as his husband opened the lid and glanced into the container. “How much of this stuff have you drunk, anyways?”
“Not enough.” Logan said, reaching out to take it back. Remy just stepped away, holding the NyQuil out of reach. “Remy.”
Remy just shook his head. “Nope. No more of this for you.”
Logan huffed and stepped towards Remy, reaching out to try and make a grab for the thing. “Let me-”
Remy grabbed the hand that Logan had put out, stopping his attempt and his sentence. “I said nope, sugar.”
Logan’s focus had fallen away from retrieving his NyQuil, however. He was now looking concentratedly at their linked hands, slightly wiggling his fingers in Remy’s grasp- experimentally, not attempting to escape his hold.
“...You good there, hun?”
“Warm.” Was Logan’s only response. Remy tilted his head to the side, confused, before his expression became one of understanding. Still holding Logan’s hand, Remy bent over and placed the thing on the ground before standing back up and moving closer to Logan, taking his other hand in his newly free one.
“Is that nice?” Remy asked, gently, which Logan vaguely registered meant he was trying to lower Logan’s guard and that that was Bad. It was, however, working, as Logan was now fairly certain anything outside of holding Remy’s hands was completely and utterly unimportant.
“Very good.” He said, very eloquently in his opinion. “You’re very good.”
“I know I am.” Remy responded, squeezing Logan’s hands. “I’m so good, in fact, I’m going to take you home now, because I should never have let you leave the house. A mistake, I note, was yours since you used your pout on me knowing full well I would not stand against it.”
“But my classes-”
“Would really prefer you stay home and rest.” A voice that was not Remy’s said. Logan was fairly certain that meant it was one of his students, but he didn’t look to check. He was extremely busy looking at Remy. “You look like you’re going to collapse, prof- just take the day off.”
“I’m fine.” Logan said automatically.
“None of us believe that lie, love.” Remy said as he released one of Logan’s hands. Logan whined at that, and Remy softly shushed him as he moved to rest a hand on Logan’s forehead. “I think the NyQuil’s made your fever worse-”
Remy probably continued speaking after that, but Logan stopped listening, instead choosing to lean into the warmth that was now against his already too-warm forehead. The motion of leaning in was slight, barely a shift at all, but it was also apparently too much, and Logan’s hard fought for balance completely failed him. He tipped forwards, not bothering to try and slow his descent as he began mentally writing his will.
Arms, warm arms, arms that were warm, wrapped around his midsection, stopping Logan from falling all the way over. “And look at that! You’re actually collapsing now. We’re going home, Lo.”
“Mhmmm.” Was all Logan managed. Remy was warm. Remy was really warm. And nice. So nice. Had Logan been trying to work? That seemed silly. Work wasn’t Remy.
Speaking of Remy, he was shifting Logan, pulling him up a bit and resting his head against Remy’s shoulder, arms wrapping more solidly around Logan, all of which were actions Logan was immensely favorable to. He was even warmer, now, and even closer to Remy, and Logan considered these to be very good things.
“I love you.” Logan murmured into Remy’s shoulder, because he decided right then it was very important Remy know that. “You’re very warm. And nice. And warm. And pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty.”
Remy chuckled. “Don’t mind him.” Remy spoke, though Logan got the impression he wasn’t talking to Logan. “He gets sappy when he’s loopy.”
Logan glared at nothing. He wasn’t saying he loved Remy because he was loopy. He was saying that because he loved Remy a lot. More than he loved… planets. And pencils. And peaches.
“You’re not making any sense, starshine.” Remy told him, and Logan realized he had been speaking out loud. Remy pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s forehead, and he melted even further into his grasp. “But I love you too.”
Logan smiled into Remy’s shoulder, ignoring the background noise of ‘awww’s he was sure was coming from his class. Remy scoffed at them.
“Can we go home now?” Logan asked, because home had bed and bed meant lying down and most of the time lying down meant lying down with Remy and that sounded very nice to Logan right then.
“Of course, honey. Can you walk?”
Logan considered the question for a moment. He probably could walk, if he put his mind to it, given he had mostly walked here and he had been walking earlier. But, if he was going to be Logan (and not Frank, why would he be Frank if he was telling the truth-), he didn’t particularly want to put his mind to it. So he shook his head.
“I think you’re lying.” Remy said, but he still shifted so he could pick Logan up- a move he had perfected back in their courting days as soon as he learned it was a near guarantee to fluster Logan. Instinctively, Logan’s arms wrapped around the back of Remy’s neck and he once more tucked his head into Remy’s shoulder.
“Do you guys, uh… know what to do from here?” Remy asked, the question clearly directed at Logan’s class. “Because I don’t think you’ll be seeing your teach for a good week.”
“You said two days.” Logan mumbled into Remy’s shoulder, though not very aggressively.
“Yes I did.” Remy agreed as he started moving, assumedly towards the door. “That was before you drank half a bottle of NyQuil in an hour and collapsed.”
Logan nodded into Remy’s shoulder. That made sense. Remy was good at sense. Remy was good at a lot of things.
“If anyone asks, we’ll say the professor was here for the full period before leaving.” A student assured Remy.
“And I’ll hold onto his thermos until he gets back!” Another chimed in. “Since you probably want to keep the NyQuil as far away from him as possible for now.”
The class laughed and Remy did too. “Yeah, no, I’m tossing out whatever NyQuil’s left at home. If you get a chance, I highly suggest you dump out the contents of the thermos too.”
“Will do!”
Logan felt Remy nod his head. “Great. So… that was easier to settle than I expected. Though I guess you’re all getting a free class period now.”
“We’ll use it responsibly, Mr. Professor’s Husband.”
“You don’t need to lie to me, kid, I skipped every class I could get away with.” Remy said before he pressed another kiss to Logan’s head. Logan, who was more or less completely asleep, made a little happy noise. “And then I married a teacher. Life’s funny.”
Remy let out a happy little sigh and Logan smiled at his happiness. “That’s enough from me. You kids have a nice day.”
And there was a good chance that something else was said or done after that, but it truly was very cozy pressed against Remy’s chest, and Logan saw no reason to bother keeping awake when Remy was taking care of everything so well. So he didn’t.
Logan wasn’t sure when he woke back up, but he didn’t mind that much. He did know that he was at home and in bed and that was nice. Logan also knew that the NyQuil was at least partially out of his system because his fever was back and it was back with a vengeance. He groaned, turning over and pressing his face into the nearest pillow.
Next to him, he heard Remy laugh, and a hand soon settled in Logan’s hair to card fingers through it. “Hey there, darling.”
“I feel like shit.”
“That’s what happens when you’re sick but you still try to go to work.” Remy softly teased. “And when you drink way too much NyQuil.”
“It was my secret weapon.” Logan protested. Remy laughed again.
“Maybe stick to the more conventional methods of healing next time?” Remy suggested.
“Cuddles?”
“I was thinking more homemade chicken soup and watching old game show reruns, but I suppose cuddles might work too.” Remy said. “Why? Is there a particular reason you mention cuddles?”
Logan huffed as he flopped over, glaring at a very amused looking Remy as he grabbed at his shirt, tugging as well as he could on it to try and pull Remy down. “Don’t be obtuse.”
“Oh you’re so weak- oh, babe, this is sad-” Remy laughed at Logan’s poor attempts to force him to cuddle, gently taking Logan’s hands and holding them in his own. Remy smiled at him. “You’re cute.”
“I’m sick.” Logan responded. “Cuddle me.”
“And why should I do that, now?”
“Because you love me.” Logan told him, shuffling over a bit so that he was closer to Remy, making the pout he then put on more effective. “And I love you.”
“I can’t believe you’re using the pout again.” Remy chided.
Logan pouted harder.
Remy sighed, but he still pulled up the edge of the blankets and sheets, sliding in next to Logan. “One of these days I’m going to find a way to say no to you, you know.”
Logan wrapped his arms around Remy’s chest, pulling him closer and turning his chest into a pillow. “But will you want to?” He mumble asked, not as concerned with the answer as he was with falling back asleep and trapping Remy on the bed with him.
Remy chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Logan as well, seemingly completely alright with becoming trapped as he dropped a kiss on Logan’s forehead. “Never. Because while you may have proven today that you can be wrong of many things, you did get one thing very, very right.”
“Oh?” Logan hummed, only half-interested in knowing what he had gotten right.
“Even if you do stupid things like go to work sick and bind while sick and try to drink NyQuil like it’s water, I still love you.” Remy said sweetly, once more running his fingers through Logan’s hair to help further lull him back asleep. “And as such I will always want to say yes to you.”
Logan let out a small laugh. “You’re a sap.”
“You should’ve heard yourself earlier, hun.” Remy said, chuckling when Logan’s only response was a hum and snuggling closer to Remy. “I’ll tell you about it later. Go to bed, starshine. I’ve got nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than love you.”
Deciding he’d mock Remy’s accidental rhyme later, Logan happily did as his husband said, putting aside the burn of his fever to focus on Remy’s comfortable, loving warmth, quickly falling into a sleep as gentle as Remy’s embrace.
#losleep#ts logan#ts sleep#ts remy#the cryptid speaks#fanfic#fanfiction#ts sides#sanders sides#sickfic#this is v self-indulgent i hope y'all know shbdjfs#also i dislke the ending but eh endings always suck abfhsjdf#bls enjoy my chaotic stupid logan and his loving husband#also i've never taken too much nyquil so idk if logan's experience is accurate#bls for the love of goodness do not test this#don't be chaotic stupid that's logan's job
412 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pray Tell - k.ji
me, after making my own ugly ass banner, bc it is my own: :DDD
~ Pairing : Kim Jongin x Reader
~ Genre : Fluff, Comfort, Humour, SuggestiVe
~ Summary : Tired and can't sleep? Show up at your boyfriend's house at night with no warning to receive love, a massage, and then some of this and that.
Established Relationship
~ Word Count : 2,606
~ Warnings : oh boy where to start uhh emotional constipation, shirtlessness, swearing, very suggestive like more than anything i've ever written before if u know me irl pls never talk to me about this we shall simply pretend it does not exist, descriptions of his hands sorry i've been practicing exo simp core for the last few weeks, massage description, innuendos but they're funny i swear, i have a banner draft saved in which the title is holy water, there is nothing explicit but this is scary bc i am: babie, tq that is all
~ A/N : me? getting obsessed with exo and beginning to write for them in the middle of a) my academic calendar and b) the exo drought itself? it's more likely than you think.
the massaging techniques described here are not to be replicated. please do not treat this fic as a horny wikihow article. it is simply a horny fic that is all.
i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!
masterlist (now with a new category!) in my description.
~~~
The sound of the cab driving away behind you, unceremoniously deposited as you are at the entrance of this imposing building, leaves a hollowness behind, accentuated by the darkness you’re surrounded by.
You hear a couple walk past, catch them giving you a look even as you continue to dawdle outside the apartment. The security guards probably think you’re another stalker, here to camp out for the night, waiting to catch a glimpse of one of the inhabitants.
For the fifth time in as many minutes, you wonder if this is the best course of action. What if he’s busy? What if he’s been practicing the whole day and he’s tired? What if he’s, shockingly enough given the earliness of the hour, asleep?
But traitorously, the weight of your phone in the pocket of your jeans makes itself known with another vibration, and you let yourself recollect all the facts that refute your tiredness- and stress- induced spiral. He’s texting you right now, for one. You had felt like a proper fraud, reading his messages that were coming in rapidly from your notification panel as he went on about what a good day he had, how great it was that it was a Friday and they were getting a weekend off, right as you were in a car on the way over to his place.
You know that if there were a day where you crave some comfort and some warmth, and your body decides to drag itself of its own accord halfway across the city the moment you get home from work, you couldn’t have chosen a better time for it to be happening than now.
But, still.
You’re not sure how to go about this whole selfish-intentioned surprise appearance to his house. Every time you’ve been here so far, you’ve both either arrived together, or he’s been waiting in the lobby to pick you up from the entrance. You doubt the guards are feeling any kinder towards you the longer you spend hovering outside, and a claim of ‘I'm his girlfriend.’ will probably be met with scepticism and a complaint at the nearest police station about a stalker. If they asked Jongin to file a restraining order, he'd do it, too. For shits and giggles.
With a sigh, ignoring the unread messages from him, you walk across to the opposite side of the road, absentmindedly kicking at the wall as you call his number. He’s on his phone, you know that, but it still surprises you a bit when he picks up on the second ring, cheery greeting instant, leaving you with no time to prepare.
You’re pretty sure you would have come up empty, anyway.
“Hey!”
You’re not sure where to start, how to even begin to tell him that you’re outside his house at 10 PM, and you wish there was a script for such situations.
Hi, I’m tired and stressed and the moment I got home, I came here, but now I’m not sure why, so maybe I should just go back and save us both the bother, even though I feel a little bit better already, just after hearing your voice.
Without preamble, throwing caution to the wind, you ask, “Could you pick me up?”
There's shuffling on his end, the sound of blankets rustling, and you think he’s getting out of bed when he replies immediately, “Yeah, sure. Where are you? Are you fine?”
You hear the clang of keys and you desperately wish there was some way to sound less confusing than you do, as you hurriedly tell him to not bother with getting his car.
“Uh, okay. Why don’t you tell me where you are, and I’ll see if it’s a sneakily walkable distance?”
“I’m outside your apartment.”
There’s silence for a second, static crackling, as you semi-consciously pick at your thumb nail, waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke, praying that he laughs it off as a joke, hoping to hear the low rumble of his chuckle so you can pretend the same and just book a cab back home. But then he hums slowly, thoughtfully, before replying, “Okay, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it without a vehicle, but I’ll try.”
You feel the side of your lip quirk up by itself, just a minuscule amount, beyond your control, before you huff in half-hearted amusement, listening as he opens his door. You can imagine him entering the lift, padding around in the corridor in his ridiculously expensive house slippers, slipping into the lobby.
He doesn’t hang up, and the elevator sounds and the polite neighbour greetings give you a pretty good estimate of his progress. You see his blurry shadow behind the frosted glass of the building entrance before you hear him talk to the guards.
From the handset you still have pressed to your ear, you hear his tinny voice ask, “What are you doing all the way over there?”
“Coming,” you mumble shortly, hanging up and crossing the road.
Despite the fact that they’ve got explicit proof that you are, in fact, a legitimate visitor, the guards’ gazes hold lingering distrust, and it’s with an internal sigh of relief that you slip inside the building and out of their eyesight. Or maybe the relief has more to do with present company, who’s to say?
To his credit, Jongin doesn’t say a word. He tries catching your evasive eye, fidgets a bit after he presses the elevator button, but doesn’t ask you what on Earth you’re doing here. The lift is empty but for the two of you, and the moment the doors close, he shuffles a bit closer. Not so much that he invades your personal space but enough to let you know that he’s there, and that he’d appreciate an explanation, if you were up to giving one.
Slowly, not looking at him, you extend your stiff arm to the side, just enough so your pinkie grazes the side of his surprised hand. His muted giggle as you wind your finger around his makes you feel just that little bit better. He relaxes as he gets the cue and engulfs your hand in his large one, warm and comforting and solid, before gently tugging you out once the elevator doors open.
His house always smells the same. Hints of his Ferrari Black perfume, traces of his chocolate flavoured protein powder and just that little tinge of lilac air freshener.
You stop walking somewhere in the middle of the hall, your interlocked hands forcing him to halt as well in his path to the bedroom. He turns around, eyebrow quizzically cocked as he looks at you. For the first time, you look up from your insofar steady gaze at the smooth marble floor and at his face.
Your mouth opens once. And then it shuts. And then it opens again. Suddenly, you’ve remembered all the work you have to do and all the stress induced by that work and paradoxically enough, how that’s the reason you’re here.
It’s like he can tell that you’re working yourself up in your head, and by the time he turns around fully to face you, now very much in your personal space, he’s lost all trace of confusion.
Softly, hand still holding yours firm and keeping you grounded, he asks, “Food, sleep or talk?”
It’s easier to focus on options like these, simpler than trying to organise the multiple to-do lists you’ve got living rent free in your brain, and without much thought, you mumble, “Can we just...chill?”
You know what he’s going to interpret it as before a single word escapes his mouth, and you’re already halfway through an eye roll by the time he begins to reply, eyebrows wiggling ridiculously and stage smoulder set in place that just looks exaggerated in as subdued a setting as this.
“Is that what we're calling it these days?”
You’re the one leading him to the room now, as he easily matches your pace with a single long stride. He sees that you’re a little calmer, pleased that his silly antics have served to at least put you in a headspace that’s almost accepting of peace, and like a fuckboy faux-stretching to put his arm around his dates' shoulder, he fakes a yawn, detaching your interlocked hands and long limbs extending until he’s smoothly gotten you under his left arm, loosely pressed to his side, right as you both enter the room.
It’s contact that you did not know you craved, and you gladly welcome it, shuffling closer and fully prepared to just live there, cozy against his firm chest and his t-shirt that’s become uber-soft from being washed too many times.
It’s short-lived, sadly enough. After indulging you for a few seconds, he pulls away slowly, lowly chuckling as you cling on for a millisecond longer, before nudging you towards the bed.
“Go. I’ll be there in a second.”
Wordlessly, you obey, letting your body flop onto the mattress so you can stare at the ceiling as Jongin rummages around in the bathroom. The dimmed yellow night lights calm you down, and it’s comparatively easier to mute your brain now, body sinking into the comforter that smells like his laundry detergent.
You’ve just about begin to relax, about to say that you could maybe muster up the mental capacity for maybe a low-action movie or TV show, when you hear him call out from the adjoining room.
“T-shirt off, please.”
You don’t realise that your eyes have slipped shut until they jolt open in surprise. You clamber up to a sitting position with an energy you didn’t know you possessed, swiftly turning your head towards the owner of the voice in bemused surprise, just in time to catch the trailing end of a roguish wink before his poked out head pops back out of sight to join the rest of his body in the other room.
Before you can even question the abrupt request, Jongin re-enters. He’s got a bowl in his hand, white and porcelain and whose contents smell like those massage oils he swears by, that he carefully carries in his journey toward you, lightly observing as he places the container on the side table, “You’re still wearing your t-shirt.”
“You're still wearing your t-shirt.”
You aren’t sure where the knee-jerk, childish response comes from, but you can’t complain as you watch him divest himself of the offending article of clothing, impish grin popping into view once he’s done, black fabric bundled and nonchalantly tossed onto the armchair in the corner of the room.
“Your turn.”
You tear your eyes away from his torso at his teasing voice with more than a little difficulty. There’s a shift in the air and challenge in his gaze, and maybe this was his plan all along. Smart man.
Focus trained on him, chin up in a confidence you would not have been capable of ten minutes ago, you mimic his motions, and just for the heck of it, neatly fold the garment in your hands before setting it on the far corner of the bed.
It gives you something to do with your hands, and they’re definitely itching.
You look back up at his patient face when you’re done, refusing to get distracted by everything else that he definitely wants you to get distracted by, distantly pleased when you see his eyes flick up to your face. If there’s a massage on the agenda, you’re going to get it, goddammit.
“What are you doing all the way over there?”
His lips quirk up further at your recycled statement, repeated from what feels like ages ago. He picks up the bowl he had sat down while saying, “Lie on the bed, face down.”
You resist the urge to snort at his smug grin, both of you sharing a second of amused eye contact at the continuous innuendos, before you do as instructed, crawling up the bed and flipping around until your chin is resting on your forearms cushioned by the pillows right in front of the headrest. Somehow, you manage to feel simultaneously half-asleep and hyper-aware.
The bed dips to your right, his movements graceful, dancer limbs elegant, even as he’s climbing onto a bouncy mattress while balancing a bowl of oil, and he settles on his knees near the small of your back.
There’s silence for a moment, before his phone lands a few feet from your face, bouncing once and landing face down, and now there are slow, deep beats filling the room, The Weeknd crooning smoothly and making you slip deeper. Shit, he’s good.
Your hum of approval is accompanied by you sinking in further to the mattress, and bedding rustling next to you as Jongin moves closer, the fabric of his pyjama pants now brushing gently against the side of your waist.
“Is this...the treatment you give all your customers?” you ask, breath slightly hitching as you feel a large palm settle on the small of your back, gently tracing upward to fiddle for a second with the hook in your bra before undoing it.
“Definitely not. They get flowers and bathrobes and choice of fragrance. And I get paid.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, teasingly poking at the flesh on the side of your waist, making you weakly giggle at the ticklish sensation, before placing his permanently warm, and now oily, hands at the base of your spine, gently sliding up, applying just the slightest hint of pressure.
You'd be embarrassed about the sigh you let out just then, but you’re too far gone to care. You let yourself relax under his tenderly firm ministrations, feeling his palms glide up and down your back as he spreads the oil around, rubbing it in. With the slow music in the background and the dim lighting in the room, there isn’t much to keep you from slipping into a zoned-out, dreamy haze.
An indeterminate amount of time passes like this before you sleepily begin to mumble, head ducking to burrow into the soft pillows as Jongin moves to the sides of your neck, long fingers more effective than any massager. “If you weren’t a dancer, you could have become a very successful masseur, I think.”
You feel his chuckle in your bones, as he momentarily bends at the waist, gentle kiss pressed against the skin right in between your shoulder blades, a direct contrast to the warmth his body emanates against your pampered back, brief contact swiftly snatched away as he straightens up and continues pressing his thumb against the bottom of your neck.
Preening at the affection, you continue, “Magic in those fingers, that’s what you have.”
Said fingers move down until they’re at the base of your spine, large palms spread out in opposite directions and spanning your back, ends curled possessively around the curve of your hips.
“They’re good at other things, too,” he says, tone low and no longer as teasing as it was, hands slipping dangerously low and index finger dipping into the waistband of your pants.
Suddenly, you’re wide awake.
Head slowly coming up, you rest your chin once more on folded arms, settling as much as you can with a finger running absent circles on the base of your hips.
“Pray tell.”
~
#exo#thekpopnetwork#kwritersworldnet#ultkpop#kai#kim jongin#kim kai#superm#fluff#humour#suggestive#kpop imagine#exo imagine#superm imagine#kai imagine#kpop fluff#exo fluff#superm fluff#kai fluff#kpop smut#exo smut#superm smut#kai smut#jongin fluff#jongin imagine#jongin smut#sm entertainment#massage
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
I was gonna do a “missing the point”-style meme but I’m honestly not sure that would even work tho so:
Harry Potter and My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia have similar issues with introducing and then immediately ignoring ENORMOUS issues re: ableism.
I think these two series in specific come to mind bc it’s ableism within a specific empowered community, and in both cases the series are pretty well-known and the community (Wix/Heroes) are immediately identifiable to many audiences.
[WARNING: Discussions of ableism, child harm, and abuse on multiple levels.]
What’s the problem?
SQUIBS.
[This post got stupid huge SO here is a tl,dr for all you lovely people who understandably have no time for this.
TL, DR: Both Harry Potter and Boku No Hero have a bad tendency to implement or imply a level of disability regarding unempowered people in empowered societies. They then continue on to completely disregard important conclusions to these implications, such as how heavily it is implied that these unempowered people (Squibs) are so ‘worthless’ to those societies that their very deaths are merely a byline rather than an actual tragedy.
This is especially troubling in MHA/BNHA when so many other political and worldbuilding considerations HAVE been planned out, and seems to be less-discussed in the fandom as a whole, so that’s a much larger chunk of this post.]
That’s your tl, dr!
Here’s the Harry Potter angle:
HP has a bit that I’ve seen people discussing already: Neville’s magic was discovered when his uncle dropped a literal child a potenial lethal distance.
Neville activating his power and surviving is celebrated, and then JKR immediately glosses over the glaring issue this has introduced: the heavy implication that a Squib dying from this incident would have not have been mourned or even really commented on.
The few adult Squibs (and isn’t that a whole new slice of wonderful /j) are generally disliked and ridiculed for some reason or other. Now, while obviously there are plenty of places where the Venn diagram of “disabled” and “asshole” intersect irl, when your ONLY presentation of a disabled character or group is, every time, an asshole or a fool or both, boy! That’s bad!
Neville (who is generally presented as magically, physically, and mentally weak and often treated as comic relief) is a bit better via the POV Character constantly having positive interactions with him, but this is still a mess. Yes, Neville canonically is not a Squib, but it’s not subtle that he’s on the cusp OF being a Squib, and that is a key element of ridiculing him in many situations (also the whole trauma thing multiple times, like if I really get into it I could do a whole double-size post of how Neville was done dirty or nearly dirty by JK all the time but this isn’t that post).
This isn’t even the point of this post. Let’s move to MHA/BNHA
Hero Academia has differing but honestly even worse issues. And I’m aware that different countries handle ableism and accessibility in different ways, but if you think too hard about it this is an absolute clusterfuck.
What is the problem now?
Squibs! Or rather, the main character of the series, Midoriya Izuku.
Deku (a nickname meaning “useless”! Imparted after his disability is recognized! hilarity!!) is also born without powers. Even worse in some ways, he is born without powers in a world where the overwhelming majority of the global population has some kind of empowerment. I can’t recall if it’s outright stated or only implied that someone with a functionally useless (and hoo boy, usefullness to society is its own post nope not today i do not have that much energy) Quirk is still more of a person than a Quirkless human.
That sink in? Okay, let’s move on.
In a narratively not-uncommon turn of events, Deku gains power. This is partially a product of, and directly tied to, his own work and determination, as well as his willingness to help even when physically outmatched.
To an American audience (NOT the intended audience though I wouldn’t doubt it if Horikoshi meant to have international appeal more or less from the start), this is a deeply satisfying narrative. Who doesn’t love an underdog story? And we even learn that the strongest hero of all time (til this point, anyways) was ALSO born Quirkless!
However, from here, things take a nosedive.
The key problem is a combination of story progression and overall thought put into worldbuilding. Horikoshi’s efforts may not be the MOST thorough, but he has put a great deal of work and thought into his creation (he at least understands the concept of implications and sometimes plans accordingly, looking at you JKR). However, that tied with story progression and personal repercussions actually works to the detriment of the matter.
Especially given recent turns of events.
[BIG MEGA SPOILERS FOR FAIRLY RECENT PLOT
STOP HERE IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP
SERIOUSLY]
What I mean by this is the current state of events re: two particular recent/recent-ish plot arcs.
First, Quirk Removal, and second, Endeavor’s comeuppance.
Quirk Removal/Loss was the start of my realization to what the narrative was doing regarding Izuku’s Quirklessness and the state of being overall.
This arc was a perfect time to bring up Midoriya’s past! A lot of Western works certainly would have done so! And yes, it may be bordering on done-to-death, but many elements of Hero Academia put new twists on common themes and cliches; it wasn’t unreasonable to hope that he might do it again.
Instead, little to NOTHING is discussed during this time! In fact, iirc I’d go so far as to say Midoriya straight-up never considers his past at any point during this arc!? If I’m wrong then it obviously made little impact.
NOW, not every disabled character needs to incorporate their disability and/or skills gleaned from living with it in every narrative. In fact, it would get tedious and questionable if they did (note: this does NOT mean ignoring/forgetting the character is even disabled when convenient. Like, I’d like to think that’s the obvious point of this post but... *gestures at tumblr*).
But the complete lack of it here feels really weird. Like, almost hollow. I think Midoriya makes some kind of suggestion to Mirio of his former Quirklessness at the end of the arc, but nothing that made any kind of impact.
Let’s move on.
Endeavor.
Now, the problem with Endeavor’s arc is not the arc itself. Or, rather, it’s the fact that Endeavor’s Comeuppance is pretty good.
This is a problem because someone else should be getting this exact same arc, yet the issue is never even RECOGNIZED, let alone addressed.
Endeavor’s abuse of his wife and children, all in the name of creating a Heroic legacy, is publicized and tanks his popularity. The general public is now aware of what he’s done to the people closest to him, which aside from giving him a more correct reputation, means they can’t trust him to protect them if they can’t trust him to protect his own family.
This isn’t the goal of this post and I’m no expert regardless, but up to this point (around chapter 290) this was handled in an interesting way. Endeavor is humanized and often shown interacting with people in a way that, while often domineering, isn’t always aggressive or abusive. He runs a Hero Agency for crying out loud! But abuse in the real world often isn’t constant, nor happening to everyone in contact with the abuser. So this is a surprisingly good lead up to the reveal, where you can understand how most people never realized this was an issue.
But here’s my main point. Let’s examine some traits and actions that come up:
physically abusive to a child (often dangerously so) to the point of permanent trauma and severe scarring in some cases
target of abuse was weaker (physically and/or regarding Quirk power)
often abused victim emotionally/psychologically, bringing this weakness up again and again
own immense power led to rising in the world of Heroics
comrades, fellow Heroes, UA teachers etc. not aware of prior abuse issues
Who does this sound like?
Endeavor, who has a whole fucking arc dedicated to this reveal and repercussions?
Or Bakugou?
Reminder: This isn’t a hate post. This isn’t a character post, or even an abuse post. This is about ableism.
Bakugou exhibits many, many traits and actions that Endeavor was literally just punished for. So why does the treatment of these characters in-universe differ so drastically?
Two primary reasons I can think of, which feed into each other:
1) Bakugou was a child (still technically is a minor, remember! Still a first-year high schooler!) when this started. This doesn’t mean he’s strictly innocent, but it’s an important point, because it leads us to
2) Bakugou Katsuki’s abuse of Midoriya Izuku is socially accepted.
Reminder of the audience’s first encounter with Katsuki. The very first page with him is him and his grade-school posse picking on a kid that Izuku is trying to protect. His posse is showing off their Quirk powers and mocking Izuku’s lack thereof.
Then we flash forward to late-middle school versions of the kids. Bakugou, in front of a fucking teacher and entire class, is verbally, physically, etc. abusive to Izuku. He trashes his stuff, threatens him, tells him to kill himself (which, as Izuku notes later, is a fucking felony in Japan too).
No one stops him.
No one criticizes him.
We don’t even get a shot of like, some more ‘regular’ students being like “man Bakugou’s kinda fucked up but we’re too scared to do anything about it” NO. NO. Everyone more or less either backs Katsuki up or straight up doesn’t care.
Remember that this started when Katsuki and Izuku were four. Remember that Katsuki’s power is absurdly dangerous, ie. LITERAL. GODDAMN. EXPLOSIONS.
Izuku has scars. He probably has hearing loss! He may have gotten at least one concussion which can cause serious neurological issues and open him up to further risk!
He could have died.
And?
NO ONE. DOES. ANYTHING.
THIS is the point of the post. THIS is the value placed on Quirkless people in this society.
And yet. Despite Endeavor’s comeuppance. Despite All Might and Izuku’s blatant ‘value’ to society through Heroics. Despite so many other political implications and quandaries address in the Hero Academia series.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing about this is addressed. The nearly-lethal ableism towards Quirkless people in this society is never ONCE brought up properly once Izuku receives One For All.
There is so much potential here! There is so much worth talking about! And yet we’ve moved into what feels very much like the Final Battle without it being addessed, despite numerous, numerous opportunities for a meaningful conversation about it along the way.
Mirio losing his power! Hell, Mirio’s powers’ drawbacks (and pretty much every Quirk’s drawback! if acknowledged properly!) border on a disability-analogue, and even more when Yuga’s laser comes up, and yet again and again we fail to truly engage with the matter in a meaningful way.
At this point, even if it comes up in the finale, I’m going to be disappointed in this particular aspect of the series due to the complete and total shut-down it’s been given so far.
What the FUCK, Horikoshi?
#elk text#24th#February#2021#February 24th 2021#I hope the bold helps with reading#long post warn#elk has thoughts#sorry for the ramble#Ableism#other shit comes up but plz keep in mind that that is the PRIMARY POINT OF THIS#also:#child abuse warn#abuse warn#harry potter spoilers warn#boku no hero spoilers#like REAL BIG spoilers for later Hero Academia stuff!#this is not a character hate post and i will block judiciously#elk has feelings
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
itsay ep 5 (thoughts + spoilers)
i feel like i’m on a high that i’ll never come down from :))) the itsay effect. this show is truly a cultural reset.
first up, i just want to say that i have never been more worried about a final ep before IN MY LIFE. for the past couple eps, i’ve tried to watch them live raw, but for this one, i was afraid of spoilers (and wanted to understand everything from the first watch), so i waited for the vimeo ep to drop and let me tell you...that was both the longest and shortest wait ever...the excitement and the dread i’ve been feeling this whole week has been unreal.
as usual, this is not an analysis. tbh there’s prob going to be even less analysing in this one bc most of the time i was either crying or yelling at my screen (and i feel like this ep in general didn’t have as many scenes to analyse?). but god, i’m SO GLAD that they gave us a happy ending bc it would have broken me into pieces if i had to rewatch and recap this knowing everything had fallen apart for them (ecstatic that wasn’t the case, and my feelings from last ep on how things might go in this one actually panned out!!). after what went down in ep 4, i always thought that that was going to be the peak of the climax/conflict, and that this one was going to be much more of a healing ep...the ep that would bring more closure to each of the characters and their relationships, as well as wrap things up as a final ep should.
so the way this ep starts is actually kind of anti-climactic. esp after the intense emotions of what happened at the end of ep 4. which is understandable? like they were being petty teenagers angry at one another, but now it’s a few days later, and all those heated emotions have tempered down. they’re in that awkward stage where neither of them even know how to start approaching one another after the loaded feelings of the last ep (basically this is what happened to them when they were children. no one reached out, and they both drifted apart...only now they’re aware of what might happen if no one reaches out and it’s a question of whether they let history repeat itself).
oh-aew using the cue cards that teh gave him and being worried ;;; doing that thing that teh told him about writing something over and over again when he can’t say it out loud...teh deleting his line chat history ;;; i was torn with this one bc on one hand noooooo, but on the other, it could be representing them starting anew again?? ALSO, they always know how to make the most of the ost in this show (i think it’s the can’t translate/lost in translation instrumental?). i was literally shaking the first time i watched this.
i was actually very worried about how his mum was going to treat him after last ep...i thought she would be angry/ignore him, and i was feeling so anxious about it...maybe bc i personally know what that’s like. that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re scared of how they’ll react to you after a fight. teh wanting to make his mum proud is hugely important to him, so when she handed him the plate, i actually let out a sigh of relief. i’m glad that his mum understood and backed him when he needed it most (she may not be fully all the way there yet, but feelings are raw and it takes time). and i already knew hoon would, so i wasn’t too worried on that front.
tarn is so good for teh, and i really see why they were drawn to each other. but i like how she’s prioritising what’s right for her, and also telling him like it is. they need to focus on their studies now and figure out the other stuff later.
teh loitering outside the tutoring classroom before entering sort of reminds me of ep 1 when teh and oh-aew met up for the first time after their first fight...just this time it’s less straight up antagonism between the two of them and more hurt feelings as they avoid each other instead. i also appreciate the gang during this. they’re so normal and encouraging about the whole situation. they know something went down between teh and oh-aew, but they don’t really press too much about it. just let teh know that they’re here if he needs someone to talk to.
the ep 5 trailer played us!!!!!!! i was WONDERING why oh-aew would suddenly say all that nice stuff about bas (not that bas doesn’t deserve the nice stuff, he’s an ANGEL) in front of class, but their teacher was the one that put them up to it. the horror i felt as i watched teh look straight at oh-aew but turn to bless phillip instead and then start on that whole spiel about how phillip “never sees the good intentions of friends as worthless. never says ‘no’ to what friends give you” and how he’ll never leave him because of that. ALL RIGHT IN FRONT OF OH-AEW’S SALAD...STOP TEH. PLEASE. he’s digging himself into this hole himself with the passive aggressiveness again. THEN BAS COMING IN TO STEAL THIS WHOLE SCENE. i don’t think any of us were expecting him to be as forward as he was but omg. he laid it all out on the line in the way that teh couldn’t (at this point in time). i’m really, really glad that oh-aew got to hear what bas thought of him though, and that bas got to tell oh-aew all his feelings. nothing is misconstrued. he’s so brave and the utter respect i have for him increased by tenfold...what a fantastic character. just so sure and convinced in how he feels, and so uncaring of what anyone else thinks. it’s so damn refreshing. and for oh-aew to know that there’s nothing wrong with him at all. that he’s desirable and wanted and loved (it calls back to ep 4 when oh-aew’s sobbing and desperately asking teh “what did i do wrong??” again and again). it must have meant so much to him. the conflict i felt in my heart watching that and knowing that bas would be SUCH a good guy for oh-aew, but also knowing that sometimes that’s just not enough.
DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TEH’S REACTION TO ALL THIS. he’s truly facing the consequences of his actions in this one. but just imagine being in this position, being too scared to own up to your own heart, and then watching this other boy do it like it’s the easiest thing in the world?? like it’s just another regular day?? like it’s nothing?? all to the boy that you’re in love with. to the boy that wanted this exact thing from you, but you couldn’t give. it’s like teh’s watching oh-aew slip through his very fingers, but knowing that it’s bc he never had oh-aew in the first place (and the reason for that is himself). i also really love how no one in class (including their teacher) makes a big deal out of this? they’re all just applauding bc it’s a sweet confession. it would be so jarring for teh to see this acceptance when the fear of society not accepting his feelings for oh-aew is one of the reasons he can’t accept them himself.
anyway, i had like one thought in this next scene and it was just DRINK THE COCONUT TEH. DRINK IT!!!!!!! so nice to see how his fam loves and believes in him.
teh watching on as bas and oh-aew take the first step with their left foot :(((
LOVE how they use the firecrackers going off to represent anytime there’s some sort of shift in teh and oh-aew’s relationship (when they first met, when they had their first fight, and now again when they talk for the first time after the fight and oh-aew tells him teh that he and bas are dating now). it’s such a great way to symbolise the spark and passion of their relationship. anyway, this meeting mostly consists of the both of them trying not to cry as they act civil with one another and skirt around what happened. teh asking about what the deal is with oh-aew and bas is like a parallel with what happened last ep when oh-aew asked about teh and tarn...only this time oh-aew and bas are actually dating...man, this is really not the kind of news you want to hear right when you’re about to sit one of your most important exams ever :/// teh holding himself together until the moment oh-aew leaves and then just having a fucking meltdown over the news :((( as always, it just hurts to see teh torture himself in this way. but esp when he’s supposed to be sitting his exam and he just can’t stop crying in the exam room (been in that position and have almost done the same thing before). when he hadn’t finished his exam and they were like “time’s up, pencils down” the sheer panic i felt at this...ugh. i hate it.
the elation on bas’ face when oh-aew asks him out for chinese new year. he’s the cutest. THE ABSOLUTE CUTEST. and then when he holds oh-aew’s hand????? the boldness of it. he. just. does. not. care. i wish i had that sort of confidence!! oh-aew’s shock at this too. his realisation that it’s okay. that this is okay. and then bas being all “why would i be?” after oh-aew asks if he’s embarrassed. bas is literally giving oh-aew everything that he wanted from teh and more (compare this to that scene in ep 3 where teh and oh-aew grazes hands but don’t hold each other’s hands). he’s proud to be with him and to show the world. and, you know what?? i would do anything in the world for bas to be happy.
AND HERE WE HAVE IT. MY LONG AWAITED HOON/TEH HEART TO HEART. i wanted teh to tell hoon soooooooo badly, so to hear the words come out of his mouth...that his brother was the first person he told. i felt so relieved bc i knew that hoon would support him no matter what. the struggle in teh’s face and words...he fought so long and hard against ever admitting these feelings to someone else out loud that it would have felt so incredibly terrifying, yet also like a weight being lifted off his chest, to finally get them out there. to have someone else know his secret. and to know that his brother loves him unconditionally regardless. “if you like him, you go after him” THE WAY I SOBBED DURING THIS. i really loved what hoon said to teh. he didn’t sugarcoat things and say that everything was going to be fine if teh liked boys too. not every single person you meet is going to be okay with who you are, that’s just a fact, but i loved that he emphasised to teh that HE was okay with it. it’s just what teh needed to hear. and that it might take their mum some time to accept it too, but all she truly wants is for teh to be happy. just the feeling of hearing his brother, someone that he very clearly looks up to and respects, tell him that he can like whoever he wants to like?? that it’s all up to him and he’ll still be there for him whoever he wants to be with?? teh sorely needed that and i’m glad he got it. hoon encouraging him to go fight for his love!!!!!!! i was cry laughing at how teh just starts bawling his eyes out at hoon telling him to go after oh-aew, but then teh telling him that it’s too late for him bc he likes someone else. like from hoon’s perspective, he’s prob just like ‘this is so needlessly dramatic’ and the sibling energy during that whole part is too real. i love them.
watching bas/oh-aew with the rest of the gang and their respective girlfriends really makes you realise how open and accepting they all are. like teh was terrified in the scene just before about how his friends might not accept him and oh-aew, but then you see them here with bas/oh-aew and no one even cares (which i expected bc they’ve been supportive since day one, but it’s just nice to see in practice too). oh-aew teasing them all ahhh. cute. phillip being the relatable only single guy there (me at every gathering i go to with my relatives omg).
THE PIANIST PLAYING SKYLINE. they really wanted us all to be SAD sad huh, and they succeeded. how it pans to oh-aew and this song is yet ANOTHER reminder of teh...you know he’s thinking about cape scene where they were singing and translating to one another. on the day they made their promise to each other :( and teh being there too??????? all alone with his bowl of oh-aew on the table. feeling the exact same heartbreak that oh-aew’s feeling too :( it’s the way that so much of their relationship is beyond words for me. but they’re also both hurting so much that i just want to push them together and make them talk so they can clear everything up.
hoon talking in cute japanese to nozomi on the phone while teh goes through oh-aew’s old worksheets and cries I HATE IT HERE. i love the different ways in which teh has smelt oh-aew’s coconut scent since ep 2. how it evolves from curiosity to desire to him heartbrokenly reminiscing, every feeling changing with the shifts in their relationship.
can i just say that oh-aew’s parents are ADORABLE. but also, finding out exam results is the worst kind of anxiety. was so happy that oh-aew got in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he worked his ass off for this :’))) teh not getting his first pick wasn’t altogether surprising bc it did feel like they were leading up to this. but when he apologised to his mum about it ;;; noooo, she’s so proud of you. as someone who’s been through this process before (and didn’t get my first pick either), it always feels like it’s end of the world when you don’t get the uni pick that you want, but it really isn’t. still, it sucks when you’re in the moment there’s no denying that. but i get that it’s also particularly sad for teh since he’d already basically gotten his first pick before he gave it up for oh-aew. but again, it’s all part of the learning process, and the consequences for his actions.
BAS BEING BEST BOY EVER YET AGAIN. how he knows exactly how oh-aew feels bc he feels it too, but he never imposes those feelings on oh-aew. he knows that oh-aew’s heart isn’t with him, can’t be when it’s with someone else, and bc he cares that much about oh-aew, he guides him in teh’s direction. it’s never a good idea to date someone who’s hung up on someone else, but i’m glad that they tried at the very least. the both of them did what they could, and oh-aew needed to experience it to know. i’m really glad that bas was there to make oh-aew realise how worth it he is too...and bas deserves someone that loves him back just as much as he loves them. seeing bas cry is the worst experience ever. 0/5. never want this ever again thank u. their hug scene was just devastating, and worse still bc it’s not anyone’s fault...you just can’t help how you feel, and that’s just the way it is sometimes.
idk why but for me, the scene with tarn was possibly the hardest scene for me to watch in this ep. it’s interesting how he’s wearing the shirt that oh-aew was wearing in ep 3 in this scene (with the bold ‘sunset’ lettering). i guess it symbolises him being ready to open up about his feelings on where their relationship is heading? either way, she’s a great friend. she’s so encouraging, and understands him and his ambitions to a tee. the both of them are always filled with such fierce determination. they just know what they want and go for it. but that’s also why these past couple eps have been all the more confusing for teh since he’s always been so sure of himself before. how she tells him that no one can take away his identity and that no one can take his dream away from him?? all these characters just knowing exactly what teh needs at the right time. she’s so incredible. no wonder teh is so scared of losing her as a friend. it’s great that he apologised for how he treated her last ep bc it’s def the least that she deserves. that being said, watching her heart get broken as teh tells her that his feelings for her have changed and asking if they can still be friends...like damn, that fucking hurts. there’s something in tarn’s face in this scene that stays with me every time i watch it, and it’s that heavy feeling of knowing that the opportunity is missed. they had the potential to have been something, but it’s slipped by now, and now they can’t go back to those initial feelings anymore. too much has changed. but it’s also that she, like bas, values teh’s happiness too much. values their friendship so much that even if she’s heartbroken, she can still overcome those feelings of heartbreak bc she cares for teh so deeply and wants to see him happy. despite the pain she’s feeling, she still encourages him to make the first move and talk with oh-aew bc she knows that oh-aew is who makes him happy. anyway, we already established this in my last rant text post for ep 4, but i love tarn with my whole heart and only ever want her happiness too. the purple hibiscus in her drawing for teh was like a final stab to the heart :(((
what i love about bas and tarn is that neither of them are the bad guys in this situation. this drama has no outright antagonist, and a lot of the time in BLs (even in standard dramas in general) that’s what the secondary love interests are used as...a hindrance for the main couple to get over. but the both of them are written (and acted) with such respect and care. it’s really hard not to fall in love with them too. the real conflict and antagonism mostly comes from within teh himself, so this series is his own journey to overcome that. a true coming of age story.
oh-aew in his uni uniform!!!!!!!!!!! cue me constantly chanting “come through, teh” over and over as oh-aew passed the restaurant hoping to see him. and I KNEW HE WOULD. not me bursting into tears as soon as they show him following oh-aew on the motorbike ;;;;;;; he loves oh-aew too much, and this was too important, he was never going to back out on this promise. i mean, he gave up his uni spot for oh-aew so he could keep this promise. technically, if you think about it, it worked in a roundabout way bc teh giving up his place was what made oh-aew decide to do the admission exam again...and better still bc he got into his first place uni all on his own accord. he proved to teh that he could do it like he always wanted to.
love that teh pushes the good luck coconuts onto oh-aew too, like his mum and brother always do for him. it’s cute. when they go to the temple again, and the significance of it being open this time so they don’t have to sneak in anymore????? my heart is FULL. another thing i love is how teh’s kind of behaving like how oh-aew did in ep 3?? being flirty?? almost toying with him?? like that part when they’re drinking the coconuts together, and he sort of slides backwards drinking the coconut, eyes not leaving oh-aew before bouncing away. that’s an oh-aew move okay. and, as always, teh encouraging oh-aew when he’s down bc the sun isn’t out. rival and inspiration. i love them more than words could ever describe.
skyline instrumental is legit the perfect song bc sometimes when you listen to it, it can make you feel like you’ll never be happy again, but then other times (like when they’re walking to the tip of the cape), it’s like a shot of pure hope to your chest. that shot of them going through the trees and right into the open space of the tip of the cape with the sun shining all around them was BEAUTIFUL. the freedom of it all, of no longer being constrained. seriously, these shots of the two of them standing in front of the golden glow of the sun are just *chef’s kiss* so stunning. cinematography on point (but when did this show ever fail me on that front).
“when i gave it, i really gave it to you” I’M NEVER GONNA STOP CRYING. i literally cannot watch this part without getting choked up and/or screaming. they’ve missed each other so much, and it’s piecing the broken bits of my heart after the last 4 eps back together again. THEY’RE FINALLY TALKING.
okay i really have to talk about this scene when oh-aew asks teh “how about you and i?” bc of the war flashbacks i’m having back to the last time this question was asked and how disastrous that turned out. it’s in how oh-aew asks it and reads teh’s hesitancy as teh thinking the same as he did last time...oh-aew’s fake smile (the same smile he put on when he asked teh how things were between him and tarn and teh told him they were pretty much the same) when he thinks that teh still isn’t willing to acknowledge he likes him back. it’s how oh-aew is willing to accept ANYTHING from teh...whether he wants to be friend or a rival...whether teh likes or hates him...as long as teh stays in his life. he’s willing to accept whatever teh wants to define them as bc he’s just missed teh so much and can’t stand to be away from him. and it’s like this is what finally clicks in for teh. that restricting himself this way is only ever going to constantly hurt the both of them. teh finally saw past himself, and realised what this meant to oh-aew. it’s like he’s finally looking at oh-aew and seeing what oh-aew needs most (has always needed most), and that in turn helps him gain the courage to say it out loud bc the love he feels for oh-aew (and for himself) is ultimately stronger than any fear he has about society not accepting them. it’s such a beautiful scene. after pushing back at himself and his feelings time and time again, he can’t deny himself anymore. his character arc has come full circle ;;; everything teh’s done in previous eps for oh-aew has shown how much he really loves and cares for him, so it just makes me happy that he released his breath and let himself be happy. it’s all i ever wanted for him.
the amount of tears i shed at teh asking oh-aew to be his boyfriend...i knew teh was very likely going to give in to his feelings for oh-aew at this point, but this was even more than i expected. that was so SMOOTH. oh-aew bursting into tears after that...SAME. then the hug in the sunset WITH the new ost song. and that last shot of teh’s handwritten full pages of ‘love’...they did the MOST with this and i’ll never ever ever be over it.
then the part 2 announcement!!!!!!!!!!!!! after so much angst, i can barely believe we’ve been given so much in such a short space of time omg. i love how teh’s tie is red and oh-aew’s tie is blue for their respective uni uniforms. ADORABLE
i know everyone was afraid (myself included) that this was going to end sad from the get go. from the trailer to the ost, we were all TERRIFIED bc realistic shows like this often end in heartbreak. we’re so used to it. but i saw someone describe itsay as a love letter to the lgbtq+ community, and i totally agree. it could very well have ended tragic/sad, but instead they subverted our expectations of the traditional ‘bury your gays’/sad gay ending we’re so used to and gave us a story that showed us that there’s realism in happiness too. there are so many struggles and hardships that lgbtq+ people have to go through bc of the world that we live in, but they CAN be happy too. this post that nadao tweeted of teh crossing out the lyrics of skyline and writing “let me set my own destiny“ instead is SO powerful, and shows the immense character growth he’s gone through over the course of the series. it made every single tear that i have shed for this show completely and utterly worth it.
i’ve mentioned this multiple times before, but i’m so grateful to nadao for giving us this drama. literally one of the best dramas that i have ever watched in my entire life. i’ve never felt so passionately about a show before, or been so attached to the characters and their relationships. everything about it...the directing, the writing, the cinematography, the acting, the soundtrack, EVERYTHING has been set to such an impeccable standard i really don’t know how, or if, i’ll ever get over it (prob not). i know i’m not the only one that thinks so, but it’s truly a masterpiece. i hope it sweeps all the awards bc it’s the least that it deserves. moreover, i’m so happy that their story isn’t over bc this cast of characters are some of my fave characters ever and i genuinely cannot wait to see more of them in march next year :’)
#i told sunset about you#itsay#so thankful we still have the documentary for the timebeing!!!!!!!!!!#i need more fill of this show before i have to await the drought#anyway this took longer than expected and i know it's a mess but it was harder to contain my feelings into words with this ep#mostly bc i felt TOO much#so sorry if it's just more run on sentences than usual#rewatching this was me pausing to cry ever five mins love that for me#text#i'm super excited for part 2 but i'm also worried a little bc if they're in uni now it would most likely be set in bangkok#and i'm gonna miss the phuket setting so much#i have faith in the cast and crew to create something different for us though so it'll be interesting to see how they do things#with a very similar setting to most other BLs...like how they change things up#and i know they can bc the writing and directing in this were in another league so i'm feeling hopeful
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
rise of skywalker and sequels salt time, y’all
things I’m salty about in the rise of skywalker and the star wars sequels, in no particular order:
- Finn was sidelined
- FINN WAS SIDELINED
- he was such an interesting character with so much potential (a stormtrooper who deserted!! pretty sure that was the first time we’d ever seen that!!), and it was all ignored and he was turned into background noise for what?? kylo ren??
- seriously! after TFA, the movies should have explored his backstroy! we should have seen his stormtrooper past affect him!! maybe a stormtrooper revolution!! he should have had a CHARACTER ARC!
- also his force-sensitivity being turned into a joke and comic relief was frankly insulting
- they could have done so many things with that side of the character (even though it was kind of out of nowhere)! parallels between finn and rey, finn questioning his identity, the whole a former stormptrooper being force sensitive thing should have been explored!
- Poe was sidelined
- Poe was a spice runner for no reason?? 1) isn’t that a rude stereotype, and 2) Poe is not Han Solo 2.0!! he was his own, different character!
- Finn/Poe didn’t happen
- gonna be salty about that forever, though I guess I saw it coming :( (it’s disney, what did I expect?)
- but they gave Poe a straight love interest that we’d never heard of before this movie and who he had like two lines of dialogue with just to rub it in?? like, really?
- they completely forgot Rose existed
- like, listen, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the finnrose kiss either, but you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen and hope everyone forgets about it
- and sure, rose’s introduction and character in TLJ was a bit clumsy
- BUT YOU CAN’T JUST IGNORE HER AND PRETEND SHE DIDN’T HAPPEN
- she had a lot of potential as a character, and interesting backstory, a practical pragmatic personality, and a lot of ways she could play off the other characters
- TROS could have been where we saw Rose grow as a character and really shine
- instead, she was forgotten
- ugh
- REY PALPATINE WAS THE DUMBEST FRICKING THING OKAY--
- like, first of all, palpatine coming back for some reason somehow was the most ridiculous direction this movie could have gone and didn’t work, at all
- their enemy for the first TWO MOVIES was the First Order and Kylo Ren
- they had a huge moment in TLJ where the Resistance is steadily being destroyed and they won’t last long against the First Order
- now they’re supposed to take on the First Order and a now-supposedly-immortal emperor palpatine who has a collection of unmanned star destroyers he can control for some reason??
- both of them at once? the resistance is barely alive as is, now you’re adding an OP extra army + sith lord to the mix?
- I mean, this is ridiculous. Palpatine’s dead. Anakin’s big sacrifice in return of the jedi was KILLING palpatine. now he’s back, and the resistance somehow realises he’s back and decides he’s enemy #1 now?
- how did the resistance find out a dead sith lord came back to life on a remote planet anyways?
- and WHAT ABOUT, YOU KNOW, THE FIRST ORDER? AND KYLO REN?
- Kylo Ren, who they finally decided was going to be the main villain in TLJ (even with that stupid “rey trying to redeem the mass murderer” plot going on in the background), and now they don’t have the guts to commit to making him evil (which he was for the LAST TWO MOVIES AND THE MAJORITY OF TROS)
- so, since they weren’t committed enough to make Kylo a villain like he actually was and didn’t have the groundwork for a redemption, they just decided to ignore the fact that he was evil and hope it would go away
- like, are we going to forget that he literally MURDERED HIS DAD, HAN SOLO
- or that he and his first order destroyed a whole SYSTEM OF PLANETS? filled with billions of innocent people?
- he personally tortured Poe, he personally tortured Rey, and he was complicit in a system that kidnapped Finn, took him from his family, and brainwashed him
- not to mention that one of the opening scenes of TROS was him literally massacring people
- but no!! it’s all fine now, bc he looked at his dad’s ghost a little sadly and got a new lightsaber color
- like, no. he isn’t “redeemed” because he’s decided he has the hots for rey. heck, that makes it even worse. he’s been trying to manipulate her for all three movies, he’s gaslighted her, he’s threatened her, he’s hurt the people she cares about. NONE OF THAT IS OKAY. and it’s even less okay that all of his evil deeds can be written off because rey’s “”love”” for him “healed” him or whatever the fuck they want us to think
- and why would they have Rey HEAL him? after SHE stabbed him? in what universe does that make sense?? even if rey didn’t defeat him fairly bc he was distracted or whatever, this is still the supreme leader of the army rey and the rebels are trying to defeat. like, rey, are you a part of the resistance or not? it doesn’t matter if he was “nicer” to you than the rest of the rebels. He’s still your ENEMY. Your “”empathy”” here helps no one, least of all yourself. Kylo Ren dead would have been a massive victory for the resistance--maybe they’d even have had a chance against the first order then! you know, the first order? the enemy you were fighting for the last two movies?
- is this the message you want to be sending to young girls in the audience? that it’s ok if their partner hurts them, hurts other people, is a bad person in general, because their love can “”heal”” him? and that eventually, he’ll turn good if you just try hard enough?
- this is how people wind up in abusive relationships!! that shit is NOT okay
- and the kiss is ridiculous for the same reasons. you don’t owe kylo ren anything, rey. Not in the least for “rescuing” from a situation that was pretty much created bc of him. He’s the one who teamed up with palpatine at the beginning of the movie, remember?
- sometimes I feel like this movie forgot that kylo ren is, you know, a bad person, which the other two movies spent their entire runtime showing us
- like darth vader’s sacrifice was one thing. first of all, it was for his son, his child, and secondly, vader was very much under the power of the emperor and debatably had the mindset of a slave
- kylo ren, on the other hand, was completely under his own power. HE was making the choices, and calling the shots. HE murdered Snoke. And he died for a girl he was manipulating and gaslighting constantly and that he didn’t have much of a connection to other than “the force”
- like, darth vader’s “”redemption”” definitely wasn’t perfect either. you can argue that him killing the emperor and sacrificing him self to save his son didn’t negate any of his actions or him being a bad person. but it was definitely more meaningful and better handled.
- and let’s talk about rey
- I will forever be bitter that rey didn’t get a meaningful character arc and character growth
- which is so disappointing because she was SUCH an interesting (& mysterious) character with so much potential in TFA
- I feel like, in making her palpatine, which was pretty out of nowhere and contrary to the last jedi, they were so busy trying to fit her heritage into the movie in a way that sort of made sense that they forgot to make the movie about her growing as a character and person
- couldn’t they at least have given her her own lightsaber?
- I mean, her being a palpatine is already ridiculous because since when does palpatine have a son? (clone, whatever) And since when did that son have some sort of epic struggle where he refuses to join palpatine and runs away? and when did that son find someone he fell in love with, and have a daughter? and then subsequently abandon her, a seven-ish year old, on a dangerous desert planet? (I mean, wasn’t palpatine dead by then anyways?)
- it just doesn’t fit with the already established star wars universe. we already know palpatine’s story (well, not the beginning of it, but enough). It was movies 1-6, clone wars, and rebels. if he had had a son that had a luke-esque struggle against the darkside, it would have shown up.
- it just doesn’t fit
- but anyways, back to rey
- I guess they were trying to give her some luke-style struggle where she struggles with her heritage and a pull to the darkside that she has to ultimately triumph over? but it doesn’t work
- one, because she never HAS any struggle with the dark side. shooting lightning out of your fingers out of nowhere doesn’t count (and wasn’t that a ridiculous scene. it was more comical than anything else, which is definitely not what they were going for)
- a struggle with the darkside is about being tempted to give into anger, fear, and hatred, and struggling not to do the wrong things and turn evil. In luke’s story, we SAW that. we also saw luke’s horror and eventual acceptance of his heritage, which we never really saw with rey. It was just like, “okay, guess I’m a palpatine?” and it wasn’t nearly as impactful bc palpatine had been dead for the past thirty-ish years. as a contrast, vader was a living and very present villain who the heroes had to contend with, and it was personal for most of them.
- so I guess they tried to make that her character arc, but it didn’t work. so we were left with a stale character who didn’t really have any meaningful victories or losses.
- is she really a “”mary sue”” like everyone’s claiming if they never really made the story about her?
- I think that was the biggest thing that was so unsatisfying about the sequels
- she was hyped up to be the first real mainstream female jedi protagonist (obviously clone wars got there first, but movies are definitely more mainstream than a show, sorry cw :( ), but she never really got a journey, struggles, or real triumphs. which is such a shame because she was this really empowering character in TFA that I was so excited to see more! but her trilogy-wide character arc just wasn’t satsifying
- I wanted to see her really struggle, and rise above her struggles! I wanted her to have meaningful triumphs!
- also I don’t think she ever got injured either, which is definitely a deviation from the star wars trilogy pattern. that’s kinda strange. (luke lost his hand & got electrocuted, han got frozen in carbonite, leia got tortured & shot, anakin got, well, a LOT of injuries, but even before becoming darth vader w/ the foregone conclusion, he had his arm cut off, padme was pretty heavily injured on genosis, and obi-wan was injured in the fight against dooku)
- yup
- also the sith wayfinder was kinda dumb, and I never felt like there were real stakes in TROS
- and let’s address the rey skywalker thing: ok, fine, I get what they were trying to say, kind of
- and I’m not foaming at the mouth about it like some people are. I’m fairly indifferent
- but it would have been a lot more meaningful if rey had had like, a really close, deep relationship with Leia and Luke, so she could say that she and they considered her a skywalker
- but she didn’t have that sort of relationship with them, not really. Sure, she and leia were friends on-screen, but that was it. and luke didn’t really seem to like her all that much.
- so like, “meh”
- especially since Leia’s technically a Solo or an Organa, so that line working really relied on her relationship with Luke, which wasn’t strong enough
- yea, so that’s that
- the “jedi voices” scene was pretty cool though (AAAAH AHSOKA!! AND ANAKIN!! AND ALL THE OTHER JEDI!!), and I liked her yellow lightsaber (although she could have built her own lightsaber at the BEGINNING OF THE MOVIE, instead of carrying luke’s the whole time)
there are things I like about the sequels, mind you. a lot of things!! but there’s a lot I was disappointed in too.
congrats if you got this far, that was a LOT of salt
#star wars sequels salt#star wars salt#kylo ren is a bad person#anti reylo#pro finnpoe#star wars sequel trilogy#star wars sequels#the rise of skywalker#the last jedi#the force awakens#star wars#rey#finn#poe dameron#palpatine#darth sidious#salt#lot of writing#lots of thoughts#kylo ren
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sundrop Alchemist 1
When inspiration hits and you write BOTH prologue and chapter 1 in one day. Also, when you can’t wait one day to post a chapter, so you post both.
AO3 link is here
Summary: Varian wants to cut his hair and Mother says no. He learns, why.
------
Chapter 1: Knowledge
Long blonde hair laid on the floor of the tower. Ten-year-old boy huffed in annoyance as yet another lock covered his vision. He tucked it behind his ear and focused on the table before him.
Various chemicals were sprayed all over the workbench, each labeled and put in the separate vial. A peculiar purple potion was boiling over the fire, blue eyes watching it like a hawk, waiting for reaction. Finally, a gloved hand turned off the fire and reached for pipette, draining a few drops of the substance.
“This is it, Ruddiger.” The boy turned to the raccoon sitting on a nearby chair. “Now, let’s see…”
The boy cautiously dipped a drop on the strand of blonde hair. The liquid sizzled and bubbled. He moved closer, squinting his eyes. Just then, the smoke appeared and the boy scurried away, frightened. Thankfully, the smoke only made the potion disappear, making no damage to the hair itself. Both the boy and the raccoon sighed in relief.
“Let’s… hehe.” The boy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Let’s decide to not do that again, okay buddy?”
The raccoon nodded in agreement. Just then, a familiar voice called from the bottom of the tower.
“Varian! Let down your hair~!”
The boy, Varian, shot a terrified look at the room. It was a mess. Chemicals and inventions laid sprawling on the floor. Mother’s going to be furious…
“Varian! I’m not getting younger down here!” The woman, Mother, called again and Varian scrambled to the window.
“Just a moment!” He called back, grabbing his long hair and throwing it over the wheel attached next to the windowsill. “Hide.” He hissed at the raccoon and the animal ran away, towards the boy’s room.
The hair were let down and Varian felt Mother grabbing them, securing her foot in a hook, so she doesn’t fall off. Then, he pulled. The wheel turned and he felt the weight getting lifted. Once again, Varian was thankful for his invention, which made the action much less tiring and troublesome. He couldn’t even begin to think, how he would manage to lift Mother up to the window without the wheel.
Finally, the woman was at the right height and she swiftly stepped on the windowsill and entered the tower. Her gaze almost immediately turned to the mess of the room. She sighed and pinched her nose.
“Varian…” She exclaimed in an exhausted voice. “How many times should I remind you-”
“-to clean after work. I know, I’m so sorry, Mother.” The boy looked down, ashamed. “I… I guess I got so caught up in work I kinda lost track of time.” He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Oh, yes… your little…” She waved her hand towards the workbench. “... playthings.”
“Alchemy…” Varian mumbled, switching from one leg to another.
“Varian.. What did I tell you about mumbling? I don’t like it when you do it.” Mother reprimanded, flipping her black locks.
“Sorry, Mother…” The boy replied louder. “I’m going to clean this up now.”
“Later, flower, later.” The woman waved her hand dismissively. “Now, I see your hair are tangled again. Here, let me brush them for you and you can sing.”
“Yes, Mother.” Varian grinned happily and darted to his room in search of the toothbrush. Ruddiger was already on it, fishing it out from under the bed. “Thanks, bud.” Varian patted the raccoon’s head before darting back.
He quickly brought up two chairs for him and Mother to sit. The woman smiled gratefully and sat down, reaching a hand for the hairbrush. He gave it to her and positioned himself in the front stool, waiting for the tug on his hair, signalling for him to start. Once he felt it, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the familiar melody and words flowing from his throat.
Flower gleam and glow,
Let your power shine,
Make the clock reverse,
Bring back what once was mine…
He felt his hair lit up, the healing power flowing through it, as Mother’s gentle strokes brushed his locks. He smiled a little bit, before continuing.
Heal, what has been hurt,
Change the fate’s design,
Save, what has been lost,
Bring back, what once was mine.
What once was mine…
They both sat in silence, as the remains of magic slowly dispersed, the glow fading. Varian loved these moments, those times when he felt the magic fill him out. Those moments he shared with his Mother. They were his most treasured memories.
“Aaah, much better.” Mother spoke up, breaking the silence and finishing brushing his hair. She stood up and walked to the mirror, staring at her reflection with satisfaction.
Varian stood up as well, taking both stools back where they belonged and putting the hairbrush on the bed in his room. He petted sleeping Ruddiger on his way out and rejoined Mother in the main room. She was already busying herself by the kitchen, preparing the dinner for the two.
Varian bit his lip, shuffling uncertain on his feet.
“Um… Mother?” He called out, not sure if he could talk to her now. She hummed questioningly in response, so he continued. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking.”
“About what, flower?” The woman asked, stirring the soup in the pot. The sweet smell of hazelnuts filled the tower and Varian felt his mouth watering.
Nope, focus! He shook his head to remember what he wanted to ask.
“Um… well… You know I like performing alchemy and inventing, right?” He started cautiously. Mother sighed and if she were facing him, he would have noticed her rolling her eyes.
“Oh, yes. I noticed.” She replied. “Be a dear and take out the bowls and spoons.”
“W-well, my hair aren’t really short and they get in the way quite often…” Varian continued as he moved towards the cupboard and took out two bowls and spoons, placing them on the table. “So… I was thinking… maybe… I don’t know…”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Stop mumbling and get to the point, boy. I don’t have all day.” Mother huffed as she turned off the stove and moved the pot to the table, pouring the soup into the first bowl.
“Right, right. So... “ Varian took a deep breath. “Can I cut them?”
The ladle clanked and soup spilled all over the table. Mother was staring at him with shock for a moment, before her brows furrowed and she glared at him, anger in her eyes.
“Absolutely not!” She said, reaching for the ladle again.
“B-but they get in the way. I don’t want to burn them or get them stuck somewhere.” Varian tried to argue. “And I can get a rope to get you up the tower, so that’s not really a problem, so-”
“I SAID ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Mother roared and Varian jumped away, scared. Mother never screamed at him. She was always kind, and loving and-
“B-but…” He started again and Mother sighed.
She let go of the ladle and pinched her nose, muttering something under her breath. When she finally looked at him again, anger was gone, replaced with concern.
“Come here, Flower.” She urged him to approach her. He reluctantly did and she led him to the mirror. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t want to scare you. But you have to know, cutting your hair is absolutely out of the question.”
“But why, Mother? It will grow back, won’t it?” He questioned and she sighed again. She reached out her hand and pushed away some of his hair.
“Look, do you see here?” She asked and he stared at the mirror, wondering what she meant. He didn’t see anything out of ordinary, except for-
He gasped in surprise, as his gaze landed on a single strand of black hair, short and hidden behind the blond locks. His eyes jumped between the hair and Mother, shocked.
“When you were just a baby, someone tried to cut your hair in order to gain the healing power of the Sundrop.” Mother explained, her voice painted with sadness. “But it didn’t work. When your hair are cut, they become black and lose their magic.”
“So… even if I cut just a little bit…” Varian said and Mother nodded.
“All the magic would be gone.” She confirmed, letting go of his hair and letting the lone black strand be covered by blond.
“I understand now, Mother.” Varian whispered. He turned and hugged the woman tightly. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask you to cut my hair again.”
Mother stroked his head tenderly and smiled.
“Don’t fret, Flower. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She promised, planting a soft kiss at the top of his head. “But if they really disturb you so much, we can agree on the alternative.”
“What alternative?” Blue eyes looked up at her.
“Whenever you work on your.... alchemy, you can tie your hair, so they don’t get in the way. Will that work?” The woman suggested and the boy pondered at the idea. “We can figure something out after the dinner, alright?”
He grinned, his bunny teeth showing and nodded.
“Yes, thank you, Mother.” He hugged her again, quickly this time, before letting go and coming back to the table. He reached out for the ladle and poured soup to both bowls.
They spent the rest of the afternoon thinking and trying out different hairstyles, until Varian finally found the one he was satisfied with. When he waved his Mother goodbye in the evening, his heart was lighter and smile wider than usual.
------
I really hope Varian doesn’t come out too OOC.
Also, don’t ask what the experiment on the hair was, bc I have NO FREAKIN IDEA lmao
#tts#varian#the sundrop alchemist#gothel#ruddiger#varian is a baby#he is sure to experiment on his hair#and he is sure to get annoyed by length#hence: can I cut it?
36 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
stealthymagic
Stealthy Magic
xxnymph-knivesxx
static
ivettgyurka-blog
Unbetitelt
brighteningeyecream
Brightening Eye Cream
shimayaman
日々のこと